tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82228409224455275432024-03-13T09:18:25.661-07:00one voicewriting. inspiration. photography. theatre. faith. life. fears. jesus. love. loss. dreams. teenagers. me.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.comBlogger258125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-27827320396038653962011-03-19T17:15:00.000-07:002011-03-19T17:16:30.536-07:00happiest day ever.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I logged onto Blogger today to change my header, when WHAT DO YOU KNOW something AMAZING caught my eye.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">What is so ingeniously incomprehendibly wonderful, you ask?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-QGhaYTJDIww/TYVG5qKVPFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/3JNNRmEW6eA/s1600/font.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-QGhaYTJDIww/TYVG5qKVPFI/AAAAAAAAAoM/3JNNRmEW6eA/s1600/font.png" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Blogger added like a gazillion new beautiful fonts to the list of choices. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME. I went through every single one about three times, trying so hard to decide. They are all so beautiful. Of course I'm going to memorize them. I'll probably change this blog's font every week, just to keep you guessing. I feel like a whole new world has just been opened up to me. I might just burst into a song from Aladdin.<br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Or not.</div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-79936460981013569212011-03-14T19:28:00.000-07:002011-03-14T19:28:22.262-07:00behind the scenes.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-1ACEwqotpI4/TX7OUP7xmpI/AAAAAAAAAn0/-D60lT2_HhI/s1600/theatre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" q6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-1ACEwqotpI4/TX7OUP7xmpI/AAAAAAAAAn0/-D60lT2_HhI/s320/theatre.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">The makeup room is crowded and hot. </div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">You fight for a spot in front of the mirror</div><div style="text-align: center;">and pile on thick white foundation,</div><div style="text-align: center;">crying while your director teases your hair,</div><div style="text-align: center;">and you watch yourself transform</div><div style="text-align: center;">from a plain, ordinary girl</div><div style="text-align: center;">to an old woman or a rich man.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today you’re a dark-eyed zombie.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You slip your uniform over your head</div><div style="text-align: center;">and pull your stockings over your legs,</div><div style="text-align: center;">lace up your boots and hold your breath</div><div style="text-align: center;">while someone stuffs you in a corset.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Your director appears to tells you it’s time.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You hum your way backstage and join hands</div><div style="text-align: center;">and bow your head to ask for God’s help.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then you silently slip behind the set and wait.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You wait for seconds that seem like years.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You run your lines through your head</div><div style="text-align: center;">and realize you’ve forgotten all of them.</div><div style="text-align: center;">All you hear is the pounding hearts</div><div style="text-align: center;">and stiff breathing of your family around you.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The lights go down. The audience grows quiet.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The judge’s pen is poised against his spiral.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Red lights fade in on you at the sound of the music,</div><div style="text-align: center;">a few ominous booms and cautious chords.</div><div style="text-align: center;">You stand up and face your audience.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">- MELISSA RENEE</span></strong></div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-26828111955765367112011-02-01T13:47:00.000-08:002011-02-01T13:47:18.472-08:00jar of hearts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TUh12P-2OMI/AAAAAAAAAnI/eP5F2MHkh-g/s1600/tumblr_lbyduwKrdJ1qdbbywo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TUh12P-2OMI/AAAAAAAAAnI/eP5F2MHkh-g/s320/tumblr_lbyduwKrdJ1qdbbywo1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #ff0080;"><span style="color: #278753;">W</span><span style="color: #368d56;">h</span><span style="color: #45925a;">o</span><span style="color: #53985d;"> </span><span style="color: #629e61;">d</span><span style="color: #71a464;">o</span><span style="color: #80a968;"> </span><span style="color: #8faf6b;">y</span><span style="color: #9db56e;">o</span><span style="color: #acba72;">u</span><span style="color: #bbc075;"> </span><span style="color: #cac679;">t</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">h</span><span style="color: #e7d180;">i</span><span style="color: #f6d783;">n</span><span style="color: #eed78b;">k</span><span style="color: #e6d793;"> </span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">y</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;">o</span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">u</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;"> </span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">a</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">r</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;">e</span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">?</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #45925a;">R</span><span style="color: #53985d;">u</span><span style="color: #629e61;">n</span><span style="color: #71a464;">n</span><span style="color: #80a968;">i</span><span style="color: #8faf6b;">n</span><span style="color: #9db56e;">g</span><span style="color: #acba72;"> </span><span style="color: #bbc075;">r</span><span style="color: #cac679;">o</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">u</span><span style="color: #e7d180;">n</span><span style="color: #f6d783;">d</span><span style="color: #eed78b;"> </span><span style="color: #e6d793;">l</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">e</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;">a</span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">v</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">i</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">n</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">g</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;"> </span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">s</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;">c</span><span style="color: #93d7e6;">a</span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;">r</span><span style="color: #83d7f6;">s</span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #629e61;">C</span><span style="color: #71a464;">o</span><span style="color: #80a968;">l</span><span style="color: #8faf6b;">l</span><span style="color: #9db56e;">e</span><span style="color: #acba72;">c</span><span style="color: #bbc075;">t</span><span style="color: #cac679;">i</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">n</span><span style="color: #e7d180;">g</span><span style="color: #f6d783;"> </span><span style="color: #eed78b;">y</span><span style="color: #e6d793;">o</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">u</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;">r</span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;"> </span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">j</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">a</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">r</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;"> </span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">o</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;">f</span><span style="color: #93d7e6;"> </span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;">h</span><span style="color: #83d7f6;">e</span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;">a</span><span style="color: #76ccdf;">r</span><span style="color: #6fc6d3;">t</span><span style="color: #69c0c7;">s</span><br />
