Dear Madagascar,

Dear Madagascar,
I thought it only fair to let you know that there is somebody that is the same size as you. Not a country, but a single person. There is probably more than one now that I think about it, but this one lady is who I'm having an issue with getting over. She rides a scooter, which isn't surprising. Attempting to walk would probably break the brittle leg bones that are hidden beneath the many layers of blubber. I'm not writing this to be mean, I'm really not. I just thought you would like to hear of this so you can be warned.
Today, she was lurking in the smallest aisle of Wal-Mart, the one that contains the paper clips and other miscellaneous office products. She took up the whole aisle, leaving me with no choice but to climb the shelves in order to get around her. the other exit was blocked by two ravenous shoppers who had a rabid disposition about them. I figured I would take my chances with the one I had mentally dubbed "Scooter Lady". At first it was going to be "Mastadon" but there is already someone I know with that nickname. Sad, I know. But I'm not a mean person, let me stress this. I am merely... honest.
I was standing behind Scooter Lady, who was browsing at the small selection of paper clips, mumbling to herself in words I couldn't easily understand. I made a few small attempts to say
"Excuse me," as I awkwardly stepped on the metal displays/aisle separaters. She turned and saw my attempts, and grinned a grin that usually belongs to someone who just got a puppy.
"LOOK AT THESE PAPER CLIPS!" she said with an unmistakable southern drawl. "THEY'S METALLIC COLORS RIGHT THERE!"
Ah, yes. Metallic paper clips. A gold mine for those who tend to be easily entertained. And I mean very, very easily entertained. Maybe a kid with ADD/ADHD? Shiiiiiiiny.
"Um, well, yes. They're pretty," was all I could say as I squeezed myself by her, trying not to knock over the metal shelves I was climbing upon like an imbicile. I finally made it to open air that made my clausterphobia go away like flies on superglue.
"I could really use these paperclips," Scooter Lady continued, paying no mind to my previous efforts.
"Well then you go ahead and get those paperclips," I said as I slowly inched away from her, and rounded the corner to the next aisle before she could finish her next sentance. Perhaps it was rude of me to leave while she was talking, but I had a mission to complete. Finding birthday cards in that mess of a store is almost impossible. However, before you get disappointed, she did find me once again. At the cash register, one I picked because it was the one furthest away from the register that the Wal-Mart stalker was tending to, I saw she was leaving. She noticed me and made sure to hold up her new box of metallic paperclips and gesture towards them, making sure I knew that she succeeded in getting what she was so excited about. I nodded slightly and smiled, paid for my Uncle's birthday card, and left without another look back at the place that holds many evils that most don't dare to embark upon. But my uncle was worth it. You know you're loved when someone braves a Wal-Mart for you.
So my dear Madagascar, may you be warned. Stay away from Wal-Marts when possible, and always steer clear of anyone that seems unnaturally fascinated by metallic paperclips. It only ends in pain.
Being a small, underprivelidged African nation with the last of the lemurs, I wish you only the best. (I once had a toy lemur named George that was very near and dear to my heart.) I only wish that I may one day write to you again under much happier circumstances than this.
Hoping your are well,
Shae McClain

Oh for the love of Pete. Wait. Who is Pete?

