overwhelmed...

Wednesday was like almost any other Wednesday. Except for one thing: while I was attempting to butter some French bread, I found myself slumped against the counter with no recollection of the few seconds before I fell.

The pain has been bad this week.

Thursday was much like Wednesday, minus the French bread and the passing out. The physical and emotional pain peaked. I was scared, angry, tired, and alone -- alone in the sense that I was stuck in my body and mind, and trying to get out was too exhausting.

And then, I was asked out on a date. Not just any normal run-of-the-mill homework date, which has become the standard due to our heavy workloads, but a real one. Where he called me up and issued a formal invitation; I put on a skirt, blouse, and heels, and he wore slacks with a tie; he picked me up at 7:30; I wasn't allowed to open any doors at all (usually he opens the car door for me to get inside, and I let myself out because I'm silly that way); he took me to Mimi's Cafe; and we talked for hours. And not just all of that-- he came to my door in my favorite green shirt and the jacket I got him for his birthday, holding a white rose tinged with brilliant red, a box of all dark chocolates, and strawberries with chocolate syrup for later on (our new favorite treat because we can't afford real chocolate covered strawberries, nor do we have time to make them).

A day later, I still can't entirely comprehend it all. That someone would go so out of his way for me -- to get off work, to wear the clothes I like so much, to bring gifts that mean a lot to me, and to take me somewhere so nice -- even in the face of missing valuable homework time. Because he knew I was hurting, and that things had been hard. Because he wanted to make me smile.

What's even more amazing to me is that this isn't the first time this has happened.

It's overwhelming in the best way.

the Cedar-less City...

On Saturday morning, Adam made an observation that both made me laugh and realize that I'd never thought of another thing before. Chest deep in water (meaning I was neck deep), he out at the view from our hotel swimming pool and said, "We're in Cedar City," to which I replied with an almost 'no, duh' sort of expression. A few moments of surveying again and he turned to me, saying very seriously (in a voice reminiscent of a little boy), "I haven't seen any cedars."

As I bobbed up and down with laughter at his expression, I realized that I had never, ever thought of that, and I've been to Cedar City many times.

Yes, Cedar City, the city with no cedar trees. However -- I did learn that Cedar City got its name because of the juniper trees that surround the area, as the trees drop a sweet pollen in the early spring and late fall. Having grown up in Utah, I don't think juniper trees smell anything like cedar trees, but that's beside the point.

Watching the Green Show before attending Love's Labors Lost

The weekend was fabulous. I haven't laughed so much in weeks -- between Adam's parents and Adam himself, there were times I couldn't breathe for laughing. That doesn't even include the absolute hilarity and cleverness of Peter and the Starcatcher, a play currently showing as part of the Utah Shakespeare Festival. It has to be the funniest play I have ever seen. Adam and I went while his parents attended a wedding in St. George, and we both wished they could have seen the play, too. I'd go back tomorrow just to watch it again!

I loved this trip. Usually I dread vacations, and I can't wait to go home. This time, though, I was counting down the hours, and I didn't ever want it to end. The plays we saw -- Love's Labors Lost, Peter and the Starcatcher, and King John -- were all wonderfully done. There were no fights or problems, and I just felt loved and accepted, the whole time.

Sitting the Adams Theater, a replica of The Globe in London, just before King John began 

Lovely, lovely weekend.

my wee ones...

Another post dedicated to my foster children. Because who can resist faces this cute?

Tasha and Thor -- Tasha her silly self as always, and Thor showing off his good side

I love this girl.

And he loves the camera.

Adorbs, right?

i never understood...

I always knew that breaking up was hard to do, and I thought I had a pretty good understanding of how it feels. There have been times in my life when I had to let go of people I really cared a lot about, a couple of them being guys I almost dated. One I even had to run from, because staying was too dangerous.

It isn't until now, however, that I think I actually understand what it's like to lose the companionship of someone you love more than anything in the whole world.

It sucks.

Now that I know what it's like, I ache for those who are going through similar situations that I am. One friend went through a break up earlier this year, and she still isn't quite over it. She's been holding on, hoping that things would get back together (I, unfortunately, am in the same boat, just in a different sort of way -- every experience is very different, another thing I'm learning). He, on the other hand, has moved on and is dating someone else.