<span style="color: #80a968;">T</span><span style="color: #8faf6b;">e</span><span style="color: #9db56e;">a</span><span style="color: #acba72;">r</span><span style="color: #bbc075;">i</span><span style="color: #cac679;">n</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">g</span><span style="color: #e7d180;"> </span><span style="color: #f6d783;">l</span><span style="color: #eed78b;">o</span><span style="color: #e6d793;">v</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">e</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;"> </span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">a</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">p</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">a</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">r</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;">t</span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #5b8fd2;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #acba72;">Y</span><span style="color: #bbc075;">o</span><span style="color: #cac679;">u</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">'</span><span style="color: #e7d180;">r</span><span style="color: #f6d783;">e</span><span style="color: #eed78b;"> </span><span style="color: #e6d793;">g</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">o</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;">n</span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">n</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">a</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;"> </span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">c</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;">a</span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">t</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;">c</span><span style="color: #93d7e6;">h</span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;"> </span><span style="color: #83d7f6;">a</span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;"> </span><span style="color: #76ccdf;">c</span><span style="color: #6fc6d3;">o</span><span style="color: #69c0c7;">l</span><span style="color: #62babc;">d</span><span style="color: #5cb5b0;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #cac679;">F</span><span style="color: #d8cc7c;">r</span><span style="color: #e7d180;">o</span><span style="color: #f6d783;">m</span><span style="color: #eed78b;"> </span><span style="color: #e6d793;">t</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">h</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;">e</span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;"> </span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">i</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">c</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">e</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;"> </span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">i</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;">n</span><span style="color: #93d7e6;">s</span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;">i</span><span style="color: #83d7f6;">d</span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;">e</span><span style="color: #76ccdf;"> </span><span style="color: #6fc6d3;">y</span><span style="color: #69c0c7;">o</span><span style="color: #62babc;">u</span><span style="color: #5cb5b0;">r</span><span style="color: #55afa5;"> </span><span style="color: #4ea999;">s</span><span style="color: #48a48d;">o</span><span style="color: #419e82;">u</span><span style="color: #3b9876;">l</span><br />
<span style="color: #e7d180;">D</span><span style="color: #f6d783;">o</span><span style="color: #eed78b;">n</span><span style="color: #e6d793;">'</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">t</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;"> </span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">c</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">o</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;">m</span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">e</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;"> </span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">b</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;">a</span><span style="color: #93d7e6;">c</span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;">k</span><span style="color: #83d7f6;"> </span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;">f</span><span style="color: #76ccdf;">o</span><span style="color: #6fc6d3;">r</span><span style="color: #69c0c7;"> </span><span style="color: #62babc;">m</span><span style="color: #5cb5b0;">e</span><span style="color: #55afa5;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #eed78b;">W</span><span style="color: #e6d793;">h</span><span style="color: #ddd79c;">o</span><span style="color: #d5d7a4;"> </span><span style="color: #cdd7ac;">d</span><span style="color: #c5d7b4;">o</span><span style="color: #bcd7bd;"> </span><span style="color: #b4d7c5;">y</span><span style="color: #acd7cd;">o</span><span style="color: #a4d7d5;">u</span><span style="color: #9cd7dd;"> </span><span style="color: #93d7e6;">t</span><span style="color: #8bd7ee;">h</span><span style="color: #83d7f6;">i</span><span style="color: #7cd1ea;">n</span><span style="color: #76ccdf;">k</span><span style="color: #6fc6d3;"> </span><span style="color: #69c0c7;">y</span><span style="color: #62babc;">o</span><span style="color: #5cb5b0;">u</span><span style="color: #55afa5;"> </span><span style="color: #4ea999;">a</span><span style="color: #48a48d;">r</span><span style="color: #419e82;">e</span><span style="color: #3b9876;">?</span><span style="color: #34926a;"></span><span style="color: #2e8d5f;"> </span></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: #38761d;">- Christina Perri</span></span></div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-19875871081780378932011-01-09T16:49:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:49:45.032-08:00Jane Austen Meets Taio Cruz<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P2DYVLNhXdE?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P2DYVLNhXdE?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
