.

I realize I always finish the titles of my blogs with periods.

!

Buckets.

Now that it's "summa summa summatime", my stream of consciousness (thank you, Virigina Woolf for finally putting a name to my madness) flows much more freely and has become a force. I make a summer list every year and this year's is pretty nifty and PACKED, I must say. Would you like to see?

These aren't ordered chronologically.

1. Finish the Harry Potter series

2. Learn about a person [historical, church-related, artists, musicians, what have you] each week (this week is Emma Smith)

3. Go to the zoo.

4. Go to the aquarium.

5. Hit up South Street

6. Buy a book from this barn in Washington Twp that holds books from the 1700s-1800s

7. Attend a ballet/opera/play at the Kimmel Center in Philly

8. Go to the Franklin Institute's "Mummies From Around the World" exhibit

9. Make homemade strawberry jam

10. have a picnic in Central Park

11. Go to Philly's Art Museum

12. Memorize "The Living Christ"

13. Hike La'ie Falls when the fambam goes to Hawaii in August

You likey? Yeah. I'm a fan too.

I'm realizing I'm a list person, and because this is so, I think I am going to make a bucket list, though I hate the phrase, "Kicking the Bucket." But I suppose this list is on that list of things I would like to do before I take step over to the other side.

365 days already?

At 12:00 midnight this morning, I danced a little dance and smiled a big smile. That's because at 12:00 midnight, June 1, 2011 turned into June 2, 2011. And do you know what that means?

Lemme tell you.

A year ago today I woke up early, put on my light blue skirt, brushed the teeth, washed the face, and put a brown headband in my hair [funny how I remember minute details like hairpieces on a special day, like June 2, 2010.] Mama and I got in th

e car, and I studied for my exams. Instead of taking the exit to get on the Ben Franklin to school, we took the exit to the Walt Whitman, the bridge that takes us to the airport.

Very few words were exchanged.

We pulled into the airport and parked.

Entering in the sliding doors at Delta, my Heart

beat faster and faster as I waited for him to arrive.

There he was.

Very few words were exchanged.

He smiled and looked at me. "Morning."

I smiled back. "Hi."

We walked.

Seconds later, we were on the escalator on the way to security.

Minutes later, he would be hugging his parents and sister goodbye.

Minutes later, he would be giving me a handshake

{best handshake of my life.}

"See you in two."

Smiles.

He walked through security until none of us could see him anymore. A sigh of content was let out and we all walked back to our cars.

In just a few hours, he would be wearing a nametag that would not only display his own name but the name of the One he would be representing for the next 2 years, JESUS CHRIST.

Words are now exchanged through heartfelt letters.

Letters come and go, memories continue to be made and the old ones remain, mistakes still happen, and there has been much learning.

this past year has DEFINITELY been one of the best out of the short 17 I've lived thus far.

Days would pass, and so would months until midnight of June 2, 2011 hit the clock

[one year]

later, and I danced a little dance and smiled a big smile.

happy one year, elder corbitt.

To my Beloved.

Dear England,

You cannot be compared to any other place in the world. Though I departed from you over a couple weeks ago (has it really been that long?), London’s vibe is still just as fluent in my veins as it was the day I arrived. After many hours of articulating and observing the lifestyle in London, I’ve come to the conclusion that it is the City of Contrasts. London is so diverse, yet united. It’s posh, yet there are dozens of people scraping to get by while living the posh lifestyle. People who are struggling [financially, or even to discover themselves as we all are] do it with flair. Historical buildings still stand strong while modern and posh dwellers surround their elegance. Please continue that tradition. I already know you won’t disappoint me. You never could.

As you may know, you have a special and tender spot in my heart. Perhaps it’s the English nerd that’s coming out of me that completely thrived in Literature’s birthplace. I know I am not alone to think that Shakespeare and Jane Austen are two of history’s most beloved children. Thank you, England, for being such a wonderfully inspirational home to these writers, that they may compose the beauty of your hills, your city, and your love. Where would the world be without Romeo? And Juliet? And Macbeth? Where would my love for literature be without MR. DARCY?

Please, London. Do not change. Please continue to call your trash “rubbish.” Give all of your Mums a thoughtful Mother’s Day card or two. I was so delighted to see the many card shops for Mother’s Day. You softie. Please continue to have Crème Tea for luncheons and don’t ever allow the Tube to stop business. Oh! And don’t forget to “mind the gap.” Continue to nourish the flowers in Hyde Park with your rain and infrequent rays of sunshine. Keep the theatre alive, if you don’t mind. Continue to produce telephone booths. Don’t put an admission fee on your museums. I absolutely love that they’re for free-not only because I’m a frugal person, but learning shouldn’t cost anything.

I hope this isn’t too much to ask for, love. You’ve been doing what you’re doing for years. Just keep it up!

Cheers.

Love,

Lana.

Call and Response.

http://www.callandresponse.com/trailers.php

Watch this and join the 21st century abolitionist movement against human trafficking.

Your heart will break.

But hopefully, its breaking will move you to do something about it.

best sunday ever.

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby

baby.

plus tears

plus happiness

plus energy

plus emotions

and those are my thoughts.

Welcome to the family, Gabe.

All Natur-al

I took the ACTs this morning.

I walked into them in jeans and a sweatshirt, both of which I've already worn this week.

No shame.

My two Merion Mercy Academy companions had sweat pants and sweatshirts on.

Then a group of girls from the school I was thinking about going to walked in the door, all done up.

They pulled up in their brand-spanking-new cars.

I pulled up in my Lexus that's as old as I am with duct tape hanging on the bottom to keep it together.

