i feel lost...

I never understood why people get so emotional about graduating. In the past, I've listened to coworkers, classmates, and friends express everything from anger to paralyzing fear about leaving the undergraduate realm. Honestly, I can't tell you how many times I've been the shoulder-to-cry-on or the assistant job seeker for people.

When I say I never understood, I mean that I never felt the way they did. People would say things, "I'm just not ready to leave," "I've got nowhere to go now," "I'm so scared that nothing is going to work out," and the like. Out loud, I was supportive, and I could both logically and empathetically see where they were coming from. It's a big step, leaving the campus and people that have become so familiar. Life once again becomes uncertain. On the other hand, I internally wondered why they weren't jumping up and down for joy at the chance for freedom -- for real adulthood -- for graduate school or job opportunities -- for bigger and better things -- CARPE DIEM!! Get me OUT of here!!

With my own graduation ceremony looming less than 72 hours away, I suddenly feel a rash of emotions and sentiments that previous students have expressed. While walking across campus today, I couldn't help but utter a noise of disgust and say, "I hate this place." Surveying the grounds and the pretty pink tulips, I thought, "Well, it's not so bad. But still -- I can't wait to be finished with all of this." Then, as I received my cap and gown, I trudged slowly across campus in tears, thinking, "They're kicking me out. All I did was what they asked, and now they're sending me away to who knows where doing who knows what with who knows who! How could they do this to me?!"

It's quite the rollercoaster. I don't recommend it.

Lately, I've been having nightmares. I mean, I usually do, but these are different. Often when I sleep, I dream of a void: me suspended in empty, crushing darkness. There is no up or down, no point with which to orient myself and determine where I am, or even who I am. Nothing is familiar, and I am alone. I've had these kinds of dreams before, but never with this intensity or such lingering effects.

Waking from these dreams leaves me in a fog of uncertainty. I go throughout the day as though still stuck in that dark, cold emptiness. I felt it again as I unwrapped my wrinkled, too long, navy blue graduation gown and untangled the gold tassle strands. Running my fingers through the tassle strands, it suddenly hit me -- the dreams and lingering feelings come from my feeling of placelessness. It exists so strongly in me that it manifests itself in my dreams. I truly feel lost, along with a decent amount of panic.

As I've thought more about this, I've concluded that this sort of anxiety speaks to feelings of displacement based on my changing position in the world. Though I do have places that are important to me, none of them are permanent. Everything in my life is transitory right now: graduation this week and finishing school in June; leaving the university I've grown to know well; acceptance to graduate programs that I'll never actually go to because they're online; leaving a student job and needing to find other employment; even my housing situation is in flux. My present places are quickly becoming my past places, and future places are presenting themselves -- though some are not really places; more like virtual experiences.

It's an unknown -- it's a feeling of anxiety that occurs even before losing an important place. Facing graduation, loss of employment, and an almost place-less form of virtual graduate schooling creates that anxiety in me.

Of course, changes like these aren't a bad thing. They're actually very good things; things I've worked for and looked forward to for a very, very long time. The emotional effects, though, are incredibly real. Being displaced from the undergraduate experience, employment, and people is a lot to handle all at once. It's kind of like when someone is forced into homelessness or made into an exile through war or foreclosure. I don't mean to minimize these events by comparing them to my current transition; losing a home or a familiar place because of such traumatic events is without a doubt much worse. I use that comparison because it's the only one that makes sense to me, that I can understand.

Graduating is turning me into a school-less (and somewhat reluctant) migrant student -- an exile from everything I have known for the last three years. While my exile is partially by choice, and the graduate program I've chosen to attend does provide a new place to go, I'm still being displaced. I have met the requirements for graduation, and my diploma becomes both a celebration and a pink slip.

I don't like change. I don't like losing the places and the people I have come to know and appreciate. However, I am human, and so my body must move. It must change and move and go new places, do new things. I of all people understand this now: after spending nearly a month in bed recovering from a surgical procedure, I've learned that staying in a room too long really can make a person go crazy. I wanted out! I wanted to move and change and go to other places. And I could not.

It was hugely frustrating.

None of us is meant to be stationary; movement of some sort is necessary. Still, the emotional distress that occurs from losing place is real. I'm feeling it in a big way now. I feel a mixed bag of loss, excitement, anger, sorrow, anxiety, betrayal, anticipation. These places have been critical in forming who I am and where I will go in the future. It's probably universal: places affect us and shape us. Perhaps the fact that places are key formative elements is what makes the displaced feeling distressing. We know we must move on from certain things, but letting go is difficult due to the ties to the place we grew and changed in.

