8 People You Meet at Every Tournament

Christian Homeschool Speech and Debate Kids are...interesting people. We spend our time researching obscure policies, talking to walls, and celebrating making people cry. Within our group, there are certain people you will surely encounter. After spending my middle school and high school years at countless tournaments, I've noticed that there are eight people you meet at every tournament.

1. The Prepared

These competitors come to the tournament with not one, not two, but three debate boxes. How they fit those in the back of their van the world may never know. Going into rounds, they pull out three six inch binders. And that's just for affirmative rounds. They wrote their speeches in August and memorized them the first week in September. Chances are, if you need a brief for your round, they will be able to provide.

2. The Unprepared

The exact opposite of the Prepared, the Unprepared wrote their speech the week before the tournament and memorized it yesterday. They are the LDers who write entire neg cases during the AC, the interpers who cut lines on the way to script submission, the expos-ers who tape things to their board outside of their rounds. Occasionally Always stressed.

3. The Napper

They stayed up late the night before the tournament because they forgot about script submission. Now, in the ten minutes between rounds. this competitor is asleep on the couch in the lobby. Don't worry; they will wake upon the postings stampede and attend their round on time*.

*Punctuality is not guaranteed with the purchase of a "the Napper."

4. The Casual

This person is not competing at the tournament. Most likely, they showed up a couple of hours after everyone else, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, making all the formally dressed teenagers super jealous. This is not to be confused with someone who didn't break and is now wearing the sweats of depression. This is a person who did not ever participate in the tournament, except to make everyone aware of how uncomfortable dress shoes are. Often overlaps with the Alumni, but not always.

5. The Breaker

Also known as the Medalist or the Winner, the Breaker is that one person who breaks in every event they compete in. Most people don't compete in as many events in prelims as this student competes in in finals. In many cases, this person is also the Humble, who never acts like breaking in literally everything (including that event you had no idea they were doing) is a big deal and is always looking shocked during the awards ceremony.

6. The Snacker

Goldfish, Pringles, those organic maple leaf things from Trader Joe's, this kid brought everything. If you're lucky, this person will share their treasures with you. This person knows how to make friends. The key to the heart of debaters is snack food. In that time between meals, hunger strikes. The snack kid strikes back.

7. The Alumni

They show up, Starbucks and ballot in hand. Since their last NITOC, they have grown an attempt at a beard. They wear converse and flannel and joggers. Everyone is overjoyed to see them. The ballots they return have handwriting just legible enough to read the many, many comments they've written. They stroll around the student area with plates loaded with judges' food. Not because they're hungry, but just to show off the fact that they can now eat judges' food*.

*Also, they're hungry. College students are always hungry for free food.

8. The Humble

Typically a fifth or sixth year competitor (though there are exceptions), the Humble is the person everyone says they want to be when giving the devotional at club, but few people actually are. They don't care what club someone is from, how well they do in competition, how old they are, how fashionable others' suits are--they just care about you. They are friends with anyone and everyone, and are always helping break down the tournament once everything's said and done. They may do well in competition, they may not. But everyone knows their name, not because it's been announced 12 times during the awards ceremony, but because this person made an effort to be loving and friendly with as many people as possible.

Vote affirmative, so I can be the Breaker.

Speech & Debate Crushes - The Fifth Year Letters

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. So does being around someone for 3-4 straight days, including early mornings and late nights, eating meals with them, and being high strung on emotions because you haven't gotten enough sleep in two weeks.

Tournaments are one of the best ways to get to know someone. You see everyone at their best and worst, and also see everyone in their suits which increases attraction by at least 60%*. It's no wonder why so many find themselves with tournament crushes. Hormones run high, tournament nerves run even higher than usual. If you find yourself looking after a suit-clad cutie, I have a few A+, very subtle crush tips**.

*According to no scientific study ever.
**As an older and wiser homeschooler I cannot legally recommend having a crush because of the Law of Homeschooling. Go find some edgier homeschooler to give you dating advice.

1. Postings Stalking

After eluding the stampede of teenagers who haven't gotten enough slept, stalking postings is the first step in proper tournament crushing. This step is vital to many other parts of getting to know your crush. Having conversations at tournaments hinges on knowing what events the other person is competing in and when they're competing in them.

2. Item Placement

When coming into the student area in the morning, hang around until your crush has placed his or her debate box/brief case/stringed instrument at a table. Casually stroll over (being careful not to attract extra attention to yourself by tripping over chairs/debate boxes/juniors) to that table and set your belongings down.

3. Casual Conversing

Before just straight up talking to your crush, you must first find a group conversation in which he/she is participating in. Enter the conversation if AND ONLY IF a good friend of the same gender is in the conversation. Otherwise your crush will totally know you're stalking him/her. This is totally foolproof. Totally. 100%. Recommended times: during/just before meals, while waiting on judges outside of your round. Which reminds me...

4. Hallway Lurking

This is where stalking postings comes in handy. Find out where your crush is competing, and see if another friend is competing in the same area (statistically speaking, this is very likely). Go to watch your friends speech but oops the friend isn't here/already went. When your crush shows up, start a conversation by asking what event they're in this hallway for (even though you already know because postings). If it is for a prepared speech, ask about the topic/piece. This leads to the crown jewel of tournament crushing/flirting.

5. Round Watching

As your crush is standing up to go into the competition room, ask if you can watch. There's a high chance the response will be yes. Watch the speech. Afterwards, compliment the speech, mentioning specific things you liked about it. Ask if he/she wants to watch your speech later.

While there are many other aspects of tournament flirting (such as adjusting his tie or brushing off her blazer, which is on a whole other level), these five are the basic foundation. Going into this tournament, I hope you have fun getting to know suit-clad cuties other CHSADKs.

Vote affirmative, and remember: speech and debate isn't just about trophies; it's about the community, friendships, and future marriages. 

Legacy - the Fourth Year Confessions

"When I became a senior, I didn't expect a massive out-pour of love."

I'm going to be a senior next year.

Since a lot of my friends are just barely older than me, I've heard a lot about what it's like to be a senior. There are college applications and ceremony plannings and stress and senioritis. But my best friend Hannah told me something that's stuck with me all week: "When I became a senior, I didn't expect a massive out-pour of love."

Hannah has been in speech and debate since she was twelve, and now she's graduating. That entire time, I've been able to watch her grow into the incredible woman of God she is. I see the people who spend time with her, and I realize that's what I want.

I don't want to be known for a bookshelf full of trophies. I don't want to be known for my points on Speechranks. I don't care about being draped in a dozen medals. Two years from now, I don't want to be remembered as the girl who won a lot of stuff at NITOC, for people's mentions of me to consist of awards. I want to leave a legacy.

