Something to think about...

 Do you ever realize that you’re not the only person on Earth?

                That’s a dumb question; of course you do. You interact with other people every day, most likely live with other people, and talk to your friends often. But do you ever think about if you were the other people you see? Do you ever wonder how their life differs from yours? For me, that always happens when I’m driving on the highway.

I look out the window and into the cars next to me. I can always see the occupants in the front seats, and it gives me a strange feeling. We only see the world through our eyes, but when I look at the people in the other cars and realize that their heading somewhere for a reason I’ll never know. I’ll never see them again in my life, I’ll never know their name, and I’ll never talk to them. We might be on the same road now, but we’ll end up going different directions. It makes me think; What is life like through their eyes?

What is the driver’s story? Are they happy?  Is the person sitting next to them a husband? Sister? Friend? Who are they talking to on their cell phone? Where are they going? I’ll never know. It puts a different perspective on my life.

                Just something short to think about for the day…We’re not alone. Everyone’s on a journey of their own.

Story

Quote of the Day:

“To know what would have happened, child?” said Aslan. “No. Nobody is ever told that... But anyone can find out what will happen.”

-The Horse and His Boy

The Famine Experience

This past weekend I participated in a retreat at my church called The Famine Experience. During the weekend we spend together, we fasted from solid food for thirty hours and did service projects in the community. Along with the service projects, we also collected donations that went to the Women’s Resource Center and the Belize Outreach Program (a missionary program for St. Michael’s Parish).  During Friday evening, we met and made a banner with our theme for the year on it. This year’s theme was “Fast, pray, love” and the Bible verse was, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink…is not life more than food and drink?” (Matthew 6:25).

The same evening, we had a Confession service in the church and some silent prayer time. Then we left for the YMCA and spend a couple hours there. After we came back to the church, we went to sleep and then the service projects began Saturday morning. I was with the group that went to the City Mission, where we cleaned the kitchen, dining area, chapel and tool shed. Some other groups went to the Habitat for Humanity store to volunteer, and others cleaned out garages. After a few hours of service, we met back at the church and made cards to pass out to residents at a nursing home we visited. We spent time there talking to the residents, and then we once again returned to the church to reflect on our weekend and get ready for Mass. After Mass we broke our fast with a Pancake Dinner that sponsors the Belize Outreach Program.

This was my first time participating in the Famine Experience, and I have to say that I enjoyed very much. Not eating for thirty hours wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, because we got to drink as much liquid as we wanted, though at times I did get pretty hungry. It made me more aware of the reality that a lot of people have to feel that every day, and made me more eager to help them. Learning more about the City Mission also made me aware of the fact that there are less-fortunate people even in my own community. All in all, it was a great experience and I can’t wait for next year.

Story

Quote of the Day:
"Here you leave today and enter the world of yesterday, tomorrow and fantasy."
-Walt Disney

The unnamed story, more commenly known as "Chip, Ellie, Rio and Storm"

So...hey guys...ANOTHER STORY! ...WOW! 

You: How many is that now?

Me: -mutters something indecipherable-

You: what's that?

Me: Twenty-mmph...

You: speak up, now!

Me: TWENTY-SEVEN! -hides face-

You: -sweat drops- and you've finished....?

Me: Shut up.

;)

Chapter Four

                When the sun rose the next morning, Leo gave the “all clear” to all the kids to go back to their respective houses. He gave the girls permission to go back upstairs and after everyone was dressed the girls and boys each headed to their kitchens for breakfast.

                The day was brighter and sunnier than it had been yesterday; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and the only evidence that it had rained was the numerous puddles that dotted the country landscape. Ellie, Storm, Rachel and Rebecca each grabbed something to eat and headed outside to the pond behind the two houses. Their daily meeting was about to start, and they planned to discuss their next move over breakfast.

                Rachel and Rebecca each took seats at edge of the dock overlooking the blue-green water of the small pond. Storm sat down not far from them, her back against one of the poles that supported the railing on each side of the dock. Ellie sat across from her and barely said anything. All four of the girls were tired from their sleepless night.