For me, my feelings of loss over my current state and place are helping to spur me on to the next experience. I mourn the loss of familiarity and worry over the new places I must find, yet these familiar places help me realize that I can't stay. Current places have shaped what I do, who I am, and where I will go. My experience as an undergrad student, while coming to a seemingly abrupt and frightening end, has created that desire to move to a new place because of the experiences I've had in the place I now leave.

It's a strange, almost cyclical phenomenon: loss of place creating sadness and anxiety over the loss, while silmultaneously pushing us to find new places, which also creates uncertainty and grief. This constant shuffling of place is what makes us grow and change. Memories of old places shape our interactions with the new. Both types of places directly influence who we are, how we think, what we will become, and where we will go in the future.

Thinking about it in this way is helping to turn my feelings of terror (yes -- terror) about the coming changes into excitement. I won't lie. The fear is still very real, as is the deep loss I can't quite understand and never expected would occur. However, it's being tempered with curiosity and excitement for the experiences and places that lie ahead of me.

Though don't expect me to be all hopeful all of the time -- I'm desperately hanging on to any happy thoughts to keep myself from falling apart!

back to school...

This is a whiny post.

Basically I really, really, really, really, really do not want to go back to school. I don't want to go to class. I don't want to sit in those ridiculous little desks. I don't want to take notes. I don't want to do homework. I don't want to have my life controlled by assignments and busy work. I don't want the anxiety and the stress.

Man, I'm pathetic. I don't want to go so much that I'm crying.

Don't get me wrong, I like to learn. I enjoy discovering new things and expanding my view of the world. What I don't like is the absolute utter exhaustion and anxiety that comes from the way our education system works. I don't like being a grade point average -- I don't like having my future rest on some stupid letters that stand for how well I did at something.

I'll get it done. I always do. I guess this last semester has kind of killed any love for college that I may have possessed. And I'll tell you a little secret -- with the exception of Economics 110, I got straight A's. I knew I wouldn't do super well in Econ, and I only needed a C -- I got a B- and was excited because it was way better than I thought I would do. What bothered me is this: this was absolutely the worst semester of my life, and I felt that I slacked off completely. I didn't feel that I deserved any of the A's that I got -- and I almost feel angry that my lack of effort was given straight A grades.

My half effort was rewarded as excellent. I procrastinated every assignment because the depression was so intense that I could barely function. I skimmed reading assignments and left classes feeling more confused than I was when I went in. I studied like crazy for exams, but never felt confident. I felt that everything I did was pointless and pathetic, and I expected that to be reflected in my GPA.

So what does that make those A's, anyway? Somewhat worthless, if I'm honest. Maybe I'm being ungrateful (actually, I know I'm being ungrateful), but I really do feel like those grades are total lies.

I was mediocre. My papers were excellent, and my professors want me to publish. But the work I put in? It wasn't excellent. It was rushed, last-minute, pathetic.

That's why I don't want to go back to school. I don't want to do the work, especially because I know that even when I don't do as good a job as I should, I'll get outstanding grades anyway. It's like lying.

What I should do is put in more effort and be proactive in my education. I, however, would rather watch Chuck on Netflix, go take photographs of beautiful things, write poetry and articles on things I'm interested in, spend time with the people I care about, sing and dance and play, learn the piano again, read real books, sleep when I can and for as long as I need, and work at a job that actually does something worthwhile (like the one I have).

I suppose this is why there is a thing called retirement. Although...that may quickly become a myth.

my life right now...

Whoever thought it was a good idea to call me to be a Relief Society teacher is crazy. Wait...

Parker is married. And Sierra is married. And Alyssa is married. And Abe is married. And Jason and Morgan are married...to each other. Funny, if things had gone as planned, I would have beaten them all at tying the knot. Let's just say I'm glad they went first!

I am obsessed with checking my position on the waitlist for Economics 110. Down to 24th (one second)...sorry, 23rd (yes, I did just check it again) from 110th. It's almost as bad as eBay bidding.

White Collar. White. Collar. NO, I have not watched the first season in less than a week for the second time. And NO, I do not plan on starting the second season again tomorrow. Give me a break.

