I was supposed to get married today. It's kind of a weird feeling (albeit, not as weird as I had anticipated)--knowing six months ago I walked through a mansion (my future reception hall) and discussed honeymoon cruises with my husband-to-be. But instead, I'm going on a date tonight. Interesting, the trips life takes us on. Now, on to current dilemmas: do I join the Provo hip-hop team, or do I sneak into the World Religions class on Thursday nights?
Finals ended. Holidays started. It's been a wonderful year, and I had plans to write all about my current life quandaries, excitements, understandings, and opinions, but instead, I can't bring myself to ignore a discovery I made this evening. Finally getting past the semester, I've just sat down to reacquaint myself with this wonderful online journal of mine, and in doing so I've been pleasantly distracted with the number of hits I've had from people (boys) googling their names and finding themselves on my dating list. I even had a friend of mine inform me of his discover of my blog. I only wish people would leave comments so I could have more reactions than just that of this solitary friend. The irony of this whole googling thing is for as much as we'd like to know what other people can discover about us by googling our name, we seem to only google our own names! I hadn't intended to make such a list--I truly haven't kept it all my life, I merely complied it during a boring day in my creative writing class a day before posting it--but I'm sure glad I did, seeing how much entertainment it has brought me. So, go ahead, now that you've read this, you know you want to--google yourself.
Although I often have things that draw me away from this blog (e.g. finals, homework, actual people to converse with), I figured you have all the time in the world, and surely you must pine away in front of your computer waiting for me to post again and again and again. Because this must be the case, I thought I'd give you something to occupy your time while I am busy doing other things (e.g. finals, homework, actually conversing with people). Waste some time! Enjoy! ...I did. :)
Thank you YouTube! What would we do without you?...
It's nearly finals and I'm swamped (hello? who has been absent on this blog for the past week); however, I had to squeeze in a few words--maybe it'll help me focus if I can get these non-homework thoughts on this blog so I'm not distracted. Or not. Let's be real, I just don't want to do my homework! Pretty sure I've already written this, but somehow my professors didn't get the memo: I HATE HOMEWORK. I HATE TESTS. I HATE PAPERS. I HATE PRESENTATIONS. I HATE PROJECTS.
I was thinking earlier of how burned out I feel (obviously think about being burned out instead of writing the story that I'm still avoiding--yeah, due tomorrow). I've given up on perfect grades this semester more than ever. With the exception of my Travis term, I've had a 4.0 for nearly a year now--fulfilling my goal of merely wanting one perfect semester. Not merely the all "A"s and one "A-" garbage I've had most of my college career. But I'm ready for a real break. I've been in school for five years straight, including summers, with no break. It's time. Anyway, going back to my earlier thoughts (dang, I'm so easily distracted right now--again, that's why I'm writing this post instead of my paper). Just this semester I finally declared the double major that I've been working on for nearly a year, simultaneously with my original broadcasting major. Declaring gave me so much peace and direction in my life. In addition to helping me feel I had somewhere to be next year, declaring also set a chain of events in motion that resulted in my following through with a dream of interning with National Geographic. I really believe that internship will be very important to me, but I don't know if the double major is as important as I originally believed--or if it was merely a means to an end. We'll see. I've also been reconsidering my potential of serving a mission.
Another thought: lately, I've realized that I'm not scared of seeing Travis on campus anymore. Nearly every time I walked in an open area, I wondered if I would bump into him. I've successful made it an entire semester without seeing him. But it occurred to me a few days ago that it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter if I walked past him, or if he waved, or if he ignored me and looked the other way. None of it would matter. I was scared of crossing paths--scared of what that would do to me emotionally. Yet, it's not him that I'm scared of--actually, I don't think he could bother me anymore whatsoever (took me far too long to get to that point). But I am scared of something. When I actually pictured him walking by, I had a really hard time putting details to the visual. He has already begun fading from my memory, and he's fading fast now. The edges are all blurry as I try to recall the conversations, laughter, love--it's all gone. I just remember a few words--mostly the inappropriate ones, and his eyes. But they don't haunt me anymore. Seeing him just came to represent something I held bottled up inside of me--my desires. I prefer to suppress them, but I'm okay to be vulnerable again--I think. I've had more power than ever in my ability to understand and control my emotions surrounding boys. I think I'm ready to lose control again--I think. Travis, thank you for the lessons you taught me. I hated you for the things you did to me, but I've forgiven you. You were wrong, but we were young. I never want to think of or mention you again. And I wish other boys would stop wanting to talk about it. I hate talking about dates, dating, or dumb dudes on dates. I'm done.
