tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10107861429717823512024-02-19T00:28:00.234-08:00Sam I Am.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-42685133747717421042012-09-21T21:00:00.001-07:002012-09-21T21:00:50.356-07:00Love is Infinite.Love is untamable.<br />
Love is spontaneous.<br />
Love is Infinite.<br />
<br />
Love isn't something that's learned, or taught. Love is felt. Love is experienced. Love isn't perfect, even though most people seem to think it is. Love itself isn't perfect. It's the way you love someone. That's perfect.<br />
It's the way you fight but then he kisses you just to get you to shut up.<br />
It's the unspoken truce of "I will always love you no matter how much you smell like chlorine."<br />
It's the late night phone calls that usually end up in laughing fits.<br />
Its the conversations in my car that lasted so long the windows got foggy and we just started drawing pictures on the condensation.<br />
It's the way you can miss someone so much, and try so hard to get your mind off them, but you always get reminded of how much they truly mean to you.<br />
Love breaks you down. Piece by piece until you're so scattered and so melted by this person that only they know how to put you back together.<br />
Love isn't always happy endings and "I love you's."<br />
It's about saying I love you until you get to the happy ending.<br />
<br />
Love is hard. It's damn hard. And sometimes it seems like it would be easier to let go and walk down a different path. But deep down you know that no matter how hard you try, the second you try to let go, love would pull you right back.<br />
<br />
Love is deep, and unforgiving. It's powerful. And once you fall.. really truly fall.. its nearly impossible to get back up. But you don't want to. Because love is untamable. Love is spontaneous.<br />
<br />
Love is infinite.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-37157252569257046342012-08-22T15:58:00.001-07:002012-08-22T15:58:20.686-07:00Hater's gonna hate.I would just like to inform everyone of the blogger world..<br />
<br />
It has indeed been 6 months.<br />
<br />
6 months since my best friend went to Ohio. and 6 months closer to when he comes back!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Haters gonna hate. We're going to do this.<br />
<br />
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<br />Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-66167718469121728222012-08-07T14:41:00.003-07:002012-08-07T14:41:53.218-07:00Just Life.Summer's gone by way too fast.<div>
Too fast for my liking, anyways.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I kind of like that though- time going fast. It's been almost 6 months now. (What? already?)</div>
<div>
I know. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In 3 weeks I'll be a senior. A senior in freaking High School. (What?!) </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I keep trying to convince myself that it's not real. I don't want to grow up. Everyone always complains about how hard it is.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All I know, is that I'm going to enjoy the ride. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
YOLO, right?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Oh my gosh, I really just said that. Oh well. YOLO.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-19121099915520787682012-06-12T18:07:00.001-07:002012-06-12T18:07:20.268-07:00Summer.Summer 2012 is turning out to be very different than I had originally planned.<br />
I was thinking of the late nights under the stars, spontaneous road trips, early morning hikes and snoasis.<br />
<br />
but that was last summer.<br />
<br />
This summer is practice, work, training, practice, bed. You'd think I'd be mad- like my summer is being ripped from my hands. But I'm actually okay with it.<br />
<br />
Why?<br />
<br />
I want this. I want to see myself improve in the water. More than anything else. I've always wanted that, but with the things that have happened recently.. I'm just more motivated than I ever have been. Not to prove it to anyone, but to prove it to <i>myself.</i> A wise man once told me "Imagine what you could do if you put everything you had into this. If you didn't hold back- if you just fell in. Fell in and never looked back."<br />
<br />
So I'm falling in. Head first. Into a pool. Every day. Twice a day.<br />
<br />
To make something of the past 11 years. To make something out of myself.<br />
<br />
To prove I can do it.<br />
<br />
Look out Summer 2012. I'm about to kick your butt.<br />
<br />
<br />Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-22684064016575842862012-06-08T19:09:00.002-07:002012-06-08T19:09:42.961-07:00It's game time. I hope you're ready,Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-3494784557256888562012-05-22T09:15:00.000-07:002012-05-22T09:15:41.186-07:0033.<br />
<br />
Today I'm having a party. With myself. Cause guess how many months Daniel has been gone?<br />
3!<br />
Three whole months. I know that probably doesn't seem like a lot to most people. 3 months is really short, actually. But there were times where I thought I wouldn't make it past 2 days, let alone 3 months. It's weird to look back and think "there's no way 3 months have gone by already." but it really has! Weird. I'm sure I'll look back in a year and laugh at this, but for now I don't really care.<br />
I'm getting through this.<br />
He's getting through this.<br />
<br />
We're getting through this.<br />
<br />
Happy 3 months, my dearest Elder Laird! You make my world beautiful.<br />
<br />