But seriously, Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay -- I can't decide who I like better.

Why is it that I am absolutely terrified of calling/texting/contacting in any way, shape, or form, the one person who I should not be afraid of contacting? It's kind of ridiculous.

Living at home is making me lazy and depressed. I stay in my room all day, avoiding family at all costs because for some reason, every time I emerge, a fight breaks out. I don't know if it's my tone of voice (which would be hard, because I've pretty much stopped speaking), my facial expressions (again, hard because I usually hide behind a book), or my smell (possibly, because mom thinks my jasmine-vanilla lotion smells like bug spray). So basically I sit in my room and weigh the pros and cons of staying or leaving every time I decide to venture out. Let's just say it sucks.

My dogs are possibly THE neediest dogs on the planet. I don't care, though. It's nice having the little furry things in my room all day.

I decided that I figured out why there are so many liberal thinkers in the Humanities and Social Sciences fields -- I've been doing some research on course requirements for various majors and I've found that most (if not all) of those majors are not required to take Economics (except for mine, of course -- go figure), at least at my university . They can take other classes to fulfill course requirements instead. If Econ is an option, they skip it. I would, too, if I had any other choice. So they read loads of Russian or German or French or whatever literature, and tons of philosophy, and never get into the actual history of what happened to the people financially under socialist and communist governments. Fascinating, what we think works, and how we easily ignore actual history.

It sickens me that one person (me) has so much stuff. And yet, when I decide I'm getting rid of things, I cannot let go! That stuff cost money. A lot of it is in the form of books and memories (journals, photographs, and the like), and arts and crafts supplies. Then there's all of the bedding and clothes (gah, I have so many clothes) -- but I use them all! It's a dilemma, I tell you. A real dilemma. 

Sometimes, when I'm having a sad moment, I picture his cute face and just grin like an idiot. And then I wonder why I'm scared to call him, because he is my boyfriend -- I'm afraid that I'm needy, I guess.

I hurt so, so much. After having that ultrasound, I am completely perplexed by the fact that such a tiny piece of anatomy can cause such excruciating and all-consuming pain, not to mention fainting, vomiting, fevers, and what have you. My whole life I've thought that ovaries and uteri and all those other things were huge because anything that could make so much of my body hurt all of the time had to be ginormous. Wrong. Takes childbirth to a whole new level as well, I'll tell you what.

I got hired to do freelance writing for some sort of online independent business marketing firm. Wish me luck.

Oh, one last thing. Guess who is going on a weekend trip to Cedar City with her man and...wait for it...her man's parents. The four of us, three days seeing plays and hanging out at the Shakespeare Festival. I'm honestly extremely excited, and the more I think about it, just as terrified.

Let's do this.

now leaving Mordor...

And when I leave the testing center and turn in all of my papers, I feel like this:

Yes. I do use Lord of the Rings to explain and understand my life.

Spring term 2013 -- good riddance. And now to take a week long nap.

breaking...

Really.

It's the only word I can use to describe the way my life appears right now.

Nothing is working out. No matter where I turn or what I attempt, things fall apart. Often it's not my fault.

Like the fact that the IRS doesn't recognize my social security/address combination, and so there is now an issue with my financial aid. It clearly states my address and social security number on my tax return -- figure it out, government. Oh, wait -- that's too much to ask, isn't it?

Like the fact that I suddenly went from registered for ECON 110 to being 106th on the wait list and I'm a SENIOR.

Like the fact that I have to take ECON 110 at all.

Like the fact that I'm completely alone at home this week because my room mate is out of town in Disneyland, on a vacation that I thought I was going on as well. I'm still not sure why he broke up with me. At least I didn't buy a plane ticket.

Like the fact that my presentation partner flaked out on me and I ended up doing almost all of the work. NEVER have I had such awful groups, EVER, like I have here at BYU. Seriously, I have never had a good group at this college. Of all places -- where we profess to be hardworking and honest and dependable. Guess it's one of those things that's easy to say, right?

Like the fact that my dad is getting sicker, and his company still makes him travel. HELLO. HE HAS CANCER. If you're reading this, dad's employer, I am NOT happy with you. Yeah. My dad's cancer is terminal. He's DYING. And you -- for the sake of the all-mighty dollar -- are making it worse.

Like the fact that my dad really is dying. How fast or how slow, I have no idea. Having that hanging over me all of the time is absolutely horrific.