Leaving speech and debate and high school, I know the legacy Hannah is leaving behind. She's given the example of being kind to the least of these. She sat with the juniors during the awards ceremony. Not 11th graders, but with those 12 and under who are too young to compete. She spent time having vulnerable, spiritual conversations instead of stressing about her speeches. She gave a speech about leadership and lives it.

I know the impact Hannah has left in our obscure little community because I see it, I feel it, I'm impacted by it.

I can't imagine doing speech and debate without Hannah being there. When I hugged her after the awards ceremony, I started crying because we need her and more people like her. We need people who don't just say they care more about relationships than competitive success, but people who live like that. We need leaders who know their influence. We need wisdom. We need love.

When I'm a senior next year, I want to leave a legacy. I want the people around me to say, 'I want her love, her grace, her leadership.' Not because I'm so incredible, but because I want God to use what little I have to make a difference. I want that difference to spread throughout the entire Christian homeschool speech and debate community. I've seen the difference Hannah and so many of my other friends have made in this community and I'm amazed by how God uses those who are humble, those who know it's not about themselves.

Here we are, at the end of the year. We won't be debating about East Asian trade policy (thank goodness) or education or developing countries. We won't be giving motivationals. We won't even have two LD resolutions. And that doesn't matter.

What matters is that we'll still be living with kindness. That we'll still be giving grace. That we'll have joy and love.

If I have learned anything this year, it's that everything will be okay because we will still have love. We still have people who are true friends, who are honest, who are leaving a legacy of Christ-like character.

Whether or not you're a graduate this year, you are leaving a legacy. It's up to you if that is a legacy of love or not.

Vote affirmative, because you shouldn't make a negative impact.

NITOC - The Third Year Chronicles #27

I stand in the entry to the amphitheater and gaze around the massive space. To many, it would be a bizarre sight. Hundreds of teenagers in suits. carrying trophies and uncomfortable looking shoes. To me, though, the view is nothing unusual. Not unusual, but the epitome of bittersweet.

I spent the week with the people in this room. I don't know most of them. Some I met this week. Some I met years ago. Many had walked across the huge stage the front of the room. Many had sat in their seats and cheered for their friends. Medals drape from necks. Ballots are clutched in arms holding drawstring backpacks and snacks bought at the last minute.

My brown high-heel shoes hang from my fingertips. I'm not looking for one specific person. I'm looking at everyone, trying to be with all of them at once. The hours I'd sat through the awards ceremony, the days I spent walking around BJU's campus, and the week I spent with these people is taking its toll. The energy I had throughout the day and week is failing.

Here it is. Here we are. The end.

The end of the awards ceremony. The end of the day. The end of NITOC. The end of the 2014-2015 speech and debate year. No more electronic surveillance law or federal jurisprudence or communities' moral standards in TP and LD rounds. Broadcasting has been rotated out and replaced with monologue. Trade policies with Asian countries, liberal arts, developing countries, OI's continuance. Another year coming.

It all makes me want to cry. A long week has gone by too fast. There are so many people here I won't see for sixth months or more. Some I won't see ever again. Some have impacted me in ways not even I can see. I can only hope that I've impacted them in some way. There are so many people I need to say goodbye to, but no matter how much time I spend in this room, I cannot say enough goodbyes, enough "I love you"s, enough "thank you"s.

I didn't break in my original speech, but I did break in impromptu (to the great excitement of my club). I didn't win any events. I didn't get last place in any events. There's no trophy for me to lug back to my car. That's okay.

I watch friends and strangers mill around the room, saying their own goodbyes and congratulations. I've said a few already myself. I can almost taste the bittersweetness in the air.

"I'll see you next year!"

"I cannot believe the president skipped my name."

"Any ideas for next year?"

"I'm moving in ten days."

"I'm so proud of you!"

"...College in California."

"I love you."

Not much time passes as I stand in the back of the room. I'm so unprepared to say goodbye to my friends, so I'll be cliche and say 'see you later.' An open statement. 'Later' could mean at the ballot party, 'later' could mean next week, 'later' could mean next year. An open promise, though. Even I don't see some of these people ever again, I won't forget this week, or this year of speech and debate.

I leave my spot in the doorway. I make my way through the crowds and have to hug most of my friends at least three times before I'm somewhat satisfied with the beginning of our separation.

NITOC is over. There were a lot of hard spots. Thursday night breaks. Occasionally confusing behavior from my friends. Short nights. Long walks. Heavy boxes. Small hotel room. Three flights of stairs. Leaving my meal tickets at the hotel. Leaving my goldfish at the hotel. Feeling like passing out. Folding two hundred t-shirts. Friends breaking, friends not breaking.

Yes, there were hard spots. But the good spots, the perfect moments, the rejoicing, the small conversations, the frisbee games, the outrounds, the cute suits and kind hearts, getting lost with friends, seeing chipmunks, cheering for my friends and club mates, the sunglasses, the first round, the last round. Every real smile. Every kind word. These things overshadow the rough patches.

When I finally get in the car to go back to the hotel for the ballot party, my mind rolls over the past nine days. The lessons I've learned or relearned. Moments I'll hold onto for years.

I take a deep breath and stare out the window. I won't likely drive down this road again, so I watch the trees blur by in the darkness. I memorize the way the moon looks in South Carolina. I don't cry, but I could. Not necessarily from sadness, or happiness either. But from both.

I thank God for my friends and my family, because without them I wouldn't be anything like the person I am, and I kind of like who I am. I like where I am, right now. This tournament was long and hard and wonderful. Maybe not the best tournament ever, but it's been pretty fantastic. Even if I won't remember every detail, I'll remember what's important. I'll remember the love and pride I feel for my friends, however well they did in competition this year. I'll remember the relationships. I'll remember the people.

Vote affirmative. I'll see you next year.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #26)

People - The Third Year Chronicles #12

I arrived at the tournament facility early. My mom works in ballot push, so I showed up a half hour earlier than everyone else. I sat at a table near the judges' area and pulled out Pride and Prejudice. A few people from Action, the debate club hosting the tournament, were there early to help set up. I set the book down after reading a chapter and start greeting my few friends who were there.

Then people really started showing up. It was, of course to be expected. But, for some reason, I wasn't expecting it. Maybe I was too busy trying to get my really buddy to calm down about LD, or because I was too excited about parli to think about it. But when the tournament came I wasn't expecting the abundance of people. I recognized many of them, and met more.

I can't believe I forgot about my favorite part of tournaments. The hanging out and talking and laughing and the friendship. It's rare to find a group of people who have camaraderie like we have in Stoa, or at least in StoaSouth.

Debate is awesome and speech is great but we tend to forget that one of the best parts of this whole homeschool forensics thing is the friendships. Tournament would be stressful and boring if we focused only on the competition and ignored the fellowship.

Vote affirmative, and don't forget.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #11)

The First Tournament - The Third Year Chronicles #11

Tomorrow I am leaving for the first tournament of the season. At least, the first tournament for me. There are some states that had tournaments as soon as possible. Why they would do that is beyond me, but other states are crazy (in the best way).

