Change is Good. Usually...

Hello friends, stalkers, and people who've stumbled upon this blog by mistake!
As you might have noticed, I've changed a lot on my blog over the course of....a few hours. Yes, I have no life. Thanks for asking.
Anyway, I thought I'd point out the most obvious change: the name! I got to thinking that My Penciled Muse sounded so pretentious. I mean, I don't use pencils for blog posts and it's not like I own a muse or anything. The name started out as a joke, but then I kind of liked it, so there you have it! I'm just another pretentious hipster.

The end.

I apologize for the shortness. Can I interest you in a knock-knock joke? Knock-knock...
....
....
Oh.

Barefoot

For the most part, I like to think of myself as a nonconformist. I listen to obscure music (think Doctor Who-themed Chameleon Circuit, which you should totally check out if you happen to be a fan of the Doctor, by the way), wear classic Chucks with my Sari dress, and have crazy frizzy hair that I don't bother to straighten. But as it turns out...I was wrong. Last year was the first time I heard about One Day Without Shoes, the TOMS-inspired day which is exactly what it sounds like: a day to go around barefoot and raise awareness about the need of kids in countries like South Africa and Honduras that don't have shoes. It's an awesome idea and I really wanted to do it last year, but...to put it bluntly, I chickened out. What I said was that I hadn't gotten the high school's okay to show up without shoes, but what I meant was, I was too dang terrified to not wear shoes. Which is, y'know, ridiculous. But I'll get to that later. So this year, as I am doing dual-enrollment at the local community college (which will remain unnamed to make sure you don't stalk me or anything), I decided to go for it! The morning of, I put on my jeans and flannel shirt, grabbed my backpack and...left! I did it! However, the scene in my bedroom before I left was sitcom, material. I kept going back and forth: I want to go barefoot. But what if my professor kicks me out of class? So what? It's for a good cause. But...I have perfect attendance! They won't even notice--professors don't look at feet. People will looookkk at meeee! That's because you're barefoot, sweetheart. Besides, it's a good cause. Just go, already! And I went. *Cue laughtrack and applause.* This is a little embarrassing to even type out. Here I was, thinking I was so different, inspired, and carefree and I almost couldn't even show up to class without shoes. I don't know what my deal was. After all, not wearing shoes is sort of like not wearing sleeves or gloves, except...not really. But the point is, shoes are an article of clothing that should be optional. How was I supposed to call myself nonconformist while freaking out over a clothing article? Let me tell you, it was a bit of an eye-opener. Then I realized...I'm a Christian. My views COMPLETELY contradict with most of the world's. I live life for God, or at least try to. But if I was worrying about people staring at my naked feet, what would I do if someone challenged my beliefs? Or got mad at me for talking about "religion?" What then? I hope that I would stand up for God and myself and just be different. But honestly, until last week, I don't know if I would have. If it hadn't been for One Day Without Shoes, I doubt if I would have noticed my conformity and had a chance to challenge it.

So here's to individualism, self-confidence, oh...and bare feet.

Indoor soccer, war, and all things frightening

I used to watch sports movies in which the "other" team would be so horrendously rude, mean-spirited, and awful that I resigned them to works of fiction incapable of existing in the real world. Because, no one really acts like that....right? Apparently I was wrong. I'm not going to bore you with a long account of last night's indoor soccer game, but I will say that it just about destroyed my perception of humanity (okay, that's a bit on the dramatic side, but you get the point). There were pointless slammings into walls, pushes resulting in penalties, and one horrific instant where someone very purposefully sat on my teammate's head (who was then rushed to the hospital with a concussion). And while she was lying on the field crying with the coach and medic surrounding her, one of our opponents started doing a victory dance. The horror of it was, the game didn't even really matter. It. Was. Just. A. Rec*. League. Game.

*Rec - (adj) enjoyable and/or relaxed exercise. See: recreation.