I have a great life! If only this stupid paper would go away and let me live it!
Oh, one more thing. My room-roommate is moving out at the end of this semester--I just found out. Someone new will move in. Weird.
Oh, and one more, more thing. My tongue is blue right now. I just ate an Extreme Sour Warhead! I haven't had one in YEARS! Thanks for sharing, Angela.
Oh, and one more, more, more thing. We cut snowflakes in my apartment to decorate. I cut my finger. My snowflake is now red. Oops. Thought it was supposed to go the other way. Isaiah 1:18: "Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." hehehe.
I walk alone along my path in life. The men surrounding me are merely boys, And will not be my match nor I their wife. I flit from date to date with dancer’s poise, But their left feet destroy the tandem flow. My toes, they hurt! and I resent dim youth Who will not take the lead that real men show: to guide me forward with their moves—so smooth. Someday I may just find my perfect match— The glove that fits my hand with loving ease. And when he comes into my life to catch My eyes and ask me with a gentle ‘please,’ I will not hesitate to say I’ll be His one true love for all eternity.
Joseph Featherstone 1
Trevor Dixon 1 Danny Rich 1 Branden Whiting 1 Matt Behunin 1 Sam Balaza 1 Steve Nelson 1 Taylor Summers 1 Todd Haskin 1 William Day 1 Jared Aida 1 Andrew Christiansen 1 Shem Hawks 1 Joseph Keeler 1 Brett Millet 1 Brad Bishop 1 Evan Grady 1 Bobby Richards 1 Brian Yarrington 1 Chad Steep 1 Chris Clark 1 Jacob Call 1 Trent Boulter 1 Mark Neilson 1 Brent Littlefield 1 Aaron Barker 1 Colten Hadabaugh 1 James Mitchell 1 Chris McLaughlin 1
Ephraim Olson 2-4 Eric Paat 2-4 Josh Worley 2-4 Parker James 2-4 Dan Rescke 2-4 Mike Bishop 2-4 Adam Simmons 2-4 Daniel Jones 2-4 Ryan Lacanienta 2-4 Billy Errico 2-4 Tyler Barber 2-4 Brad Reeder 2-4 Austin Russell 2-4 Brian Gibson 2-4 Dan Bean 2-4 Rob Shepherd 2-4 Jeff Van Hulten 2-4 Nate Amsden 2-4 Ken Clark 2-4 Kevin Taylor 2-4 Travis Boyer 2-4
Robbie Bullough 5-10 Zack Boman 5-10 Seth Wood 5-10 Chad Spencer 5-10 Marshall Jensen 5-10 Paul Montoya 5-10 Moe Smith 5-10
Eric Riddle 10< Aaron Christiansen 10< Jacob Hanks 10< Andrew Fox 10< Mike Morgan 20< Travis Nixon 50<
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, in the 14th century socialmeant fighting between friends?
I'm a fairly social person--so I've been told. Sometimes I enjoy this socializing, and sometimes all I want is to curl up in a warm blanket with the sole company of a good book. Yet quite frankly, in all reality, when I have the choice between people or paper, I drop the books and run. The reason I'm bringing this up is I've noticed I allow people to dictate my mood far too easily. For example, when I actively socialize with all the "right" people, I've had a "good" day; otherwise, I've inexplicably had a miserable one. Well, now I'm explaining. In spite of internal and external professions, I must really care what people think of me. Actually, I know I do. Consequently, I suppose I interpret social action as an invariable reflection of that thought--that judgment of who I am, what I'm capable of becoming, and how much I'm worth. Don't get me wrong, I don't need every person to smile and pointedly tell me "hi" just so I don't kill myself. I do have self worth, and I do understand this without social reminders. But I think it's normal to define one's self based on social acceptance. I don't want this to be so, but it is, and I succumb to social pressures every day. Why can't I just not care? Or should I? Do you think socializing with the masses is important? Should we care what the masses think? say? do?
For the first time in quite a while, I feel at peace with nearly everything in my life. There is such a sweet satisfaction with letting go of the things in life that cause stress and emotional grief, letting go of expectations. AHHH...a sigh of relief and relaxation. Now, just two weeks left of school and I'm home free.
These are the words I submitted to my department when applying for the broadcasting program (with a few changes and additions since). Do I still want to be a journalist? Do I still believe these words?
Broadcast journalism is not about being on television, ending a report with your own name, or standing next to important people. Journalism is much more than this. Journalists are story tellers committed to the truth—the whole truth, while telling the story of life.