This made my day...week...LIFE(:Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-23253594986071102012011-01-07T21:50:00.000-08:002011-01-07T19:54:48.931-08:00Black & White<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TSff0FXPThI/AAAAAAAAAmk/kuZbagwZ7i0/s1600/tumblr_lbjngu1gQE1qbwxu0o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TSff0FXPThI/AAAAAAAAAmk/kuZbagwZ7i0/s1600/tumblr_lbjngu1gQE1qbwxu0o1_500.jpg" /></a></div>What used to be so black and white</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Is now just gray and out of sight</div><div style="text-align: center;">We’ve blurred the lines that used to be</div><div style="text-align: center;">They’re just a distant memory</div><div style="text-align: center;">All the things we know are wrong</div><div style="text-align: center;">We do them just to get along</div><div style="text-align: center;">All the things we know are right</div><div style="text-align: center;">Are lost in the fog, no longer white</div><div style="text-align: center;">What made us choose this road?</div><div style="text-align: center;">We’re not the people we used to know</div><div style="text-align: center;">The pressure from every direction</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pulls at us, destroys perfection</div><div style="text-align: center;">Everything that used to be</div><div style="text-align: center;">Is all just a dream to me</div><div style="text-align: center;">Where did we lose our soul?</div><div style="text-align: center;">We stopped, dropped, and let it roll</div><div style="text-align: center;">There’s no turning back this time</div><div style="text-align: center;">My body is no longer mine</div><div style="text-align: center;">We believe there’s no use pretending</div><div style="text-align: center;">There’s no such thing as a happy ening</div><div style="text-align: center;">My life I gave, but for what fight?</div><div style="text-align: center;">I died rediscovering black and white.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[for my school, me, and the general student body with all its ignorance. please don't copy, thanks.]</span></div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-91176363917182990132011-01-01T17:46:00.000-08:002011-01-01T17:54:17.618-08:00New Year's Resolutions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TR_YCPRQdlI/AAAAAAAAAl0/DYnpw7M37wA/s1600/tumblr_l3eesx3fHc1qc2rgbo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TR_YCPRQdlI/AAAAAAAAAl0/DYnpw7M37wA/s1600/tumblr_l3eesx3fHc1qc2rgbo1_500_large.jpg" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Wow, this is lame. I actually am going to blog about this? But I want to make this year count. 2011 is going to change something; I can feel it. (P.S: Share <em>YOUR</em> resolutions in the "comments" section!)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;">Read my Bible more often.</span> Seeing as I hardly read it at all, there's plenty of room for improvement. I try -- really, I do.</li>
<li><strong>Expand my cooking abilities.</strong> I think everyone will be happier.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Grow out my hair.</span> Again. I'll probably just chop it all off anyways.</li>
<li><strong>Get above a 95 average in all of my classes.</strong> <em>So close!</em></li>
<li><strong>Be a better friend.</strong> I don't think there's ever a moment where you can be too good of a friend.</li>
<li><strong>Take photos.</strong> Lots of photos.</li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;">Finish reading </span><em><span style="font-size: large;">A Tale of Two Cities.</span> </em>The mere thought scares the Dickens out of me. Sorry, I couldn't resist.</li>
</ul><strong>2011, you are going to be a very hard year.</strong>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-67866027518124077292010-12-21T16:47:00.000-08:002010-12-21T16:47:37.966-08:00a note on love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TRFHDIqAfmI/AAAAAAAAAlc/jJTIWdEymyo/s1600/heart+of+this+city.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TRFHDIqAfmI/AAAAAAAAAlc/jJTIWdEymyo/s320/heart+of+this+city.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">How does it feel to have a heart that's beyond breaking?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Can you feel anything at all anymore?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You're looking for love so desperately</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but trust me. You'll never find it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You already have love, true love,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">the greatest love ever known to anyone,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and you don't even see it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Creator of the Universe is madly in love with you,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">but you don't even notice. You don't even care.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You pretend it doesn't matter, but I can see your pain.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you have Love like that, you don't need anything else.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you have God's love, no one else's love really matters.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Irrevocable. Unconditional. Eternal.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Isn't that enough?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">[for a friend]</span></div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-15133213843745774702010-12-17T19:27:00.000-08:002010-12-17T19:27:41.446-08:00I got a tumblr. follow me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TQwoSyqgJnI/AAAAAAAAAlY/9cc4bQbB4qs/s1600/tumbil.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TQwoSyqgJnI/AAAAAAAAAlY/9cc4bQbB4qs/s320/tumbil.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I gave in to the temptation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I got a tumblr.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm hoping it will be more inspiring and visual,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">rather than the Jesus-flavored fake narcissism that resides on this blog</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">(not that the words Jesus, fake, and narcissism should exist in the same sentence).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Don't freak out -- this wonderfully snarktastic blog isn't going anywhere.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So now follow me on tumblr: <a href="http://www.maybemolly.tumblr.com/">maybe molly</a></div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-9775956020510924132010-12-14T16:37:00.000-08:002010-12-14T16:37:33.532-08:00tumblr.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TQgNI-544MI/AAAAAAAAAlU/6i5QMtHGqvs/s1600/tumblr_l6kjz4iqHN1qzip33o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TQgNI-544MI/AAAAAAAAAlU/6i5QMtHGqvs/s1600/tumblr_l6kjz4iqHN1qzip33o1_500.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">So I just discoverd <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If it was a guy, I'd marry it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it's not. So.....yeah.</div>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-16866545438104162942010-11-02T18:59:00.000-07:002010-11-02T18:59:05.309-07:00Bowling, Rapping, & Crazy Dancing<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TNDBLzeFR0I/AAAAAAAAAkY/2MyIPr1h4uM/s1600/eminem.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TNDBLzeFR0I/AAAAAAAAAkY/2MyIPr1h4uM/s1600/eminem.png" /></a>In 2nd period today, we hopped in the bus and went to the slightly creepy bowling alley that smells like fried pickles. There's an arcade in the back, which makes it even scarier, since I have a fear of arcades.</div><br />
I was working with the special ed kids and scoring a steady stream of 0's (until today, I had never bowled without bumpers). And let me tell you, I looked oh-so-hot in my neon purple socks and red+puke green bowling shoes.<br />
<br />