So now a bunch of us are freaking out because omigoshthere'satournamentintwodays. There are briefs to print and cases to tweak and whatever LDers do to do. It's a debate only tournament, so there aren't many speeches to memorize. But that's just an excuse not to memorize my speech that I wrote in August.

Now is the time we should be freaking out, right? I mean, we have 36 hours before the tournament and that is clearly not enough time to do everything we were supposed to do a month ago. And if you don't get all your stuff done you won't win any rounds or get any speaker awards and you certainly won't get a green checkmark. You'll get up to the lectern and spew out gibberish about email privacy or freedom of speech or whatever that parli resolution may be. All that hard work you did at the last minute gone to waste.

It's natural at this point to panic. You're drowning in piles and piles of briefs and flow sheets and suits and check lists and insanity. There's all this work to be done and no time in which to do it.

Stop. For like, two seconds, just stop. That card isn't going to vanish into the void. Your heels will not go missing moments before you pack them. Calm down for one second and listen to me.

You don't have to have everything together. You don't need to have every brief in its exact spot. The tournament will go on regardless of whether or not you remembered to bring eyeshadow and mascara. You may have to use a hotel printer or buy shoes from Wal-Mart. You may have to borrow someone else's tie.

You don't have to have every last thing perfectly lined up. You don't have to give the best speech you've ever given every single round. You don't have to take home trophies or medals or green check marks. You don't have to break to finals or win every round. If those are the reasons why you're competing, then go ahead and freak out and panic and quadruple check every last thing.

It's okay to be nervous. But don't stress yourself out over one tournament. This is the first tournament and you don't have to have it all together. Which is good because I don't think we could.

So calm down. Take a deep breath. Then you can do all the things you need to do and actually survive until the tournament.

Vote affirmative, and pleasedon'tfreakout.

(This post is part of a series called The Third Year Chronicles. Click here for TTYC #10)

You Know You're A Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kid When... 2

(So it's been over a month since I posted anything. Let's just say I was on summer break, okay? And that just means that I haven't been feeling particularly creative. So now I'm just posting sequels, because who doesn't love a good sequel. Like HTTYD2. Best. Sequel. Ever. Anyway, this is a direct rip off of Blimeycow's You might be a homeschooler if. So I guess I'm double un-creative.)

You know you're a CHSADK when your speech and debate Pinterest board has more pins than your dress board.

You know you're a CHSADK when you freak out when you finally meet your alumni hero.

You know you're a CHSADK when your vacation is decided by NITOC's location.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get upset when you realize you won't be giving your speeches from this/last year again.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get excited about buying new flowpads and pens before speech and debate camp.

You know you're a CHSADK when you start planning speeches for next year before this year is over.

You know you're a CHSADK when talking to walls is perfectly normal behavior.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have no social life during the summer because there are no club meetings or tournaments.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend far too much time stalking Facebook for NITOC photos while wishing you were there.

You know you're a CHSADK when the act of throwing away your flowing pens from the past year is a mournful occasion.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get weird stares from the people in Starbucks because you're in full tournament attire.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get confused when people clap more than once for one person.

You know you're a CHSADK when others get on to you for parli knocking outside of tournaments. 

You know you're a CHSADK when you have tournament nightmares in the middle of the summer.

You know you're a CHSADK when you feel bad for not asking if everyone is ready before your piano recital (or whatever activity you do outside of debate.)

You know you're a CHSADK when you gasp in shock when people tell you they have a life outside debate.

You know you're a CHSADK when no one in your youth group understands your obscure debate references.

You know you're a CHSADK when you understand these jokes.

You know you're a CHSADK when your favorite webcomic consists of stick figures and speech and debate themed parodies of popular songs.

You know you're a CHSADK when Blimey Cow nails every aspect of your life.

You know you're a CHSADK when you inform your friends that the Debate Dungeon is very real.

You know you're a CHSADK when the vast majority of your blog posts are centered around how great speech and debate it.

You know you're a CHSADK when you dread the summer because there's no speech and debate.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend way too much time reading SCHSADKL when you should be writing briefs.

You know you're a CHSADK when watching speeches on Youtube is research for your persuasive.

You know you're a CHSADK when it's hard to recognize your friends when they're not wearing suits. 

You know you're a CHSADK when you say NCFCA so fast that people think you're saying enceeifceea.

You know you're a CHSADK when you laugh at the 'that's debatable' joke no matter how old it gets.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have to take out the debater-ese out of your speech for fear of confusing community judges.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend free time reading and reorganizing old ballots.

You know you're a CHSADK when you freak out because the timer (like a kid, not a time piece) just started counting down the last ten seconds and you didn't even see the other hand signals.

You know you're a CHSADK when you take a break from blog post writing because you haven't done any speech and debate related activities.

Vote affirmative. Maybe I'll try harder to find things to blog about.

10 More Things I Love About Speech and Debate

At the beginning of the year, I wrote a post called "10 Things I Love About Speech and Debate." Now it's the end of the year. I have trophies, I have a huge amount of ballots, I've done parli, I've made friends. And now I'm writing a sequel. Because I can. So ha.

10. Winning Lots of Trophies

This was number ten in the original post, too. Only this time I actually have trophies. It's not as great as some people make it out to be, but it is pretty fun. They're a representation of how hard we've worked. They look pretty on the shelf. But more importantly, you can sometimes eat ice-cream out of them. I still need to do that...

9. Having Lots of Ballots

I have all of my speech ballots from this year in one folder. They're over an inch thick. If you spread them all out it looks like a rainbow. I've competed in five speech events this year, so there are a lot of colors and a lot of papers. And lots of good comments about how to improve too, but, you know, colors!

8. Becoming Friends with People I Just Debated

The heat of the round, the pressure of CX, the intense penguin analogies. With all the back and forth argumentation in the round, it's hard to imagine becoming tournament buddies with the people who just told the judge not to vote affirmative. But then you start talking after the round, and you realize the people you just debated are actually really awesome, and then you become friends.

7. Hotel Breakfasts

I know what you're thinking. Hotel breakfasts are nasty. They are. But the people you eat them with are not. Staying at the same hotel as your friends is pretty much the best. You're all downstairs, in the lobby, eating undercooked waffles and weird banana-blueberry muffins, counting down to the weather, and basically trying not to fall asleep in our chairs.

6.  Nice Judges

The ones who cry in your speeches. The ones who give you awesome critique. The ones who rank you first. The ones who smile and nod and are attentive. They're the greatest and I just want to hug them and shake their hands and thank them for being so awesome. 

5.  Getting People to Watch My Rounds

I always do better when people come to watch my speeches. Sometimes I have to drag people in (I mean that literally), but it's always worth it to get them to watch it. Also, I like watching other people's speeches. On Youtube. I'm totally not a stalker. I swear. I mean, it's not like I ever sit outside people's competition rooms and listen to their speeches. Ever.