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P.S. Please note: Goggle tan line.<br />
<br />
I love summer.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-17868483515669189662012-05-17T18:40:00.001-07:002012-05-17T18:40:20.270-07:00For Dee.I've said it before.<br />
I'm not a fan of change.<br />
<br />
For 10 year's I've been swimming. For 10 years I've looked to coaches for critique, motivation and guidance. For the past 4 year's I've looked to Dee. I've looked to him for advice, fatherly guidance and patience. I've looked to him for more things than swimming. I've looked to him for life.<br />
<br />
He's leaving. He's going to BYU. He's taking the assistant coach job, which is amazing.<br />
I'm so unbelievably happy for him. He deserves it. He deserves everything.<br />
<br />
I just feel lost now.<br />
We had my whole senior year planned out. We had <i>everything</i> planned out. Where is it now? Gone. With the wind. All the practices I was looking forward to. All the travel meets, the college planning, the progress.<br />
Gone.<br />
Gone with the wind.<br />
<br />
it's hard to accept. it's hard for me to process. you'd think I'd be used to people I love leaving by now, though.<br />
<br />
He's always been my source of motivation. Of passion.<br />
<br />
As I look ahead this next year and a half, I'm scared. I'm scared of the unknown, and the unsteady future before me. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know where I"m going to go or what I'm going to do.<br />
<br />
All I know is that I'm going to do it for Dee. I'm going to be the best, strongest and most persistent swimmer.<br />
<br />
I'm going to win. For the man who taught me how.<br />
<br />
For Dee.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-40415778533929905382012-05-14T19:37:00.004-07:002012-05-14T19:37:49.467-07:00Happppppy Mothers Day.Aaahhhhhh.<br />
My appreciation for Mothers day is 10 million times what it used to be now that I have a missionary out.<br />
<br />
Sadly we couldn't hear from Joshy because there aren't enough phones in the Brazil MTC to have all the missionaries call.. mom wasn't very happy with that one.<br />
<br />
But, I got to hear from my man.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to try to explain it to you because there just aren't enough words in the English language to describe how that felt. To hear his voice.. and to hear his laugh. Ahh. Perfection.<br />
<br />
It was just like it used to be. Staying up late and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Getting in those stupid "i love you more" fights that I missed way more than I thought.<br />
Making fun of him when his voice cracked, and him making fun of me when I was a little too sarcastic.<br />
Filling him in on all the drama. Hearing stories about Indiana.<br />
<br />
It was amazing. But it made me miss him.<br />
<br />
Oh well.. Christmas will come soon enough, right? :/.<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
A girl waiting for 21 more months to be with her best friend. Forever.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-12600246538162475632012-05-02T12:49:00.001-07:002012-05-02T12:49:48.185-07:00I'm a poet. and I kinda know it.Guys, I decided something.<br />
<br />
Something that has the potential to be kind of awesome.<br />
<br />
Im going to write a book.<br />
<br />
Finally.<br />
<br />
I have so many notebooks full of ideas, and so many 'beginnings' of books that I didn't have the passion to finish.. but I think I have a good subject now.<br />
<br />
Missionaries.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*Resounding applause*<br />
<br />
Wooooo!Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-44257670692680441392012-05-01T21:10:00.001-07:002012-05-01T21:10:56.734-07:00Basically I'm a pro.Missionaries are a strange thing.<br />
sending off one missionary - especially when its your boyfriend- is strange. and hard.<br />
sending off another missionary - that being your brother- is strange. but a different kind of hard.<br />
<br />
I got asked a lot of questions today.<br />
"Was it harder sending off your brother, or your boyfriend?"<br />
and I answered them all the same.<br />
"you can't compare the two. Its completely different."<br />
<br />
Sending off your boyfriend.<br />
<br />
Sending off the other half of you. The boy who knows something's wrong even if you have a smile on your face. The boy who you're always holding hands with, or always having those stupid but awesome 'I love you more' fights. The boy who took you to dinner, and movies. The boy who was totally fine with snuggling on the couch, talking about life for hours. The boy who you were in love with. The boy who's in love with you.The boy who <i>completes</i> you.<br />
<br />
Sending off your brother.<br />
<br />
The boy who's been there from the beginning. The boy who had 5 million baseball games every summer, but you went to all of them. The boy who's room you'd go into at night because you had a bad dream, or you were scared.<br />
The boy who made you cry when he left for college.<br />
The boy who's last words to you were "I love you, Sam." and you cried as you said it back, and straightened out his name tag at the bottom of the escalator.<br />
The boy who you watched walk through security, wanting more than anything to run to him and hug him one last time. The brother who is the strongest man you've ever met.<br />
The boy who <i>made you who you are.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
You see? Its completely different. I'd like to say that I'm decently acquainted with sending off missionaries in both of those aspects now. Which sucks in a million ways, but rocks in just as many other ways.<br />
