How to be Honest

Narration

There are many synonyms to the word "honest". Among these are: authentic, genuine, decent, ethical, fair. When I was in kindergarten, I believed I was all of these things. I had been raised right and had no reason to lie to my family. But having a reason to lie can come in an instant and my answer to, "Are your teeth brushed?" was always the one that left my teeth unbrushed.

Description

Being honest is a hard thing to be. The choice between calm and clammy, in trouble and not in trouble. Sweaty palms with fingers crossed behind your back; praying your lie will pull through for you. I'm sure for some being honest is easy. They speak their mind and have no fear of hurting the feelings of others. But since I am a "yes" person, I don't like to disappoint and I definitely don't like confrontation.

Example

I guess there are benefits to telling the truth. Like when your mom asks if you washed the dishes (you have), and you can confidently answer that you did. No worries there. Or when your parents ask for the truth and you reluctantly tell it to them, they value your honesty and give you more leash. The results of being truthful are never flawless, but you can bet they never will be if you aren't.

Comparison/Contrast

Being honest means never telling a lie. Being a pathological liar means never telling the truth. One of them gives you a good reputation and the other makes you lonely. Honesty comes and goes and most people are a combination of the two. Unfortunately for lies, no one likes to receive them and you will not be well received if you are known for being a liar.

Process Analysis

Being honest is a difficult thing to learn, but will be easier with time. It starts with living honestly and not doing things that don't match up. Example: Don't answer the telephone pretending to be your mother and promise to do things. That will be indefinitely hard to explain. Then, attempt to be kind to everyone you encounter. Being insensitive and dishonest go hand in hand. Finally, you will have no reason to lie and everyone will love you!

Classification/Division

There are many different kinds of "honesty". First, there are those who tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Second, there are those that withhold part of the truth in an effort to save the feelings of others or, unfortunately, themselves. Third, there are those who avoid talking about the truth altogether. They don't outright lie, but skate around the actual topic. I would suggest the first. If you need more explanation, Google Abraham Lincoln.

Cause and Effect

If you are honest, the world will become a wonderfully sunny and guilt-free place. You won't have any worries or concerns to dwell on and thus, will have a lot of extra free time. Being known as an honest person will get you very far in life and will benefit you for as long as you live. Those who are dishonest will see major consequences in every aspect of their life.

Definition

To be honest means to be honorable in principles, intentions, and actions. Everything you have will have been gained or obtained fairly. People can trust you and rely on you for help. Even unimportant lies have consequences. In fact, there is no such thing as an unimportant lie. Anything apart from the truth can have an affect on someone in some way.

Argument/Persuasion

I urge you to go out into the world and try, just for one day, to tell the truth. It may be difficult at first, but nothing in this world comes easily - make it a force of habit. We fall into the rut of lying to avoid having to do what we need to do and lose our sense of dignity and self-worth. Imagine flipping it around and being truthful to both ourselves and others. Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

Dislike with a Passion

One word I would rid the English language of is "hate".
I know, you just got a little inspired there.
Hate [heyt] verb, hat-ed, hat-ing, noun
verb (used with object)
1. to dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest: to hate the enemy; to hate bigotry
2. to be unwilling; dislike: I hate to do it.
3. intense dislike; extreme aversion or hostility.
4. the object of extreme aversion or hostility
Synonyms
1. loathe, despise, detest, abominate, dislike, disgust, unworthy, etc.
Antonyms
1. love.
(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hate?s=t)
This word is currently one of the most overused and misused words (apart from like, but we all know that one) in the English language. Not only is it used to categorize the people in your life, it is a heavy word; predestining your enemies for the worst punishment. To hate someone is, in a sense, wishing they were dead. It is one of the most offensive and unneeded words that I have ever come across, and shouldn't be used casually. Similar to the misuse of the word love, many people claim to "hate" stubbing their toe and "love" chewing bubble gum.
I believe that a step towards a more peaceful and forgiving world (forgive my beauty pageant talk) is a world without words whose only purpose is to put people down.
My mother would always yell at me whenever I would claim to "hate" something or someone and always advised me to instead say, "dislike with a passion". This in a sense has the same literal meaning but is less derogatory.