4. Speech and Debate Camp

After the shock of seeing all my tournament friends wearing normal clothing, I always have an amazing time at camp. The lectures, the meals, the candy getting sling-shotted at us from across the room. It's all pretty great. But best of all, I get to see my friends who I usually only see during tournament season.

3. Tournaments

This one is pretty broad, but it needs to be said. Tournaments themselves are really awesome. The exhaustion, the stress, the excitement, the fun. All of it. It wouldn't be a tournament without all the ups and downs, the wait for meals, the inside jokes and, you know, the competition.

2. Debate Jokes

Whether it's resolution puns or postings, debate jokes way less funny than we think they are. If someone says, 'that's debatable', we all (or at least I) start laughing, even if it's fake laughter. And whenever they mention HI and we all break out into feigned laughter. Everyone who hates that joke needs to find their sense of humor.

1. My Awesome CHSADK Friends

My friends are pretty amazing. Whether it's speech, debate, or just being themselves, they're all fantastic, and I'm super lucky to have such awesome people in my life. The inside jokes, weird games we play, excited greetings, awkward side-hugs. The excitement and disappointment during breaks and the awards ceremony. Even if I just met them in a debate round, I love you guys. <3

Vote affirmative, because you love speech and debate too. (Because why would you read to the end of the post if you didn't?) Plus, also, it's my birthday- just so you know.

I Have Been Changed For Good

This past weekend was the Westlake Escalade (or, as I prefer, the Wescalade). It was, for many, the last tournament of the year. It was the sixth tournament I've been to this year and my thirteenth tournament total, and out of all those tournament, this was one of my favorites. It was well run, the facility was good, and the competition was great. But those aren't the reasons why it was one of my favorite tournament of all time. The real reason is because of my friends.

I made a conscious decision before the tournament not to focus on the competition portion of the tournament, but rather to focus on friendships. Before the 2012-2013 tournament season, I had about two friends total. But I made a promise to make friends. That promise has paid off.

I pretty much have the best friends ever. They're encouraging, inspiring, funny, loving, caring, kind, and basically the best. I'm so proud of all of them. They aren't perfect, and neither am I. I don't expect them to be perfect. But I still love them all. I wouldn't be who I am without my friends. They have taught me lessons I may never have learned without them, and they have impacted my life in ways even I can't know.

Even when I'm teasing my friends about who they like, or their lack of vest, or their bony hugs, or anything at all, I still love them. I'm absolutely thrilled when my friends break to finals. I'm absolutely thrilled when my friends tell me that their round went well and then tell me why. I love it when they know I care, and I love it when I know they care. Friends like that are hard to find, and I'm glad that I have been so blessed by such amazing people.

I honestly don't know where I'd be without you guys. I love you all so much. You have blessed me so much and I can only pray that I have blessed you as well. "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not easily broken." (Ecclesiastes 4:12)

Now then. I'm off to see Wicked. Vote affirmative, because I already voted affirmative for you.

You Know You're A Christian Homeschooled Speech and Debate Kid When...

(For the record, this is a direct rip off of Blimeycow's You might be a homeschooler... I'll try to make up in the creativity department for the lack of originality.)

You know you're a CHSADK when you have specific pens for all the stock issues.

You know you're a CHSADK when you spend hours trying to decypher judge handwriting.

You know you're a CHSADK when you start wearing suits for fun.

You know you're a CHSADK when the word 'parametrics' is more than random letters put together.

You know you're a CHSADK when you start impact calculating what food you should order at McDonald's.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have a mini panic attack because a speech and debate legend just started talking to you.

You know you're a CHSADK when the Heritage Foundation is in your top ten most visited sites.

You know you're a CHSADK when 'breaking' is a good thing.

You know you're a CHSADK when you have to explain the difference between 'expos' and 'extemp' to your non-CHSADK friend... for the twelfth time.

You know you're a CHSADK when you accidentally walk in on a meeting of the LD Secret Society.

You know you're a CHSADK when you witness the deepest theological debate you've heard outside of apologetics finals.

You know you're a CHSADK when you end up stalking your ex-debate partner's current debate partner's brother's ex-debate partner after ten minutes on speech ranks.

You know you're a CHSADK when you get trampled in the race for postings for the third time this tournament.

You know you're a CHSADK when you quote your debate partner in the 2NR.

You know you're a CHSADK when you crowd into duo finals and end up sitting under the judge's table.

You know you're a CHSADK when you lash out at someone for calling impromptu 'improv.'

You know you're a CHSADK when you've spent hours watching speeches on Youtube.

You know you're a CHSADK when you say words like permutation and tabula rosa just to confuse your non-CHSADK friends.

You know you're a CHSADK when you come close to burning your ballots because the judge voted on your dinosaur socks and not the flow.

You know you're a CHSADK when you stopped reading the first part a long time ago.

You know you're a CHSADK when you start writing your platform five months before the first tournament.

You know you're a CHSADK when you give more speeches to walls and stuffed animals than you do to people.

You know you're a CHSADK when you've started quoting your duo.

You know you're a CHSADK when you know the best ways to avoid the timer lady.

You know you're a CHSADK when you come up with nicknames for tournaments.

You know you're a CHSADK when people start glaring at you because of your amazing penguin analogy.

You know you're a CHSADK when you can effortlessly speak in public.

You know you're a CHSADK when you accidently end a prayer with 'thank you for judging.'

You know you're a CHSADK when you end every blog post with 'vote affirmative.'

You know you're a CHSADK when you do vote affirmative.

Tournament Orphans

I'm an orphan. But only about once a month for a few days. And not really ever during the Summer. I'm only an orphan at debate tournaments.

Whenever my dad actually goes to tournaments (and he doesn't go to a lot) he works in tab. You never see those who dwell within the walls of the tabulation room. They stay in that room. Sometimes, you pass by this room, which is usually a tiny office in which are crammed several people. exceeded the suggested room capacity. Tab sometimes gets food leftover from the student lunches and the judges room. It is all they have to survive off of, since they cannot escape the prison like room known as tabulation... You get the point. I hardly ever see my dad at tournaments. Sometimes he emerges from tab to watch my speeches, but this is a rare and precious occasion.

I have never been to a tournament without my mom. But alas, I hardly ever see her, for she works tirelessly within the walls of the judges room, rendered off limits too all those who are competing. But this is not because she is always judging. She almost always works toward making sure all the rooms of competition have a suitable number of judges in ballot push. I see my mother even less than I see my father.

It is a strange sight for me to see other students with their parents. I can't help but wonder, 'shouldn't they be working? Or judging? Or, I don't know, eating judges' food?' But some kids are not rendered orphans at tournaments. But we tourney orphans manage to survive off our friends' company- and their snacks.