Then the speakers explode with the pounding beats of Eminem, and suddenly I'm [trying to] rap and I'm dancing crazily in front of my friend. Then everyone notices and they make fun of me, but I know they're secretly just jealous of my mad skills.<br />
<br />
It's times like that I'll always remember; times when I wasn't afraid to step out of the norm and just be myself, as weird as I am. I'll remember this day because I danced and rapped without caring who saw me, just for the fun of it, just because I could.<br />
<br />
What's the point of life if you're not going to have fun with it?Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-31365310757017106522010-10-31T19:40:00.000-07:002010-10-31T19:40:43.860-07:0010.31.10<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TM4oeLEU34I/AAAAAAAAAkU/_ThARt2mZow/s1600/dcthisgravity.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nx="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TM4oeLEU34I/AAAAAAAAAkU/_ThARt2mZow/s1600/dcthisgravity.png" /></a></div><span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #0e97c0;">H</span><span style="color: #1491c0;">A</span><span style="color: #1b8ac0;">T</span> <span style="color: #287ebf;">I</span><span style="color: #2f78bf;">'</span><span style="color: #3671bf;">M</span> <span style="color: #4365bf;">L</span><span style="color: #4a5fbf;">I</span><span style="color: #5159bf;">S</span><span style="color: #5752be;">T</span><span style="color: #5e4cbe;">E</span><span style="color: #6546be;">N</span><span style="color: #6b40be;">I</span><span style="color: #7239be;">N</span><span style="color: #7933be;">G</span> <span style="color: #8627bd;">T</span><span style="color: #8d20bd;">O</span>: <u>Disco Curtis.</u> Look it up. Listen. Enjoy. :)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #1095c0;">H</span><span style="color: #188dc0;">A</span><span style="color: #2185bf;">T</span> <span style="color: #3275bf;">I</span><span style="color: #3b6dbf;">'</span><span style="color: #4465bf;">M</span> <span style="color: #5554be;">R</span><span style="color: #5d4cbe;">A</span><span style="color: #6644be;">P</span><span style="color: #6f3cbe;">P</span><span style="color: #7734be;">I</span><span style="color: #802cbe;">N</span><span style="color: #8924bd;">G</span>: Handlebars - Flobots . You wish you were this cool.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #1095c0;">H</span><span style="color: #188dc0;">A</span><span style="color: #2185bf;">T</span> <span style="color: #3275bf;">I</span><span style="color: #3b6dbf;">'</span><span style="color: #4465bf;">M</span> <span style="color: #5554be;">R</span><span style="color: #5d4cbe;">E</span><span style="color: #6644be;">A</span><span style="color: #6f3cbe;">D</span><span style="color: #7734be;">I</span><span style="color: #802cbe;">N</span><span style="color: #8924bd;">G</span>: <em>Twilight</em> by Stephanie Meyer (for the sixth time)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #0f95c0;">H</span><span style="color: #178ec0;">A</span><span style="color: #2086c0;">T</span> <span style="color: #3077bf;">I</span><span style="color: #386fbf;">'</span><span style="color: #4068bf;">M</span> <span style="color: #5159bf;">W</span><span style="color: #5951be;">A</span><span style="color: #6149be;">T</span><span style="color: #6942be;">C</span><span style="color: #713abe;">H</span><span style="color: #7932be;">I</span><span style="color: #822bbe;">N</span><span style="color: #8a23bd;">G</span>: The Rangers play the World Series. Actually, that's a lie. My mom's watching that. I'm just mentally rooting for them.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #1095c0;">H</span><span style="color: #188dc0;">A</span><span style="color: #2185bf;">T</span> <span style="color: #3275bf;">I</span><span style="color: #3b6dbf;">'</span><span style="color: #4465bf;">M</span> <span style="color: #5554be;">W</span><span style="color: #5d4cbe;">A</span><span style="color: #6644be;">N</span><span style="color: #6f3cbe;">T</span><span style="color: #7734be;">I</span><span style="color: #802cbe;">N</span><span style="color: #8924bd;">G</span>: South Korean dresses (<a href="http://www.yesstyle.com/en/secret-bb-short-sleeve-polka-dotted-dress-pink-one-size/info.html/pid.1022549846">like this one</a>)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #079dc0;">W</span><span style="color: #0f96c0;">H</span><span style="color: #168fc0;">A</span><span style="color: #1e87c0;">T</span> <span style="color: #2e79bf;">I</span><span style="color: #3572bf;">'</span><span style="color: #3d6bbf;">M</span> <span style="color: #4d5cbf;">P</span><span style="color: #5455be;">O</span><span style="color: #5c4ebe;">N</span><span style="color: #6446be;">D</span><span style="color: #6c3fbe;">E</span><span style="color: #7338be;">R</span><span style="color: #7b31be;">I</span><span style="color: #832abd;">N</span><span style="color: #8b22bd;">G</span>: "We learn from history that we learn nothing from history." - George Bernard ShawMelissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-54567978566619618402010-10-24T18:12:00.000-07:002010-10-24T18:16:08.145-07:008 Questions<strong>1) If you could go ANYWHERE in the world, where would it be and why?</strong><br />
Some tiny uninhabited island with dolphins and birds.<br />
<br />
<strong>2) If you were a tree, would kind would you be?</strong><br />
A cherry blossom tree.<br />
<br />
<strong>3) Would you rather skydive or explore a deep, dark cave? (why)</strong><br />
Skydiving. I am deathly afraid of the dark and sleep with a nightlight which I pretend is for my little siblings. And I am also afraid of the Loch-Ness-Monster-wannabes that live in water inside caves.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TMTZWLE-EwI/AAAAAAAAAj8/6DU5TltPZH8/s1600/80s+1700s.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TMTZWLE-EwI/AAAAAAAAAj8/6DU5TltPZH8/s200/80s+1700s.png" width="200" /></a></div><strong>4) If you could wear clothing from any time period (without being seen as odd), what would it be?</strong><br />
Who cares about being odd. Seriously, I am odd and I'll own up to it. That being said, I love the 80's. Or the 1700s. Either one will do. Maybe a fusion of both...?<br />
<br />
<strong>5) Would you be willing to sing an opera song at the top of your lungs in the middle of a mall for a hundred dollars?</strong><br />
I'd do it for $20, sweetie.<br />
<br />
<strong>6) Would you rather have an amazing castle beside a lake or a cottage by the sea? (why?)</strong><br />
Castle. Because then I'd invite Maddy, Morgan, Becca, and Katie, and we'd all go over to my place and make that castle-y movie like we always wanted. And I would <em>so</em> love to rub it in Morgan's face that <em>I, </em>her little punk almost-sister, was the one who ended up with the castle in Scotland. Bazinga, Morgan. Bazinga.<br />
<br />
<strong>7) If you could change your hair color to any color, what would it be?</strong><br />
RED! It is my dream to wake up one day with pale skin and flaming red hair.<br />
<br />
<strong>8) Would you rather live in a tree house or fly away with a balloon? </strong><br />
Tree house. Fly away with a balloon? Eventually it would pop, and that would end all the fun.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-10066449866138446622010-10-05T19:51:00.000-07:002010-10-05T19:54:44.928-07:0015<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TKvk1YSL06I/AAAAAAAAAjs/43lzaihRfMs/s1600/hammiecake-2266-1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TKvk1YSL06I/AAAAAAAAAjs/43lzaihRfMs/s320/hammiecake-2266-1.gif" width="320" /></a>Yes, it's true...yesterday was everyone's favorite day of the year.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My birthday.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I am fifteen. Gosh I am so little.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>*bursts into Taylor Swift song*<br />
