Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good whine every once and awhile, but constant complaining, the nagging incessant kind that ends up dragging your day down along with the complainer--that has to stop.

Because, really, what good are you doing yourself by complaining? Describing to people how my life sucks really does not make my life feel any better, in fact it merely emphasizes the point when the people nod in agreement instead of offering any ray of hope to pierce my dismal aura. A negative attitude only brings about negativity, and I have never been a fan of the negative thoughts.

Of course, though, whenever I get too fed up with the complaints and I mention to the person that they'll just have to "suck it up" to some extent, I receive in return a glare and a "you don't really know what I'm going through" speech, of which I also despise. Do I know in particular what you are going through? No. Have I been in worse situations than having a couple midterms in a week? Yes. Could things be worse? Yes, yes they could.

In fact, this is how I cope with my negativity, and I will offer it up as a tip.

Whenever I feel my chipper mood slipping, I take my pen and I draw a smiley face on one of my fingers. Sometimes it's just a simple smiley, other times I go a bit overboard and give him/her eyebrows, a nose, and even some freckles. In the end, the effect is the same. Sometime throughout the rest of your day, you will look at your hand, be reminded of the tiny insignificance of your two midterms in the big scheme of your life, and smile (I practically giggled once). Do this, and I swear it will yield results. Your money back guaranteed ;)

For me, as it is for a lot of teens out there, this troublesome issue has been my weight.

Although I've always been within the "normal" weight range for my box at 5 feet, 7 inches, I've never really been satisfied with my body. It's not that I long for a thinner body than I already possess, it's more that I always want to improve my body through my own devices. These devices included a better, more nutritious diet and an exercise routine that I've been following for probably 8 months now. And, although I've lost weight, gone down a few sizes, and naturally just feel better in my body, I still find myself sizing up other girls in comparison to myself and examining the way I look each and everytime I walk past something remotely reflective. This saddens me considerably, because it seems that my weight (although perfectly perfect) is something I just cannot get over.

Now I can easily play the blame game. I can point a steady finger at the media, who is and has always been showering me with images of beautiful women with a thin and perfect figure, making me long for a body I really can never possess. I can also blame any person who has put me down in any way, therefore causing a drop of self-esteem and a poor body image. However, when it all comes down to it, this issue is between me and...well...me.

I place hope and confidence in the fact that one day I will be able to strut my stuff in whatever I choose, knowing that I look fantabulous, because that is my goal. When I will reach this goal...welllll...that's a work in progress, but my body and I have got a score to settle, treaties to sign, and until then, I will continue to eat right, exercise, worry about eating too many pieces of pizza and soft serve ice cream, count calories on a level borderline subconscious, recalculate my BMI, and take quizzes titled "How healthy are you?"

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I know some day I will be able to achieve a balance where none of those fallbacks will be necessary anymore. That day I will be able to stand on my own two feet, proudly look myself in the mirror, and see a woman I would never ever change.

2) Feeling energized and ready to go by 7am :)

3) Starting off the day with a steamy grande caramel macchiato

4) Getting the best/most fresh produce from the Farmer's Market

5) Satisfaction in knowing that you got more done by 11am than most people will get done that day

1) Seeing my baby bro in a suit :)

2) Seeing my momma :) :)

3) Seeing my baby (aka, my dog) :)

4) Being home :)

However, when my friend lent me the book, he did not say "if you have time on your trip, read this" or "next time you get the chance, read this" instead he plainly told me to read the book and that it was one of those books that you couldn't put down. So, almost guiltily, I packed the paperback away in my backpack where it kept Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (every summer I reread the series, don't judge) company for the duration of my vacation.

It was only after I finished Harry Potter halfway through the trip that I thought of opening "The Shack," if not for curiosity then sheer boredom. And, as ridiculous as it sounds, I was entranced by it. It made no sense even in my own mind, the prose was nothing special (although profoundly descriptive) and I thought I could predict the plot from a mile away (which I was pleasantly surprised that I predicted wrong) but the book held my attention.

In hindsight I believe my increased attentiveness to "The Shack" is due to the fact that when the main character Mack confronts God and the trinity, he asks all the questions that burned in the back of my mind, most of which I dismissed as holes in my religion. The main focus of these questions (to me) seemed to be why God let's bad things happen to good people. Although I cannot clearly and simply answer the question even after reading the book, a sense of peace has overtaken the doubt that resided in my mind.