Like the fact that my ex-fiance treats me like a girlfriend -- that, though, I have more control over. And let me tell you -- that will stop. So help me, it's going to stop.

Like the fact that no matter how well I eat, or how much I exercise, I'm still gaining weight.

Like the fact that no matter how often I pray, or count my blessings, or do nice things for other people, I cannot shake the anxiety and fear that threaten to envelop me every day.

Wow.

What a rant of negativity. Sorry about that -- I feel better though.

why do I feel like I failed...

I got a 3.7 for the semester. Two A's, an A-, and a B+.

First ever B+ at BYU. In a history class. I'm good at history and I got a B+.

My rational mind recognizes that I did a really good job, particularly given the circumstances of the past few months. I've never missed that much school in college, and I've never missed that much work. I had such a hard time doing my homework because I was so sick most of the time, and taking exams was a nightmare.

Oh, and I figured out why things were made harder: I went to the psychiatrist yesterday to ask him some questions about my medications that I was given for migraines and depression, and we discovered that the meds are causing short term memory problems. This also messes up long term memory, particularly with studying, because the short term never sticks long enough to become long term.

What.

So, in reality, I should be very happy with this semester. But for some reason, I feel like I totally failed.

That's dumb.

ER, anyone?

At 10:00 tonight, I got a call from a friend informing me that another friend was in serious trouble.

So I called a different friend with a car, and we kindly forced the troubled friend into said car. And then drove to the emergency room. After which, we spent 30 minutes trying to get her out of the car and into the ER.

Finally, she agreed to come in. Very reluctantly. I pretty much pushed her across the parking lot.

At 1:00 this morning, Chelsea came and picked me up because the migraine I had this morning started coming back. And I have a 12 page paper to finish that is due at 8:00 this morning.

So. That's taken care of for now. Not the paper, but the friend in trouble.

Never taken a friend to the ER before.

Never pulled an all-nighter as a BYU student before, either (and school is out tomorrow...what?).

Never thought I'd like a Christmas song featuring C-Lee and the Muppets. NEVER.

Now to write 3 more pages. And maybe get some sleep. But after two 20 ounce bottles of Coke Zero, that might not be happening. We'll have to see.

finals weekend...

I'm dying.

Not literally dying, but metaphorically dying. As in my brain cannot seem to function and my eyes want to stay shut forever.

How is it possible for me to have so much to do, yet be so bored?

Honestly, I do not know how I'm going to retain all of this information. All of it is familiar because I discussed it (or listened to my professor drone for an hour every other day) in classes three times a week, but really. I don't know how I'll write good, solid mini essays on events/people/books when I am required to prepare for 41, but only need to know 10. So much information.

Not to mention that same professor, who I have two classes with, told my entire American Studies class that we are "terrible writers" and that "some of your essays are so bad that I just read through the first paragraph and wrote 'I quit' on the top, then gave you a C. If you'd spent time on your essays, and actually attempted to do a good job, I might have read all of it. But really -- it's not like you're freshmen. Really, just awful. Awful."

If I didn't need a good grade, I would write, "I read the first question and it was so bad that I realized I can't take this exam because I don't have enough time to actually attempt to do a good job. I quit."

Temptation. Plagues me to no end.

new girl...

I'm noticing a pattern in my life. Every school semester, I end up starting a new job of some sort. This next semester will be no different.

Meet the newest workflow technician for BYU's Special Collections department in the Harold B. Lee Library.

Hi. Pleased to meet you, too.

Two hours of training over the past two days, and I've already seen some pretty cool stuff.

Like...

all of Jimmy Stewart's papers/photographs/etc. And his typewriter.

Like...

a sheet of war bonds from the Confederate States of America valued at over $10,000 (my supervisor ran across those as he was looking for other documents to display -- yeah, the bonds are now locked in the vault -- good luck getting in there).

Like...

the pencil case from Hitler's desk. And a piece of the desk to go with it (or so we were told).

Like...

government appointment certificates signed by Ulysses S. Grant (also in the vault).

Never have I been this excited to be the new kid on the block. I get to work with my childhood friend, Brittan, and the other two people I've met so far seem really great. Abe, another student, is friendly and charming. Jeffrey, my supervisor, is funny and intelligent, and he doesn't mind all of my questions.