                A few minutes later, the boys joined them.

                “Isn’t it usually the other way around? Don’t we have to wait for you?” Wiley said by way of a morning greeting, yawning loudly and stuffing half a piece of toast in his mouth at the same time.

                “Manners,” Ben reprimanded jokingly and thumped his best friend of the back. They each took seats on either side of Storm and looked up at her with large, interested eyes.

                Storm rolled her own grey ones up at the sky. “I’m sure you’ve heard everything already,” She said to the two younger boys who seemed unfazed by her dismissal. “But I guess if you have any questions…”

                “Did you know what was going on?” Zach put in before either boy had a chance to speak. He took a seat next to Elle who glanced up at him diffidently and then blushed.

                “Look, we told you everything,” Rio cut in as he knelt down near the front of the dock. Chip sat beside him.

                “Yeah, don’t bother Storm, she’s been through enough,” He added.

                “I’m fine, Chip,” Storm said offhandedly. “Honestly, it wasn’t all that –”

                “It was too!” Wiley spoke up while Ben nodded, his sandy-blonde hair falling into his face.

                “Yeah it was Dark Technology, that’s what Leo always warns us against,” He agreed.

                Storm paused. “Well, yeah, it was kind of bad, but that’s not –”

                She was cut off again, this time by Ellie.

                “Look, guys, we came here to have our meeting and let’s have it,” She said, clearly annoyed at all the attention Storm was getting. “We all know what went down last night and there’s nothing we can do about it but be more prepared next time. Nothing happened – thankfully -- but the annual King’s Ball is coming up and that’s out last chance to get at the Princess before they leave this region.”

                Rachel and Rebecca nodded in assent, and though the Ben and Wiley looked slightly let down, they ceased to ask any more questions.

                “Okay,” Chip said, “back to the Princess then. We have sources that tell us she’s against her father’s support of the Beginners which is good for us – but we already know that. She’s very influential even though she’s young, like us. I don’t know if we’re supposed to actually do anything during the Ball tomorrow night, but it would be good if a few of us go and talk to her. It’s open to anyone with an invitation.”

                Since he was one of the oldest refugees living under the care of Leo and Wisteria Reynolds, and because he had been there the longest, Chip was looked upon as one of the leaders of the group, along with Storm, who was the oldest of the girls. They made most of the decisions and together they planned many of the incursions and excursions the group made. Rio, who was sixteen (also the same age as Chip and Storm), was something like a co-leader, and Ellie, as Chip’s sister, was usually included as a given leader despite the fact that she was two years younger and still did not know all the ins and outs of the small Society of children.

                The Society was started as just a safe-haven for concerned parents to send their children, away from the turmoil of the large cities under the rule of the King; which really meant that they were under the rule of the Beginners and their New Government. Though it did not appear so to the outside world, some were smart enough to realize that the title of “king” and his “royal family” was just a pretext; the country of America was fully run by the Beginners.

                The king, Nathanial Vang, and his wife Bindali “ruled” over America and were backed entirely by the Beginners. His daughter, Margaret, though seemingly meek, humble and respectful towards her family’s administration, revealed only recently to a different Society to have complete hatred toward what her father was supporting. Bindali also had a son of her own from a previous marriage, Rashesh. He was young, handsome and had a reputation of being in entire support of his parents.

The Beginners mission was to build a New World -- and that involved almost obliterating the old one. Their goal, though it was to some extent unknown by the ordinary citizens, was world domination and crushing their populace into complete subservience. One step in this plan included annihilating cities in order to rebuild them, so at times the cities where the children had lived before were not always safe, so parents sent them away to the rural regions that were yet untouched. After being sent to live with  Leo and Wisteria, the group was revealed to be part of a Society that tried, in small almost unobserved ways, to rebel and fight against the Beginner’s New Government.