"The Shack" also reinforced my own personal belief in God, which, in a nutshell, can best describe a God who loves all equally but in a unique way and doesn't expect anything of his creation. My belief is contrary to the mindset of "if I go to church every Sunday, I'm in his good favor." In my mind, God doesn't care if I go to church (which, let's face it, is downright dull sometimes) or if I volunteer 50% of my life because God knows me and loves me exactly the way I am.

I digress..."The Shack" illuminates my belief in such an emmaculate way that I am transfixed by the wonder of it all.

Needless to say, I googled it shortly after I finished the book and found numerous slayings and rants about how "The Shack" falsely depicts God and the trinity, most of the ranters were church officials (go figure).

That all being said, I encourage all of you who are precariously tipping on the edge of faith to read "The Shack." If anything it will give you a different perspective on modern religion.

Returned from up north just yesterday, babysit this week, and then go back up north for an extended Sat-Mon weekend.

I love northern Wisconsin. Honestly, there are times when all I want to do is rid myself of this crazy state and its stereotypes, but when my family takes the 2 hour drive up there, I immediately cannot imagine living anywhere different.

'Up north' is an alias for 'My grandparent's cottage' which is another alias for 'a trailer on a plot of land by a beautiful small lake.' My grandma and grandpa have owned the 'cottage' long enough that my mom and her sister spent summers up there as a kid. Needless to say, the environment is one where everybody knows everybody and the people you don't know are deemed as 'mysterious.'

The first thing I do when my family pulls in the gravel drive, before unpacking my overstuffed bag, is go down on the dock in front of the cottage and just take in the scene.

I often peer down first, this lake in spite of all the other polluted ones remains untouched by the wasteproducts of humanity, so when I say 'peer down' I mean looking straight to the bottom of the lake, the water is that clear. If I'm lucky I'll see a school of minnows or another kind of fish, most commonly bluegill, perch, or sunfish, and rarely a bass. All of my fish knowledge stems from my grandfather's fishing obsession. He fishes all year round, everyday, but in the summer on the small lake up north is when he gets his biggest catches. Growing up, I, along with my brother and sister, would be awoken by grandpa around 4 am to go out and fish. We would come back around 8 am with an average of 30 perch, then eat breakfast, go out and fish again and catch around 30 more. With age, however, comes my love of sleep and pair that with an inability to take a fish off a hook and there's no question why my fishing days are over, if not numbered.

Time seems to stand still up there. I remark this because nothing ever changes. While my grandpa goes fishing with the kids in the morning, the rest of us 'womenfolk' prepare a hearty breakfast of 'dippy' eggs, toast, and orange juice. My grandma fusses over doing the dishes and my sister and I halfheartedly agree to doing the chore. After lunch, my grandpa takes a nap on the screened in porch while everybody else goes about doing what they please, for my brother and sister this includes jet skiiing and tubing, for me its reading. Up north is the perfect place to read, no television or great technological displays to distract me, just the sound of the lake, the boats, and the birds, and more often than not I end up dozing off next the grandpa.

Going up north every summer reminds me of the utter simplicity of living, and cannot help but hope that the cottage will be passed down from generation to generation so that one day I will be able to show my children the natural beauties of life.

Well, nothing much as occured as of late. Life is life and I miss home.

another oddity about me? I am almost looking more forward to next semester than to summer. In fact, I think I could settle for one month of solid summer and then come back, move in to a new dorm with a new roommate with new classes so I can feel all organized again. That is one thing that I love most about starting things new, the organization in the beginning and actually believing that it will continue throughout the remainder of it's course. I love being organized to the point of insanity. I have multiple calendars of every kind. At one point this semester i had 6 different calendars, even counting my online one through gmail.

but anyway, Gino's tonight and a Gilmore Girls marathon to celebrate the end of the semester with my friends before we have to wake up to the weekend of studying. We even agreed to all dress up. Cute, right? ...or is it pathetic that when some people use this time to intoxicate themselves thoroughly, we go out to eat and come back and veg for 8 hours straight (that's how long it was last time).

until the next wave of boredom hits,

me