Maybe one day I won't be a tourney orphan. But that is unlikely. Vote affirmative, out of pity for this poor little orphan.

I Just Realized Something... Again

You probably already know that I love speech and debate. I've written three posts about loving it, and about a million others about it in general. It's pretty self evident that I love it. And I really do. Of course, I didn't always feel this way about forensics. No, it took me a long time to realize just how great it is.

Once upon a time, my sister joined speech and debate. I was only eight at the time, and I had no idea what we were getting into. After the first tournament, which was technically only a practice tournament, my mom was all like, 'you're coming to Houston with us!' And by 'us' she meant her, my sister, my sister's debate partner, and my sister's debate partner's mom. Back in the day, I really hated long car-rides. They just seemed so much longer when I was younger. But we watched Anne of Green Gables on the way, so it could have been worse.

I avoided timing and watching debate as much as possible. I'm not sure what exactly I did for those three days, seeing as how I had like, no friends. At one point, on the last day, I was asked to time debate semi's. I had never timed anything, much less debate. Once they figured that out, they went and searched for some other poor junior to time. And then they forced me to time persuasive finals. That was interesting.

There were five speakers in finals. One of the speeches was about honey bees. Another one was about baseball. But the first three were all about cancer. Microwaves cause cancer! Cell-phones cause cancer! Meat causes cancer! You're all going to die! I was quite traumatized.

Anyway. A couple years after that, my best friend joined speech and debate. Now, she said she was only going to do speech that year, and wait on debate. But no. She just had to do debate. And so I was mad at her. For a long time. And I hated debate. Not because of the activity itself, but because of my friend. And I actually promised my other friend that I wouldn't ever do debate ever because it was such a horrible thing. Then one day my mom was all like, 'you're going to this tournament!' And I was like, 'what tournament?' And she was like, 'the one this weekend!' And I was like, 'there's a tournament this weekend?'

So I went to that tournament, and because I had no friends, all I did was time rounds. Not because I was particularly keen on timing debate, but because I wanted timer prizes and I had nothing better to do. And as I was watching debate rounds I realized something. As boring as debate was (I mean, revenue generation is no one's favourite subject), it was also kind of interesting. And at that tournament and the next, I continued realizing that. I tried to hate it, I really did. But then debate camp came around and crushed that hate.

I was going to wait another year before I did speech and just do prep track. But when I went to debate camp and debated for the first time, I realized that it was actually kind of fun. A lot of fun. I prayed about it, and decided to do debate that year.

Just yesterday, I realized (again) that I love speech and debate. Like, a lot. I never thought I'd love speech, much less debate, especially after hating it for so long. But I do. It's kind of my life, which is probably why it'd the only thing I ever talk about besides writing. And getting sent home from MPACT.

Forensics isn't for everyone, but it is for me. It is most definitely for me. And it's for all these reasons I strongly urge an affirmative ballot at the end of today's blog post.

There's Something I Need to Tell You

Once upon a time, I was a junior. I did a junior speech for two tournaments. Then I gave up because I lost. Four years after I gave up, I un-gave up. Because un-giving up is actually a thing. And after I un-gave up I wrote a speech. And I found evidence. And I went to a tournament. This is a story about my first speech and debate tournament.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I printed off the negative briefs. I finished writing my speech five days before the tournament started. I sort of practiced my speech like once. I was ready for the first tournament I would ever really compete at. Sort of. But the tournament would arrive in spite of my preparedness (or lack there of). And arrive it did.

I put on my (sister's) suit and my brand new heels. I submitted my script and rolled my (sister's) debate box into the student gathering room and realized I was in the wrong place and had to walk where everyone else was. Then I remember that I was on the welcome committee and had to like, open doors or something. But no one came through my door. But finally, the first round was about to begin. I was about to become a real live, actual debater.I ducked between the multitude of well dressed teenagers to see who I would be going against. And there it was.

Rambo/Rambo AFF vs. Gerdt/Jones NEG

That hypothetical situation my debate coach always talked about was unfolding before my very eyes. My partner and me, two novices, versus two super duper advanced debaters. I was pretty much dead before I walked into the room. But I got my giant neg binder out from my (sister's) debate box and plopped it on the table. And I debated. And I lost. But I didn't pass out or throw-up, so according to Mrs. Harding, it was a success. So I shook off Rambo/Rambo and went off to wait for my first ever speech round.

Remember to take off your slippers. Remember to take off your slippers. I told myself. Please help me remember to take off my slippers. I asked God. And please don't let me go against my friend who has the exact same topic as me. I pleaded as I walked towards postings. And (of course) I was going against my friend who had the exact same persuasive topic as me. I bit my lip and walked to my room, constantly repeating the room number to myself. And I sat outside persuasive for awhile. Then I watched a couple duos because I was pretty far down on the list. Then I was late because I was watching duos. Then I remembered to take off my slippers and put on my heels. I got into my room and, saying a quick prayer in my head, I told the judges who I was. And I began speaking.

Introduction? Check. First point? Check. Everything was going fine. I moved into my second point. Half-way through my second point I realized something was wrong. I was giving my genius debate analogy a point too soon. I was in my third point. Did I skip my second point? I froze. For a good twenty seconds I just stared at the wall. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do????? I finally decided that it'd be best if I just kept talking and give my second point third. My judges were very merciful to my extended pause. To say the least. And everything was okay. The end.

I have something to tell all you speech and debaters. First years and sixth years, extempers and interpers, TPers and LDers and Parliers. You. Will. Mess. Up. Sorry to pop your bubble. Actually, I'm not. Better to pop it now, before the first tournament does it. Yes, you're going to mess up. Don't think you won't just because you've been doing this for the past four years. Your expos boards will fall apart the day before the tournament. Your mind will go blank the moment you pick up your impromptu prompt. You will forget to put your heels back on before you go into your persuasive round. Your duo partner will be late to your round. You will forget to print out briefs until it's 11:00PM the night before the tournament. You (or your TP partner) will forget to register for a tournament. You will hit Rambo/Rambo, even though you are a novice and don't deserve such punishment. You will be late for extemp prep. You will get pink eye the day before the tournament (well, maybe not that. But it's possible. Trust me). You will clap after the wrong speech in a debate round.

But you know what you won't do? Die. Not because of any of those thing. You might get pink eye, you might even throw up. But you will not die. The only possible reason you could die from any of the above things happening is if you stop breathing. You will not get sucked into the time vortex because you forgot to change your shoes. You will not get thrown into the debate dungeon you forgot to print off briefs. So BREATHE. In. Out. In and out.

It's going to be okay. Those things don't define you. Not your skills as a speech and debater, and not you as a person. So keep calm... and vote affirmative.

Before We Begin Today's/This Year's Debate Round/Season...