The main thing the Society did was refusing to change with the rest of the country; staying true to the past and its ways, not conforming, and rescuing relics of history that would have been destroyed. With the knowledge that someone within the upper-workings of the government was on their side, the Society was about to break into a new form of rebellion that was far more impactful than merely being unusual.

                “I think only a few of us should go,” Storm suggested. “The less there is, the less likely it’ll be to draw attention to ourselves.”

                There were a few disappointed looks on some of the younger faces of the group, but no complaints; they knew that the older members would be the ones to go as they had the most experience.

                “Who do you think should go, then?” Rachel asked from the end of the dock.

                Chip shared a sideways glance at Storm. “I think it should be Rio, Storm and I,” He said.

                “Why couldn’t we come?” Ben asked, pointing to himself and Wiley. The latter nodded.

                “Yeah, we’d be great as spies.”

                “That’s just the point though,” Zach said, sitting forward. “The goal isn’t to be a spy, it’s to blend in. Right?”

                Chip nodded. “Yes, we need to blend in, talk with the Princess and get out. Hopefully before we’re noticed.”

                “Why can’t I go too?” Ellie said, outraged. “If we’re trying to look like we fit in, we’ll need older-looking people, there isn’t likely to be any kids there. I look older than everyone here. I think I should go too.”

                Chip shot her an annoyed look. “You’re fourteen. I think that’s a little too young. Zach’s older than you, if we needed another person it should be him.”

                Rio spoke for the first time on the subject. “I think it should be two boys and two girls. You know, so it looks more professional, like we have ‘escorts’ or something. Everyone has an escort these days.”

                Storm thought for a moment. “I think you’re right,” she said to Rio. “An even number’s good. We’ll need more than two for backup, so we might as well make it four.”

                “In that case,” Chip said resignedly. “I guess Ellie would be able to come.”

                Ellie cheered silently, doing a little dance in her seat.

                “Unless either of you two wanted to come,” Chip added, looking at Rachel and Rebecca.

                “Us?” They said unanimously, raising their eyebrows.

                “I hate balls and dances,” Rachel said.

                Her sister nodded in agreement. “Me too. They’re torture.”

                The group was silent for a moment, surprised that the two seemingly opposite twins had something in common.

                “Well, okay then,” Chip said glancing around at the group, who had, by now finished their morning meals.

                “What about invitations?” Zach spoke up. “We don’t have any, I’m sure.”

                “I’ll make some, just tell me what they look like,” Wiley said. “You know how great I am at forging stuff.”

                Everyone nodded in agreement; Wiley’s specialty was making fake copies of licenses, pass cards and other important documents they were unable to attain.

                “Yeah, get on that as soon as you can,” Chip said. Wiley gave a little nod, pleased to be given a job.

                “Storm, come with me,” Ellie said suddenly, standing up and grabbing her arm. “We need to get you a nice outfit. It’s formal, right?”

                “Yes, but…” Storm began to protest, but Ellie shook her head.

                “We need to sort this out now. The earlier the better!” She began to pull Storm inside.

                “Ellie, my gosh, it’s not till tomorrow night!” Storm said as her friends snickered at her situation. She turned around and stuck her tongue out at them before reluctantly following Ellie inside.

Thoughts?

Story

Quote of the Day:

"I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I can see that you are unarmed."

-William Shakespeare

Urbem Fallax

Hey everybody! So I'm finally back with another post. And, surprise surprise, I have started yet another story! It's called "Urbem Fallax" (I'll let you figure out what that means ;) ), and though I haven't written much for it yet, I think I have somewhat of an idea of where it's going so, hooray! I might actually finish this one! Of course, that's what I say about all my new stories...

Either way, here's an excerpt from Chapter One:

When I awoke, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was darkness. I was perplexed; why was it dark? Whenever I wake up, it is light. In fact that is exactly why I wake up. I always sleep through the entire night, and when the sun rises, I rise along with it.

I sat up slowly, as though if I did the reason for waking up would manifest itself to me. I looked around the shadowy house and could barely make out the figures of my parents – asleep, in the bed across the room. The silence was deafening and I, though I have no need to be, was terrified.