<br />
Two years is a long time.<br />
Especially when two of the most important men in your life are gone.<br />
<br />
All I can say right now, is 2014 is going to be the most amazing year.. ever.<br />
<br />
<br />Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-4294417995090255672012-04-05T20:05:00.000-07:002012-04-05T20:05:44.590-07:00Im back.So.. once upon a time I remembered that I had a blog.. haha shoot.<br />
<br />
Anyways, apart from the awkward silence that I know you're feeling right now, I decided to blog because tonight, at 9:00, I wrote a paper. A 3 page paper, actually.<br />
It was for my AP English Language class. A reflection paper.<br />
<br />
I sat down at the computer and all of a sudden, 20 minutes later, 3 full pages were on the screen in front of me. I'm definitely a believer in writing about something you're passionate about.<br />
<br />
Want to see? Here.<br />
Its awesome.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sammi Scoresby A2</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reflection paper</div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;">Change and I Aren't Very Good Friends.</div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> I've never really liked change. It scares me, actually. The entire concept of it wigs me out, so I try my best not to dwell on it too often. </div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> Unfortunately, change has been present in my life ever since I can remember. I get the feeling that it stalks me sometimes. Whether it followed me through Elementary School, and took my little brother and sister from the earth before I even had time to say goodbye, or showed hints of itself in different hughes in the leaves of fall, or the first snowflake of a coming winter storm, change has been the one constant thing in my life. I have yet to find out why.</div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> If I've noticed anything about change in all of my years, its that change has a funny way of working things out. It wasn't until I turned 16 that I noticed just how much change altered my paradigm of life so dramatically.</div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> At 16 you're supposed to be careless. Living life, free of the stresses of paying for college, worrying about your future, or where you'll be 5 years from now. You're not supposed to think about who you end up with in the end of it all, or even if you'd be married at all. Normal teenagers didn't worry about that kind of stuff.</div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> But I did.</div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> I guess you could say I've always had sort of low self esteem. I couldn't tell you exact reasons why, but I just have. As years went by, I developed an emotional mask. I put up walls, and didn't let very many people inside of my boundaries. I never really opened up to anyone. I was calm and guarded on the front, but I was screaming inside. </div><div align="LEFT" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> It was the beginning of second semester my sophomore year. I was in a class called MAGIC, (Making a Great Individual Contribution. Spiffy, eh?) and it was one of my few electives. I had buried myself in honors classes, trying to get ahead. I must admit, I never really took MAGIC seriously. It was one of those classes where you could show up, sit in a desk, and get an A. Most of the time that's what I did. I showed up, and sat. </div><div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> It was during one of my 'show up and sit' sessions that I can say with all honesty, my entire life changed. My head was on my desk, my train of thought slowly de-railing itself, when someone sat in the seat in front of me. At first I was kind of appalled. I sat in the back corner of the class, away from all the clicks and cliché groups of girls with blonde hair and long black eyelashes. I distanced myself from them. On purpose. Why was this person sitting <i>right in front of me?</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> Then I looked up at him. He was wearing navy blue sweats, a white shirt with a black backpack slung across his shoulder. He didn't even look at me. He just sat down, pulled out an ipad, and began reading something on the bright screen. I looked over his shoulder, and noticed that he was reading out of the Book of Mormon, 1</span><sup><span style="font-style: normal;">st</span></sup><span style="font-style: normal;"> Nephi to be exact. I don't know what it was, but something told me I needed to get to know this boy.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> I'll save you the long version, but long story short, I got to know him. And with time, he became my best friend. Daniel knew everything about me. He knew that the rain makes me sad, and that I like to drive fast when there's no one on the road. He knew that Olive Garden is my favorite restaurant, and that sometimes I get mad for no reason. He took the time to knock down all my walls. He helped me realize that you don't have to hide everything; its okay to cry sometimes. He changed me. And I was okay with it.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> As time went on, the closer we got. But there was still that ever-present sense of change haunting me. This time was different, though. I knew when the change was coming, and how my life was going to change. </div><div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> Daniel was going to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He was going to leave for 2 years. He was going to leave Highland, Utah, and his family. But the only thing in my mind that seemed to eat at me every day, was that he was leaving </span><i>me. </i><span style="font-style: normal;">I wasn't ready. I wasn't. Nothing could make me ready for that! To have my best friend gone from my life for 730 days? No. No way. I couldn't let it happen. I wouldn't.