News is real—the story told through the eyes of the journalist. While journalists are meant to tell the stories of life, their interpretation and emphasis may differ. Journalist hold the very important role of information gatekeeper, deciding what successfully passes through the gate or not. Therefore, the eyes of the gatekeeper, and how they see the world, are vitally important for every one of their viewers.
When I look at the world, I see life a little deeper than name brands and magazine covers. I want to see beyond the latest fad, perhaps to the store employee that struggles to sell that fad to support a family.
Throughout my experiences in journalism, I have been privy to a world unseen by the everyday citizen. While working at Classical 89 Radio and KBYU Television, I have been privileged to research about and talk with many people. Knowing I have the opportunity to better the world by reporting about the importance of knowledge, culture, accomplishment and family, gives me a sense of purpose. This opportunity to improve the world around me comes through the title of “journalist.”
While working on my education in broadcasting, I was able to experience circumstances that exist for journalists on a daily basis. Although journalists must consolidate all aspects of a story into a mere few minutes for broadcast, sometimes, the most personally powerful moments do not make it to air. As a journalist, I have been fortunate to hear the parts of a story edited out of the final project, the parts that will never reach the eyes of the audience, but will always remain with me.
Reporting is not about being on TV. It is about being in the moment behind the camera, putting the people on the screen. It is helping the audience to really see. Journalism is not about buying the fancy makeup or ensuring that every day is a good hair day for the anchor. I know what it is like to have technical problems, to stand around at a meeting for hours without managing to capture even ten seconds of usable footage, to hit dead ends, to do the grunt work just to allow someone else to slap their name on your project, to work with irritable people and under pressure. But I also know that the story is worth the fight. I know what it is like when everything comes together, and you know you are making a difference. I am the eyes my audience looks through to see the world. This is what journalism is to me; this is why I want to be a journalist.
Today a woman shared with me a toast that she and her roommates used to give in college before they would have a drink together (water of course). I thought you might find it handy at some dinner, so here it is.
Here’s to the boys that we like. Here’s to the boys that like us. Since the boys that we like aren’t the boys that like us, to heck with the boys here’s to us.
I liked it. Even shed a few tears. :) Recommended.
I've been thinking a lot about love lately; and I have a variety thoughts to express on the subject, but I just don't think I'll get to them all tonight. Maybe eventually--in time.
I don't even know where to begin. Well, maybe for once I can just write as I used to on this blog--senseless ramblings, unfiltered jabber.
I spoke with a male friend tonight on the phone for nearly two hours. We're just friends, well, good acquaintances. And he asked me a lot of questions about my relationship with Travis. I've told that story so many times--some recounts include "these" details, others "those," and some none at all. But rarely do the words I say truly tell the story. No body really wants to hear that story.
Honestly, I don't mind talking with people about my dating life, both past and present. I don't mind, but I rarely get through such conversations without a churning stomach and nasty after-flavor. There is no need for apologies by those who bring up the topic, sometimes I really do need the talk. The problem is, I want someONE to tell my stories to. Male or Female, really, either will do. I just need a real friend, a best friend. You know, the "bosom buddy" type. I enjoy my friends and acquaintances, but I'm tired of pretending.
Do I pretend all the time? No, I don't think so. But I know I pretend often enough I confuse even myself about who I really am inside. I had a four-hour conversation a few weeks ago with the same young man mentioned above. During this conversation I let myself out a little. It's not like I divulged some deep dark secret, I only became really excited about Plato, Oedipus, and Freud. I really enjoyed myself throughout the conversation, but after a few days of thinking, I kicked myself for it. I felt so ridiculously nerdy for explaining the entire back-story of Oedipus Rex, and I felt like an overall dork for babbling so long to someone who is practically a stranger to me. He plays football and runs for Student Body President--so, he probably has an entourage of attractive women. I wonder what type of man would be interested in me.
I love love. There is something magical about it. But at this point in my life, it's easier to look the other way. I wouldn't say I'm bitter. And I've even quenched the loneliness I felt before by filling my life with many wonderful things. Yet, in spite of my rebellious attitude--planning the next ten years of my life as though I were single--there is a small grain of something inside me that says this it is so very wrong of me to picture myself alone.
Do you believe in true love? How about "meant to be" or "the one"?
Why is love seen as a cliche in today's world?
* * *
I just received a card from Gma S. in the mail. We've have this exchange going on for the past little while where I call her and then she "responds" by writing and mailing me a letter/card. It's very sweet. I love hand-written snail-mail. One day, since we're on the topic of love, I want someone to snail-mail me love letters one day.
