a case of bad driving

Today I walked into my EFY Counselor Interview an hour late. Do you want to know how this happened? Silly readers, you should know me well enough by now to know you won't get the details. It involved leaving on time, being blinded by the sun, and getting stuck in traffic. That's all I'm telling you. I played through twenty levels of Unblock Me on my new iTouch before the eight, that's right, EIGHT, interviewers exited the room. I marched right up to them and explained my situation. They smiled sympathetically and two of them took me into a room for my own private interview. It was good, I was enthusiastic, and they asked questions. They asked me to share a scripture I thought the youth should know, and teach them why it was important. I chose Joshua 1:9, which may seem redundant since it was last summer's theme scripture, but it has been my favorite since high school. 

And now I realize, I haven't been taking my own advice. I sit here blogging about it like I know what I'm saying, I send friends and family out into the world believing my words. And what does it really mean? It means nothing. Because I can't even believe it myself. I've turned right back into my high school self before the scripture. I'm in front of you, smiling, but I'm inside my invisible box. The shield I hold around myself to keep me from feeling anything important. I took it down for a while there, but the effort was too much, and it's been back up ever since that chilly October night when I promised myself that I didn't care.

And now it's time for the box to be destroyed.

I need to take yoga again.

p.s. Carli, I still have a bandana that you gave me at girls camp. Do you want that back?