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> No matter how many times I told myself that, my conscience over powered me immediately. I knew he had to go. It was the right thing for both of us, and he needed to go. I just didn't want to have to deal with the aftermath.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> As the day rapidly approached for his departure, I was staring down changes' throat. I could feel it breathing down my neck, and I could see its shadow following me. I tried so hard to over look it, to have it merge into the blind spot of my brain, but I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> The day finally came. And I was a wreck.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> “It's only for 2 years, sweetheart.” he said as we were standing on my front porch.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> “Ha. Only 2 years.” I said through my tears.</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> He didn't say anything after that. He hugged me for a while, and then we both knew he had to go. I looked at him for a fleeting moment, and he took my face in his hands and said “I love you, Samantha Kay Scoresby. I'll see you soon.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> And with that, he left. </div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> I could tell you right now, that change was definitely the hardest. Life has been different without him, but I have a new sense of direction now that he's gone. I get letters every other day. I get e-mails every Monday and sometimes I'm lucky enough to get pictures in the mail. It's different. Its hard. But it's worth it. I know what he's doing is the right thing for both of us. I know that 2 years is a long time to wait, but that boy in the navy blue sweats with the ipad shifted something inside of me. He changed the way I see life, and the way I see myself. No amount of time could ever alter that, and so to me, no matter what anyone's opinion is of my situation, and no matter how lonely I get sometimes, I know it's going to be okay. Because he'll be home soon, and after all, in the grand scheme of things, how long is 2 years really?</div><div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> Change and I have never been best friends. But change helped me </span><i>find </i><span style="font-style: normal;">my best friend, so I guess I can tolerate it now.</span></div><div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDkvsDYXqKvrlm-GqN2jqDtvPEilZVdCAR-ePBWoFdY2huwbokxZRinhOwIfBfQ6FWZxH07sNjXdFReAvakx_nkk2qLjCYbk99cLprQDwx-xT3rttfxrSHIz1Nv5BuQyEjD2AqYsqDa8/s1600/Photo+358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDDkvsDYXqKvrlm-GqN2jqDtvPEilZVdCAR-ePBWoFdY2huwbokxZRinhOwIfBfQ6FWZxH07sNjXdFReAvakx_nkk2qLjCYbk99cLprQDwx-xT3rttfxrSHIz1Nv5BuQyEjD2AqYsqDa8/s320/Photo+358.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0in;"> </div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-72689743359751544422012-03-23T23:47:00.000-07:002012-03-23T23:47:20.320-07:00I've never been good at goodbye's.I've never been good at goodbye's. They've always been hard for me.<br />
I've never had the capacity to take them in- I've always been forced to.<br />
Some are unexpected, others you dwell on for months. Years, even.<br />
<br />
I didn't know what I was getting myself into when I met you. I didn't know we'd end up like this; head over heels in love. I just didn't know.<br />
<br />
but it happened. <i>We</i> happened.<br />
<br />
I fell head first and didn't look back. There wasn't a day that went by where I didn't thank my rarely lucky stars that I had you. There wasn't ever a time where I had doubts, or fears about being with you. You always knew what I needed, and you always put me before yourself.<br />
<br />
You were my best friend. Strong and steady.<br />
<br />
Then you were just.. ripped from my life. I knew it was coming. I should've been prepared. But now that I look back on it I think the anticipation made it worse. It was like when you're coming to the end of an amazing vacation-paradise- and soon it'll all be over, and you won't have anything to look forward to.<br />
You were always what I looked forward to.<br />
<br />
You and me, together, we're infinite.<br />
<br />
I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss the things you'd do that would bug me. I miss the things you do that would make me laugh, and smile. I miss calling you at night, and waking up to your texts in the morning. I miss my best friend.<br />
<br />
It's funny, most people don't understand. They keep telling me "You're only 16." and "He needs to focus on the work." Ha, funny, last time I checked he wasn't your best friend. He's mine. You don't know the inside jokes, or the way we say certain words to mean different things. You don't know him like I know him. And you don't know me like he knows me.<br />
<br />
I wish I knew how to cope with this. I've been doing pretty good so far. I just wish I knew how to make that stupid hole in my chest go away. I get it every time I pass a place we went together, or I see something really funny and the only person who'd understand is him.<br />
<br />
There are a lot of things in this world that I don't know. Granted, I might never know them.<br />