Hi, my name is Shae.
I like music. I like bluegrass music. I like to play and sing music. I like to play and sing bluegrass music.
The sentances you just read pretty much summarize what I would like my life to involve. I thank any of you who are reading this and have supported me in my music, because it truely is one of the most important things in my life. I like using the talent that I believe God has blessed me with for a reason, and sharing the joy of it with everyone who will listen. The stage feels like home to me, moreso than the house I live in. When I'm up there with the lights, standing with my friends and an audience who really appreciates the music, the feeling is absolutely undescribable. Hearing the two and three part harmonies and counting the bass line and moving the bow across my fiddle at just the right moment... it's just like heaven on earth. I love the little old men who tell me I sing like an angel and I love the people who refuse to leave after a show until they hear me sing just one more time, and I love my friends and bandmates who kept me going, even when I was just beginning and felt like putting down my fiddle and giving up so many times.
My Pap has always encouraged and supported me when it comes to my music. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have ever joined LC Blue and made this realization if it wasn't for him. And since he's probably reading this, then just know that I appreciate everything you and Grandma have done for me and I love you both very much.
And Dad and Karen, thank you for my magic fiddle. I really do practice and I really do love it and I always will.
I don't ever appreciate people enough. None of us do. I am one of the most blessed, spoiled, loved, and just plain lucky kids on God's green earth. I don't have a million dollars or a mansion in Beverly Hills, but I have a family that any kid would kill for, and that much I'm thankful for every day. If I could spend the rest of my life making a living singing and playing music, then it would be nothing short of a dream come true. Though I'm probably doomed to spend the rest of my life baking cakes in someone else's shop until I was 80 and can finally afford my own, but I guess that wouldn't be so bad. I like to bake.
Aaron is in Nashville this weekend, doing more meet and greets only with the most famous bluegrassers ever. I'm sitting here all proud of the fact that I was invited to have lunch with Hershel Sizemore and Bobby Osbourne last summer (oh, and Bobby's son, whose name I cannot remember but he kept giving me weird looks) and Aaron all out of the blue says oh I'm off to Nashville again this weekend blahblahblah meeting EARL SCRUGGS again blahblahblah and I just put on an of course you are kind of face and turned back to the piano.
I want his bluegrass experience/connections, and I want them now.
):
But all in due time, right?
I just keep telling myself that.
Hopefully this bluegrass job with Richie and Eileen works out. Hopefully Mom lightens up and lets me take it. She says maybe not cause she wants me to have a five days a week steady paycheck (in foodservice or telemarketing or some other hell hole I will want to quit in three days or less) so that I have the experience before getting shoved out into the world. All understandable, and I'd like to be able to pay for my own gas for my car, but if I had to choose between a job in a bluegrass band or a job at Burger King, which one am I going to choose? Hopefully Mom lets me choose. I really want to be in this band. I have 60+ years to enjoy the droning of a normal job thats going to keep me occupied every day of the week and will have me counting down the days till retirement. Let me enjoy the flexibility of my teen years while I can. I mean, it IS a job, right? Geesh. Am I just being a stupid teenager? I hope not, because I actually put thought into this. I'm not trying to be lazy and avoid a job, I had friends picking up applications to a local Resort for me so I could apply to spend my evenings and nights taking orders from a public who tends to be rude to the wait staff, from what I've seen anyway. But when opportunity knocks.....
Well, keep your fingers crossed for me. I feel like this is what I'm supposed to be doing, at least for now.
Until something interesting happens,
Toodaloo.
♥Shae.

I think I'll return your butterfly collection now.

Okay, I'll admit, I've been seriously slacking when it comes to keeping this blog updated with the crazy antics that go on in every day life. Well, my every day life anyway. I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to the craziness, but for the moment I really am enjoying it. I've been taking lots of pictures lately. My camera was definitely a well worth it investment on my part, and I have no regrets when it comes to buying it. The opportunities have been nothing short of extraordinary between our winter vacation to Florida and my news project on adopting animals. The simplest things can have the most to say in a picture, and whereas most are worth a thousand words, some are worth even more. A lot of times there are emotions that cannot be expressed with words. Does that stop people from trying? No, but the verbal descriptions always fall somewhat short of the real thing. If someone says "Florida was undoubtedly the most gorgeous place yesterday, it is so green and lush and the golden sunshine never seems to end," then hey, thats a pretty good description. But until you see the picture or experience that sunshine, all you have to work with are the words on the page. I hate posed pictures. I don't like taking pictures of people when they're smiling, because they are never really *smiling*. They are curving their mouths in a fashion that shows their teeth in an attempt to convey a happy feeling. But it never quite reaches their eyes, which are usually dull and lifeless and convey the feeling of "click the danged button so I can go hit the snack bar". If nobody knows I'm taking pictures specifically of them, I can catch them when they're laughing and really happy, or daydreaming and thoughtful and they're faces are full of meaning and expectations and thought. That is when the pictures say the most. When they have LIFE.

www.flickr.com/whoalove

Now lets catch you up as to whats been going on.