I saw the update on the Internet and my heart broke for her. How it must hurt her to see that he's done and has found someone else to make him happy, while she's still stuck with the pain of losing him, and the future she thought she would have.

I think I understand that better now.

That's one of the things that is the hardest for me, really: that the future I thought was going to happen isn't happening. I thought I had found someone to share my life with, someone to whom I could give everything and be sure that he'd still be there tomorrow.

The day I see him move on will be a hard day -- I like to pretend I'm good at moving on. I'm not. I hold on to things I shouldn't, and I hope for things that probably won't happen -- at least not with the person in question. I'm loyal to people I love, even after they're long gone. People I haven't spoken to in years, who have really hurt me (even the one really abusive guy) -- I still miss them, even though I know I shouldn't.

I wish I couldn't love. Then things wouldn't hurt so much.

But love makes life worth living.

the best people...

...are the people who love you no matter how good or how bad you look, feel, talk, or act. And for them I am grateful.

"that girl," who has stuck with me the longest and who has never, ever given up on me. Ever. And we have no pictures together, and she probably wouldn't want me to post one of her anyway. But just so she knows.

My room mate, my friend I didn't know I had until a year after we met, my "mom" away from home.

My role model, my "big sister" I never knew I wanted, my confidante who knows me better than I know myself.

My advice giver, my three o'clock in the morning go-to guy, my "big brother" I always wanted and never had. 

Who I also have no pictures with. And who is ENGAGED! So happy for him!

My partner in crime, my photographer buddy, my friend who loves getting lost.

Honestly? I can't NOT put him here -- even though we broke each others' hearts and it still sucks, and he confuses me like crazy -- 

I'm so glad he's still a part of my life.

small = cute...

Unless it's a spider. Spiders are small (usually) but they are not, I repeat, NOT. Cute.

But these little guys are!

These are our new fosters!

They're about two and a half weeks old now. They recently received their names, after a period of the black on being called Tan and the cream one being called Black (a la Psych Season 5, Episode 15 "Black and Tan: A Crime of Fashion").

We now call them Thor and Tasha. Thor, the big one on the left, is so named because he is twice the size of his sister and big, blonde, and beautiful. Tasha, the one on the right, is short for Natasha Romanov because of her sassy little attitude and her ability to pull herself out of any kind of scrape with ease.

They can sleep anywhere.

Thor hates having his picture taken, funnily enough.

Aw.

Tasha is "my" puppy, though she will let anyone cuddle her as long as they produce body heat.

Yeah. I love being a foster mom.

the hardest thing...

The hardest thing about being a foster mom for dogs isn't letting them go to new homes. Yes, there are tears shed, but the knowledge that your temporary baby is going to have a wonderful life makes it all worth it.

The hardest thing is not being able to save them all.

Knowing that there are animals who will never have a chance to have a family again, or a family in general, is killing me right now. I'm so grateful that Chels and I were able to take Lily, Bowser, and Teddy, and that we'll be able to provide a temporary home for four other dogs (a mom, dad, and their two puppies) this weekend. I wish, though, that I could do more. Just the thought of these wonderful animals being numbered on a kill list at the shelter makes me want to cry.

If you have room in your home for a foster dog, please take the time to check out Rescue Rovers and give these friends a second chance.

my little puppy loves...

from left to right: Lily, Bowser, and Teddy 

puppy lovin'...

I love these kids -- so, so sweet.

Chelley and I are happy, happy mommies.

death looks good on me...

Actually, that's false. Death does not look good on me, and so I cannot wait for the day (hopefully tomorrow) that my skin is not pasty white, my eyes are not glazed and dilated, my lips are not a greyish blue color, and the circles of black beneath my lashes disappear.

Seriously. I don't think I've been this violently sick since I was a kid. Whatever this particular strain of stomach bug is, it's a doozy. Last night was the worst -- in the past when I've had a norovirus, I'll only empty my stomach three or four times over 24 hours. Not so with this bout -- 9 times in 8 hours. OUCH.

