The plane glided well above snow-capped mountains and miles upon miles of empty desert and rocky ridges. The only interruption of the peaceful scene existed in Vegas, where glitz and corruption collide and kick up sand, throwing it in the face of sanity.

One could actually call this trip pure insanity. I had just returned from Connecticut late Monday evening only to return to the airport—a multitude of bags, several water jugs, and a case of the butterflies in hand—the following Thursday morning. The phrase, “sleep deprivation,” doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt as I boarded the America West flight that would eventually take me to my final destination: Seattle.

Two shows, two weeks. I can’t even begin to count the number of egg whites cracked, chicken breasts cooked, potatoes sliced, gallons of water drunk, the amount of make up caked on, coats of Protan applied and later scrubbed off with extreme determination. Insane probably is the best way to describe my state of mind when I sent in my entry forms for the Junior USA’s and the Emerald Cup.

The two days I was actually in Dallas were filled with hustle and bustle. Clothes needed to be laundered, skin had to be scrubbed clean of any and all remnants of the previous weekend’s self tanner, workouts had to be accomplished, cardio sessions had to be dealt with, phone calls made, e-mails written, fears of failure alleviated. I not only had to pack everything from the weekend before, but I had to remember to include my self esteem and confidence. I had dropped it a bit after competing in Connecticut and had to wake up to the fact that seven judges from timbuktoo do not determine my ultimate fate in life. I do.

So when those snow-capped mountains loomed up and pricked the sky with their pointy tops, I admired their defiance, for in the face of drought and the brown mundane, they went against the norm and held tightly to their white tips, their majestic beauty, their unique existence. I feel like a snow-capped mountain. I reached into the sky, grabbed a piece for me, and said to the world, “I’m not going anywhere. I like it at the top.” Luckily, the judges agreed with me this time.

But I get ahead of myself. I haven’t even arrived in Seattle yet, and I’m talking about the results of the show. Let me take a break and come back fresh to discuss the preparation once I arrived, the show itself, my feelings on it, and the rest of the weekend. Eventually, I’ll expand upon my plans as I prepare for Junior Nationals. So don’t go anywhere. The plane ride might be over, and I might be on the ground, but my story . . . my life . . . will always continue to be in mid-flight.