<br />
But I know one thing.<br />
<br />
I love him. and he loves me. That's enough.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-7226792389178283972012-02-27T18:10:00.000-08:002012-02-27T18:10:17.340-08:00Hey, sweetheart.I've come to realize that one of the most comforting things in this entire world is when you open the mailbox, see his handwriting on a white envelope, run inside, hop on the couch, rip open the letter and read his words in your mind exactly how he would've said them. I've come to realize that one of the most comforting things in this entire world is knowing he's okay. And when he writes "Hey, Sweetheart." at the top of every page.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-60539976029106672092012-02-23T15:18:00.000-08:002012-02-23T15:18:13.423-08:00I'm okay.Well the first day has come and gone, and I can say his name without crying now. <br />
I know that two years is a long time, but eternity is longer. <br />
And truth is, I need this time just as much as he does. We need to grow individually and learn more things about each other. Every letter and package is just going to make me love him more. <br />
<br />
Yeah, two years is a long time. But I'd rather wait those two years and then spend eternity with my best friend.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-24517108420116387332012-02-22T13:56:00.000-08:002012-02-22T13:56:59.185-08:00Elder Daniel Gary Laird.It's only 2 years.<br />
<br />
That's what I keep trying to tell myself, anyway.<br />
<br />
I can't write a lot about him or I'll start crying. But I just want to tell everyone about my best friend.<br />
His name is Daniel Gary Laird, and he's amazing. Everything about him makes me smile.<br />
He's kind and patient, he's sweet and understanding, and he's everything I could've asked for and more.<br />
<br />
He's going to be gone for the next two years. But that's okay, because this is what he needs to be doing.<br />
He'll come back.<br />
And when he does, I think I might marry that boy.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-49119566082130354472012-02-15T11:30:00.000-08:002012-02-15T11:30:15.784-08:00Thank you.This is for all those who looked down on me, or who told me that I can't.<br />
<br />
This or for every moment of hesitation, and for every ounce of pain or ache.<br />
<br />
This is for every time I wasn't good enough for other people's standards, and for every time I was the topic for conversations behind closed doors.<br />
<br />
This is for every doubt, and every fear I ever had placed on my shoulders.<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you. You pushed me hard enough to finish.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAJNwXSdHizFuVAsNL07xkkPmA5i3pQ_ASXNNUNerLlXXAxGZBxcHasYfZ8QnXPi3GioJdp6z_ezAz1eqFGaKpfh6T7r_Dj9YBDVa2zHPpkhoxAlSajbZtMUh5j1z2wAoBFrFOTQMjbY/s1600/IMG_1538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZAJNwXSdHizFuVAsNL07xkkPmA5i3pQ_ASXNNUNerLlXXAxGZBxcHasYfZ8QnXPi3GioJdp6z_ezAz1eqFGaKpfh6T7r_Dj9YBDVa2zHPpkhoxAlSajbZtMUh5j1z2wAoBFrFOTQMjbY/s320/IMG_1538.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtcgnG1xUGFczMagoT1UxXI4955W1acbLMCn_ksssKPiBKHjVEY7MnwVakqHuPWRmvmWw2dNjNwzG0USeKID8sHdxoblFqm4doGFRibdgeBqJnOrAagsdM-bXCCV1GlraiudOk-0ZVKs/s1600/IMG_1540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVtcgnG1xUGFczMagoT1UxXI4955W1acbLMCn_ksssKPiBKHjVEY7MnwVakqHuPWRmvmWw2dNjNwzG0USeKID8sHdxoblFqm4doGFRibdgeBqJnOrAagsdM-bXCCV1GlraiudOk-0ZVKs/s320/IMG_1540.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-86656696131727536452012-02-03T12:55:00.000-08:002012-02-03T12:56:15.561-08:00Take a second and breathe it in.One of the greatest things I've ever learned in my life is to be your own person. Im sure you remember posts about it; dealing with frustration, doubters and things I definitely didn't see coming. But after a while, I learned to let it not bother me.<br />
Honestly, in this world there are going to be so many people who look down on you. There are going to be so many people who make you angry or call you out.<br />
Take it. Breathe it in. Trust me, it's a good thing. Having haters means you actually stood up for something. You put yourself out there.<br />
<i>You.Were.Different.</i><br />
And that, my friend, is a beautiful thing. Just like you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixR9keolXbU7qFT04wv2Ukj6-nXkgbwRN4dxSN8MkVjEc-CZyA-vyV2OoR3n-gaG0jw56hs8zGbgtZd1HEnjk7NPzLzDYiOZOUUMKrDROaSyEgsKsahtm1I_6izAPxNBtTX4rYLKAX_L0/s1600/403800_10151239014930492_784290491_23103803_384701483_n_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixR9keolXbU7qFT04wv2Ukj6-nXkgbwRN4dxSN8MkVjEc-CZyA-vyV2OoR3n-gaG0jw56hs8zGbgtZd1HEnjk7NPzLzDYiOZOUUMKrDROaSyEgsKsahtm1I_6izAPxNBtTX4rYLKAX_L0/s320/403800_10151239014930492_784290491_23103803_384701483_n_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-71029695652354416292012-01-01T12:25:00.000-08:002012-01-01T12:25:48.757-08:00Hey, 2012.I've tried not to think about this- about 2012.<br />
I've tried to forget how I graduate in a year.<br />
I've tried to forget how he leaves in 50 days.<br />
I've tried to forget about how State is coming up, and my entire college career rests on those 2 races.<br />
I've tried to forget a lot of things.<br />
<br />
Frankly, I've tried to forget about a lot of things. Those things scare me.<br />
But, I'm ready. Kind of. Im ready to kick 2012's butt, actually. One of my New Years resolutions is to do things that scare me. To face my fears with a good attitude.<br />