I am so done with this. Beyond looking like death, I've felt like dying, rather than going through this anymore. It's much, MUCH better at this point, but last night...wow. WOW. SO. FREAKING. SICK.

Poor Adam has it, too. And his sisters. And two of his brothers. And six of his cousins (so far). And his dad. And my roommate.

It's like the plague!

But really. I'm about ready to be done. Because, death does not look good on me (nor does it feel good) -- yet, I'm too exhausted to put on make-up to cover it up. Probably wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway.

Adam, however, disagrees with the "look like death" thing. Honestly, I never thought I'd find a man who would tell me I was beautiful when I, in my opinion, clearly look awful; who'd cuddle me up close to help me feel better; who'd kiss me despite my dry, dehydrated lips; who'd spend an entire afternoon watching Lord of the Rings on a cushion bed in the living room with me; who'd be so sweet and kind no matter how I look or feel.

I am the luckiest sick girl in the world.

Best sick day ever.

waiting...

As some of you know, I haven't had the best health for the past two years or so. For a few months, I was improving, and I was excited to get back into "normal" life. However, things have taken a bit of a turn and are gradually worsening.

I admit that frustration and hopelessness start setting in at times. I haven't missed so much school since I was a sophomore in high school. I've never had this many sick days at work (thank heavens my supervisor is understanding and offers his help wherever he can). While I've always been aware of financial difficulties, I've never before felt so pinched. And I've never, ever felt so tired, never. Not only that, but my dad's getting worse as well -- though he won't admit it.

Is it ironic to anyone else that now, at possibly one of the hardest times in my life, I'm happier than I've ever been? Listing out the worries on my mind somehow brings a smile to my face. Yes, I'm physically uncomfortable most of the time, and I worry about losing my dad, but inside, I feel at peace. Every time I start worrying and the concerns press on my mind, I'm able to sit back and think about how good my life really is.

For example. Though I've missed a lot of school, I'm keeping up and am still getting good grades. My work supervisor is incredibly helpful. Money is a serious concern, but it keeps working out every time I really need something. I'm sleeping more frequently than I have in years. And dad is still here, and always happy to spend time with me.

After the third doctor's appointment this month, they finally decided that it's time to start looking for the problem, rather than treating the symptoms. I'll get the test results in a few days -- I'm hoping things will be okay. And they will be -- everything has been working out so far. I don't see why it won't continue to do so.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. For so many things -- although, the wait time for me and Adam continually shortens. So excited.

all wrapped up...

Adam (yes -- he does have a name) and I had quite the adventure on Saturday. We visited the Mummies of the World exhibit at the Leonardo Museum in Salt Lake City. While it was educational and interesting, I felt that the exhibit designers had leaned a bit on the theatrical side of presentation, rather than focusing on the informational and historical elements of the collection.

I'm very grateful that I've found someone who will allow me to muse about the moral and ethical dilemmas that I find when I visit museums and explore the exhibitions (seeing as it is what I intend to study when I go to graduate school). There is a large debate on the proper handling and displaying of human remains. As I walked through and observed the Mummies of the World exhibition, I was concerned at the way the exhibit designers emphasized the dramatics and mystery of studying mummies. The dim lighting is understandable, as certain light frequencies can damage the delicate remains. What I noticed was the combination of the lighting, the music, and the use of shroud-like fabric to separate the segments of the collection.

It was quite tomb-like. There was a certain creepiness to the atmosphere -- starting with the narration of the introductory video all the way through the end. Yes, there is mystery to mummies, and a certain morbid curiosity which I admittedly possess. But the emphasis on it was too much for me. 

Some of the mummies they showed were also quite iffy to me -- particularly the mummies of the human fetuses. I felt that some of the mummies were displayed less for educational purposes and more for spectacle or shock factor. A couple of times I found myself wondering how the person who inhabited the body on display feels about the handling and exhibition. I believe in post-mortal existence, as I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It concerned me that the manner of display was not respectful enough, that it was all for show and dramatics, rather than in the interest of preserving the life and peoples of the past.