Now to get through the mind-numbing training videos so I can start the actual work. I still can't believe it -- a job in my field. Finally. So stoked.

should have been an English major...

Remember that 12 page paper?

Done.

In 4 hours.

WIN.

And I actually feel that it's pretty decent for the most part. There are a couple of places that need some polishing, but seeing as the final product isn't due until December 13th (a complete draft is needed for full credit during the in class work shopping), I have some time to spruce it up (like a Christmas tree -- yep, it's almost midnight).

Now to take it to school tomorrow and have it peer reviewed. Which means that after I get the 100% grade for bringing it in and having another student look at it, I will promptly disregard all of his/her remarks and take it to the Writing Center for a coworker to look at instead.

Anthropology students struggle at peer reviews. Just saying.

triggers...

On Thursday the doctor diagnosed me with chronic migraines and added a new rash of medications to my short list of drugs (now it's a medium list). He also told me that I should track any headaches that occur so we can find triggers, then eliminate or work with those things so that the migraines don't occur as frequently.

Day 2 of My Headache Journal has begun, and so far I've pinpointed a couple of things that bring on the headaches.

1. Anger, irritation or frustration (I guess talking out my frustrations in a raised voice while showering when no one is home isn't an option anymore)

2. Reading for extended periods of time

3. Laying on my left side, which is the side of my head that usually begins hurting first

Day 2 has also brought about some alterations for dealing with these triggers that I've noticed.

1. When angry, irritated, or frustrated, leave the situation, stop talking, or take a nap -- basically things I should do anyway. Or just not get mad at stupid stuff. Which is what I should do regardless of the threat of a migraine.

2. Read for half an hour, and then take a ten minute break (I won't lie and say ten minutes is the average -- those ten minute breaks often turn into half hour to forty-five minute excuse making escapades where I do everything I can think of which will keep me too busy for my homework).

3. Laying on my right side instead of my left (duh). I have also found that sleeping with my teddy bear lessens the pain. I'm not sure why that helps, but it does (and I don't mind it, either -- having an excuse to cuddle a toy is fine by me).

I am also happy to report that the doctor prescribed taking aspirin with sugar free Coke for managing headaches that do occur. Don't be surprised if you see me on campus with a bottle of the stuff -- I have no fear anymore as to what people may think of me drinking a caffeinated beverage. Take that, Dining Services. I'll just bring my own soda with me.

So far I'm able to manage the current headache I have a little better, now that I know how (even though it's lasted for over a week, roller coaster-ing in severity). I'm not sure how preventing future headaches will work out yet, especially because this one won't go away -- we'll wait and see how these new medications take hold. And if they don't, well. Back to the drawing board we'll go.

I'm sure my insurance company loves me right now.

the worst kind of heartbreak...

Disclaimer: all of what I have written may come across as selfish, childish, and ridiculous. It's honest, though. Straight from the heart.

For almost four years, I have set my eyes on serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was one of the only girls in high school who was considering it. Many of my friends would say things like, "wow, good for you -- a mission is so not for me," or "I'm so not interested in serving a mission." Some of the girls would think me a little strange for my desire to go, and many of the boys said things like, "yeah, you'll change your mind when you get into college -- girls don't have to go."

As I grew older, I still desired to serve a mission. Often times that desire was put down by other people (I've written before about what many male friends have said to me concerning my goal). Words like "it makes me sad that so many girls are serving missions -- they're needed as wives and mothers, not missionaries," and the ever present "you'll change your mind when you meet that perfect guy" were thrown at me a lot. It made me so angry -- I didn't want to serve a mission because I wasn't dating (quite frankly, I care more about the status of my kitchen floor than I do about dating -- I hate dating). It also bothered me because the general authorities have encouraged women to serve missions, saying that women are able to reach people that the men can't. A woman who wanted to serve a mission because of a desire to serve the gospel was totally in the right, according to church policies. That's why I wanted to go. It's why I still want to go.

This summer, I began to feel that the timing of a mission was not right for me yet. I received a "no -- not right now" answer from the Lord twice, once in my bedroom and again as a confirmation of that answer in the temple, when I went to "double-check." I felt impressed to focus on my schooling, because I am more than halfway through with my degree, and to get as many educational experiences through BYU as possible.