I’ll admit it: I’m afraid of the dark. That’s another reason why I always sleep through the night. If I ever wake up before dawn, I get a horrible, prickly, hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck, feeling that someone else is in the house that shouldn’t be there.

I settled back down under my thin covers, pulling them up so my entire head was hidden beneath them. I’m too old for this senseless fear -- at sixteen I’m practically an adult – but I still couldn’t shake the vulnerable feeling. I closed my eyes and tried to push the emotion away by taking deep, slow breaths. I wanted to jump out of bed and run outside, the moon casts enough light to see by out there, but I didn’t. Instead, I waited vainly for sleep to return.

After ten minutes, it was clear that I was no longer tired, so I pushed myself into a sitting position once again. As I did, I heard something crinkle under my hand. I looked down and, visible by a sheath of moonlight coming through the small window above me, I spotted a small, neatly folded slip of paper with a crease running down the middle from where my hand had crushed it accidentally.

I unfolded it and held it up close to my face to make out the words.

You are in danger. Leave soon.

I felt my stomach drop. What did that mean? And how did it get here? I dove under the covers once again. So someone was here, that’s why I woke up. I closed my eyes and tried to sort out the meaning of the message. Danger…why would I be in danger? I’ve never done anything questionable to my knowledge. Maybe it was a jest, but who would think it funny enough to sneak into somebody’s house in the early hours of the morning to plant a fake threat? And, more importantly, why would they do it to me?

The words of the strange note seemed to be burned into my eyelids; I watched them swim around in front of me until I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 Story

Quote of the Day:

"She had, of course, left the door open, for she knew that it is a very silly thing to shut oneself into a wardrobe."

-The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Wreck This Journal

One of my favorite gifts I received for my birthday was a book called "Wreck This Journal" by author Keri Smith. As you can tell from the title, it is a journal-type book, not a storybook or novel. In the book, there are instructions on each page (I don't know how many pages there are, because on the first on you are instructed to add your own page numbers) that you can follow in any order to get you to the end result; a messed up, beautiful piece of destruction.

"Tie a string to the journal. Go for a walk, drag it." 

Here's what Amazon.com says about it: 
"For anyone who's ever wished to, but had trouble starting, keeping, or finishing a journal or sketchbook comes Wreck This Journal, an illustrated book that features a subversive collection of prompts, asking readers to muster up their best mistake- and mess-making abilities to fill the pages of the book (and destroy them). Acclaimed illustrator Keri Smith encourages journalers to engage in "destructive" acts-poking holes through pages, adding photos and defacing them, painting with coffee, and more-in order to experience the true creative process. Readers discover a new way of art and journal making-and new ways to escape the fear of the blank page and fully engage in the creative process."

I have been have a lot of fun with the book; it's a great way to get out of your comfort zone. For example, who would've thought I'd ever stick a chewed-up piece of gum inside a book, and then throw the whole thing across the room before taking it in the shower with me? The possibilities are, literally, endless. My friend has a "Wreck This Journal" as well, and we've decided to record some of the more exciting things that can be done with the journal. We've only made a few videos so far, but I can assure you that they will end up on this blog sometime soon. :)

Story

Quote of the day:

"I walk, talk, eat and sleep on earth, but I live my life in a completely different world."

-Unknown

Untitled;)

Ok, so this is just something random I thought up! it doesn't really make sense (well...it does to me, I suppose), but I just thought I would share it and see what opinions you guys have! Any constructive criticism would be much appreciated:) All the stuff in here is symbolic to me in different ways, but I can't really tell you what everything means or it would take away some of the mystery.;)

Story walked down the long hall. Her soft black shoes made no sound on the hardwood floor as she strolled along, a canvas bag over shoulder. Her head was held high, her blonde hair pulled back from her face and her eyes shined with determination. She had a destination in mind, but she couldn’t help slowing as she passed the first door on her right.