As we near the end of August, school has started for most, there's no more avoiding actually writing that persuasive you've had in your head since March, you can no longer put off researching this year's TP resolution, you make room on the fireplace mantle for the trophies that will inevitably be bestowed upon you. Your debate binders have been cleared out, ready for new evidence, and your box is clear of old CX sticky note. You struggle to stop looking at Doctor Who memes. You reluctantly close the tab that contains a multitude of Pusheen pictures. We look over the cliff that is Summer, and brace ourselves for the descent into the brand new speech and debate/school year. But before we make the plunge, I thought I'd tell y'all the things I'm looking forward to this season.

 (See below for adorable Pusheen pictures.)

This is me right now. ;)

This is my computer right now. ;)

1. Amazing New Speeches!

I know I've said this before, but I like writing. Writing is cool. And when I get trophies and medals for writing well... that just makes it even cooler. Finding a topic is fun, finding points can be a nice challenge, and cutting interps is really hard. Usually. I get to learn new stuff, read new books, and write a ten minute rant on why you shouldn't give up. Wait, that was last year...

2. Awesome New Friends!

Let's be honest here: I had like two friends at the beginning of the 2012-2013 debate season. And while these friends were rather amazing, two is not a very substantial number. But before the year started, I made a decision: I would make new friends. *Gasp!* I tried to talk myself out of it. "But Hadley, you're a homeschooler! You're unsocialized! You can't just go around making 'new friends!' You'll say something stupid! You'll embarrass yourself!" But then I realized: Yes, I will embarrass myself. I'll say something stupid. Like I did that one time when I was all like, 'I'm Conner's brother.' But guess what. I don't even care anymore. You know why? Because neither does anyone else! And if they do, then that is their problem. And so I made friends. Some of these people I had never seen or met before. Others I had technically known for a year or two. But either way, friends I made. And friends are cool. ;)

3. Shiny New Trophies!

Yep. I'm gonna win soooo many trophies. I'm gonna pwn all them novices. I'm gonna make them novices cry! Mwahahahahahaha! Just kidding. The novices are probably going to be making me cry. Because novices are awesome. So instead of shiny new trophies, let's go with Terrific New Novices. That's better. I love novices, mostly because I was one like, two months ago. And I love things that I was two months ago. Well, unless that thing was getting sent home from MPACT.  Anyways. Moving on.

4. Lot's of New Memories

Let's be honest (again), I wasn't exactly looking forward to the 2012-2013 season. Actually, I was dreading it because I knew that I could no longer avoid competing. My mom would not allow it. But the first tournament approached, I couldn't help but be excited. After the tournament, I no longer dreaded tournaments: I looked forward to them because of the stories - the memories I would make. Most of them embarrassing. But embarrassing stories make better stories than stories about you being all cool and stuff. Being awkward is funnier than being cool. But somehow I manage to be both. ;)

5. Interesting New Blog Post Topics

So, I barely posted at all for like, two months. Why? Because nothing interesting happened to me. Why? Because nothing interesting happens to me during the summer. Well, some interesting things. But not a lot. And not interesting enough to write a blog post about. So you should all be thankful that you will now having something interesting to read about. And you'll also have a good reason to vote affirmative. Which you should most definitely do.

Now judge, what can we see from all this? We see that in this near year, there will be amazing new speeches, awesome new friends, shiny new trophies terrific new novices, lot's of new memories, and interesting new blog posts. Basically a whole lot of new stuff. Yep. By voting affirmative, you get a bunch of awesome new stuff. So vote affirmative. ;D

That Amazing Moment When Your Friend Does Something Really Awesome Like Win

Let's face it: trophies can be pretty darn pretty. Like at the Go Light Your World tournament in February. They had these amazing little things. They were glass and had globes on the top of these pillars and it was really cool and I really wanted one. Like, I really wanted one. They were like, the coolest trophies ever.

Anyways. The other day I was looking at pictures of my siblings on Facebook (because I finally got one of those things). There was one picture I saw with me and them, right after a debate tournament. They were all holding trophies. And I wasn't. Despite the fact that the picture was from like, three years ago, I grew a little bit jealous. Yes, even after all I've been through this year, I started wondering, 'why don't I have any trophies? How come I only have eighth place medals and a couple over-glittered check-marks?'

Then I was like, 'Hadley, you're an idiot.' 'No I'm not.' 'Don't be ridiculous. Of course you are! Thinking you need trophies after all you've been through. WOW. Just... WOW.' 'You're right!' "Of course I'm right. I'm always right.' 'You're never right.' 'True...' And that's a conversation I regularly have with myself. ANYWAYS. I still wanted trophies. But I remembered something I learned last year.

One of my favourite parts of a tournament is the awards ceremony. Usually by the end of it, my hands hurt, my throat hurts, my head hurts, my feet hurt and I'm in tears. Sounds like fun, right? Well, the pain and the tears aren't what I like about awards. I also don't like the super long speeches that sometimes come with them. What I do like is my friends pwning faces. It took me awhile to realize this, but it's just as exciting when your friends win something as when you do. *Gasp!*

Seriously. There are few awards ceremonies I have left with dry eyes, and that's because I have amazing friends. I have three friends who have gotten first place in persuasive at a tournament. I have amazing friends who have pwned at impromptu and apologetics and extemp. And debate. And duo. And other events. I scream really loudly at awards. If you know me, then you know that. And I often go home on Sunday without much of a voice. And my hands are sore from a great amount of forensic clapping. And I'm crying because I'm so proud of my friends. And my feet are sore from a great amount of tournamenting. I just made tournamenting a word, in case you were wondering. Tournament is now a verb. So ha ha to you, grammar.

Having awesome friends who do awesome things is awesome. I hope you have awesome friends like I do. And if you don't have awesome friends, I can be your awesome friend. (Yes, I did just call myself awesome, in case you were wondering.) And then you can meet my awesome friends, and I have a lot.

But you don't have to pwn faces at speech and debate to be amazing. While pwning is one way to be amazing, true amazingness comes from other things. Like if a friend wants to pray with you before the round, that's amazing. If a friend congratulates you on winning even when they didn't, that's amazing. If your friend practically tackles you when they see you after going even a little while without you, that's amazing. If a friend is willing to talk about serious stuff, like their faith and their testimony, that's amazing. If a friend talks about stupid stuff like how cute some boy/girl is with you, that's amazing. If a friend helps you laugh at yourself, that's amazing. There are a lot of ways for friends to be amazing, and I'm so blessed to have a lot of friends who are.

Last year (among other things) I learned that as nice as trophies are, and as nice as if feels to break to finals, and as much as I want to win, it's really, really, really awesome when my friends win stuff - maybe even better than winning stuff myself.

So here's to all my awesome friends out there. To those I've had for years, and those I've known for less than one. To the friends who have won first place, and the friends who have only ever gotten 5th and Belows. To the friends I haven't even met yet. You guys are awesome. Don't stop being awesome, okay?