I was also frustrated with some of the language of the exhibit, which stated absolutes and information that we supposedly "know" and can derive completely, questions we can answer with certainty. Sometimes the language was not prescriptive; there were instances when the language was ambiguous, phrases like "this may have" and "it is possible." Those are perfect -- it is what museums in general strive for. What is not perfect is stating a fact about something that we cannot possibly know. We cannot presume to interpret meanings from things we really have no idea about. Interpretation is not the focus of current academia. 

There are multiple debates going on regarding these issues, including the Native American tribes and the display of those remains and interpretation of artifacts. The same debates are occurring with mummies and other things.

Poor, dear boy -- I think he's getting a better taste of what he's headed in to. But after Saturday, he still seems to love me quite a bit. A bit more than I realized, I think. 

I love that man. So very much. How could I not, when he takes me to museums on his free days, treats me to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch, lets me wax philosophical about the moral concerns in my field of study, harmonizes at the table while holding my hands and looking into my eyes, lets me wear his awesome leather jacket, puts up with my outbursts of silliness and OCD-ness at Pixel PlayLand, holds me close to him during church, sits with me when the pain becomes too much, and invites my family to dinner with us so he can get to know them better?

He was very involved in the circuitry boards -- he likes the kind of stuff. 

How can I not love him? I submit that it is quite impossible.

you know it's love when...

...you eat Disney princess Sphagettio's and drink Martinelli's for dinner together, and he talks about how much he enjoyed it for three days after

...he tells you that you're beautiful when your hair is a mess, you have no make-up on, and you're wearing sweats -- and you believe him

...a single text message can brighten your entire day

...you get butterflies from a simple kiss on the forehead or the back of your hand

...his advice for your biographical sketch on your scholarship application includes "write 'I'm the smartest, coolest, most beautiful girl at the school and you should give me money because someday, when my face is on a magazine, BYU will be famous, too. But not as famous as me because I'm just that awesome."

...you do dishes together and it's no longer a chore

...he tells your dog that he loves her and that she's a beautiful sweetheart

...you're encouraged to do your best and be your best, even when you personally don't want to

...he falls asleep on the floor next to the couch as you type up your paper, and when you ask him why he didn't just go home he replies and says, "Because I know that you've been hurting a lot lately, and it's easier for you to deal with when you're not alone -- just my being here helps you feel better. I love you."

...you can't help but smile at the mere memory of the look on his face when he says that he loves you

...you never open a door and you never carry something heavier than 10 pounds

...little notes and small treats mean more to you than the most expensive dinner or most elaborate evening out

...a single rose becomes a treasured possession

...you wish you could express the way you feel, but it's so incredible and beautiful that no words, no pictures, no music -- nothing -- can do justice to the joy and wonder that you feel inside

i love kids...

It's been a little over a month since I had the chance to babysit Cade and Corrine.

Wow.

I MISSED THEM.

Seriously. There are few things as wonderful as standing on a front porch and hearing little voices crying, "SHE'S HERE, SHE'S HERE!" before they've even opened the door. Then, little hands reaching up and taking hold of your sweater, pulling you inside. Words tumble across little lips, a rush of bubbling, babbling happiness, completely unintelligible, yet filling you with joy.

It is hard to feel lonely or insignificant when in the company of children. Children are honest (even when they lie, they're usually honest about it), and in nothing are they more honest than in their love.

what I just realized...

dear Friend,

I told you last night that I don't want to go home.

"Why?"

"Everything in my life is back there. School. Work. Responsibility. People I'm scared of. I don't want to go back to all of it."

You reassured me about it all -- I appreciate that a lot.

I didn't tell you everything though.

Driving down the country lanes, stopping at random to take pictures of the sunset, taking turns choosing which direction to go at crossroads, telling stories about past adventures, dreaming about the future -- being together like that made me realize something.

"Home is where your heart is."

I've always brushed that aside as a silly cliche, one overused like "the grass is always greener." But you know something?

As cliche as these little sayings may be, they can be horribly true.

Which is also funny, because you said that this morning. When we said good-bye.

Perhaps I shouldn't say it. Perhaps I shouldn't think it. I wouldn't do those things if I could help it -- the thought came unbidden, unexpected -- they're random thoughts and you just happen to be in them.

And then, as usual, you're the one who voices the thoughts I don't say. Like we're on the same brain wave or something.