This is written on the front of the card:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
In her note, my Gma writes about a grandmother's love. She says that, like God's love, we have an boundless capacity to love. So what is love? Does this scripture depict Godly love? Is this what we should mean every time we say "I love you"?
Love to me:
-Inside Jokes -Peace -Hugs that consume my whole body and fill me with giddiness -Forgiveness -A confidant -Sharing -Imperfections -Road trips -Family -Good food -Understanding -Selflessness -Putting you before me -Respect -Caressing -A pedestal -Late nights filled with "I love you"s -Unconditional -Safe -Letting go of expectations -Never giving up -Honor -Deep conversations -Tenderness -Thought -Romance -Frozen chocolate -Kindness -Best friend -Complementing and complimenting -Passion -Star gazing -Honesty -Meaning what you say -Saying nice things -Babies -Patience -Humility -Dancing -Working things out -Giggling -Kisses -Communication -Secrets with, not from -Lazy Saturday mornings in bed -Agreeing to disagree -Eternity -Red roses -God -Bryan Adams -Gentlemen
Well, DanceSport competition has, yet again, come and gone. My partner and I successfully made it through all of the preliminary rounds, but were cut just before Quarterfinals. It was a pleasant competition--long enough to have fun, but short enough to get me to my job interview on time.
While in high school, my A.P. English teacher asked for a list of the 100 things we wanted to do before we died. I can remember seriously considering what to put on my list for about the first twenty-five, and then google searching others' lists and copying likable sections just to fill the assignment. I don't know where that list is now--probably in a bucket, buried deep under the stairs in my parents' basement (the irony--my bucket list, buried six-feet under).
I hope to live to a ripe old age (whatever that means); but I would hate to get there and not feel as though I had lived my dreams. So, this way, if I make a list I can be sure to stay on task for the next 50 years. And while "100" feels like such a daunting number to begin with, ten seems more manageable for now--and I will most definitely add to it as I go.
1. Go to Africa 2. Write a novel 3. Air one of my documentaries 4. Road trip across country 5. Get married 6. Acquire photography skills 7. Play "Drive" by Incubus on my guitar 8. Go on a cruise 9. Get my master's degree 10. Compete in an amateur ballroom competition
While walking through a hall on campus, I saw a colleague hiding her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks behind the back of her hand. She was attempting to talk on the phone, but all that came out were cries of desperation and sobs of deep pain. I wanted to reach out to her, comfort her, but I felt awkward as we were merely acquaintances. After skulking off, my conscience finally won, and I found the courage to turn around and check on her. I gave a sad attempt at hugging her, but it was useless, because she quickly gestured her desire to be alone. I couldn't help. Only minutes earlier I had discussed her work with her and she was fine. Now, she felt a wrenching pain--the kind that came from the bottom of your gut and ripped holes in your soul. But I couldn't help.
Later I found out she had received horrible news: her cousin had committed suicide.
I thought of the one person I had known to commit suicide. It was the father of two of my dance students. Memories of him began running through my mind. I can so clearly remember him sitting in the lounge of the dance studio. He was always so kind. I don't think I ever knew his name, but he knew mine, and he always made it a point to ask me about my life when I took the girls out for a mid-class trip to the drinking fountain. He seemed to enjoy the updates I gave him, and he was the only father who ever associated with me. I really liked him. I knew he and his wife were divorced, and I'm sure there were valid reasons why that was so, but I liked his ex-wife as well. His daughters were some of my favorite students.
I can remember the day I found out what he'd done. I noticed he'd stopped coming in to pick up the girls, as he always had in the evenings. I guess I'd assumed the family's schedule changed, and he switched to dropping them off, or something of the like. One of the other dance teachers made reference to how well the girls were both doing, and how glad everyone was to have them back in classes. When I obviously didn't understand what my colleague was talking about, she explained. I felt sick for days. He shot himself in the front yard just before his girls left his house. They were there. A fifteen and eight year old. Present. Saw it. Heard it. Sickening. I felt nauseous for days, and I didn't even know him all that well. So what if he had his problems. How selfish can you be? I get down. I think poorly about myself. I have rough spouts--like today, for example. Today I've thought very negative thoughts. Does that mean I can give up?
My mother's friend committed herself to a hospital's psych ward this summer. She said she needed some peace and quiet and a good night's sleep.