Ready, 2012? Im ready for you.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06EhQy0yPGs9pNfh9SNWGjMi9JomgAV3JhcmWBksTHQQppoAv4NYrXfgEhXHRbC6mGbbSThkGTP1PzX2cNaZLueMQ9YoaZ57zklCrPlLUz-zVmVjU4OUlJcDYxlB_F13zAFAnXqITkUU/s1600/new-years.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06EhQy0yPGs9pNfh9SNWGjMi9JomgAV3JhcmWBksTHQQppoAv4NYrXfgEhXHRbC6mGbbSThkGTP1PzX2cNaZLueMQ9YoaZ57zklCrPlLUz-zVmVjU4OUlJcDYxlB_F13zAFAnXqITkUU/s320/new-years.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-3684635419739028962011-12-22T17:03:00.000-08:002011-12-22T17:03:53.553-08:00Hello, doubters.You'd think that I'd be used to them by now; the nagging voices. You'd think I'd be able to tune them out and just go about my business. But it seems like no matter how hard I try, the louder they get. I understand their intentions, and why they nag the way they do, but, Im tired. Tired of hearing how I'm not good enough, or how I need to be stronger.<br />
Trust me, I'm being as strong as I can be.<br />
Im tired of being told to step it up and lead the team.<br />
I don't know about you, but that's what I thought I was doing?<br />
Im tired of looking into their faces while they present more and more demands and trying not to scream "im just me! Im not as strong as you think."<br />
<br />
I guess i'll just have to keep putting up with it, yes?<br />
Cause sometimes dedication isn't noticed until you <i>make people notice.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Well here's to all those who doubt me, or look down on me.<br />
Just wait. Im coming.<br />
<br />
-Me.Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-63651709796267773592011-12-12T19:39:00.000-08:002011-12-12T19:39:13.147-08:00Smile, its Christmas.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dh97UXUpD0VgLCwLQ-YTNHl_9TNMoXR1u-uw3PkH43UD_BI2N7tbGQxnMBt7S_XlPzZuQNw_0ZI4lr-tJmgbkzSj3cgou9YBFgeRct4hiobrabCsx0If2heJ-6KVxdlesFWRimWZAFY/s1600/SAM_2257_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8dh97UXUpD0VgLCwLQ-YTNHl_9TNMoXR1u-uw3PkH43UD_BI2N7tbGQxnMBt7S_XlPzZuQNw_0ZI4lr-tJmgbkzSj3cgou9YBFgeRct4hiobrabCsx0If2heJ-6KVxdlesFWRimWZAFY/s320/SAM_2257_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Dear Santa.<br />
Incase you haven't noticed, the world has gotten pretty crazy lately. We run and run from appointments to meetings, only to forget the moments we had in the place we were before. We take for granted every passing glance, or momentary smile we receive on the cold streets we walk every day. We lose sight of the true meaning of Christmas in all of the business going on around us. So, if you have time in your busy schedule, I'd like to ask you for a favor.<br />
I don't want gifts this year. I don't want that new sweater I saw at Forever 21. I don't want that new perfume or the fuzzy socks. I want everyone to be loved, and <i>know</i> that they're loved. Cause isn't that really what Christmas is really all about? I grew up being told that, and I wish everyone else knew it, too.<br />
<br />
So, if its not too much trouble this year.. let everyone know that they're loved. Cause they are.<br />
<br />
Love always,<br />
Me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eDIIW6Xi5o_hM9tiPE_HxiJsZF1jkepPVGgu2QppifkW3rsBppK6GrTcee3x4vn1hNqjfnusLpawUqoWOoHzk-qnddyfQtVpOFnlVMtA2wfgAEzoWt8uY705rFLL5F_1ojCAv42Ir8g/s1600/tumblr_ldzuakXjqQ1qdwetoo1_400_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eDIIW6Xi5o_hM9tiPE_HxiJsZF1jkepPVGgu2QppifkW3rsBppK6GrTcee3x4vn1hNqjfnusLpawUqoWOoHzk-qnddyfQtVpOFnlVMtA2wfgAEzoWt8uY705rFLL5F_1ojCAv42Ir8g/s320/tumblr_ldzuakXjqQ1qdwetoo1_400_large.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTpmWbwrA9Tw0o3vGY_WyanBFDhXYMKeS_XwLN3EvFn5hp1hjguoYcPG0qlOdz62y8QvwvQ2tpHMV4aQrRRsz3UmNHKswQ3z23RXSxjngJnWOOdJBX4F4xVRFeFf269_JfXvgqnoIr04/s1600/tumblr_lw4g0ydUc51qk4zpko1_500_thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTpmWbwrA9Tw0o3vGY_WyanBFDhXYMKeS_XwLN3EvFn5hp1hjguoYcPG0qlOdz62y8QvwvQ2tpHMV4aQrRRsz3UmNHKswQ3z23RXSxjngJnWOOdJBX4F4xVRFeFf269_JfXvgqnoIr04/s1600/tumblr_lw4g0ydUc51qk4zpko1_500_thumb.jpg" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-3448435838470115492011-12-05T13:14:00.000-08:002011-12-05T13:14:33.196-08:00I'm okay with being strong.I've spent my entire life trying to figure people out. Trying to decide why they do the things they do.<br />
Why people act vicious when they feel threatened.<br />
Why people talk about you behind your back instead of to your face.<br />
Why people lie and say everything's alright when it's not.<br />
<br />
<br />
Granted, I've never been able to figure this out. And honestly, I don't think I ever will. People are just too complicated. It amazes me when people walk around thinking they've got it all figured out. No, you really don't. The only thing constant in life is change. And your opinion on something could be completely different than someone else's. Its just all about who you are as a person.<br />
I've learned recently, that you might not always like people for how they act. Actions speak louder than words, but a combination of both can be quite.. potent. Especially in High School. Part of it, I think, is that kids are too immature and incompetent to act independently. So they go with the crowd. Which is fine, but I was never one for fitting in anyway.<br />
I've been subject to some vicious things my past years at school. I don't complain about them because in the long run, they really did help. I developed a thick skin, and a wickedly awesome ability to counter attack people's insults (Thanks to my dad. He's a genius when it comes to that.) There have been times though, moments when my patience almost slips. When my fingers twitch and that little devil sitting on my shoulder whispers "why are you letting them do this to you? you could take them easy." There have been moments where blood rushes to my face and tears prick at my eyes. I may have thick skin, but after a while it wears away in places. Especially when you let your guard down.<br />