If I'd wanted to play an extremely competitive and hateful sport, I would've taken up rugby, Foosball, or Quidditch. There are a few possible explanations for the other team's uncalled behavior, though: 1) They thought "rec" stood for record, as in the World Cup of Indoor Soccer or some other ostentatious title, 2) They were secretly cheap assassins hired out to murder the members of our team (but failed, thankfully), 3) Playing soccer *somehow* reminded them of prom when Billy Joe stood them up and they never got proper revenge, 4) They forgot to tell us that they really were trying out for a part in the next B-movie, Kleats, Grass Stains, and Broken Ribs, and the director was there and everything, or 5) Yeah. I got nothin'. They were just awful.

The soccer game, awful as it was, reminded me that the human race is in desperate need of saving. I'm sure some of the members on the other team are good people (at least off the field, anyway). They knew how to have a good time and most of them shook our hands at the end, but during the game they transformed into something terrifyingly supercilious and self-absorbed. "Good" people, deep down, are really selfish and cold.

Wow. I just depressed myself.

But all kidding aside, that's not the end of it! Humanity is heartless, but God isn't. No matter how awful the soccer game, he wants all of the team members for his own. Whether people express their hatred outwardly or keep it all inside, it's just as lethal. But God can (and already has) rescued humanity from this hatred and malice...with Jesus. They might not accept it or make a change, but the hope is there.

The Future! Or something.

Before I start this post, I have to get something off my chest.... I'm a liar. That's it. There it is. As it turns out, as a salutatorian I do not have to give a graduation speech, so my last post was completely and totally useless! Sorry. It was unintentional lying, though, so would that be called negligent deceit? Hmm. Anyhow, sorry about that! Since you (probably) can't hear inside my head, I thought I'd let you know that I'm typing in an accent right now. And not just any accent....a BRITISH accent! I know, I know, you wish you were me, but as it turns out, watching old Doctor Who episodes for hours on end can severely damage one's brain. Which led to the following conversation..... Me: Mom, I changed my career goals a bit. My mother: Oh yes, what are they? Me: I want to be, erm...a TIME TRAVELER! My mother: Well, why don't you travel just going forward one year at a time, Courtney. Ha, ha. She's brilliant. For the last eighteen years and eleven days, I've been trying to figure out what to do with my life. Now that I'm an almost-graduate, I hear the word Future about fifteen times a day. Which would be nice if I had a clue what to do with it. It's sort of like an ugly Christmas sweater given from a well-meaning relative, but much, much scarier. And, on top of that, it's too big and I can't find the receipt. According to my mother, I have to go to work, pay taxes, and buy groceries like a normal human being. That's sad. I was sort of hoping to change the world. But I'm going to make the best of it and TRAVEL the world....with the money that I make from some job which I have yet to decide on. It will be something exciting, though. I'm sort of waffling between ER surgeon and foreign correspondent. First stop (hopefully): England! I'll just keep a lookout for any blue boxes along the way.

SALUTATORIOUS!

Hello, my name is Courtney Clifton, and I am a salutatorian. Which, unbelievably, annoys me. I'm *somewhat* of a perfectionist. So, if you ask me for my GPA I will cringe and tell you 3.994, thanks to ONE semester in HONORS Chemistry where I got a 92. (See what I mean?) But, I'll admit it, I'm still pretty excited to be salutatorian. That means only one person is better than me! (Kidding.) So I was in the midst of my victory dance, rendering a (500) Days of Summer-esque accompaniment to "You Make My Dreams" when I remembered.... Graduation speech. .... ... ... That, my friend, is the sound of fear. Also, silence, since the song ended at precisely the wrong moment. I know it might be hard for you to believe, considering how incredibly witty and hilarious my blog is, but I hate public speaking. Hate it. I get cottonmouth, my palms start sweating, and I quake with the fright of standing in front of people and making, you know, inspiring sentences that also make sense. I have no idea why, since I like people, but something about standing in front of them and trying to keep them entertained for an indefinite period of time terrifies me. So, I went through my options: 1) come down with a mysterious illness, 2) fake my own death, 3) lose my voice, 4) forget how to speak English, 5) decide to take a road trip across country at the last minute, 6) turn into a insta-star and have to travel the world before June or, 7) suck it up and write the speech, already. Sigh...... As far as I can see, the only real option is 7. Unless my life transforms into a teen novel or sitcom, in which case, who knows what will happen! Mystery! Drama! Suspense! Unfortunately, life is entirely on a different plane than fiction, so odds are I will probably end up writing the speech. And I will quiver with fright, not forget to not lock my knees, and remember the day for the rest of my life! I will be.... ...SALUTATORIOUS! (Cue dramatic music and lights.) Ladies and gents, I just invented a word. Maybe I can pull off this speech after all.