It's a little scary. And at the same time, it's not. It's comforting.

You still have my heart. Try as I might, I can't get it back. Because if you asked for it, I wouldn't hesitate in giving it to you forever.

I don't want to go home because you're not there.

At least I got to see you for a few days. You really don't know how much that meant to me.

all my love,
GKB

there'll be joy...

Oh heavens.

                     Oh. Heavens.

                                              OH.

                                                          HEAVENS.

Now that I'm doing oh heavening, how about I tell you a little bit about that.

Last night (Tuesday) was the first time in longer than I can remember that I have experienced true tears of joy. As in being so overcome with happiness and gratitude that I could not contain the emotions. I was absolutely overwhelmed with something I can only describe as real, honest to goodness joy.

Perhaps this is what cloud nine is. People usually describe cloud nine as being in love -- this is so much better than that. This is the confirmation that I am loved and important to God, and that He is absolutely interested in my life. That He is putting things in place to make me the best person I can possibly be. That He recognizes me for what I am trying to do. That He knows me.

God is great.

once upon another time...

People say that there are those who come into your life for a reason -- usually to teach you something -- and then they leave. Their sole purpose is to give you perspective and insight into your life, to help you become better by showing you ways to change.

That's a nice thought. It's a real nice one. But thinking about it and experiencing it are nowhere near similar.

Being on the left behind end of this phenomenon sucks (yes, I just said sucks). Watching the person who meant so much to me just disappear from my life, at no (tangible) fault of my own, just circumstances and personal changes, really sucks. Going from best friends to barely speaking, pushed aside and forgotten, hurts. Feeling abandoned, betrayed, stabbed in the back, because that person knows me -- knows me for me. And once said that we'd be friends no matter what.

"I'll always be there for you."

Well. Where are you now? Not here. Not even there.

When did that happen? Almost overnight, it seems. Best friends one day, near strangers the next. Because that's how it feels when I'm with you now. Like I'm with a complete stranger. Like I'm a stranger to myself. 

What happened to us?

There's another saying, the saying that "people should be allowed to change." That's great when it applies to me. I don't like applying it to someone else, when their change leaves me feeling alone and confused, wondering if I said too much or not enough. If I should have been different, or better. 

How could I have been different or better, though, when with you, I could be nothing but myself? 

Once upon another time, I was important. It was a different kind of important than the every day, "each person is important" sort of way. It was different because I was important to you. I'm still important. I still matter. But not being important to you, especially when you still mean so much to me, is absolutely heart breaking. 

Lucky for me, you never made me happy. I was happy on my own, and I was happier with you next to me, but I didn't need you. My heart aches with missing you, yes. However, I can be, and am, happy on my own.

I didn't need you as a friend. I wanted you as a friend. It's because I loved you -- love doesn't need. Love wants. I wanted to love you, because you were my best friend. Maybe you still are my best friend -- maybe I still love you. I probably do. It makes sense, because what's happening to us is painful, and if I didn't love you, it wouldn't hurt so much.

You taught me about happiness -- you taught me how not to need. You taught me to want, and to hold onto those things that I want. You taught me that it isn't about "fitting" together. It's about "rolling." We rolled, you know. Or at least, I rolled with you.

There's more than that, though. Whether you meant to or not, you taught me that love lets go. Because I've never loved anyone like I loved you -- and love is about the other person. I learned that even more as your friend -- the more you told me, and the closer we got, and the more I shared with you -- nothing you did or said could push me away. Until now. 

Even now, though...I can't explain it. I care more about you than I do about how hurt I feel by what you're doing. Not talking to me, not answering, not being the friend anymore -- despite it all, I care about you. Which is so frustrating, because I can't let myself react in the ways I desperately wish I could. That's why I can't be as angry as I want to be. That's why I can't scream and throw tantrums and shout to the world that I hate you. Because I don't hate you. As much as I want to be immature and childish, I can't be.

Do you know how hard it is to be the one who is left behind? To be the one who is expected to wait, to be patient, to always be there when you change your mind again? Do you know what it's like to be shut out by your best friend, the person you trusted with secrets and fears and dreams you'd never shared with anyone on earth before?