I wish I were stronger. I wish I never doubted. I wish I could be more. But I know my weaknesses act as teachers, which cause me to grow and learn and become better than anything I otherwise could have become. I hurt, oh I hurt so deeply. I don't think I've been completely whole for some time now. Often, I pretend: to be O.K., to care, to smile. But my life is also full of joy and learning and love. I have a testimony of the healing and enabling powers of the savior. I desire perfect happiness and exaltation through him. Yet, I understand this life isn't meant for happily ever afters. It is for ups and downs, that is what makes us grow, what makes us fulfill the potential the Lord sees in us. I am so blessed. I am so grateful--even for the trials, and I know I can't give up. I don't want to give up, because tomorrow will be better. And today is good. The gospel brings me peace and joy and light. It is the source of happiness. It is love. And God answers prayers.
The words in this video hit me as though they were the words of my Heavenly Father, speaking the thoughts of a parent to a child on his knee. Thank you, Father. Thank you for everything.
Sorry. I feel as though that were very depressing. Believe me when I say I have a good life. I'm just down about my co-worker's cousin, and the sadness this life brings each and every one of us.
I've done a lot of self-reflecting recently, some of which has been negative and some positive. I often find reasons to evaluate my life, but this time, oddly enough, my motivation came from a fashion blog. I've read this blog for about three weeks now, and began putting down my supposed lack of fashion and culture. While walking on campus I looked down at my ratty shoes--five dollar black clogs from a thrift store--that had been torn out on the side for over a year now. The tape I had once colored black and used to hold the shoe together remained only in pieces on a part of the shoe's sole. And the staples that had also failed miserably to keep the shoe intact were also barely hanging on--something the shoe in its entirety managed every time I wore it. I began questioning my passionate preference of frugality over self gratification. But Julie's blog, along with several others, created such a desire to splurge, I took a plunge this weekend and spent about $60. Really, I bought five shirts and many necessary household items, so I was able to contain myself somewhat. But as I stood in the checkout line my stomach churned at the thought of the six dollar bottle of lotion I had in my hand. I knew there were several brands that were cheaper than this one. But it was the one I wanted, and I bought it. Deep inside of me it felt good to walk out of the store with a name brand item, but my shoulder angel warned me not to get used to the feeling. While an occasional splurge is nice, it's my frugality that allows me to plan on New York and Africa next year, and my frugality that allows me to have enough money to serve others while I myself struggle financially. So, while I do plan on keeping a tight pocket, I also plan on changing my image just a bit. Maybe I just will throw those shoes out. But then again, it never really was about the money--it's always been about me.
Today I found pornographic pass-along cards in the gutter near my house. Now, I’m not so naive to believe these things don’t exist in Provo—of course they do, in more lives than I even care to think about, and in more ways (Don’t even get me started on last week’s Halloween costumes—the holiday that allows every sicko Mormon girl to “dress up.”). However, people often use the description of "strewn cards in the road" to depict Las Vegas—on the strip no less; but Provo? I don't know where they came from, but don't worry, I knew where they were going: I picked them up and trashed them in the near-by dumpster.
Saving the world—one porn card at a time.
I'm not doing very (good/well) right now. Just thinking about this Elang usage test (affects/effects) my physical, mental and emotional well being. The (above/same) has (a/an) historic reputation for causing such discomfort. My professor (implied/inferred) (that) a good grade on this exam could (be) quite difficult to achieve. (If/Whether) I pass this test (and/or) get a good grade, I just might not feel so (bad/badly) about myself. I've (continuously/continually) thought about this test and considered (laying/lying) down to easy the ache at the base of my head; but I (kind of/sort of) think I should stay up and study more. I am (one of those anal types who stress(es)) all the time , and (whoever/whomever) tells me to "calm down" simply is (disinterested/uninterested) in (my) passing this (battery of tests). I (myself) know I'm going to be (all right/alright), but this test is just (different from/than) any other test I've ever taken. Often (one) feels as though they are drifting (farther/further) and (farther/further) away from (their) goals. But (due to the fact that) this test will have (fewer/less) questions than I originally anticipated, I'm sure I (ain't) going to do horridly. The (reason I get stressed is because), (between/among) you and (I/me), I'm simply not prepared. Tests sneak up on me (as/like) a monster in the night. I just (can't not) pass this test. I (shall/will) be successful!
Multiple people have logged onto my blog several times without revealing their identity. I'm particularly curious who's reading from Ithaca, New York. If y'all could just post and say "hi," I'd be tickled pink inside.
Sincerely, Me
p.s. Y'all should comment more--it'd make me feel all good 'bout myself and stuff.