It was larger than a normal door; about ten feet tall and four-and-a-half feet wide. She glanced at the sign on the door that was slightly above eye-level. It read: SCHOOL. Story shook her head, vaguely wondering why that was the first one she passed and wishing it wasn’t so big. She sighed, and continued on her way.

She passed another door, slightly smaller than the first one. The sign on this one read: FRIENDS. She smiled and reached forward toward the handle, about to open it, but then she stopped.

“No,” she said to herself. “I can’t…but maybe later.”

The bag over her shoulder moved and she jumped. She opened the top and peered inside. Glaring at its contents, she snapped it closed again. Looking forlornly at the FRIENDS door once more, she turned and stumbled over a small white rabbit hopping in front of her. Another brown one followed it and they sat back, looking at Story with glittery black eyes.

“Drew, Kitty, get back to your room!” Story exclaimed, pushing a loose hair out of her face in exasperation. The two rabbits seemed to exchange glances, but stayed in front of Story, unmoving.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll have to take you myself.”

Story set off down the hall again with the rabbits bounding behind her. She passed a couple more doors – LYRICS and MEMORIES -- with only a small glimpse in each of their directions, and stopped when she reached one marked: IDEAS. This door was decorated with drawings, notes, and quotations. Story smiled at it, and reached for the handle. She hesitated slightly, knowing that she had a mission, a reason for coming here, but aware of the fact that she could easily live her whole life in the room before her. She adjusted the band of the bag over her shoulder and pushed the door open.

“Get in, you two!” She said to the two rabbits, pushing them in with her foot and following them inside. She closed the door behind her and faced the enormous room.

Three of the six walls of the hexagon-shaped room were lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling and a ladder sat next to each one, for easy access to the books at the top. Story felt a sudden impulse to rush towards the shelves, but pushed it away and bent down to pick up Drew and Kitty, holding one under each arm. Against two other walls there were shelves as well, but not filled with books. They were lined with boxes with an assortment of labels on them and stacks of paper.

The last wall was empty except for a collection of pictures and photographs. Sunsets, beaches, flowers, clouds, snowstorms, thunderstorms, forests in all four seasons, and rivers plastered the wall. Story almost forgot what she had come in to do as she stared at the pictures. They seemed to come alive the longer she watched them. The clouds drifted around the lucid sky and the ocean’s waves crashed on the sandy shore. As lightening flashed in one of the pictures, Story remembered that she had only a limited time to spend and that she couldn’t spend it there.

Still holding the two rabbits, she brought them to a free corner and placed them down gently in a basket. Inside the basket there were other rabbits of all colors; no two looked alike. Story smiled tenderly down at them. She looked at a small cage above the basket of rabbits and waved to the two canaries inside it. They chirped prettily at her and she grinned. Turning around, she almost tripped over a cat that had come up silently behind her. She reached down to pet it, and was knocked over by a large dog that had bounded out of nowhere.

The wolf-like animal tackled her and began to lick her face.

“Chip!” She laughed, pushing the animal away. “Get off!”

She sat up and rubbed its head affectionately before standing again.

“I’m sorry you guys,” She said to the animals as she turned to depart. “I can’t stay right now, but I promise I’ll be back again.”

Checking to make sure she still had her canvas bag, Story quickly left the room of IDEAS and continued on down the hall.

She had almost reached the end, when she had the strongest yearning to enter the room to her right. She had known this was coming; the last room had always been the hardest to leave unopened. DREAMS.

“Just a few minutes won’t hurt, will it?” Story asked no one in particular as she moved toward the door. Her hand was almost around the handle when her bag gave another stir. Story jumped up and stepped back from the door. Her eyes lingered on it as she walked forward again. There would be a time for that later.

She had reached the end of the hall. She looked up at the ceiling and spotted what she had come for; a small trapdoor with a sign that read: ATTIC. A string dangled down from it and she reached up and tugged. The door opened and a ladder unfolded slowly. When it touched the ground, Story put one foot on the bottom rung and tested the frail-looking ladder to see if it would hold. It didn’t creak or shift and seemed to be able to hold her weight, so Story put another foot on the next rung and so on until she had climbed all the way up.

