You’re Not The Victim {APADO #28}

(apado yadda yadda yadda we get it)

(this post is extremely short but inspirational?)

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You’re not a victim.

I know you feel like you are.

Things come your way and push you down and you feel like there’s nothing you can do about it.

But there’s plenty you can do.

The first thing is to decide to not let life beat you.

You’re not the victim. You’re the master of the situation.

So go out and make your own future.

The power’s in your hands.

You are not the victim.

Sayonara for now,

{Tess}

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That Time I Did THSC Teen Staff {APADO #24}

(Dees ees APADO, meh leetle blog serees wheere I poast efery dey een Ooctoobar.)

(All these photos are courtesy of Victoria, the awesome photographer who made an awesome video recap that I spent thirty minutes pausing and screenshotting. WHY DOES YOUTUBE DO THAT THING WHERE IF YOU DOUBLE CLICK ON A VIDEO IT FULL SCREENS. That was my nemesis.)

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Back in May, I went to a homeschool convention. Also known as the best thing to ever convene in the history of conventions. I was part of the Teen Staff program, a unique mixture of volunteer work, group games and activities, and lectures.

(If I remember someone’s name, I put it in, but assume that any unlabeled person was someone I didn’t know or couldn’t remember their name.)

We were divided into two groups, and those two groups were divided into five teams each.

Team Juliet

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We were an awesome team. We were efficient…and friendly…and horrible at all the group games.

My nametag had been messed up – for some reason it said íTessí. I’m still not sure why. For awhile it was my nickname (“itsa me, íTessí!”) but it confused the exhibitors so much I had to scratch it out and write plain ol’ Tess above it.

Service

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The main part of our program was helping out around the convention. It’s not called Teen Staff for nothing. We did “hospitality”, which was pretty much passing around cups of water to all the exhibitors. Oh, and I went and got a guy a Monster energy drink from a hidden vending machine.

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We did book check, too, which was pretty much babysitting people’s curriculum purchases so that they didn’t have to haul them around the convention center.

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And whenever we were just hanging out, we were expected to be helpful and friendly and good representations of our generation. I think we did a good job.

Lectures

I could say a lot about these lectures, how informative and awesome they were, but let me just say four words:

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I MET KEN HAM.

‘Nuff said.

Group Activities

In between service times and lectures, we got to play group games. This was easily the most fun part of the service (although it was definitely the loudest).

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For one game, we were split into three groups. Two of the groups sat in rows of chairs facing eachother. One was able to see the rest of the room, and one had their backs turned.

The rest of us were blindfolded and led into the room. We weren’t told what we were supposed to do.

The rules: The people who could see what we were supposed to do had to nonverbally communicate the instructions to the group with their back turned. Then that group had to interpret the instructions and call them out to us.

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Never has collecting some balls and putting them in a bag been so hard.

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We did an engineering challenge with spaghetti and marshmallows – tallest tower won. We all ended sticky, chewing on raw spaghet, and laughing our heads off at our miserable excuse for a tower.

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And then we did skits. Our group was charged with making a commercial to sell a book about office organization.

And it got weird.

So?

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I had absolutely no experience with large groups and interacting with people my age when I went into this.

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I came out chomping at the bit, ready to go again, wishing it would last about a year longer. Or that May would come again in anything less than a year.

They let us sign our shirts at the end of it all. I hung mine up on my wall.

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Every time I look at it, I have to go check the calendar.

Only 187 days until next May.

Sayonara for now,

{Tess}

Taking A Casual Saturday Stroll On A Wednesday {APADO #17}

(It has come to my attention that some of the individuals who have not subscribed to this weblog are unfamiliar with the series depicted by the above acronym. Each letter in the acronym is the initial letter of a word in the phrase “A Post A Day – October”, combined in sequence to create the nonsensical word “APADO”.)
(that was unnecessarily verbose)

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I like to take walks – on Saturdays. When it’s sunny and people are home to walk with.

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But today was a Wednesday, I was on my own, and it’s been forty degrees and drizzling all week. Which is great when you’re watching from behind glass and worth complaining over when you’re out in it with no gloves.

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^ raw enthusiasm.

I had big plans. I was going to attempt some aesthetic photography and selfies, just to see if I could. And possibly for the vain reason that I wanted a good picture of myself.

And as far as I could see, it wasn’t going to be too difficult.

Hehe.

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Three days of drizzle means beautiful water beads on the grass.

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Which is great until you walk through that grass and soak your shoes that are not meant for this kind of weather. And then the West Texas Wind™ kicked in and thoroughly refrigerated my feet.

I was not ready to give up yet.

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With things all nice and overcast, it was time to try for those shots.

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Nope. I just look like I’m wondering if it’ll rain. Which it is raining.

Maybe I can get some walking shots.

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Eh. Um. I think the gravel is filling the frame and ruining my composition.

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Is it just me or do I look like an android trying to imitate a human?

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After this little gem of a photo, I decided to pull the plug on my whole aesthetic photography thing. What’s the point?

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So I just played around on the cold, stiff playground equipment and froze my fingers off.

Which was definitely a lot more fun than trying to be someone I know I’m not.

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I found this tiny pine tree and played around with the self timer on my camera and ended up looking like Godzilla, roaring over a towering pine tree…

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The minute I let go of this ideal that photos of me should look a certain way, the minute I stopped noticing the cold and the fact that I was alone.

