THIS is the best time of my life.

I've had yet another philosophical conversation with my best friend.

This afternoon, I realized that I had left all of my homework in my locker, thinking that I had no homework at all. Really it is nothing since it's only typing up a short skit that we wrote in French class (I'll probably write about that sometime). Nevertheless, I needed to go back to school and get it.

Fortunately, just before I walked out of the door, my dear Amy called because she was in the area and wanted to do some normal teenager stuff. (Normal teenager stuff with us is rarely normal.)

After picking up my homework, we ended up in Balboa Park which, if you're unfamiliar with San Diego, is a lovely historical park filled with museums and theaters and other fun things. Also, it contains a fountain (well, several, but one fountain fountain). Balboa Park is also where I always end up whenever I am free to drive wherever I want.

We found a spot to park right off, which is somewhat unusual, especially since this spot was located in the parking lot right beside the fountain fountain. Needless to say, we parked there, but soon discovered that the fountain fountain was drained! We had intended to wade a bit in the fountain fountain (as is expected in our social group), so we were a little disappointed. However, this meant that we could walk to the center of the fountain fountain without being blasted by the geyser located there.

Here I must note, that for most of my life, I have been somewhat timid. I don't talk to strangers, I avoid eye contact with attractive young men, and I do not walk about in fountains or sing in public (excepting theatrical presentations). In the past few months though, I have become more bold. I still don't talk to strangers, and I still have trouble making eye contact with attractive young men (especially attractive young men who are also strangers), but now, I walk about in fountains and, extremely often, sing in public.

Unfortunately, I must admit that I am still timid enough to be paranoid that the geyser would suddenly blast water 20 (30?) feet into the air whilst we were standing nearly directly over it, and I ran to the edge of the fountain and sat.

From there, we continued on our little jaunt into the park. Meanwhile, I began to sing (inspired by the birds flying around), "Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?" Throughout our excursion, I sang this song. Amy didn't even seem to mind.

As we walked, we discussed mortality and art and how unfortunate it is that life takes planning and budgeting and rationality, and as we left the park, I said:

"Wouldn't it be nice to fast forward to when we have everything figured out and settled?"

Amy, being the wise little thing that she is, replied:

"No, it would be nice if life worked backwards where we were born old and unknowing and matured into our youth with the knowledge of a fifty-year-old." (This idea kind of fumbled when Amy went on to explain that we would be twelve giving birth to old people...)

I still think it would be nice to skip this awkward crossroads stage altogether. Really, it would be great just to be young and know everything forever.

But being with Amy and many others is worth all the indecisiveness and pressure. Honestly, friends really do make this whole transition thing a lot easier.

It's nice to know that God really does know what He is doing.
("Do not fear, only believe.")