Ok, so I'm supposed to be writing a short story right now for my Adv. Creative Writing class, but instead I'm going to tell you a short story. :) I took off to California last weekend on a whim! I've been thinking about my college experience for the past several weeks and realized I haven't done anything "special." Oh, believe me, I have college stories, but they didn't seem to be enough. I wanted spontaneity--something I'm actually quite terrible at doing. I haven't missed a day of school in two years, and the day I missed two years ago was only for my interview to be accepted into my major! It was time. I needed excitement, fun and adventure. So, when an email came asking if I could help film a documentary in California, what do I do? I went!
Beautiful Beach
Erin R., Brittney G., Brooke G., Me
Erin R., Brittney G., Brooke G., Me
Brittney G., Me, Brooke G. (The man in the background with the spearfishing stick and tattoos carried me through the rocks in the next picture!)
Dangerous rocks
Erin's friend Kevin caught a fish spearfishing
Showing of his Halibut--just before wiping some of the blood on his cheeks!
Beautiful sunsets
Seaweed hugged my ankles, saltwater kissed my lips, the sun warmed my soul and waves washed my spirits fresh.
Why do I get upset about the most stupid things. Today should have been an amazing day, but for some reason it just wasn't. I'm tired, my head hurts and I'm abnormally grumpy. First of all, I missed three questions on my ELang grammar assignment. Why are the rules surrounding effect/affect so difficult for me? Then at work I just felt a hole. My coworker was laid-off on Monday at BYUB for "financial reasons." I suppose the claim of financial problems is legit, but management really handled the whole thing poorly. The day she was notified, with no prior warning whatsoever mind you, all of her daily radio tracks were turned over to a student and the combination locks on all of the doors were changed. Yesterday she came in to clear out the rest of her belongings and get her work from the computer to build a resume tape of her productions. But, like I said, the door was locked and they removed her rights from the computer so she couldn't get on--but technically it was her last day as still an employee! Horrible. So, I guess seeing her corner cleared out and dark just left a bad taste in my mouth. And my other coworker wanted to talk about a mutual male friend of ours who I might be interested in, but I've been on this 'no gossip' kick, and have no interest in talking about boys. Then in my dance class we've been practicing our performance routine for next Wednesday--which I have been more than excited about--but my teacher changed my partner for height reasons. I was ticked! I shouldn't have been; I should have been charitable and happy I could make accommodations so my partner could go to a taller girl without a partner, but I wasn't! I wish I could feel that way, but it's no use. I'm no longer excited about my performance whatsoever. After that I watched a video recording of myself in my next class. I realized how unattractive I am. I knew I wasn't supermodel quality, but I never thought I was plain. Then I did very poorly on another quiz. If average on these quizzes is three points, shouldn't the professor give it up?! Oh, and after feeling really excited to find I got "accepted" to the NY Nat Geo internship, I found out it wont be final until MARCH! I don't know if I can wait that long. My head hurts.
I know this is kind of long, but I didn't have the heart to cut anything out. This is the first email we've received from my cousin since he touched ground in Armenia. It's letters like this that really open my eyes to the world we fail to remember on a daily basis. I love him and his brother, who is also serving a mission at this time. I'm so grateful for their decisions to serve.
I know the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the only path that leads to true happiness. I wish I could serve a mission and proclaim this to the world. One day I will understand why God wants me here--in lil' old Provo, Winter of 2009--I know he has a purpose for my life.