Never have I been 100% satisfied with the "no -- not right now" answer. I say that I am, and I try to be, but it's been hard. Often times I've prayed for patience to follow through based on the answers I've been given, but it's been difficult. That difficulty was increased exponentially due to the announcement President Monson gave yesterday morning, right at the beginning of the first session of our General Conference.

When I heard that the age for worthy sisters had been dropped from 21 to 19, I was surprised. However, I didn't feel upset -- or not super upset. I felt a little bothered, but nothing important. As the day went on, though, and as I got text messages from friends asking me if I was going to go this year, I began to feel an overwhelming feeling of sadness and disappointment. Most people don't know that I have put my mission plans on hold, almost indefinitely. I haven't told very many people -- around here, many people automatically assume that the reason a person is no longer going on a mission is because a big mistake was made. I didn't make a mistake -- I just got told to hold off.

Those feelings of sadness increased as I received news from my younger sister that she will no longer be applying for college for next year, but will instead begin work on her mission papers in January and leave as soon as she turns 19 in July. I felt even more disappointed when my 16-year-old sister texted me that she is going to go on a mission as well in two years (she turns 17 in January), and that she was so excited to receive that answer from the Lord. I turn 21 in January, but no mission papers will be sent this year to Salt Lake with my name on them.

Getting on Facebook made it even worse. Countless status updates, pictures, and other posts met my eyes, each from young men who are moving up their mission dates and from young women who had never before considered missions (and some who have even criticized me for my desire), each expressing with enthusiasm and delight that they were scrapping their college applications and working on mission papers, or altering their goals to include a now possible mission.

I scrolled through my news feed until I could no longer see the screen because of the tears falling from my eyes. My entire being felt shattered, left out, even let down. I began to pray, asking God to change His mind, not really expecting Him to do so. I told God how upset I was -- how all of my life, everything that I have ever desired with my whole soul has been taken away from me, or I have been told to wait. I have watched both of my sisters receive every desire I've ever wanted and was never given -- leads in the school musical, positions on the choir council, relationships that have lasted more than four years, more attention and recognition from my parents, dates with good boys every other weekend -- I can honestly say that almost everything that I have ever desired has never been given me. And I was angry -- I was angry and heartbroken, and I told God that.

The more upset and heartbroken I began to feel, the more I tried to force myself to think of all of the good things that have been given to me, instead of the things I wanted. I got into BYU, even though I didn't think that I would and didn't really care to. I received an internship and a job that I didn't even know existed. I've been given friends who, though they have only been in my life for a couple of years, have been better friends than most of the people I knew when I was younger. No, I don't get to be in plays or in choirs, but I get other things.

But it has still been so hard. All day yesterday, and most of the night, found me in tears, frustrated and devastated because of my "no -- not right now." I recognize that it isn't a "NO" answer. It's a wait and be patient answer.

Being told to wait is one of the hardest things the Lord has asked me to do -- and that is what He asks of me the most.

This, for me, is the worst kind of heartbreak, because it's another time in my life where a righteous desire of my heart has been kept from me, and I've had to watch people who were never interested (or sometimes less qualified) receive those opportunities. I'm not saying that a mission is totally kept from me -- but not given to me when for so long, I have felt such an overwhelming desire to go and serve. What is hard is watching the people I went to high school with, who had no desire to serve a mission, suddenly take off and leave two months after making their decisions. What is hard is knowing that my sister, who is two years younger than I am, will be going on a mission before me, when she had little desire to do so in the first place, wanting to focus on school and see what happened as she got older.

What is hardest is to continually be told, "be patient," and nothing seems to change -- not with my health, not with my friendships, not with my family relationships, not with anything.

I will be patient. I won't give up. I'm not going to distance myself from the Lord (for as someone said in conference, moving away from the Lord when faced with a trial is like leaving the safety of the underground shelter when a tornado is in the field next door). I know that this will be for the best -- the Lord told me to wait for a good reason. Everything that He has done in my life has been for a better reason than I ever could have seen.

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths."

I will do it. He'll take care of everything.

Speaking honestly, though...that doesn't mean it doesn't break my heart.

we are BYU...

Yep. I'm in there somewhere. Row 35 on the right hand side of the photo. Me and my Y-Group Students had a blast sitting up there!

Time lapse video. See if you can spot us doing the wave.

mini Steve...

 

You know your dad loves you when he gets you a Captain America jump drive for your second year at BYU.