Pink as a Flamingo

When you are a kid, usually after you start school and before you hit puberty, you think you know it all. You don't, of course. This is the time in your life when you will embarrass yourself the most, but probably won't realize this until later because again, you don't know anything.
This fact came to my attention in small doses; quick visions of the overwhelming truth. I'd like to think that I have a handle on my immaturity, but just by thinking that I probably don't.
When I was young, probably seven or eight, I was afraid of taking showers. Don't ask me why - I don't have a rational explanation for it. So naturally, I took baths. My bathroom was fully stocked with bath bubbles and those colorful little balls you can toss in to make the water...special, I guess. I never normally went near the stuff - it was much to fancy for me. One day, when I was feeling particularly bold, I ran the water for a bath and, after struggling with the plastic packaging, managed to break open the bottle of pink and purple bath balls. I tossed a healthy handful into the running water and climbed right in. I got all nice and fresh, stepped out of the bath, dried off, and got into my pajamas. I went to the kitchen to bid my parents farewell for the night. They took one look at me and were speechless. My mom came over and told me to look at my legs.
I did.
They were pink as a flamingo - my favorite color in fact.
Turns out that one bath ball does the trick. Who knew that if you put more than one in your legs will turn pink? My mom rushed me up the stairs and started running the shower, all the while yelling, "You must have been taking a bath in lotion!". I imagine she was worried about my sheets getting covered in pink.
I was worried that I had to use the shower.

Artificial Fire

One thing it has appeared that I have learned is that I love language. Words have power and when put together, they can do it all. My deep appreciation for what words can do probably stemmed from my deep desire to read - which started probably from birth. I was hopelessly behind when it came to math and those awful multiplication tables (when the teacher sets the timer and you try to do as much as you can in one minute) that seem to hate me. But when it came to learning to read, I was the one all my classmates were impressed with.
More recently, I have discovered the gravity of speaking.
This past summer I worked as a camp counselor at a Christian camp. They taught me a lot of things about how to handle homesick campers, make a fire, and tell my testimony. One thing they never teach you is how to lead a group in prayer. This may seem easy, but it was my greatest weakness. Picture ten girls all standing in a circle holding hands. The counselor says a prayer; different every time, catered to whatever happened that we can be thankful for. You make it up on the spot and do your best to sound knowledgeable and wise.
I would find myself stumbling over my words; thanking the Lord for our food and the fellowship we have together, and finally ending with an amen and the friendly squeeze of the hands I am holding. Diction plays a big part in praying because you have a main point to get across and there are some words you can and cannot use.
This past summer I also took a trip to Paris with my friend, Erin, and her mother. None of us spoke French all that well. This wasn't that big of a problem and we were able to navigate the city quite well. Erin has cousins in France that offered to have her stay for a few weeks and the three of us spent a week in Paris to see her off.
I believe that French is just about the most beautiful and interesting language still spoken to this day. Erin's cousin Diane spent a few days with us and I would sit with her for hours learning words and writing them down. I don't remember a lot of them, but I do remember "feu de artifice" (Fou-Day-Art-Tea-Feece) and "libellule" (Li-Be-Lou). The first translates to "artificial fire". When Diane was trying to explain what it meant, she kept talking about artificial fire and using her hands to show explosions. After some time, I realized she was talking about Fireworks. The second means "Dragonfly". We were sitting outside and a Dragonfly flew by. She asked first what I called it and I replied, "Dragonfly". Then I asked what she called it. She answered, "Libellule". After some time of both of us repeating the word the other had said we came to realize that neither of us had quite understood the other. She had been repeating "Jack-and-fly" and I had been repeating "Libellulule" like it was Hawaiian or something.
So maybe one day I'll speak French as well as Diane.
We all can dream can't we?

Maddie

You can Facebook me, but then you'll get "The Facebook Me"

When choosing our profile picture, updating our status and choosing the information to be shown to the world, we like to put our best face forward.
But honey - I saw you today and you do not look that good.
This video is a tribute to the common phrase: "Nice getting to know the Facebook you"

You can Facebook me, but then you'll get "The Facebook Me"