She pushed herself into the ATTIC, and stood, brushing off her knees.

“This place is a mess,” she said in a whisper, glancing around at the crowded room. There were no windows, but light seemed to filter in from somewhere.

Story studied the room; this was the one she knew the least well. She felt a sense of déjà-vu as she looked closer at the objects sitting abandoned on the floor or tables. Her eyes were drawn first to a dress form. It was just a dressmaker’s mannequin; there was no head or limbs. On it was an unfinished dress. To most people the cloth would have appeared a dirty off-white color, but as Story approached it she could see words woven into the material. Her eyes widened as she read them, and she stood there, staring at the dress for several minutes. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped and studied the dress from afar again.

“This is much better than I remember it being…” She said thoughtfully. “I should finish this.”

With a contented smile, she turned away from the dress, making a note to come back to it soon.

Next to the dress in the corner, a pair of goggles sat alone, covered with dust. Story rolled her eyes as she caught sight of them, but didn’t stop to reminisce. Next to the goggles, a tiny harp sat on top of a stack of yellowed sheet music. Story paused next to it, debating whether to pick it up.

“I’ll come back to it.”

She walked to the back of the small room with some hesitation, slowing down as she neared it. This was place she hated coming. But she had to.

She walked toward a lump in the corner, and her eyes fell on a small table with a white net draped over it like cheap lace. On top of it were three shoelaces and a spilled bottle of black nail polish, long dried and stuck to the table. A ripped and dirty purple fan lay next to the items and Story shook her head in disgust.

Suddenly, the bag on her shoulder gave another lurch and fell to the floor. Story dove to grab it, and as she knelt down she spotted something beneath the table. A rose, lifeless and withered lay by itself, except for several dead flies. Its original pink color was slightly visible, but extremely faded. The edges of the petals and leaves were brown and shrunken. Story suppressed a shudder as she stood up again.

Leaving the rose behind, she stopped in front of a lump in the corner. It was covered by an old wool blanket, which Story pulled back to reveal a trunk. There was no lock, so Story opened it easily.

Inside, among old papers filled with distorted words and sketches, there was a doll dressed in blue and white, its yarn hair pulled into pigtails. One of its button eyes was missing. Before, this would have been the most chilling item in the ATTIC to Story, but now she picked it up without hesitation and looked closer at its dirty face. She brushed it off, adjusted its dress and set it down gently in the trunk once again.

Next to the doll, a lone blonde hair was barely visible. Story picked it up with the tip of her fingers and paused. She bit her lip thoughtfully, and then spotted something else in the trunk; a box of matches. She set the hair down long enough to light one of the brittle matches. She picked up the hair again and held it above the small flame. With a deep breath, she dropped the hair and it caught fire quickly, turning to ash and vanishing.

Story blew out the match and after making sure it was cool put it back into the matchbox, which she returned to the trunk.

After digging through the papers for a moment, Story found what she needed; a small wooden box. She undid the latch and saw that it was full of marbles. She dumped them out into the trunk, where they rolled along the stacks of paper and settled at the bottom. Story then put the empty box down and reached into her bag.

She carefully pulled out the item that had caused her so much trouble; a small draw-string pouch. It was a deep blue, the color of the ocean and was made of a silky material. It jumped slightly in her hand and she gripped it tighter so as not to lose her hold of it. She looked at it through her fingers and felt slightly gloomy as she put the pouch into the box.

“I might come back for you,” She said and closed the lid and latched it. “But I probably won’t.”

With a sigh, she lifted a stack of paper, placed the box underneath it, covered it up and closed the lid of the trunk. She thought she heard a small thump come from inside and grimaced. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a lock and key.

Story locked up the trunk and covered it once again with the blanket. After she had done so, she felt as though the whole world, or at least her world, was suddenly at peace. She smiled, turned around and walked back through the ATTIC. She stopped, however, when she reached the small harp. She picked it up and placed it gently into her now-empty bag.