Firstly, Europe. I finally got my passport stuff submitted and I'M FREAKIN' EXCITED.

Sorry bout the "freakin" there, Karen. But I am.

Secondly, McDonalds sweet tea. I love it and my mom just brought me some. Oh, the love.

Thirdly, school. As for my first attempt at the ACT test, I missed requirements for promise scholarship because I got a 17 in the math section. But with a 24 overall, a 30 in english, and 25's and a 28 in every other subcategory, you'd think I'd still get it. But noooooo. I have to take it again. Stay tuned on that one. On the upside, I should have a 4.0 GPA on my second nine weeks. (: Woot woot. For the first time since my Gifted classes ended, I feel smart.

Fourthly, music. It's just plain amazing. My bluegrassers are coming along nicely thanks to Aaron and Ms. Jamison and me. It's helpful times like these when I don't really care if Aaron calls me "Little Fiddle Picker". We are actually working out really pretty harmonies on quite a few songs for our next concert. Whenever that may be.....

And the side band is doing good too. It's alternative rock though so not exactly on the same page with my bluegrassers.

Fifthly, art. It just keeps getting better. I've painted a few ceiling tiles for my school and now my friend Keith wants me to help him paint a shower curtain for his dorm room... hahha.(: This should be interesting.

Last but definitely not least, SAVE THE AMINALS! No, I'm not dyslexic. I just like saying aminals more than animals. Brings out the little kid in me, you know. My friend Brooke and I are doing a news story on animal adoption for our mass communications class. Look at this face! How can you resist?

Most of the animal shelter photos are up on the Flickr link I already posted above. Please, think about the animals.♥

Well I'm outta here now, I have a big cleaning ordeal to overcome and then hopefully I'm off to watch a bunch of small children run around with a basketball.

Please

Have a good day.

Till another time,

Me.

Reflection

The point of this blog is about life. Random parts of teenage life that most people assume and care not to know about. About how life sucks sometimes, and how life is pretty darn good most times. How no matter what, life goes on. But today, it doesn't. Since December the 20th, life hasn't gone on. Not for one family, at least. After nineteen years of bringing up your son, the light of your life, it doesn't feel right that you should have to go through what Mr. and Mrs. Conrad are going through. On December 20th, 2009, their nineteen year old son Cody Alan passed away. It was at that moment that life stopped. He was an extremely special person, and when he passed, the world lost yet another piece of sunshine. He went in for surgery on the twentieth, because a donor match had been made. He was finally getting new lungs to help start him on a new life that was no longer filled with a long list of limitations. I believe you know the ending to this story, though. He did not make it through the operation, and ended up passing away.