And vote affirmative, because the trophies are really pretty this tournament. ;)

Medals are shiny

Trophies are cool

My friends are awesome

Just like you!

That Amazing Moment When You Don't Expect Someone to Notice You and then Someone Notices You

When I was eleven years old, I started having serious issues with my best friend, a friend I had had literally since the day I was born. She started going to youth, and it seemed to me that she thought she had turned sixteen and was suddenly so much more mature than me. My youngest sibling is two years older than me, and at the time most of my friends were also older than me. When I was eleven I always wished that I was twelve. Funny thing is, when I was twelve I wished that I was eleven. I just wanted to be in youth and in debate with my siblings. It felt like they were always doing things while I sat at home doing diddley-squat.

Anyways, since most of my friends were older than me, most of them went to at least one of the two youth groups my siblings went to. So because of my jealousy, I distanced myself from almost all of my friends. So by the time I was twelve, I had become so angry at my friends because they were older than me, I wished I had been born just a year earlier so I could keep going to Mix56, a thing at the church I go to. Since the church I go to is a 'mega church,' I didn't feel any pressure to make any friends. I could go and listen to the message without anyone leaning over and whispering in my ear. I could always sit in the front row because there was always at least one spot left. When I turned twelve and went into the seventh grade and into youth group, I found myself without any friends, because I was so jealous and angry and I separated myself from them.

I, of course, blamed everyone but me for this terrible injustice of leaving me out. I believed that everyone was intentionally leaving me out. Because I was younger, because I wasn't as pretty, because I wasn't skinny enough, because I wasn't perfect enough. This was not true, as I later found out. This was the same year that I could've done speech, almost did speech, but didn't do speech. I only went to 2 1/2 tournaments. The Go Light Your World tournament, in Tyler, and the Irving Classic, in Irving. Duh. There was one other tournament I went to, but that was a weird, small, annoying tournament at a church which carries memories of a child throwing up at VBS.

Humorously enough, the only person I hung out with at GLYW was my best friend's little brother Daniel, who I started calling Gus at that tournament. He was seriously the only person I hung out with. I thought that God was teaching me that I don't need friends, and that I only need Him. I would like to tell you now that that is not true. I know, I know, all we need is God. I don't really know how to say this without sounding redundant. Having good, God-honouring, you edifying, encouraging friends is one of the ways God shows His love and other aspects to us, or at least for me. I thought that God was showing me that Jesus was my best friend by depriving me of friends. I thought He was showing me that it was okay that people were leaving me out. Ha! Boy was I wrong.

My brother, Conner, ended up breaking (advancing) to finals in Team Policy, after struggling for two years to break at all. His partner, Emily, was one of those friends who I had distanced myself from due to jealousy. I was really excited for them, and was sitting in the front row as the round was about to start. Hannah, my aforementioned best friend, was finally paying attention to me and we were going to watch the round together. Now, TP finals takes awhile to start because they're getting judges. While we're waiting, Hannah gets up to powder her nose. So I'm sitting there, glancing around awkwardly, because I'm a homeschooler, and we're awkward people. And as I am glancing around, I catch the eye of the boy next to me.

I knew who this boy was. You see, he's an actor. Like, professionally. He was the voice of Linus in Happiness is a Warm Blanket, Charlie Brown. He was also on Barney for multiple years. So while he isn't famous technically, he was famous to me since he was famous in our club, and he was friends with my brother Conner, so I knew who he was. I had seen him at the few club meetings I had been at, and at the Christmas party. He was famous in our club. So. Moving on.

Wait, I have another side note. At this tournament, on all of the nametags was written, 'Hi, I'm (insert name here), what's your name?' This was because the tournament was in the memory of this kid named Chandler, of Jimmy or something, and he wrote on his bunk bed. And one of the things we wrote was, 'Hi, I'm Jimmy. What's your name?' So that was on all the nametags to make people meet each other. So I went around, praying that someone would introduce themselves to me. This is another thing that made me think God was teaching me that I didn't need friends, because despite the tournament's best efforts, not one person I didn't know had talked to me beyond offering their thanks for my timing abilities. Until now.

He extends his hand to me. "Austin Lux." He says. (Yes, the same Austin from this post.) I take his hand. "Hadley Jones." I say. Is someone talking to me? I think. Is this happening? Is someone, Austin Lux no less, talking to me? No one ever talks to me! They all exclude me! They ignore me! Unless they're Gus, then they don't. But whatever! Everyone hates me and excludes me and never even ever talks to me ever! We start bobbing our heads awkwardly because we're homeschooled, and as previously stated, homeschoolers are a tad bit awkward. I glance around again, trying to find something interesting to say. That's when I see it. My brother. On the stage. Preparing for the round to start. That's sort of kind of a little interesting. More interesting than saying, 'I have no friends, please be my friend. Please please please please please.' He's friends with Conner. Clearly, this will interest him more than me begging him to be my friend. So I say, "I'm Conner's brother.'

Go read that again. If you don't have it by now, read it again. Still don't get it? Read it over and over until you get it. Got it? Good. Austin, of course, realizes my mistake before I do. As soon as I realize my misstep, I gasp and cover my mouth and nose with my hands, blushing. I am a very easily embarrassed person. Like, really easily. It's stupid how easily embarrassed I am. And I always remember those embarrassing moments, and there are a lot. Which is why I remember all this so clearly. I'm more easily embarrassed than..... something that's easily embarrassed.

So we're sitting there, laughing over my tiny little mistake. "Well," Austin says. "My sister Ben totally pwned at junior speech." What? I think. What did he just say? Why is he speaking these things? Why isn't he leaving me to drown in my embarrassment like everyone else does? Why didn't he ignore me like everyone else in the first place? Not only did he introduce himself to me, he didn't just let me be embarrassed.

Funny how someone noticing me and including me taught me that I had been excluding myself, that I didn't have any friends because I wasn't being a friend. I was being a jealous little angry who hated everyone because I hated myself for not being them. But here's the thing: I never had anything to be jealous of because God made me the way He made me, when He made me for a specific reason. And I've seen some of those reasons over the past couple of years.

Moral(s) of the story: Being jealous of your friends kills relationships, so don't be jealous. Don't compare yourself to anyone else, God made you the way He made you for a reason. To have friends, you have to be a friend. And last, (and probably least) vote affirmative.

Home School Musical Three - [My Brother's] Senior Year

It's the thing we've been waiting for all this time...

Brace yourself for the awesomeness.

I will make this happen. We'll film it with my mom's iPhone. It will be magical. And about a debate tournament. Moving on to the point of this post.

My brother was a senior this year, and thus graduated. So we had a party. We also celebrated three other peoples' graduation, but whatever. The point is there was a party. And it was fun. And that's all I'm saying on the subject.