She stopped next to the dress.

“Later,” She said. “I promise. I’ve just got to figure out what pattern I’m trying to follow.”

With that, she knelt down at the trap door leading back to the hallway. Before climbing down it, however, she stopped and looked at the key in her left hand. Her eyes found the trunk in the farthest corner. She closed her eyes and threw the key into the depths of the ATTIC. Without taking time to see where it landed, she climbed down the ladder. If she was meant to open the trunk again, she would find the key.

When she reached the ground, she pushed it back up into the ceiling, closing the door. She turned around to face the hall again, and had barely stepped forward when she again spotted the door marked: DREAMS.

Her already large smile widened even more and she pushed it open confidently. A blinding white light shone from the room.  At that moment, she felt as free as she had ever felt in her life. She didn’t know how long it would last, but wanted to make the most of the feeling while she still had it. As a warm summer breeze blew out of the door and over her face, she stepped into the room.

Story

Quote of the Day:

"My life has a superb cast, but I can't figure out the plot."

-Ashleigh Brilliant

First Post of 2011!

Happy New Year! I know I've been gone for a while, but I never said I'd be consistent with my posts. ;) I hope you all had a good Christmas! The post of today is about one of my favorite parts of the holidays.

Every year around December there are Christmas parties. This year I went to two of them, one for my mom’s side of the family in Bluffton, Ohio and one for my dad’s side, in Cleveland. Though these two Christmas parties differ in many ways – the food, the people, and the place, to name a few –  there are some similarities between them, the most prominent being the activity of the evening; the White Elephant gift exchange.

If you don’t know what a White Elephant is, I’ll explain: Everyone who wants to participate brings a wrapped present. One difference between the two White Elephant’s I participated in this year, is specifying the gift. At the party in Bluffton, when someone puts a gift on the table with all the others, they specify if the gift is geared more towards a woman or a man. If it doesn’t matter who the gift gets to, they just write “anybody” or “neutral. That’s helpful when you choose a gift, because that way a girl won’t end up with a tool set and a man won’t end up with a scented candle.

After all the gifts are laid out –under a tree or on a table, depending on the party – everyone draws a number and they either go lowest to highest, or in any order they want. When your number is called, you choose a gift and open it in front of everyone. That right there is my least favorite part. Sometimes, as is most often the case with standard White Elephant exchanges, the gift is a joke or embarrassing in some way. That isn’t always the case, but I always dread getting something that makes everyone stop and stare. The reason for opening the gift in front of everyone else, apart from the hilarity that sometimes ensues, is so the next person in line can see what you got. Then, when their turn comes around, they can steal any already opened present, instead of opening one themselves. When you are stolen from, you only have one option; open another present. This can go on until all the presents are opened.

At the Bluffton party, I remembered that there tended to be more “funny” gifts. I always get a little nervous when it comes to my turn. But this year, I tried something different. I brought a gift to add to the exchange, and then I picked the same one when it was my turn. That way, I was getting something I knew I wanted, and there was zero risk whatsoever!  I knew there was no danger of being stolen from either; I was the only Glee fan at the party.

At the Cleveland party, there was no specification as to whether the gift was better suited for a man or woman, but there was a theme as to which gifts you should buy for the exchange. The theme this year was “warm” and I brought a pair of gloves to add. I didn’t open any presents at that exchange, I stole from my cousin. He had opened a zebra-patterned coffee cup with a mini ceramic zebra stuck to the bottom of it. I knew he wasn’t about to get attached to it any time soon, but I would’ve stolen it regardless. I guess I’m just nice like that.

I love White Elephants, despite the looming fear of being embarrassed in front of my family. You always end up with something you like, even if you’d never get it for yourself…well, with the exception of me and my Glee CD. They’re my favorite parts of Christmas parties, and even though there’s the threat of ending up with frying pan,  creepy Santa doll, or embarrassing T-shirt, what’s life without a little risk?


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Quote of the Day:
"Flowers are weeds too, once you get to know them."
 -A.A. Milne