We take each day in stride, stuck in our own routines, not even paying attention to our actions or surroundings. Our days blur together in a big mass of the same activities and unfulfilled promises. We don't realize that when we think "I'll do it later," later may not be possible. It upsets me to see people wasting their lives away. Especially people who have so much potential in life, and they just throw it away. It makes a difference when you're dying, when you realize that the up and down movement of your chest as you breathe will cease, the steady thump thump that pounds in your ears will quiet, the visions you see, the tastes you taste, the scents you smell, the things you touch, will all be a thing of the past. Do I believe it is the end? No, simply the phase that leads us from one beginning to another. But when a person passes from this phase, especially at nineteen when he had so much more left to experience, it hurts.
Yes, I believe death leads to heaven. I, being christian, trust God to take care of me and my soul. My funeral? I want party hats and confetti, and I want it all to be held in a stable full of horses. I want loud, happy music and the only tears will be those of joy, because I am in a better place and am a lot happier. And in my casket I want my magic fiddle, tulips and wild orange tiger lillies. Is all of that possible? More than likely not. But I'm a dreamer, and nobody ever said dreaming was a bad thing to do.
Please, for the sake of all that is sane in this world, enjoy life. I can almost guaruntee it will seem like everything that can go wrong does, and that the good stuff is so small it's hardly worth living for. We all have a little good in us, and a little bad, just like the world around us. But we have to learn how to conquer the bad and listen to the good, because the good is all that's worth living for anymore. The good is what we have to hold on to, and when that disappears, so do we. So hold on to the goodness, the happiness, the light, each other. Hold on to everything you can, but also learn to just let go of what is gone and move on. Life changes with each breath we take, so please, just keep breathing, and enjoy every second of it. A new moment in time is just another blessing that we take for granted, and it is at this time that I say, no more. Life isn't always funny or good, but with the right outlook, determination, and friends, anything is possible. Never lose hope, never lose faith. Never lose yourself.
Goodnight, world. (and all who inhabit it.) ♥

mail ladies, gorilla heads, and snowmen named Hubert.

Welcome, Ladies and Gents, to the winter blizzard of 2009. Live on the west coast? Here's an idea of how much snow really is here. Today I fell off of my porch, and landing in the snow was more cushioned and comfortable than jumping on my bed, foamy topper included. I didn't even hit the ground. I then proceeded to wade through the thigh-deep snow and down my hill with my neighbor and good friend Olivia. Needless to say we slipped and fell several times. Our plans that day included making a giant gorilla head and a giant snowman. But first, the background stories.
Once upon a time, some winter about a year ago, Olivia and I were bored. Two bored teenagers, yes. Surprise surprise. School was called off, and life was good. We bundled up in our snuggly snow clothes and headed out into the cold yonder, prepared for whatever it was the day had in store. I made a snowball, as was expected. However, instead of throwing it at Olivia's perfectly exposed neck, I made it larger. I rolled it down the massive hill upon which I live. It got even larger. I rolled it back up my hill and down my driveway. It was now up to my knees. Olivia noticed these peculiar ongoings and proceeded to assist me in my ridiculous endeavors. We continued to roll the snowball down the road of our housing development until we reached our mutual friend Dean's house. We called to him and his sister Shelby to come and help us roll said snowball, which was now up to our hips. It was actually now a large ball of ice, which is a lot heavier than snow. Now excited about the quickly forming snowman butt, the four of us struggled to roll it back to a clear spot that was conveniently located at the bottom of my driveway. We made it about twenty five yards away when we had to stop. The spot we were in was actually where the road curved around the side of my hill, and our large hunk of ice rolled into my ditch. Because of its mass and general hugeness, we sort of decided to keep it there. We then made a stomach and head that were comparitively smaller, stuck a tobagan and two sticks on it, shoved some gravel in it's face, and called it "Hubert". It was the most beautiful snowman I had ever seen. It seriously took four weeks for Hubert to melt completely. It was a sad day for us all.
This year, whilst plowing around our mailbox, our neighbor (Olivia's father, coincidentally) hit our mailbox and promptly broke the edge of it. It's plastic, so breaking it really wasn't that hard. This is the second mailbox we've gone through since I was fourteen. How can I remember this? Because I killed the first one! My intentions were not malicious. I was simply learning to drive and smacked our mailbox with the bed of the truck I was in. Fun times. My sister then bought us a new mailbox for my stepdad's birthday, and even put shiny red letters on it to distract me and make me see it so that I would remember to check the mail after school every day. The only issue we had had with it thusfar was when my mother sprayed it with varnish instead of spider killer and turned half of the black plastic white....
Anyway, this morning our mailbox was again destroyed. Olivia's father, who I will call "Bill" simply to protect his identity so he doesn't make you wary if he is ever around your mailbox, hit it and broke the edge of it. When my mother closed the lid after inserting mail to be sent, the whole thing just kind of fell off of the wooden post and hit the icy ground with a *thud*. (onomatopoeia! i love those. I also love that I just spelled that correctly without looking it up.)
Taking advantage of the barren wooden post with the convenient little ledge upon which to set something (like a mailbox or perhaps a large gorilla head) I proceeded to pack a large snowball, then shape it into the shape of a (go ahead, guess) gorilla head. (good job, you got it!) Yes, I do like insterting little apostrophes into parentheses in the middle of my random discussions about mailboxes and gorilla heads. I then placed said gorilla head on the said ledge of the said wooden post and went back into my house to make some bacon. I later saw the mail lady give my piece of snow artwork an odd look that made my day just a little bit brighter. Now we have a new mailbox that "Bill" bought us out of kindness and expected responsibility for the murder of our mailbox in cold blood. Well, everything was cold. So responsibility for the murder of our mailbox in general coldness. I removed the gorilla head before my stepdad returned home to replace the mailbox, for which a vigil will be held at some point soon. Just about anyone can have a pet graveyard in their yard, but how many people have a mailbox graveyard? Yep, we're special.
Our plans in a Hubert Jr. failed, but the pain was eased by the gorilla, who I will now name Fiona. Though these stories will probably have no effect on your life and probably just wasted the last five minutes of it, I hope it made you smile.
My general point with this blog is to take the crazy random happenstances of every day life and make any situation funny, so that we may see that life is an adventure and is to be treated as such. So whoever you are, out there reading this, enjoy life. Laugh and smile whenever you can. When you're snowed in your home and are going crazy with cabin fever, make a big gorilla head and creep the bejeebies out of your mail person. Be inventive, be creative, be inspired by what is around you, and live each moment as much as you can. After all, you have to have stories to tell. Disney fairytales are nice, but real life ones are so much better. So now I say goodnight to the world, and all of you wonderful people who inhabit it. ♥
-Shaemazing.(:

in all seriousness

No information on Wal-Mart stalkers today. No laughs, no reports on the daily antics and dramas that seem to delve into a teenager's life and infest it with the sickly humorous twists that seem to inevitably find their way in. A short moment of seriousness has happened upon me, so either read on or go find another blog that will make you laugh for a moment, while I get this out there. Still reading? Good, glad to see there is still some hope left for thoughtfulness in this crazy world.
Why do we is one of the most commonly asked questiones known to mankind. Why do we love, hate, hurt, laugh, cry, write, sing, get angry, get jealous, make the decisions we do, make mistakes, yell, whisper, run from what scares us, etc. You get the point. I'm not sure, maybe we can blame it on human nature. Maybe not. Maybe we can blame it on the uniform "individuality" that keeps us all feeling special when really we are not so difficult and different. Are we all the same? Of course not, but I think the feeling of uniqueness is heightened beyond neccessity and therefore instills a certain air of superiority and speciality within ourselves that we find consciously invigorating and therein we discover ourselves to be useful to the bleak and dismal world that we try so hard to save with just ourselves, being different. Being the same. All the same by all being different. It is the one quality we have in common. Our uniqueness is what brings us together. Our quirks, our specialties, our, whatevers. They are what mark us as who we are, they help us form each step into the next day of our life. What we do is uniform to us as individuals, it marks us in a way that only we can see, and others only if we so carefully choose to share it with the world. Why not? Why do we keep these certain qualities hidden beneath layers of qualities that are not our own. If you adore art, why go to school and major in mathematics? If you love to help people, why stick yourself in a cubicle day after day? Why dress one way or get your haircut another if you hate it all? If you have a knack with numbers, why in the world would you ever try to do something that is just pale in comparison? Because that's what is expected of you. You would get ridiculed or critisized otherwise. We are individuals, as long as its not so incredibly different that we seem "weird" or "just plain crazy". We depend on our individuality to bring color to the world we live in, to bring our lives color and splendor and make ourselves and those around us feel as if there is hope in even the darkest situations. We do what we do because that is what is expected, either by us or by someone else. That decision is also a characteristic that is not uniform within our society, no matter how simple the answer seems to be. In short, we are who we are and because of that we do what we do. No more, no less. It is as simple as that, and yet we still constantly question because we are not satisfied with something so simple. But it is. Rise above and beyond what is expected of you and by you, and you will live. Be the person you want yourself and others to remember. Life is short. Make decisions, make mistakes. If you fail, then at least you had fun trying.