<br />
I had to stay at school until 8:15pm to rehearse an Irish play we're doing on Thursday and Friday. Everyone brought candy and stuffed animals and stuff to school and my theatre friends made 3 cakes for me (with "Happy Birthday" written in Gaelic -- yeah, be jealous). I ate until my head hurt and I thought I was going to puke. I probably doubled my body weight but it was totally worth it.<br />
<br />
PLUS, I got to spend some time with my Mom and Rachel at my two favorite places in the world, Ulta and Olive Garden, and my parents gave me a promise ring. :)Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-73605788157966809122010-09-04T18:07:00.000-07:002010-09-04T18:07:08.909-07:006:30Every morning at six-thirty, I wake up and gradually get out of bed, walk to the mirror, and smile.<br />
<br />
My hair is a mess, last night's mascara is smudged, and I look like I've just been hit by a truck, but I smile anyway.<br />
<br />
It changes your whole day.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-9987928312656162882010-08-28T13:55:00.000-07:002010-08-28T14:01:11.545-07:00The Cutest Little Freshman You'll Ever See<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/THl4PfiNGfI/AAAAAAAAAiI/34q-NV9vrV8/s1600/30683_1188913302048_1804825296_360783_2668020_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/THl4PfiNGfI/AAAAAAAAAiI/34q-NV9vrV8/s320/30683_1188913302048_1804825296_360783_2668020_n.jpg" /></a></div>School is good. Except the learning part. That's gotta go.<br />
<br />
The theatre people are so awesome. I think it's funny how you can always tell who those people are. They have a reputation for being crazy, but I like them. They've sort of "adopted" me, I guess. Every time I speak, they say, "Awww...she's so cute...!"<br />
<br />
I don't have a single group of friends yet. I like the theatre kids a lot but since they're older I don't get to see them outside of drama class. I move around, but I usually sit with the popular girls and some guys for lunch and sit with the gay kids and the goth kids in the morning. I really don't know how that worked out. I found a girl who likes to share her cookies, chips, and gum with me because she says I'm too skinny, so that's cool. When it comes down to it, I usually just sit and pretend to be very interested in my nails or a scratch on the table.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-3088518880609430342010-08-22T17:30:00.000-07:002010-08-22T17:30:24.926-07:00Fishy<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/THHA0O4oOBI/AAAAAAAAAiA/mam_9pxYxME/s1600/fajre%3Biofa.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/THHA0O4oOBI/AAAAAAAAAiA/mam_9pxYxME/s320/fajre%3Biofa.bmp" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow, I become a high schooler.</span><br />
<br />
I have been really upset about it, but then out of the blue Rachel called me today and it's nice to know that someone else is nervous. Then my nana called, and people at church have encouraged me, so I'm feeling a little better. Talking to sweet Gillian also helped. :)<br />
<br />
My biggest worry, besides not having friends despite the fact that I am a very social gal, is that I will be in over my head in homework and theatre and everything. I'm doing all advanced classes and so I'm just waiting to see if I can handle it.<br />
<br />
Another big reason for my worries? Here we go.....I'm really dependent and I don't have much common sense. I'm smart, but I haven't been in school since I was in first grade, and that was private school. I don't like to feel alone and I don't like things resting solely on my shoulders. Plus, as you know, I am a huge procrastinator.<br />
<br />
So tomorrow I will become a fishy. I will straighten my hair (again), put on some vanilla-scented perfume, gloss my lips and arrive at high school with just a notebook and a pencil.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, I think God will be there, too.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-52376325699174968022010-08-19T17:07:00.000-07:002010-08-19T17:07:04.406-07:00Old and Uncool<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TG3GzFCBAxI/AAAAAAAAAhI/uToGeJ0tcSU/s1600/sunblock_stripes_onface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TG3GzFCBAxI/AAAAAAAAAhI/uToGeJ0tcSU/s200/sunblock_stripes_onface.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The other day I was at the pool with my family. We'd been there a while and I was bored, so I swam up to my 8-year-old brother Elijah, who was playing with his "friends" that he had just met.<br />
I asked, "What are you playing?" in the hopes that I could join in.<br />
<em>Au contraire.</em><br />
Elijah pulled me aside and said quietly, "<em>Melissa...</em>" He couldn't look at my face.<br />
"What?" I asked.<br />
He bites his lip. "I'm playing with my <em>friends.</em>"<br />
<br />
Suddenly I got it.<br />
My little brother was too cool to have his lame older sister around while he played with his friends.<br />
I couldn't even swim in the general vincinity without embarassing the poor dear.<br />
I was an oldie, too irrelevant and old-fashioned and not in with the times.<br />
I use terms like "flipping" and "bazinga" and he was probably horribly afraid that I would unleash my slightly-too-loud laugh and his little buddies would hear it. <em>Oh PLEASE, not the laugh! Anything but the laugh!</em><br />
<br />
It's great to know the confidence my family has in me.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-87066117760822474762010-08-15T13:36:00.000-07:002010-08-15T13:36:22.524-07:00Contradictions<span style="color: #785c09;">I</span><span style="color: #716010;">s</span><span style="color: #6a6417;"> </span><span style="color: #63691e;">i</span><span style="color: #5c6d25;">t</span><span style="color: #56712d;"> </span><span style="color: #4f7534;">p</span><span style="color: #48793b;">o</span><span style="color: #417d42;">s</span><span style="color: #3a8249;">s</span><span style="color: #338650;">i</span><span style="color: #2c8a57;">b</span><span style="color: #258e5e;">l</span><span style="color: #1f9266;">e</span><span style="color: #18966d;"> </span><span style="color: #119b74;">t</span><span style="color: #0a9f7b;">o</span><span style="color: #03a382;"> </span><span style="color: #049f81;">b</span><span style="color: #069a7f;">e</span><span style="color: #07967e;"> </span><span style="color: #08917c;">d</span><span style="color: #0a8d7b;">e</span><span style="color: #0b8979;">e</span><span style="color: #0c8478;">p</span><span style="color: #0e8076;"> </span><span style="color: #0f7c75;">a</span><span style="color: #107773;">n</span><span style="color: #127372;">d</span><span style="color: #136e70;"> </span><span style="color: #146a6f;">s</span><span style="color: #16666d;">h</span><span style="color: #17616c;">a</span><span style="color: #185d6a;">l</span><span style="color: #1a5869;">l</span><span style="color: #1b5467;">o</span><span style="color: #235a69;">w</span><span style="color: #2b606b;"> </span><span style="color: #33656d;">a</span><span style="color: #3b6b6f;">t</span><span style="color: #437171;"> </span><span style="color: #4b7773;">t</span><span style="color: #537d75;">h</span><span style="color: #5b8377;">e</span><span style="color: #638878;"> </span><span style="color: #6b8e7a;">s</span><span style="color: #73947c;">a</span><span style="color: #7b9a7e;">m</span><span style="color: #83a080;">e</span><span style="color: #8ba682;"> </span><span style="color: #93ab84;">t</span><span style="color: #9bb186;">i</span><span style="color: #a3b788;">m</span><span style="color: #a2ae8d;">e</span><span style="color: #a1a592;">?