Pretty sure my files are going to be very safe from now on. Even when he's pocket size, Cap's the perfect man for any job.

i killed the Beast...

theory: Connecting the Concepts


Check it, yo.

lately...

...thinking...
...it's so much easier for me to talk about the things going on in my mind and heart with a guy friend than with a girl friend. I don't get it...neither does my friend Alex, whom I discussed this with today. He feels the same way -- there must be a reason why we're such good friends!
...theory of English is harder for me to wrap my head around than statistics was. Dislike.
...that strange feeling when you realize that someone loves you, really loves you, and they're not just saying it to make you feel good.
...the more I think about it, the more I recognize that the LDS church is strange. If you haven't grown up with it, it'd be hard to accept. Thank goodness for the Holy Spirit which testifies to me and others of the truth of the gospel.


...doing...
...the internship started on Friday morning. It's going to be a lot of work, but it'll be worth it in the end. Penny seems like she's really nice and a good teacher. I'm excited for this opportunity!
...Brianna's bachelorette party was on Thursday night and it was fun! La Jolla Groves has made the list of places to eat.
...best part of the week was Brianna's wedding on Saturday. Great day. She looked so beautiful, and so happy. I'm so proud of her for the choices she has made and I'm so happy for her and Matt. More to come later.
...balancing two part time jobs, full time school, and the internship is going to be very interesting. I apologize in advance if I'm absent for the next few weeks.
...I keep trying to clean my room...trying being the key word.
...as mentioned before, I spent the afternoon with my friend Alex. Love that man. He is awesome. I'm so lucky that he's my friend. Especially when he makes me smile by sneaking me an extra peanut butter bar because he knows I love them, or when he looks at me and says, "Whoa...your eyes are gorgeous and you look super attractive right now," or when he listens without judging me for the thoughts and feelings I have. He's just great.


...feeling...
...holding a sleeping baby is one of the most relaxing things in the world. I haven't felt that relaxed, peaceful, and hopeful in a long time.
...music has such an amazing impact.
...how do you tell someone they've hurt you and ask to fix a problem without hurting them in return?
...guilt...it's starting to run my life again.

PS If you haven't seen The Prince of Egypt, I highly recommend it.

do you want MLA with that?

I got a phone call this morning. It was a really important phone call. It was a really, really important phone call.

Guess what?

You are getting this message from the desk of the newest BYU Writing Center intern (!!!).

I am beyond excited.

So excited that if I had money I'd go out and buy myself a pair of red high heels to celebrate.

St. George tomorrow morning, my friends. This girl is ready to party!

school's out...

Finals are over for me this semester. I don't like handwritten finals as much as I like Scantron exams. With Scantrons, you get your results right away. With handwritten, you have to wait for days or weeks to get your score back. It's particularly frustrating when you're pretty sure that you didn't do very well. I just want to see the grade and get on with my life, rather than sitting here biting my nails and cursing the fact that I missed a very important point that would have strengthened my argument quite nicely.

Well. At least it's done with now. No more Interdisciplanary Humanities 261 ever again. Unless I, you know, fail the class. C's get degrees!!!

I can't believe I just wrote that. I never want to get a C. EVER. The end.
One week from tomorrow I start Spring semester. Tuition is paid for, books are ordered, and I have almost no spring/summer clothes to wear. No, really. I was looking through my closet to find things I can start boxing up for the season, and I realized that more than half of my wardrobe falls in these categories:

• sweaters
• turtle necks
• cardigans
• coats
• sweat shirts/pants

Not sure what I'm going to wear this spring...maybe it will stay chilly so I won't have to worry about melting in the sunshine. So far I've stayed cold most of the time. If you ever need to find me on campus, look for the girl wearing jeans and a black peacoat in the middle of a crowd of capris, cap sleeved blouses, knee length plaid shorts, and American Eagle tees.

Speaking of clothes. Have you ever worn an outfit that when you looked at it in the mirror, you thought it was super cute and fun and were excited to wear it? Then when you go out into the world, you start to notice people looking at you funny -- like double takes and stuff. And not in the "oh, look, I like her [insert item here]" sort of way but in the "oh wow" with a raised eyebrow sort of way.

Maybe I was imagining it.
Or maybe it was the white tights?

baby, you've got this...

It's been an interesting Friday-Saturday transition. Yesterday and last night were a bit stressful, but super great. Good friends, good food, good amount of productivity, and good results from said productivity.