Month of Insanity

Hello everyone! It is such a beautiful, non-November day, isn't it? It's snowy, there's no hint of Thanksgiving, and Black Friday shopping has all but disintegrated. In case you're wondering why I'm so glad it's not November anymore, I'll admit I might have done one thing too many last month. So in case you're tempted to overexert yourself in the next few months, here's a few things that should not end up on the same month's to-do list...if you value your sanity, that is:

• Read the last four Harry Potter books before going to see the movie in theaters
• Participate in National Novel Writing Month
• Confuse the characters from your own novel and Harry Potter
• Join the soccer team
• Join a new club
• Volunteer over eight hours...on one day of the month
• Go to a birthday party
• Choose classes for the next quarter at school THAT WILL AFFECT YOUR FUTURE FOR YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE
• Get addicted to a new TV show, especially if it's Doctor Who
• Go on vacation, especially the kind of vacation with television, mountains for exploring, and the Internet
• Procrastinate on multiple college essays
• Decide to tutor a friend in Spanish
• Apply for a job
• Decorate the house for Christmas at midnight on Thanksgiving
• Go Black Friday shopping
• Wake up at five...every. Single. Morning.
• Cook anything
• Drink over 100 cups of coffee

On second thought, do all of this! (I want to see if you can possibly get as crazy as me.)

Blood Drive

This week, there was an event at school that made me even more nervous than musical tryouts. No, it was not finals, Prom Week, or April Fools (aka Day of Shameless Mockery of Gullible People). Nope. This week, my school hosted a blood drive. Now, last time I gave blood I almost fainted--the world turned a shade lighter than black, and only a sugary soda could redeem me from my pitiful state. As you might imagine, that was both humiliating and scary. Nevertheless, I signed up to donate again this year and, when my number was called, nervously made my way to a station. My iron levels were good (thanks to my vitamin supplements!), and I was perfect to donate! Except. Except. Except it turned out I had been to a "malaria-risk area" in the past 12 months (no, it wasn't my neighbor's swimming pool, but thanks for your concern). It was--drum roll please!--rural Guatemala! Duh-duh-duh-duh! So with a Band-Aid adorning my now uselessly-pricked finger, I signed a statement, pledging that I would not try to give blood until June 24th, 2011. Which happens to be when I'll most likely be in Guatemala again. Do you know what this means, people? I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO GIVE BLOOD AGAIN UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD! (The end of the world=2012, for those of you without pocket Mayan calenders.) Hem. Sorry about that. I'm a bit--cough cough--melodramatic at times. Oddly enough, I was almost darkly happy that I couldn't give blood yesterday. I was blacklisted. It was like being on a watch list. (Just kidding. But it was a little fun signing that paper, in a weird sort of way.) Aside from all that, I was tempted to be severely disappointed that I couldn't donate. That's 24 MONTHS (aka 36 LIVES) that I could have saved! Talk about insta-depression. But I refused to wallow in sadness and have a two-year-long pity party (although, it's tempting. If I change my mind, would you mind bringing the emo music and headless gummy bears?). After all, the very reason I couldn't donate was because I had done something AWESOME like going to Guatemala and been serving God! When I thought about it, I realized that my church delivered 206 water filters to rural Guatemalan villages (not to mention the medical and dental services they provided free of charge). Compared to the aid--both physical and spiritual--we gave to the Guatemalans, the blood I could have donated didn't quite stack up. That's not to say that I don't think giving blood is important (because it is!), but that I had been called to do something different and shouldn't be disheartened by what I can't do. So, whether you can sit down for an hour or so and donate blood, spend a month in a third-world country, or whatever else, go out and do it! And be happy! This sort of reminded me of a Bible verse that goes, "For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ" (1 Corinthians 12:12). Be happy and inspired, yo!