</span><span style="color: #9f9c98;"><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #9d8aa2;">I</span><span style="color: #9c81a7;">s</span><span style="color: #9a78ac;"> </span><span style="color: #996fb1;">i</span><span style="color: #9866b7;">t</span><span style="color: #975dbc;"> </span><span style="color: #9554c1;">p</span><span style="color: #944bc6;">o</span><span style="color: #9342cb;">s</span><span style="color: #9239d0;">s</span><span style="color: #9030d6;">i</span><span style="color: #8f27db;">b</span><span style="color: #8e1ee0;">l</span><span style="color: #8e28d7;">e</span><span style="color: #8e32cd;"> </span><span style="color: #8d3dc4;">t</span><span style="color: #8d47bb;">o</span><span style="color: #8d51b1;"> </span><span style="color: #8d5ba8;">b</span><span style="color: #8c669f;">e</span><span style="color: #8c7095;"> the</span><span style="color: #8c8e79;"> </span><span style="color: #8b9970;">o</span><span style="color: #8ba367;">p</span><span style="color: #8bad5d;">p</span><span style="color: #8bb754;">o</span><span style="color: #8ac24b;">s</span><span style="color: #8acc41;">i</span><span style="color: #8ad638;">t</span><span style="color: #88d43e;">e</span><span style="color: #85d244;"> </span><span style="color: #83d04a;">o</span><span style="color: #80ce50;">f</span><span style="color: #7ecc56;"> </span><span style="color: #7cca5c;">y</span><span style="color: #79c862;">o</span><span style="color: #77c668;">u</span><span style="color: #74c36f;">r</span><span style="color: #72c175;">s</span><span style="color: #6fbf7b;">e</span><span style="color: #6dbd81;">l</span><span style="color: #6bbb87;">f</span><span style="color: #68b98d;">?</span><span style="color: #66b793;"><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #61b39f;">C</span><span style="color: #67b4a4;">a</span><span style="color: #6db5aa;">n</span><span style="color: #73b6af;"> </span><span style="color: #79b7b4;">y</span><span style="color: #7fb8ba;">o</span><span style="color: #85b9bf;">u</span><span style="color: #8bbac4;"> </span><span style="color: #91bbca;">c</span><span style="color: #97bccf;">o</span><span style="color: #9cbcd4;">n</span><span style="color: #a2bdda;">t</span><span style="color: #a8bedf;">r</span><span style="color: #aebfe4;">a</span><span style="color: #b4c0ea;">d</span><span style="color: #bac1ef;">i</span><span style="color: #c0c2f4;">c</span><span style="color: #c6c3fa;">t</span><span style="color: #ccc4ff;"> </span><span style="color: #c8c4fd;">w</span><span style="color: #c4c3fc;">h</span><span style="color: #c0c3fa;">o</span><span style="color: #bcc3f8;"> </span><span style="color: #b8c3f6;">y</span><span style="color: #b4c2f5;">o</span><span style="color: #b0c2f3;">u</span><span style="color: #acc2f1;"> </span><span style="color: #a8c1f0;">a</span><span style="color: #a4c1ee;">r</span><span style="color: #a0c1ec;">e</span><span style="color: #9cc0eb;">?</span><span style="color: #98c0e9;"><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #90c0e5;">I</span><span style="color: #8cbfe4;"> </span><span style="color: #88bfe2;">f</span><span style="color: #85bfe1;">e</span><span style="color: #83bfe0;">e</span><span style="color: #80c0df;">l</span><span style="color: #7dc0de;"> </span><span style="color: #7ac0dd;">l</span><span style="color: #78c0dc;">i</span><span style="color: #75c0db;">k</span><span style="color: #72c0da;">e</span><span style="color: #70c1d9;"> </span><span style="color: #6dc1d8;">a</span><span style="color: #6ac1d7;"> </span><span style="color: #68c1d6;">S</span><span style="color: #65c1d5;">t</span><span style="color: #62c1d4;">a</span><span style="color: #5fc2d3;">r</span><span style="color: #5dc2d2;">b</span><span style="color: #5ac2d1;">u</span><span style="color: #5dbece;">r</span><span style="color: #60bacb;">s</span><span style="color: #64b5c8;">t</span><span style="color: #67b1c5;">.</span><span style="color: #6aadc2;"><br />
</span><span style="color: black;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #70a4bc;">I</span><span style="color: #73a0b9;">’</span><span style="color: #779cb6;">m</span><span style="color: #7a98b4;"> </span><span style="color: #7d94b1;">a</span><span style="color: #808fae;"> </span><span style="color: #838bab;">p</span><span style="color: #8687a8;">a</span><span style="color: #8a83a5;">c</span><span style="color: #8d7ea2;">k</span><span style="color: #907a9f;"> </span><span style="color: #93769c;">o</span><span style="color: #967c93;">f</span><span style="color: #99828b;"> </span><span style="color: #9c8882;">c</span><span style="color: #9f8e79;">o</span><span style="color: #a39470;">n</span><span style="color: #a69a68;">t</span><span style="color: #a9a05f;">r</span><span style="color: #aca656;">a</span><span style="color: #afab4e;">d</span><span style="color: #b2b145;">i</span><span style="color: #b5b73c;">c</span><span style="color: #b8bd34;">t</span><span style="color: #bcc32b;">i</span><span style="color: #bfc922;">o</span><span style="color: #c2cf19;">n</span><span style="color: #c5d511;">s</span><span style="color: #c8db08;">.</span>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-29054334206998226572010-08-14T11:33:00.000-07:002010-08-14T11:33:13.138-07:0020 Things You (Probably) Don't Know About Me<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TGbfhkZSkaI/AAAAAAAAAhA/-yJytc8svNM/s1600/polaroidgirl.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TGbfhkZSkaI/AAAAAAAAAhA/-yJytc8svNM/s320/polaroidgirl.png" /></a><strong>1. I love emo hair and black nail polish.</strong> I really don't know why. That's not even my "look" or anything.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>2. I get really mad when people are prejudice against people who are "different". </strong>If you have trouble being nice to an emo, someone with tattoos, or anyone you judge because of how they look, I have trouble being nice to you.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>3. I love things that most people don't love, </strong>like outrageous red snakeskin heels and other items of clothing that people think of as "ugly". Nobody knows this, though. Like, nobody.</div><br />
<strong>4. I have this obnoxious big smile </strong>and I don't really like it, especially when everyone around me gives these tiny little semi-smiles.<br />
<br />
<strong>5. I love rain. </strong>I love cold weather. Like in Forks, Washington. Mostly because vampires live there. So why exactly do I live in Texas? Hmm....<br />
<br />
<strong>6. When I'm concentrating really hard, I stick out my tongue a little.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>7. I like indie pop music.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>8. I have my entire wedding planned out, </strong>as well as the names and genders of my future children. My problem is that I only want 2-3 kids, but I have so many awesome names. (Haven and Oliver...so cute!)<br />
<br />
<strong>9. I'm not as close to God as I'd like to think.</strong><br />
<br />
<strong>10. Even though I hang out with people who are older than me sometimes, I always feel like I'm the oldest person in the room.</strong> I told one of my older friends this and she said I was stuck up, but then she laughed and said "just kidding". Yeah. Thanks. It's not like I think I'm better than them or anything, I just have a strong personality and most people follow me instead of me following them. I think that's why.<br />