These girls had their makeup all done, their Victoria's Secret outfits on, their Juicy bags, and their hair done to perfection.

Let me remind you, it was 7:30 in the morning..

and we were there to take a test.

My friends and I had our hair thrown up, unbrushed.

We couldn't help but laugh at how silly we must have looked next to them.

But really, in the long run, it's how silly they looked next to us.

We were confident in our sweat pants, ghetto cars, and makeup-less faces.

Moments like these are the times I am so happy I made the decision to attend Merion.

I did not feel incompetent for one moment standing next to those girls.

My goodness, how I've grown.

Chyeah, Mater Misericordiae.

Go 'head, girl.

Storytelling.

As a Polynesian who has grown up on the east coast, I have had many interesting experiences and aspects continuously brought into my life. With all of my extended family members living out west, I never really had as strong an influence from them as they had on each other. So when our family could make it to a scarce amount of family reunions, I found myself acting and thinking differently than most of my cousins. I have come to realize this was so because my extended family developed their love for the culture with each other, while I have learned to develop my love for the culture within my home. My immediate family alone has been the sole resource of my culture, and I can undoubtedly say that I have embraced it as I have learned to live as a minority.

With a father who emigrated from Tonga as a child, he himself observed, even as a boy, that the Tongan culture is very different from the American culture. So as he grew up, there were things that he would pick and choose from each culture that he wanted to be a part of his life and his future family’s lives. The truth is, there are many pros and cons of each culture, and as my parents have raised my siblings and me, they have decided to keep an even balance of each in our home. This has blessed me in a myriad of ways, one of which is my expression of my culture to my peers.

Dancing hula for me has been an experience of beauty, love, and faith. My mother grew up in La’ie, Hawaii, and just as her talented and stunning mother taught her to dance hula, my mother has taught me. When I first started to learn hula as a little girl, one of the first things my mom said before I learned a single step or hand motion was "you tell a story." Whether you're telling your own story or someone else's, whatever you do when the music comes on is what you want your audience to know. Therefore, hula has brought beauty into my life through its expression of storytelling. As mentioned before, I am one of very few Polynesians who lives on the east coast, so opportunities to dance hula are infrequent. But every once in a while, I am given an opportunity, and thankfully, I have never turned one down. In school, I have danced hula for “cultural days” and talent shows, I danced for weddings, and on a couple occasions, I have taught hula at birthday parties to young girls, which is always exciting. However, whether I am dancing in a talent show or on the front lawn with a group of seven-year-olds in hula skirts, the feeling is the same. I feel beautiful.

Love is shown and felt while dancing hula. I feel the love of the story I am telling, the love of my culture, and most importantly, the love I have for my family. This love plays a role in the faith that I have developed through dancing hula. My grandmother was a beautiful, graceful, and impeccable woman. Every wonderful trait she had was portrayed in her dancing, and she became well known amongst her community in Hawaii for her talent in hula. To the dismay of several people, especially my mother, my grandmother died of breast cancer while my mother was only thirteen years old. However, her beauty has carried on to my mother, and it is always evident in my mother’s dancing hula. Though I have not met my grandmother in this life, I can feel her beauty and love through every step and flow of my hands. As I dance hula, I have faith that my deceased grandmother lives in me. Knowing this increases my love for hula, my family, and my culture, and every time I dance, this is the story I tell.

don't hate on code 8.

code 8 morality....

i love you girls to pieces.

today, folks....I'm grateful for my lovely religion class ladies.

Gratitude for this Bloggette of Mine.

I could apologize for not writing for a while, but I feel I would be apologizing to a fan club that has given up hope on my blogging, since I have not written in ages. And I don't blame you, whoever you are. So this is me not apologizing. Next.

There have been several excuses that have shoved me away from my blog, and my blog from me. Unfortunately, these "excuses" include busy-ness, laziness, and the excuse I despise most...nothing to blog about.

However, the inner-bloggette within me has been knocking--no--pounding at my mind's door, yearning to let some things out. "Fan club," I'd like you to meet the Lana-Bloggette. She wants to share a few things with you.

Gratitude has taken a deeper, more meaningful path for me since the new year [it's only been a couple weeks, I know]. See, President Henry B. Eyring, challenged us a few years ago to find something to be grateful for every. single. day. It is far from difficult, as several people, I hope, can imagine. I knew taking on this challenge would be worth it, but although it has only been a couple of weeks, my life has completely changed. The most difficult part in this challenge is finding room in my life to place all of the blessings that have been poured into it.

I have brought a separate challenge upon myself within this challenge: find something different to be grateful for everyday. Though I thank my Heavenly Father daily for the Famous, Repetitive F's (food, family, friends), I have tried to thank Him for something different each day, or if I do thank Him for one of the F's, I try to be as specific as possible. My gratitude for these things and people have been recorded. With this effort to record these, I have enjoyed searching for obscure, unnoticed things that I am so delighted to have in my life. For example...

January 2, 2011

I am grateful for nature and different cultures. It rained today, and I am so grateful for the rain. Our family watched "Dances with Wolves" last night and it made me so thankful for the beauty of the Native American culture. I love their unity with each other and with nature.

January 3, 2011

I am so grateful for cough drops. They soothed my cough a little bit, but they also just taste super good. I can't remember the last time I had a cough like this. But it's all good...because I have Halls' Tropical Blend cough drops. Mmmmmm. Yummo. :]

January 4. 2011

Today I am grateful for a comfy bed I can sleep in every night. Although not too much happened today, I'm super tired, and I am so glad I have a bed to return to at night. Nighty night.

Today, I am grateful I could let my thoughts out to play for a little.

But we'll be back.