James Ames

That's the name of my mother's father. 
I never call him that though (his name is Grandpa) and the first time it was called to my attention that James Ames is, in fact, his name was when he first told me about the 2nd to last Grandma's Half Marathon he ever ran. He did the last one only in an effort to make up for how bad the 2nd to last one was.
The morning started out promising: He had his running shoes, his hat, a watch. Everything seemed perfectly in order. It was only when he was 45 minutes away from his house and nearly to the bus (that would bring him to the starting line) that he remembered that he needed the chip for his shoe. See, when he started running the Half Marathon, there was no such thing as chips that go on your shoe and magically tell the race officials who has crossed the finish line when. There were just bibs on people's chests and cameras to capture the finish. So naturally, the trooper that my Grandpa was (is), he drove back to his house in Cloquet, grabbed the chip waiting patiently on the kitchen table and drove through morning traffic to the bus stop.
As soon as he pulled up and hopped out of his car, there was a kindly woman with a cowbell in one had and a phone in the other waving her hands around and shouting that all of the buses for the Half Marathon had already left but if he was willing, he could take the bus for runners of the full Marathon and run the few miles to the starting line.
My Grandpa, of course, was certainly willing.
He ran the 3.5 miles to the starting line and started as soon as he got there (Keep in mind, the Half Marathon is a little over 13 miles).
A while later as my Grandpa was chugging along on the trail he began to hear a distinct whirring noise that grew louder and louder like thunder. He turned around slowly to see the bikers (Those who cannot run, and thus bike, the Marathon) flying towards him. He dived off the trail as they raced past and then presumed chugging along. A while later, my Grandpa began to hear a loud pounding that grew louder and louder. He turned around to see the Kenyans rounding the bend. They soon surpassed him and my Grandpa kept on chugging.
Soon enough, he neared the finish. One of the many beneficial aspects of the chip was it told the location of every runner on the trail and when they would cross the finish line, the announcer would call out their name and it would be displayed on the screen.
"James Ames. 10 year participant. First place finisher in the Marathon!"
*brief pause*
"Sorry folks, he was actually running the Half Marathon."

Luckily, the next year my father and brother spent the evening with him and made sure to send him off with all of the things he needed. That time he finished with everyone else.

If Pilgrims were alive today what would they be known for? Their AGE

Thanksgiving. Usually for me, that means getting together with my family and eating lots of food while playing video games and football with my cousins.
This year is a little different; unfortunately. 
My brother, father, and grandfather are all Cross-Country Skiing in Yellowstone for the whole week. 
They come back tomorrow, Saturday. 
Yesterday, they had a delightful Thanksgiving dinner with their skiing friends and each other and my mother and I were at home. We ate our Thanksgiving dinner at Sunsets; a restaurant that was serving a buffet on the day of thanks. Usually on Thanksgiving our extended family all gets together at someones' house and I get a chance to see all of my second cousins. But that was cancelled as well. And unfortunately for stereotypes, last night we watched The Notebook. We had just bought a set of four different movies based on novels by Nicholas Sparks. We will probably have them all watched come Sunday.
Speaking of Sunday, our immediate family (meaning my first cousins and their families) will be getting together at my house to at least give me some sort of family interaction this holiday season.
As for now, my teacher suggested watching the movie, Home for the Holidays, for a hilarious depiction of dysfunctional family get-togethers. I mentioned this title to my mother. Turns out we owned said movie and I did, in fact, watch it last night (but not before I watched The Notebook, mind you). It was quite entertaining and reminded me of the various shenanigans that always manage to happen at my personal family celebrations:

• There is always a dispute over food (Who cooked it? Can we trust their cooking?). I also have Great Aunts that believe their food is the best and insist on doing all of the work, even in their old age.
• There is always a tournament of any sort of board game. Some years it has been Twister, Monopoly, and that game where you take over the world. Last year it was Scrabble.
• There is always a big group photo.

See picture:

(From left to right) SJ (My Grandfather's Girlfriend), my Grandfather, me, my Dad, my Aunt Gretchen, my twin cousins Ben and Chloe, my Aunt Mary, my Uncle Jimmy, my brother Graham, and my Mom. Someone took this photo and turned it into a puzzle.

• There is always a big group walk. Yes, a walk. After eating, some of the family members insist on going for a walk (no matter the weather conditions or house placement).

See picture:

(From left to right) Me, SJ, my Grandfather, my Mom, and my Dad.

At this particular family get-together my family wanted to go for a walk. But it was during hunting season. In order to avoid any of us being confused for deer and getting shot, they broke out all of the orange apparel and took a picture. SJ wanted to take the picture with us since we looked pretty impressive.

• There is always the awkward time when everyone is sitting around drinking tea/coffee/hot chocolate. This time happens after we have eaten, finished our tournament, and gone for the appropriate walk. This time can only end with the departure of the guests or more food. People like to take pictures during this time.

See picture:

(From left to right) Me, my cousin Ben, my Aunt Mary, and my Uncle Jimmy. I remember this moment distinctly because my brother was making a fire and my Dad wanted to take a picture of everyone sitting together.

So - Thanksgiving. I love to eat (Mashed Potatoes...anybody?) and see my loving family. At least I have family, right?

Thanks for reminiscing with me all,

Maddie