<br />
<strong>11. I sometimes hate myself. </strong>Mainly because I'm a procrastinator and can't keep my room clean. But also because I skipped ahead in <em>Breaking Dawn</em> and ruined the whole book for myself.<br />
<br />
<strong>12. I sing in the shower. </strong>I belt it out. Turns out that people can still hear me in there. Great.<br />
<br />
<strong>13. My glass is half-empty.</strong> Almost half-full, but not quite.<br />
<br />
<strong>14. I wish I was pale. </strong>But no, I am tan. Gah.<br />
<br />
<strong>15. I am a "what-if" person.</strong> Being sure of the fact that I'm going to die any second now is part of my everyday life. I'm constantly thinking, "There's a car. I'm in the front seat. If we crash, which we probably will, the airbags will snap my spine. It'll be fast. I'm ready to die. OK." I watch the car drive by, and I'm still alive, so I wait for the next one. Etc.<br />
<br />
<strong>16. Shy people annoy me.</strong> I don't get them. Some of my best friends are shy. My awesomeness freaks them out sometimes. I find immense pleasure in embarassing them by talking too loud or doing something silly in public. So yeah. Nick Jonas and I would probably kill each other.<br />
<br />
<strong>17. I am terrified of old age. </strong>Like Bella from <em>Twilight.</em> Like, it seriously scares me, creeps me out like nothing else in the world. I'm not afraid of old people. I like them. I'm afraid of me as an old person. Scary.<br />
<br />
<strong>18. I am a people watcher. </strong>I get wierd stares all the time.<br />
<br />
<strong>19. I was married once. </strong>To a girl. It didn't work out. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(To those of you who are about to call me gay, I'm not. It was an inside joke thing.)</span><br />
<br />
<strong>20. I admire people who are real and don't change who they are just because they'd be less different if they did.</strong>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-81155719468389060832010-08-04T18:14:00.000-07:002010-08-04T18:39:12.967-07:00How to Blog like Melissa<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">When I’m in a blogging mood (which is almost always) there are certain things I do – blogging rituals, if you will – that get my creative juices flowing. There are also certain things that always seem to come up in my writing due to how my brain works. So here it is, the long-awaited, epic guide on how to blog like me.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TFoV6JHjliI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Xj5ebZlu-7M/s1600/freaf.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TFoV6JHjliI/AAAAAAAAAfg/Xj5ebZlu-7M/s320/freaf.png" /></a>• <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Listen to Justin Bieber.</strong></span> If you want to truly reflect my writing style, you MUST listen to Justin Bieber while you write future posts. This is very important.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">• <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Think like a girl.</strong></span> Or, if you’re less gracious, think like you have ADHD. While I’m blogging, I’m also thinking about the lifeguard at the pool, the outfit I want to wear the next day, what my makeup will look like, the party I’m going to that week, all while I’m singing the super-fast rap part of “Baby”. Oh yeah. You wish you were that cool.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">• <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Make a lot of really lame jokes that only you get.</strong></span> Your readers won’t get the reference to the fifth chapter of Eclipse that you slipped in there. Trust me. They’ll just think you came up with that on your own. (UNLESS you’re referencing the “tent scene”.) Like when I said “you can Google it” in my post about CPR. That was a reference to Twilight when Edward says, “You can Google it.” Yeah. I told you it was lame.</div>•<span style="color: magenta;"> <strong>Casually mention Nick Jonas, Taylor Lautner, or Justin Bieber</strong></span> in at least 20% of your posts. OK, if you’re a guy, skip this step. Please.<br />
• <span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Tag the Gospel message at the end of each post.</strong></span> You must almost ALWAYS have some reference to Jesus if you want to blog like me. EXAMPLE: “Then Taylor Lautner and I jumped on a horse and galloped off into the sunset. Speaking of Jesus, He died for you. What? We weren’t talking about Jesus? Oh. Well, now that you mention Him….” OR: “Rachel and I went to see Eclipse. It was awesome! You know, that reminds me a lot of God’s love….” Once I even wrote a post about burgers and tied it into being God’s disciple. Seriously.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-50152030877053903692010-07-19T16:43:00.000-07:002010-07-19T16:43:52.685-07:00The Manwich<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TETjDxara8I/AAAAAAAAAeI/PrlinyM4XDo/s1600/burger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TETjDxara8I/AAAAAAAAAeI/PrlinyM4XDo/s320/burger.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Burn this image into your mind:</span> 10 pound Chili’s “Southern Smokehouse Burger” with cheese, barbeque sauce, and BACON. 3 yummilicious strips of honey-glazed goodness 3x as thick as normal bacon. Not to mention the forest of thick French fries, which I do not believe are French at all.</div>Can you taste it yet? Can I get an “OH YEAH, BABY”?<br />
(Of course, if you’re a vegetarian, you might find this post offensive, so please stop here and send me no hate-mail, since I’m a semi-veggie myself and think you are “the bomb”.)<br />
All you meat-lovers, read on. Now, you might call the above sandwich a “manwich” because eating something so epic would require a real man who is incredibly macho and masculine and who meets the below requirements:<br />
<br />
<strong>• Has a tattoo on his heavily muscled arm</strong><br />
<strong>• Has motorcycle and gay motorcycle jacket with authentic leather fringe</strong><br />
<strong>• Has a beard that blows in his face when he rides in the above stated motorcycle</strong><br />
<strong>• Has a girlfriend who has a motorcycle and who handmade him that jacket</strong><br />
<strong>• Wears his red flannel shirt unbuttoned at the top to expose a jungle of chest hair</strong><br />
<strong>• Wears boots made of crocodile skin – from a croc he killed with his bare hands</strong><br />
<strong>• Has a belt with a big silver buckle with an engraved bull’s head</strong><br />
<strong>• Hangs the heads of various animals he killed all around his house</strong><br />
<strong>• Carries a gun to church and openly does duels in the street with the guy next door</strong><br />
<strong>• Wears a cologne that smells like a mixture of gasoline, burned rubber, and sweat and is probably called something like “BEAST” or even better “SOFT KISSES”</strong><br />
<strong>• Wears tight leather pants when he doesn’t wear jeans as a proclamation of his manliness</strong><br />
<strong>• May grunt or make other guttural noises instead of saying “yes”, “please”, or “thanks”</strong><br />
<br />
But lo-and-behold, that is not the person who ate this untouchably manly burger. Instead, we’ll do a guessing game to see if you can figure out who-dun-it. Here’s your clues:<br />
<br />
<strong>• This person is not yet old enough to drive</strong><br />
<strong>• This person has just confessed a love for Justin Bieber songs on the Internet (like, right now)</strong><br />
<strong>• This person’s favorite colors are emo purple and hot pink</strong><br />