I never understood why people got after me. I never knew- and I still don't know- what I do to make them hate me so much. People tell me it comes with the territory. High School kids will be High School kids. It makes me sad that we've been labeled that way. Vicious, immature, dependent.<br />
After having this mini world war with myself, my dad finally calmed me one night by telling me<br />
"Sam, you're in charge of how you feel. Not anyone else."<br />
Well duh. Why wasn't this more obvious to me before? That was like the icing on the cake for me. The final layer to my thick skin. No one can touch me if I don't want them to.<br />
I like that feeling. Not of being powerful, but knowing that no one needs to worry about me. That I can take care of myself, and don't have to ask anyone for anything. Knowing that I'm in charge of my emotions, and that no one else can determine if I'm sad or mad.<br />
I like being the person others can go to if they need help, or someone to tell their problems to.<br />
I like being the person who others trust.<br />
I like being <i>that </i>person. I'm okay with it.<br />
I'm okay with being strong.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSntbEUIyvBOUlDBHKCfWfN-420XqMfRcLrEMraSCTd0OIGyRIlyUAzeR4ekeaVL2348UB6gocNlbXJWVoW0YxyTUeYMC4NDf5yFVR_Tg93NiKNt-L4vajGDk4FK9-fvlXLNKg7Wb13A/s1600/clouds-separate-with-comma-sky-typography-Favim.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSntbEUIyvBOUlDBHKCfWfN-420XqMfRcLrEMraSCTd0OIGyRIlyUAzeR4ekeaVL2348UB6gocNlbXJWVoW0YxyTUeYMC4NDf5yFVR_Tg93NiKNt-L4vajGDk4FK9-fvlXLNKg7Wb13A/s320/clouds-separate-with-comma-sky-typography-Favim.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVbFEOyTYyQKJfZ1A6YciGf6aNj06F53dIp4LiRQHrp_067YQVJWqBI-G4fWuBg9_7uwOlzkpK1Dxrpu_7LKtLlpSong62Z6kdawiDYYhLgX8ei5AgRJXq4Zj34Km1ifKZa5gVYUlJfI/s1600/tumblr_lvnj98bzJW1qaodr1o1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfVbFEOyTYyQKJfZ1A6YciGf6aNj06F53dIp4LiRQHrp_067YQVJWqBI-G4fWuBg9_7uwOlzkpK1Dxrpu_7LKtLlpSong62Z6kdawiDYYhLgX8ei5AgRJXq4Zj34Km1ifKZa5gVYUlJfI/s320/tumblr_lvnj98bzJW1qaodr1o1_500_large.png" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-5827191434847215842011-11-28T14:30:00.000-08:002011-11-28T14:30:15.097-08:00One of those Days.Well, it finally happened. Kudos, immune system. You put up a good fight.<br />
Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough.<br />
So, here I am, eating chicken noodle soup and surfing Youtube for awesome obscure music.<br />
Im actually hoping this sickness will make its way out of my system before it starts snowing. Because honestly, Im going to be spending all of my free time outside playing in it either way.<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned that I'm super pumped for Christmas? Im obsessed with this time of year. When the house always smells like someone's baking. Christmas music is playing on a loop quietly in the background, (or really loud when we feel like rocking out.) When I watch the snow fall from the window with a cup of cocoa in my hand and my favorite blanket. Ahh. I don't know what it is about December, Christmas, or the sudden high people seem to get on from their New Years Resolutions, but it just makes me happy.<br />
<br />
Fa la la la la...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxnJHUDLs8LxKaU0fsvJZALTqY0-2L3i9Th61VyYiN072lJGFuqY8Ks7IaAGcy01q0LYZz4WhW_x_ffU-oOglNJIaPKGa2DAw-V7YX308Ct9oxQC8O3em4KrpL-yzpUw7qYSNBLyx9Y4/s1600/tumblr_lv4iisFW3j1r5mhouo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxnJHUDLs8LxKaU0fsvJZALTqY0-2L3i9Th61VyYiN072lJGFuqY8Ks7IaAGcy01q0LYZz4WhW_x_ffU-oOglNJIaPKGa2DAw-V7YX308Ct9oxQC8O3em4KrpL-yzpUw7qYSNBLyx9Y4/s320/tumblr_lv4iisFW3j1r5mhouo1_500_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PGpZYlW4g7yqw1TCtdkQJpqNN1jOnN70vYQ1SECd30f_3ZZkYOWQLuR-m_SHlhvfr5c_P3oqq8cnE8b7z5jiW2y1vRSEX0dOEJKnZS4AYRwNFDY_JU81UP542nd1ZVNEcvhltG88TXs/s1600/tumblr_lvdstccwMz1qdv2z2o1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3PGpZYlW4g7yqw1TCtdkQJpqNN1jOnN70vYQ1SECd30f_3ZZkYOWQLuR-m_SHlhvfr5c_P3oqq8cnE8b7z5jiW2y1vRSEX0dOEJKnZS4AYRwNFDY_JU81UP542nd1ZVNEcvhltG88TXs/s320/tumblr_lvdstccwMz1qdv2z2o1_500_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-11211728061338042802011-11-26T14:45:00.000-08:002011-11-26T14:48:02.638-08:00If you could just stop running and take a second to breathe it in.I just want to say thanks for telling me I'm beautiful.<br />
<br />
I don't like to look back on the past, Im scared to look ahead to the future, but maybe God's trying to send me a message: Focus on this moment. Here. Now. Make it the best you can possibly make it, then the future will play out better than you think.<br />
<br />
<i>If you could only just stop stop stop running,</i><br />
<i>If you could only take a second to breathe it in.</i><br />
<i>Everything that you know would be beautiful like you.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOukRTIJfGlLqxKjBsaUOL8eqro5JND52AB2UnKbFlm3mHb5WQfqWCwf9dksGI6HjJM1NxHGPoiiz_28NNovz1XL_s6yUjegWlEXqyLHJCKBkfZ6oLmYGhngU_tq_Nhwd0QeqgFYlBUzo/s1600/all-you-need-6dyjo0xox-97231-320-228_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOukRTIJfGlLqxKjBsaUOL8eqro5JND52AB2UnKbFlm3mHb5WQfqWCwf9dksGI6HjJM1NxHGPoiiz_28NNovz1XL_s6yUjegWlEXqyLHJCKBkfZ6oLmYGhngU_tq_Nhwd0QeqgFYlBUzo/s1600/all-you-need-6dyjo0xox-97231-320-228_large.jpg" /></a></div><i><br />