what up after 3 days of traveling i finally made it to armenia. we got in at about 2 am, then went over and slept at the mission presidents house. we got up at 630, ate breakfast, and then interviewed real quick with the president and were assigned where we would serve. we had a quick orientation with the ap's, and then went over to the spot where the armenia mission was dedicated by elder oaks. We read the dedicatory prayer and had a chance to look out across yerevan and mount arat and ponder. it was a cool experience. after that we headed to the "genocide" museum and learned more about it. Arenia has been through so much, from the genocide to the soviet power .I definitely admire them for the courage and strength to be still standing. After that, we cruised over to the mission office, where a taxi was waiting for me. Without warning, I was told "good bye elder lusk, have fun in Alaverdi." I got in and sped off. Alaverdi is basically the most northern place in Armenia. It sits on top of a mountain and is located on a plateau that overlooks a canyon. To get to the village, you take this chair lift thing ( it is like a really old, rickety Gondola), and it takes you up. It was about a 4 hour ride to get there. We stopped in Vanazor, which was about three hours away. to pick up my new companion, elder gull. He is from orem and is way legit. we are a lot alike so it works out well. Anyways, we finally got to Alaverdi, hopped out, and rode the lift thing up to our village. I thought I had prepared as well as I could for a culture shock, but I dont think it was possible to prepare for what came. I guess my mind didn't really know that something like this existed, so preparing for it was basically impossible. It felt like something out of a movie, like a really old russian town or something. I had a bunch of pictures but i brought the wrong cord so i'll get them to you next week. its a very beautiful town; lots of trees that in fall colors, and a river that runs at the bottom of the canyon beneath our village. theres basically just a bunch of apartment looking things that just look unfinished. theres a few houses that just look like old cottages. people also live in these things that are made out of sheet metal, and they are about as big as an average bedroom. We get water for about 30 min in the morning and at night (on a good day9<:), and as for the toilets there isn't any flushing going on. you do your thang and then grab a bucket of water and pour it in to flush it out. our shower(if you can call it that)is pretty interesting to. ill get the pic of it sent next week.... well anyways, its been good so far. my first night in alaverdi we had 3 appointments set up. i couldn't understand to much, but i got the main ideas of what everyone was saying. our last meeting was at a ward members apartment, and we were meeting with her nephew. this ward member is very strong and has an unbelievable testimony. before this area was opened up 2 years ago, she has a dream that to missionaries is suits came to her house and taught her about jesus christ. when the two missionaries got there, one of which was my mtc teacher, she recognized them and recognized the names from her dream, and she was the first person baptized there. well, we were teaching her nephew about faith and about the commandments. he had already met with the missionaries before and knew about what we were talking about. i didn't speak much, but at the end i just decided to bear my testimony. i told him that i didnt know much armenian, but that god loved him very much and asked me to come to his house to bring him this special message. i said that the message i had would change his life, that it was the message of salvation, and that he had a savior who would take all his burdens. i talked about god's plan for him and said that the gospel has been restored and god has called missionaries to proclaim it. And last i told him that i knew without a doubt that this church was the only true church on the face of the earth, and that god wanted him to be baptized. That night, we set a baptismal date for Arsen. Yesterday, we went to church and watched gen. conference. the church is a room underneath the town hall, which you have to take the lift down from where we are to get to. we have about 40 members, although only about 20 come because the others can't afford to take the lift down, which costs 80 dram, which is about 20 cents. I told elder gull to get ahold of the members and tell them that anyone that wanted to come to church from now on i would pay for their lift down, so hopefully we'll get some more people. we have one melchezedeck priesthood holder who is the branch president. elder gull is his counselor and i am the other counselor/clerk. we have two aaronic priesthood holders, two boys that are 12 and 13. they pass the sacrament for us each week. luckily yesterday was gen conf day, so i didnt have to talk or teach, but every sunday me and elder gull wil give the talks and teach sunday school. After church, we met with an investigator there, and then went home for lunch. We had 4 appointments set up for that night so we got on that after lunch. One of the appointments was with a man named Artur. Again I couldn't say much, but I helped my companion teach him about the restoration and the book of mormon. I felt myself going back to one thing again, and that was my testimony. I bore him my testimony and again said that God has called me to proclaim this message to anyone that would hear and be willing to follow Jesus Christ. That night, we set a baptisimal date for Artur. Tonight, we are going to teach him about that commandments and the word of wisdom, because he is a heavy smoker like most people in armenia. I am confident that if he turns to the savior the smoking wont be a problem anymore. anyways, the work here is good. im in a town where the church is brand new, so we are building it up just as they did in the early church. i have been touched by how humble and nice the people are. they really have nothing at all. more nothing than i thought existed. yet, they will give you everything they have. i think everyone just has one pair of clothes, and the kids basically look abandoned and dirty. the children are awesome, they love the missionaries. one of the 12 year old boys with the aaronic priesthood likes to follow us around with his flashlight, to give us light and carry our bags. he wants to serve a mission after the army(everyone is required to give service to the army for like 3 years when they are 18). hes legit. i like talking to him because i dont feel bad when i screw up. i am so grateful for everything i have and for this gospel. it is the light in a world of complete darkness. it amazes me of how much God loves each individual and knows each of us better than we know ourselves. last night, we taught a lot of the children about Jesus Christ. As all the kids swarmed me and at on my lap, everyone completely covered in dirt and with shoes, I for the first time in my life felt like the Savior. I could care less about how dirty the kids were, or where I was, but I unconditionally loved each one. I showed them pictures of Jesus and told them that Jesus loved them very much. To see each of their faces light up made my day. This gospel is all about love, it is what Jesus Christ lived and died for, and it is what He taught. I have already fell in love with the people here, and am so excited to have this opportunity to serve my God and King. Service is happiness, and I am grateful to fulfill the prophecy Christ that says "the gospel will be taken to every creature..."