Strangely, I'm not destroyed. As much as I loved you and invested in our friendship, and as much as it hurts, I'm beyond functioning. I'm happy. I'm as normal as I ever get (with the exception of minor emotional breakdowns due to a number of factors).

I don't understand how I can be so hurt and so at peace simultaneously. Perhaps it's because I don't really need you. I just wanted you in my life. 

But, when do we ever get everything that we want? 

Perhaps once upon another time.

side job...

...there are few things better than... 

...hearing little voices yell, "She's here! She's here!" when you walk in the door

...being almost thrown off-balance by a hug from Cade as he flings his arms around your knees

...seeing Corrine model her new pajamas (called her "Minnies" in honor of the character on the fabric) after her dad tells you that Corrine has been waiting all day to show you

...receiving a big kiss on one cheek from a laughing little boy and on the other from a grinning little girl

...listening to Cade sing all of the words to the Mickey Mouse Club House theme song as he dances around the front room

...having arms thrown around your neck as a little person whispers "I love you" in your ear

...carrying a sleeping princess up the stairs to bed

...snuggling with a three-year-old in a big, cushy chair and falling asleep to Octonauts in front of the TV

...being asked to stay by Cade when mom and dad came home

...hugs and tiny voiced "good nights!"

How did I get so lucky to be asked to be a babysitter? 

And may I just say...I would rather cuddle with a three-year-old boy than with a grown-up boy any day. No offense, guys. 

in my language...

People have different ways of feeling loved and appreciated. My mom feels loved when someone listens to her. My dad feels loved when someone spends time with him. One of my friends responds well to physical affection. Another friend likes doing activities. While those are not the only ways that they feel loved, those are the primary things that help them know they are cared for. There are a lot of ways that I know people care, but the main thing for me is tokens of affection. Receiving a small gift or a note or a person doing something nice for me is the easiest way for me to recognize that someone cares. Tokens can be anything, really. They can be a note, or a call record that I can look at on a future day, or a leaf from a walk with a friend, or anything really.

Today has seen an outpouring of love in a language that I respond well to. It actually started last night. It's meant so much to me, and I'm so very grateful for the people who took the time to show me that they're aware of me.

1. A letter from Jordan
2. A voice message from Brianna that I saved on my phone
3. Chocolates and lotion from my landlord's little boy because he wanted to say thank you to me for taking care of his dog
4. A text message from Sierra that I was able to save and read again later
5. A CD of LDC music from Ann
6. Dad stopping by my house while I was at work and getting some cleaning done for me before my landlords arrived
7. A loaf of bread left on my porch with a pretty ribbon that had a special message for me -- I don't know who it's from, but I'm grateful to them
8. A note on my Facebook page from Alyssa

Even though it's been a hard day, I've felt loved. I have all of these little reminders that I can hold and look at and experience again. So to my friends and family, thank you.

because I checked the mail box...

I remembered to check the mail tonight for the first time in almost a week. I was expecting the usual, either an empty box or a bunch of items that would find a resting place in the bottom of the recycle bin.

Not so. Sitting on top of the expected pile of bills, magazines, and coupon books was a small envelope, a bit tattered and worn, with familiar handwriting scrawled across the front. Immediately, I recognized the script and had to restrain myself from ripping the envelope open to display the contents right then and there. I hope the neighbors weren't alarmed by the little victory dance and sudden outburst of tears that was displayed in front of the post boxes. There was nothing amiss. There was just a sudden rush of gratitude that I haven't been forgotten, a rush of gratitude and reassurance that was multiplied exponentially when I read the card tucked into the envelope.

"God definitely has a plan for each one of us, and sometimes things happen that we don't expect. But He loves us and everything He does is for our ultimate benefit."

All of the words meant so much, because each one was penned specifically for me (by a person who is very busy being a zone leader and teaching and being awesome). They were written in reference to my dad being diagnosed with cancer earlier this summer, but they apply to everything that has been going on lately: to my dad's illness, financial worries, friends' struggles, my sudden difficulty with health, school, work, relationships.

I'm so grateful for this reminder that things will be okay, and for the reminder that time and distance cannot separate true friendship.