Off to get a haircut now. I wonder what I'll have done. The answer? Whatever in the heck I want.

Have a lovely day.
-Shae(:

Wal-Mart Revisted

Ah, Facebook. To many, utterly pointless and irrelevant. To others like myself, an addiction. In the case of my previously mentioned Wal-Mart stalker clerk man person, he is grouped in the latter category. Great. Has he added me? No. Thank goodness he doesn't know my name. He added a friend of mine, and the notification saying so made sure to make his picture pop up big and smiley on my screen. I'm twenty minutes away from that store and he is still staring at me. Though if he types "female minor that looks good in purple" into the people finder I doubt he will get any effective results. I actually had to stop at Wal-Mart the other night, since my most recently occupado canvases needed frames. Speaking of which, they need to make special frames to hold canvases. They probably do, I was just too distracted hiding from Stalker Man to pay too much attention. On the upside, he was nowhere to be found and I finally got my sugar free Rockstar. Which is now hiding from my mother underneath my sketch of Pocahontas and John Smith. Yes, my life is obviously exciting. (side note to my "other" - don't tell mom. she doesn't like the influx of guarana)
The snow is beginning to depress me. I'm not allowed to drive in it, because apparently I'm going to run myself into a ditch somewhere because I don't know how to drive. The fact that I've driven in bad weather before and even the best drivers run themselves into ditches after years of experience (for example, my mother) seems to have no effect on the situation. Do I understand her reasoning? Yes. Am I just being a pouty teenager that wanted to go to that kid's birthday party just fifteen minutes away? Definitely. But I have a verifiable point to some degree. How am I gonna rack up experience if I don't get out there and do it? I have no clue. I just know it had better not snow tomorrow. Apparently I'm going to be part of a band and our first meeting is tomorrow. I named us though ("Pushing Up Daises" - morbid for the three boys and cutesy for the two girls) and even made cover art for us. Yay for a headstart on a graphic design career.
I'm also skipping out on my little step sisters Christmas play performance tomorrow. I'm probably a horrible stepsister for this, and I feel bad, but she is one of two children in the play, the rest are adults. I mean, really? And she plays a little blind girl that probably walks around saying "Jesus I'm blind, come and heal me," and then she stumbles around until she smacks into a cardboard tree and knocks it over, at which point the forty year old man named Nelson who probably lives in the basement of his God fearing mother's house comes out in a white bath robe and says "Woman! You are healed in the name of the Lord!" And she can see, and all is well with the world. Yay. Such a happy ending. No, I'm actually kidding, it will probably be a much nicer production than that, and Jesus probably has a much less laughable name. However, that was an entertaining little mental image was it not? Either way, I will take her to DQ next time she visits us, and she'll be happy. Winning her over isn't hard, she is so nice and I'm actually quite lucky to have her as a little stepsister. Hence my nonexistant reluctance at taking her to DQ. Is she a few bricks shy of a load? Sometimes, but not always. Decent school grades I think. I did teach her, however, that Latin is not the main language spoken in Spain. And that Saint Louis is in Missouri. Fun times. Ah well, we all have our moments. And right now, this moment is telling me it is time to sleep and pray for sunshine. Have a good day, and goodbye for now ♥