Just kidding. That would be a totally lame post. Well, not totally lame, to the (totally unedited) picture. So. Let's start from Thursday. Or yesterday. I don't know when I'll actually post this. For all I know, it could be a week from now. But whatever. Moving on. I was drafted to set up tables. We moved those tables like, eight times per table. And there were about twelve tables. So that's... 96 table movings. That's waay too many. And we set up tables.... for hooooouuuuurrrrs. Seriously. Hours. Toooo looooong. 'Let's move them this way!' Mrs. Martin says enthusiastically. 'NO THIS WAY!!!' She says a moment later. 'Bring that chair to the table.' She says. "NOT THAT TABLE!" She says a moment later. That's basically what happened. For four hours. No joke. No exaggeration (okay, maybe a little). My mom/Adam/Mrs. Martin argue about whether or not we should have the grads sit on the stage, or in the front row. 'Sarah (our youth pastor) will want to talk to them, and that'd be weird if she wasn't looking at them whilst giving her speech.' My mom says. (I don't think she actually said whilst. But let us pretend that she did.) 'Oh, but everyone needs to look at them.' Mrs. Martin says. 'Well, Adam wants to just sit on the front row.' My mom says. I had the brilliant idea of getting life-size cardboard cut-outs and putting those on the stage while the actual people sit down on the front row. But no. We (*coughcoughmrsmartincoughcough*) decide to put them on the stage. No cardboard cut-outs for this graduation.

Graduation Party Day:

I read my Bible. I eat breakfast. I check all two of my emails. I look at Doctor Who memes. My mother commands me to go and pack for MPACT. (More on that later. Like, next week.) I turn on my 94.9 tunes and hop to it. I grab a collection of totally adorable outfits, as well as a couple of work shirts. But that's irrelevant. I finish packing then look at Doctor Who/Hunger Games memes to kill time until I can start getting ready for the party. I had already decided my outfit for the party when I was packing for MPACT. So. Finally. The time comes for me to get ready. I put on my foundation. I try to avoid breaking my glasses even more so. I put on my eye-shadow. I put on my mascara. I do my hair. I re-do my hair after changing from my Hello Kitty t-shirt and shorts to a skirt and cute shirt and cute leggings. (I can't wear skirts without leggings. Modest is hottest. ;) ) I put on my cute spring wedges. I look at more Doctor Who memes, waiting for the moment when we leave. And the moment comes.

We arrive at the Church. The Martin's are already there, Hannah looking super gorgeous. Daniel... being Daniel. My friends Jo(sephine) and Liberty are there, since their mother is a professional cake baker and brought highly delicious cupcakes. We stand around doing pretty much nothing because we got there early. Then... it begins.

A highly delicious cupcake. ☺

First my brother introduces his sister from another mister, Sarah Nutter, our youth pastor. And she forces them off the stage so she can actually talk to them. (Remember that conversation? Yeah. T'was in vain.) And Sarah rips her heart out and serves it to them. (Well, not literally. But you get the picture.) She nearly cries, but holds back the tears. (Until she sits down and is out of the public eye, that is.) Then the slide-shows start.

When my brother's starts playing, I think my mom must be crying her poor little motherly eyes out. She talks before my dad and the water works break and we have to put up a sign warning people of the wet floors. She barely manages to get through before my dad takes over and talks for about half as long as my mom. Blahblahblah, tears tears tears.

FINALLY (okay, it wasn't that bad. It was a nice ceremony.) we get to go eat *cringe* brisket. FYI, brisket is grody (gross). So I ate baked beans and potato chips. I do like me some potato chips. They are much tastier than brisket. But I can barely focus of my food because I'm too worried if a certain person is here. If you know what I mean. *Wink wink.* And I'm totally loopy and ramble-y whilst I'm speaking with my friends. Like, really loopy and I don't know why. Then I see certain someone's brother. At least I think it's his brother. I'm almost positive that it is. YES! It is! It is his brother! That means that that certain someone is here! Then I see the certain someone. (Hereby known as KB. Not his initials, BTW.) I only see the back of his head, but I'd recognize it anywhere. I finish my food and stand to go throw my plate away and get more lemon-aid. I strut on my heels and break through the line in order to throw my plate away. Once I have completed this task, I walk over to the drink table and wait for the line to progress enough so I can refill my cup. Suddenly my legs have decided that they no longer wish to retain their job of holding me up and I begin to fall. Dumb bunny heels! I think. Thou hast betrayed me! Just when I think I won't fall all the way down, I proceed to do exactly that.
Hannah Martin: ARE YOU OKAY???
Me: I'M FINE!
My TP Partner: Hahahaha Are you okay, Hadley?
Me: I'M FINE!
My TP Partner: Okay hahahahahahahaha.
After recovering what is left of my dignity, which had been scattered about the floor when I fell, I walk back to the other side of the fellowship hall and sit with my friends. I eventually leave the hall and walk outside where more tables for eating have been placed. I sit with my stunningly gorgeous friend Hannah and inquire on how she is doing this fine evening. I kill time until it is time for *......dramatic pause......* the dance party.

It's slow at first, of course. Only a few of my crazy friends are dancing. I somehow manage to get them to do the Macarana to every single song that played. "What have I done..." I think as they start doing the Macarana to Baby. Then the DJ (my sister) does something impeccably intelligent: she plays the Cupid Shuffle. That, of course, gets everyone's attention. I dart over and take my place for the dance to begin. I temporarily forget how to dance to this song. (Don't judge me. I hadn't been to a dance party since like, November.) But only temporarily. After a moment it all came flooding back. To the right (x4) to the left (x4) now kick (x4) now do something and turn! After that I die because that song is so exhausting.

Once I'm sure that all my vitals have returned to normal, I start dancing again. And by dancing, I mean trying my best not to look like a total idiot. That is very hard at homeschool dance parties. Then a slow song plays. I am standing relatively near to KB, hoping he might possibly ask me to dance. But noooooo. He just goes and dances with every other girl but ME. Well, not every other girl. But most of them. Now, I admit I was partially responsible for not dancing with him. But it's 90% his fault. Why?? I think. Why won't you dance with meeeee? So I just sat and depressedly watched them dance. I tried walking near him whenever a slower song played but no. He just dances with everyone else. And I continue to dance with my friend who is not a boy, and is definitely not KB. And then he leaves and it's too late. And then we have to stay for another hour cleaning up.

'VACUUM!' Mrs. Martin says. 'NO! Count chairs! Wash tables even though there were table cloths on them! Pick that icing up!' Eventually my cousin takes me home so I can write this exceptionally long blog post. (I still hate that word. Blog. Yuck.) I am thoroughly exhausted, but manage to stay up for two more hours doing two things: Making the Home School Musical picture, and writing this blog post. At around one, my dad commands me and my youngest but still older than me brother to sleep because I'm going on a mission trip this week and I would already be exhausted enough.

And thus concludes my fun yet slightly depressing experience of my brother's graduation party. Now vote affirmative. While I'm going to go make Home School Musical a reality.