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^ actually enjoying myself

My feet were still frigid. Oh well.

On the way home, I took some cool pictures of the largest river in my hometown.

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I was so worried that I’d plunk my camera in it, though.

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Fortunately, it survived.

I stood in the middle of the street and took pictures of this puddle because why not.

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I almost felt…like a photographer. Like I was having fun taking photos. Maybe I finally understand why y’all like cameras so much.

Before my fingers were completely done for, I ran over my camera.

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And somehow it looks cool?

I found this key on the sidewalk just before I went back inside to sit on my hands and laugh my head off at my failed aesthetic photography.

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I like to think it’s symbolic.

Because I may have unlocked a big secret that many people are too embarrassed to share.

The harder I try to make myself look good, the worse I feel about myself.

But the minute I throw all the aesthetic-Pintrest goals out the window and just have some fun, I end up with photos I like?

It’s a weird paradox, isn’t it?

Sayonara for now,

{Tess}

Everyday Miracles {APADO #12}

(APADO = a post a day, october = nerve-wracking heart-attacking self-inflicted blog challenge i should be regretting but i’m not)

(this is going to be a short post, seeing how yesterday’s was as long as four cvs receipts)

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I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it, but I really love to roller skate. I’ve been doing it off and on for years, but I get the same thrill every time I pull a pair of skates on.

But life’s been busy recently, and I haven’t had a chance to get to the rink. It doesn’t help that I outgrew my skates (which were hand-me-downs from one of my sisters). They were a good little pair of quads…before I got gargantuan feet.

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from a go pro vid at the the skating rink (and feat. my older older brother mac)

It’s not as easy when you don’t own your own skates. I have to bring an extra dollar to rent a pair, and they really aren’t terrific. (I mean, if you consider the constant abuse they go through, they’re astonishingly good. But the wheels are really slippery. Maybe it’s a ploy by the management to get insurance money or something.)

Earlier this year, I was considering buying a pair of roller blades. But they’re expensive, and although I have some spending money, I can’t justify spending a hundred dollars like that.

That hasn’t stopped me from wanting a pair, though. They’ve been on the brain since the beginning of summer.

So let’s flash forward to today. My granddad was going to this giant fair-thrift-store-rummage-sale-thing, and being the spontaneous person I am, I came along.

(Now when I say “Granddad”, please imagine a 70-year-old man who looks like he’s 40, laughs like he’s 20, and gives advice like he’s 104. He’s the definition of hardcore awesomeness.)

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I give you – an ENFP paradise!

This place was awash with awesome stuff. I brought my camera, meaning to take lots of pictures, but honestly I was too busy looking at everything on the tables.

At least I got a shot of these baskets of records, though. Aren’t they minorly aesthetic?

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Anyways. I was having fun looking at everything, destressing from a very long week, forgetting about all the things I really should have been doing – when I saw them.

Rollerblades.

Beautiful rollerblades from the era where they had the joint for your ankle to flex correctly. In my size.

For – I could have sworn I was dreaming – $3. Three dollars.

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I still can’t get over how amazing God is. How I had almost given up on getting roller blades, and He dropped them in my lap when I was least expecting it. How He works in big, big ways – but still cares about little things like…rollerblades.

It’s been a really, really good day.

tl;dr: Little miracles happen every day. You’ll never know until you start looking for them.

Sayonara for now,

{Tess}

 

Scouty {APADO #9}

(i bet you’re tired of hearing this but THIS IS APADO, THE BLOG SERIES WHERE I TRY TO POST ONCE A DAY FOR THE ENTIRE MONTH OF OCTOBER you know what, i’m tired of hearing it too)

(and honestly i was just looking forward to showing some puppy pictures so yeah)

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Scouty is my dog. And technically, his name is Scout. But I can’t stop giving him nicknames – Scouty, Snickerdoodles, Scoutydoodles, Doodlesnick, The Snicc, Scoutysaunez, Scouty-Wouty, Wittle Scouty, Wittle Buddy. The one I use the most, though, is Scouty.

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captain, scouty – they used to fit in an apron pocket!

Scouty was born on Februrary 2nd of this year, which makes him about nine months old. He has at least one brother – Captain – who belongs to my older older brother.

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captain and scouty fighting

When he was little, he was the explorer of the two of them. He was the first to make contact with our other three dogs. And he was always sniffing around, exploring. It only made sense to name him Scout.

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gahhh these puppy photos

I’ve only had Scout for eight months or so, but I don’t know how I got along without a dog before then. It’s worth the getting up early to feed them, cleaning up their messes, dealing with their barking. Isn’t it funny what we put up with for our pets?

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in a skirmish with jake, one of the older pups

In our dog pack, Scout is kind of in the middle. He likes to do his own thing most of the time. But he is jealous over laps and will growl at anyone who comes to sit on whoever he’s sitting on. Usually, that’s me.

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Scout is half Chihuahua, half Fox Terrier. You almost can’t tell that he has any Chihuahua in him except for his size (he’s tiny!) and the fact that he shivers whenever it’s under seventy-five degrees outside. I’m seriously going to have to get him a dog sweater this winter.

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he looks so over this selfie thing >w<

I’m so lucky to have a dog. Especially one as cute as Scouty.

tl;dr: Just like everyone else, I love my dog.

Sayonara for now,

{Tess}