Around 3:30 am I woke up with the most awful, awful pain inside that I have ever felt in my life. I haven't cried because of pain for a long time. It was scary to feel so absolutely helpless; I couldn't walk, could barely move! Nothing's wrong according to the medical definition of wrong though, so don't worry.

This morning the pain had mostly faded to a constant, dull throbbing, like when you pull a muscle in your shoulder or neck. It's not too bad, so long as you don't move too fast. So I got up, skipped breakfast because looking at mom's toast made me feel nauseous, grabbed two sharpened pencils, three pieces of paper, my ID card, and prayed that I'd make it through the Stats final without passing out/throwing up.

It sounds dramatic. It kind of was. Meh.

At 11:15 am, the most dreaded exam of my life began. The hall itself was terrifying: that room could probably fit close to (or more than) 600 people. Now I know why people dread having American Heritage in JSB 140 -- you almost get swallowed up in the hugeness of it. Fewer people attended my high school football games!

Luckily it was quieter than a high school football game, and I was happy to find a seat on the end of a row. Immediately I tried to figure out a strategy to not drop all of my stuff (exam packet, bubble sheet, scratch paper, calculator, and pencils) because there truly was no place to put it. The auditorium desks are about two inches longer than an 8.5 x 11 inch piece of paper and maybe an inch wider. Not the best desk to take any sort of exam on. Strategy finalized (haha), I sat down to take the odious Departmental Statistics final.

But I didn't dread it so much after I finished the first page and realized there was no way I could have missed any of those questions. Despite the awkward, abyss-like feeling of the auditorium, the constant whispering shuffle of hundreds of exam papers, the cramped confines of my paper size desk, the dull pain in my body, and the ache in my head from a sleepless night, I knew that stuff. At 12:30 pm I walked out of the auditorium, trying to be afraid of my score, but I just knew I'd done better than what I was hoping for (a C). And guess what?

I ACED that sucker.
90%, my friends. Nine-zero, a straight up A- on the exam I have heard nothing but horror stories about. I could barely (still can barely) fathom the fact that I didn't fail that final. When I saw my ID number next to the 90%, I actually started laughing. The girl who'd scanned in my test smiled and said, "It's a good feeling, isn't it?"

It is indeed a good feeling. So is going home and sleeping from 1 pm to 5 pm without waking up once.

2 finals down, 2 to go. After that, three days in St. George with two of my favorite girls in the world. Bring on English and Humanities!

PS Prayer WORKS, people. If you've done all you can do, and worked as hard as you can despite your limitations, the Lord WILL help you. Give him a shot. He'll give you a miracle.

weekend...

I made callbacks for the show. I did not get cast. I'm trying not to be upset about it anymore. Being honest, though, it's really hard to accept that the directors considered me "head and shoulders" above everyone else in all but one area. My mom is on the production team for one of the shows that I tried out for, so she told me what happened. It got down to me and one other girl for a role, and even though I was proficient in every single area but the one she was good at, they cast her. Why? She's a theater major. I'm an American Studies major. Should have seen that one coming.

I'll get over it. I probably won't be trying out for anything at the Y ever again though. What's the point if they're going to pick a theater major for all of the plays, dance majors for all of the dance teams, and music majors for all of the choirs? It's hard to be told that you're fantastic, and a "first choice," then be shunted aside for someone who is in the department.

Understandable, really. But it doesn't feel very good.

The other most memorable, less disappointing thing of the weekend: guess who got a letter today? This girl did. My dad actually drove over to my work and gave me the letter because he knew how excited it would make me. I have the greatest dad ever. And he was right. I just about threw the box I was holding into the air, I was so out of my mind happy.

Elder Raddatz is doing well. He said that General Conference was awesome (which made me feel slightly guilty because I didn't catch any of it), and that he and his companion have gotten in contact with two new people who are very interested in our church. It's really great!

Jordan is doing so awesome out there! Every time I talk to his mom she has stories about how well things are going in Jordan's area. He's a busy guy! It's nice that he took the time to write to me. And I love that he still addresses all of the letters with the nickname his little sister came up with for me. Makes the letters even more special, you know?

Wow, I miss him. I need to start working on his birthday present. Any ideas for me?

PS "Once Upon a Time" is just annoying. I caught up on the episodes I've missed and the show just bugs me. So why do I watch it? I honestly do not know. Meh.