<strong>• This person ate the above burger with glossed lips and painted nails</strong><br />
<strong>• This person sometimes has a really girly voice</strong><br />
<strong>• This person converted to Team Jacob after seeing Eclipse</strong><br />
<strong>• This person is very afraid of motorcycles, tattoos, and guys who wear too much cologne</strong><br />
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Have you guessed it? Me!! Yes, I just downed what could very well be the most unhealthy burger in the world. I think I get some manly points for that.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-9670209842911936432010-06-19T09:54:00.000-07:002010-06-19T15:46:17.477-07:00Toy Story 3, Algebra, and CoffeeWow, this week has been so fun. I went to grab a coffee with Rachel...not that I particularly like coffee...and ordered "something with peppermint and whip cream with a little bit of coffee but more sweet than bitter...like a lot of sweetness, OK?" I know what the barista was thinking: This girl is not a "regular".<br />
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On a more awesome note, I saw the premiere of Toy Story 3! Oh my blog, you xHAVE to see that movie. It's EPIC. And Rachel cried, which I thought was super funny. The sad thing is that I really identified with Barbie.<br />
<br />
I have never seen a premiere of anything until now. Today I'm going back home, and then I'm going back to Rachel's to see the midnight premiere of...<span style="font-size: large;">ECLIPSE.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> We're going to make a documentary. Be prepared.</span>Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-29568507269209177222010-06-15T21:55:00.000-07:002010-06-15T21:55:22.885-07:00Facial HairMy first-ever friend <a href="http://www.invisibleoranges.blogspot.com/">Rachel</a> and I have spent the last few days filming a video. A video of what, you may ask? It's sort of embarassing to admit, but it was meant to be a spoof on Miley Cyrus's 7 Things...but then it kind of evolved into something else due to my creative whimsy and her aptness to push me even farther off the edge. OK, so it's pretty far from the original idea of the video.<br />
In this video, we feature more of the guy that Miley is dissing (poor Nick) than her, but we didn't want it to look like Nick. So both of us whipped out my mascara and drew mustaches and beards on our faces. Mine looked pretty good.<br />
While I am cross-dressing in a guy shirt and tight girl jeans, with my hair pulled back in a short ponytail and my dad's heart tie around my neck, my mom comes up to us and says, "Go open the door for the pizza man."<br />
So I start squealing and saying, "Oh my gosh!" because my mom has obviously walked off with no intention of coming back. I probably looked really gay. I give Rachel a shove toward the door and the pizza man greets her with: "Nice moustache."<br />
All my siblings are gathered around the door, saying "Oh my gosh" and "You guys are crazy" and "Melissa get out here now". I grab the camera and stretch my arm out across the door (safely out of sight) to capture the moment.<br />
Now I feel sorry for that poor pizza man -- probably some college kid who just wanted to go home and eat anything but pizza. Today he can go back to work and say that he met two teenage girls with major facial hair, was bombarded by noisy kids, and videotaped without his consent. I bet he's thinking he needs a better job.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-3264314289080143462010-05-28T19:41:00.000-07:002010-05-28T19:41:41.303-07:00skateboard lessons. sort of.<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TAB-n-SovDI/AAAAAAAAAdE/jGNUR7gzl18/s1600/Skateboard_and_Girl_by_assm0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_S5BClf6L33o/TAB-n-SovDI/AAAAAAAAAdE/jGNUR7gzl18/s320/Skateboard_and_Girl_by_assm0.jpg" /></a></div>My little brother Dalton was trying to teach me how to stateboard today. Of course, he knows absolutely nothing about skateboards, but this didn't bother either of us.<br />
He demonstrates "proper form" and all this for me while my ADD brain is looking at a coke tab on the ground and wondering who put it there. Then he feels I am ready to get on, even though the feeling is not mutual.<br />
Dalton pulls it back up the slope in our driveway. We have to ride downhill because we don't have a clue how to accelerate once you've slowed without falling off.<br />
I suck up my wimpiness and have him stand still for me so I can hold onto him for dear life while I put my feet on. It's wobbily and shaky, but that could be because it's a little kid skateboard and a hundred-pound girl like me has no business being on it.<br />
Dalton gives me my first instruction: "Let go of me now."<br />
My fingers don't budge as I wait for him to explain in exact detail what I'm supposed to do. He didn't really know what I was supposed to do, but I had to have some direction if I was going to do this. He launches into this mini-speech about turning and slowing down, but all I can think is: <em>I hope I don't die.</em> Yes, I've always been a bit dramatic (but you already knew that).<br />
Somehow I'm able to unpeel my fingers from his shoulders. As soon as I do, the skateboard lurches out from under me. It's the same experience you get when you ride the Titan at Six Flags for the first time. Next thing you know, I'm on the ground.<br />
"Don't worry about it," Dalton tells me, as if falling down and looking like an idiot is perfectly normal (which I don't believe is true). He lugs the skateboard (and me) back up the driveway. "Next time don't hit the fence. Or dad's car. Or Abigail. When you want to turn, lean your body to the side...." His voice fades off as my fears once again seize me: <em>I hope I don't hit the cat.</em><br />
We repeat this for about five more times, Dalton patient as ever, me screaming the whole time, and the cat hiding safely out of sight.<br />
Well, I don't need to go into more detail about the rest of my "lesson", but I can tell you with confidence that I will never,<em> ever</em> be a skater girl. This is a bummer, since I was really hoping on becoming as cool as <a href="http://theview414.blogspot.com/">Jillian</a>.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8222840922445527543.post-17503185571441197122010-05-17T16:34:00.000-07:002010-05-17T16:45:36.023-07:00The Bucket ListI started a new blog.<br />
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I know, I know, I've really lost it. 3 blogs is too much for anybody. (I have 4, if you count the private test blog.) It's too much to handle.<br />
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But an idea started forming in my mind -- or floating, or dancing, or whatever you'd like to call it. I just couldn't ignore it! That'd be cruel...like ignoring kittens or something.<br />
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That being said, I'd like you to meet my newest baby, <a href="http://thebucketlistblogger.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-size: large;">The Bucket List</span></a>. No, it has nothing to do with the movie, and it is not as cool as Morgan Freeman. It's a list of all the things I want to do before I get old and become restricted to feeding pigeons on a park bench in a little granny dress.<br />
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So please check it out, follow, comment, and tell your friends. Because if you don't, I'll cry. And we wouldn't want that.Melissa Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16645691221964828580noreply@blogger.com0