</i>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-66113575184028865992011-11-21T19:41:00.000-08:002011-11-21T19:41:41.588-08:00Writers block.My apologies. Im sorry I haven't written sooner. I'd like to just tell you that I've been busy, or that I had some super important things to take care of, but the truth is,<br />
I just haven't had inspiration for blogging in a while.<br />
<br />
I hate this about being a writer. Writers block is one of the worst feelings in the world. When you have a million bajillion thoughts bouncing around in your head, and you're too unfocused to get them down on paper. Or when you try to think of something deep and motivational and you come up with nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch.<br />
It makes me feel super productive, let me tell you.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm sure when I have some epic life-changing experience I'll totally tell you all about it. But as for now, my thoughts are too chaotic to share at this moment in time.<br />
<br />
Lots of love always,<br />
<br />
Me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizN7amYCJ6wzMi1oFzHJJBcJu-sgQVQ7OjHanDk5uouC4MZib2mSgesijhFqX7aI6QfpIEDe8TlOaZ3OupE59Fa_fGcLg9_2wZuh93CKNRiCv1invhyzCgS_tWJJrgsdTOwY__mKM8tpA/s1600/tumblr_lutsk3YWhE1qevifno1_500_large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizN7amYCJ6wzMi1oFzHJJBcJu-sgQVQ7OjHanDk5uouC4MZib2mSgesijhFqX7aI6QfpIEDe8TlOaZ3OupE59Fa_fGcLg9_2wZuh93CKNRiCv1invhyzCgS_tWJJrgsdTOwY__mKM8tpA/s320/tumblr_lutsk3YWhE1qevifno1_500_large.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1010786142971782351.post-4060218810558862092011-11-13T11:46:00.000-08:002011-11-13T11:46:29.328-08:00You've always made me proud.Remember that post "I'll make you proud one day, I promise"? Well, I was thinking about that post at my swim meet yesterday. *Warning*: Another swimming story. Brace yourself.<br />
<br />
It was the Utah County Invite. Pretty important meet, I would have to say. My coach put me in the 100 free, expecting me to win it with a 54.9. I was hesitant, wondering if I was even capable of going that fast this early in the season. I gave him the usual high-5 and walked towards the blocks. I stood behind lane 4, stretching, warming up, focusing. When I dove in the pool, I just let my body do what it knows how to do best. I swam.<br />
When I finished, I was so pumped to look up at the score board and see a.......<br />
55.9.<br />
Wait, what? Wasn't that supposed to be a 54.9? Judging by the way my body ached and it seemed like I couldn't get air in my lungs fast enough, that should've been at least a 55.0.<br />
I tried not to let it get to me. But I could feel that horrible sense of disappointment creeping up behind me as I walked over to talk to my coach. When I approached him, he looked at me and said "Sit down, Sammi."<br />
I sat down on the cold bench and looked at my coach while he told me<br />
"You don't want it bad enough."<br />
The rest of his words were all blurred and hazed as my mind spun out in 50 different directions.<br />
<i>What the heck does he mean by that?</i><br />
<i>How could he say that? </i><br />
<i>What makes him think he has the RIGHT to say that?</i><br />
<i>RUDE.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I walked away from him with tears stinging my eyes, his words still fresh in my mind<br />
You don't want it bad enough.<br />
<br />
I went outside to collect myself, and started doing some serious soul searching. My hair was wet, I was in my parka and slippers, it was raining, and I was a mess. After all of these things happening with swimming, I was really starting to question whether or not it was even worth it. I never seemed to be able to make anyone happy, no matter how hard I tried. Simple and plain; I just wasn't good enough.<br />
I pulled out my phone and started reading through my blog, trying to find some sort of inspiration from my past self to pull me through the rest of the meet.<br />
Then I saw the post "I'll make you proud one day, I promise."<br />
I read through it. Then I read through it again.<br />
And again.<br />
I got that drive i needed to finish the meet out. I walked back on deck and prepared to swim my last race, a relay. Me and 3 of my best friends were going to finish this meet out with a vengeance. I was determined.<br />
I was leading off the relay, and as I got on the blocks in that same old pool I train in every day, where I've felt victory, disappointment, loss, pain and laughter. In that moment when everyone was silent, and the world seemed to stand still for just a fraction of a second, a voice said to me<br />
<br />
<i>You've always made me proud.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I'll save you the sob story, but we won the relay by 4 seconds, and Lone Peak ended up winning the entire meet. But I'll never forget that moment on the blocks.<br />
I'll never forget the feeling I had when I knew I was important to someone. And that that someone is the most powerful being in the universe.<br />
<br />
And strangely, in that moment, I knew everything was going to be okay.<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5PVJSpPUqxfjQBn2fHy7HYqYL729YC0thq8Ab5lDMWQrEQbcv_OHHq8RDznM0oBbXPoOGNtnwqYsc9ebjbxve_AEuO-1bwF_BP5WGsoMLDNPCK2Iqz2JYJgX07wqxcJrW7Ept0myKrw/s1600/tumblr_lu25bhoTn31qic3tco1_500_large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5PVJSpPUqxfjQBn2fHy7HYqYL729YC0thq8Ab5lDMWQrEQbcv_OHHq8RDznM0oBbXPoOGNtnwqYsc9ebjbxve_AEuO-1bwF_BP5WGsoMLDNPCK2Iqz2JYJgX07wqxcJrW7Ept0myKrw/s320/tumblr_lu25bhoTn31qic3tco1_500_large.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>Sam Scoresbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01746559721694895070noreply@blogger.com3