I haven't permitted myself to shed those salty drops from the corners of my eyes for some time now; but tonight was the night. I hid in my closet and cried.
You wake up just a bit too early on a Saturday morning. The air in your bedroom is cool and crisp, as air on a fall morning—or any other day, for that matter—should be. Although you’re fully well aware of all the responsibilities this Saturday contains, it’s not yet time to expose your toes to the harshness of the shivering weather. You hunker back down in a fluffy red comforter, not to sleep, no, just to be for a few more minutes. Perfect.
You know how everyone asks if you feel any different on your birthday, any older? And of course you answer "no." Well, today I feel different. ...no, you didn't forget my birthday. I passed the Utah State Novice test for American Sign Language interpreting!!!!! I'm pretty sure something changed inside of me today. I now walk like an interpreter.
Dear Anna:
Congratulations!You have been awarded the Novice Level Certificate! I commend you on your accomplishment. Your certificate, certification card, and other information will be sent separately.
I am yet again "finding myself," and I love it! Just as relationships develop over time, I believe we must develop an understanding of ourselves--a relationship with ourselves, so to speak. We constantly change, and constantly need to reacquaint ourselves with who we are as individuals. I have learned more about myself through God this year than ever before, and I know I should be able to say that every year for the rest of my life. I am strong. I am competent. I have a burning testimony of my Savior and his gospel. I love talking. I'm often very prideful, but I wish so very much that I weren't. I love cooking. I love making others happy. I always strive to please those around me. I need attention. I think very little of myself most of the time, while simultaneously putting myself above others. I often worry about my future. I can't really picture myself finding love again. I love music. I love writing. I love the temple. I talk back when I shouldn't. I hold myself to an extraordinarily high standard. I feel pressured to achieve perfection. I make my bed every day. I love food. Dancing makings me very happy. Sign language tickles my insides and always makes me smile. I want to serve the Lord. I want to find an eternal best friend. I want to fix my daughters' hair (when I have them of course). I hate social games/manipulation/pettiness. I highly dislike television reporting while working three jobs and taking classes (even if this gets me into trouble with my professor...ugh!). I love my family so much. I want to have ducks again. I can't wait to go to Africa! I wish I had a car. I can't always decipher between right and wrong. I judge people harshly. I wish I could change a lot about myself. I have a definite liking for physicality with boys; but in spite of this attraction/desire I can't even allow myself to continually date an individual who doesn't meet standards (unlike roommates who think dating is for physicality). I can give my heart and soul in eternal commitment to my future husband. I wish I were a better writer. I'm grateful for my current roommates. I need to read the scriptures daily (as in: I need to do better at this). I allow Satan to work on me. Laughing causes me great joy. I hate working with arrogant people. Sometimes I think inappropriate things are very funny. I get confused with my own feelings. Crisp autumn air is one of my favorite things. I hate ice skating. Nuts make me gag. I hate being smothered by boys. I allow boys to validate me. I feel as though I have no real friends apart from those with which I am related. I wish I were funny. Often, I feel as though I fake being smart. Cleaning helps me feel good about myself. I'm always tired and hungry. I'm like an onion.
I figured it all out--wasn't that hard, really. I have the next two years of my life planned out. Of course, things never go as planned, but it's a nice thought. Today was good.
Oh, and by the way, I've decided to post here occasionally...again. I've been avoiding the pictures below (Travis and I broke up...and I didn't want to make a choice about whether or not I should delete the posts...I guess ignoring the issue is the same as the "not" choice, but in my head they were different); and instead of writing here, I've written in my "real" journal for the past little while. But I think I can manage and do both. However, no commitments...
So, technically I should be asleep right now--either that or working on my unfinished research paper, due tomorrow. But I couldn't suppress the long-time call of my abandoned blog.
I must say, I've been quite pleasantly distracted lately: who could resist the sweet aroma of his collar bone? I love running my nose up his soft cheek and down his strong shoulder in search of the source of such fragrance. I love him, really.
I'm also in love with life in general. Even the difficult classes I always find reasons to complain about, I love them too. My classes are pushing me to grow and learn. The sun is shining. I have two wonderful jobs during a time of economic uncertainty. I have a lovely bed, in a lovely room, a room all to my own. I'm starting a sign language interpreting program in three weeks, and counting. I love life.
Today Travis and I kissed in front of a large group of fifteen year old EFY campers. They squirmed and then applauded. Travis loved it; I searched for the sweet aroma of his collar bone.
