I AM

Dinner for One, Please.

2011-08-29T22:03:00.002-06:00

Robbie is gone all week.

First time ever sleeping in an empty house.

Expecting a night of heavy eyes but no rest.

Hopefully the "baby killer" from Law and Order doesn't come to get me.

Ordinary Days

2011-08-25T20:46:00.001-06:00

Sunday Robbie and I hit 3 months of marriage. Can you believe it?

We've learned so much about each other and ourselves, and have loved every minute of it!

Our biggest adventure as of late has been living with only one car that just so happened to break down two days ago. After over $1000 of repairs, we're up and running again...like I said, an adventure.

In the meantime, before we venture into the world of people-who-own-two-cars, we survive with carefully coordinated schedules and bus passes.

Bus culture is something else. I've ridden the bus for years--6am through SLC, 3 hours to get from college to visit home for a holiday weekend, a summer of New York rides, and now an hour and a half to and from work every day. I'd say I've had my share of experiences on public transportation.

Just the other day I wound up as the only passenger for a 30 minute ride. I hear the entire life story of my driver.

This one was a new one though. I overheard the bus driver inform someone that he'd gotten a complaint from a rider... a complaint that he was too good looking. Ha! Gotta love riding the bus.

Oh, and it's football season. Four months until I see my husband again...

Dang, I love that man.

More Wedding Pictures

2011-08-06T14:26:00.000-06:00

Moving Up in the World - Level Two!!!

2011-07-16T00:07:00.001-06:00

Today I took the Professional Level Utah State Certification test for American Sign Language interpreters.

I can't even begin to tell you how much work, stress, and tears went into practicing for this test.

Currently, I am a Level One, novice, certified interpreter with the state.

I feel that the test went fairly well. It's comprised of five sections, and I believe I may have passed four out of the five. I have little hope for one of the sections; however, realistically I won't have any of the results for another 14-16 weeks!

I guess pass or fail life goes on. ...but I sure hope I passed!!!

Peanut Butter Side Up

2011-07-05T19:38:00.002-06:00

So...marriage.

There are so many things that I can say about my mere month and a half in this new world of two-becoming-oneness.

Surprisingly, while I am learning more and more about Robbie through our marriage (like how he has to have a turkey and ham sandwich with the ham on the mustard side and the turkey on the mayo side with a piece of cheese in the middle; or how he'll only eat his PB&Js peanut butter side up; or how he manages to not only steal all the blankets during the night, but also finds a way to steal my pillow in his sleep as well), honestly, he is who I've always known him to be--he is all the reasons for which I married him (I love him so much). But really, I feel as though I'm rediscovering myself more than I'm discovering him.

During all of the stresses in my life over the past year, including planning a wedding!!, I got so caught up in trying to "figure out" how every day would play out and if I would survive, I forgot some of the things that make me who I am--the things that make me happy.

As organization, peace, and happiness settle deeply into my daily life, I'm slowly digging up old treasures of thoughts, dreams, talents, and goals.

I found this quote on a blog today and it struck the cord my heart has been searching for--like a tune stuck in your head, but you don't even realize you're humming it until the words suddenly rush out of your mouth.

It also seemed an appropriate story to wed the topics of marriage and my rediscovery of my love of the written word.

oh, and ps. In my process of redefining myself as Anna Bullough, I'm looking to freshen up the blog. Ideas welcome. Should I change my URL and everything???

Date a Girl Who Reads by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by God, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

I'M BACK!!!!!!!!! ...and married. :)

2011-07-02T21:51:00.001-06:00

Hello!!!

I feel as though it's been ages since I've even sat down to a computer for anything other than work. I don't know how many people will even ever look at this blog again thanks to my prolonged absence. But I suppose I can send this update out to the blogosphere anyway.

Wanna see some wedding pics?

Even better pics to come!

-Anna Louise Bullough

A Million Years

2011-05-05T21:03:00.000-06:00

It's been so longs since I've written, my computer no longer has any saved memory of my every visiting my own blog.

Sad.

I almost couldn't remember my password. :-S

Time to rectify.

Hmm.... how to catch up a million years?....

Cutting the details.

Started a new job.

Maybe I already told you that.

Working my new job.

Crazy, busy, officey, overwhelming at times, perfect at others, making me money, improving my language skills times a billion. For those of you who don't know the facts, I'm working in the translation dept. of LDS Church Headquarters. I'm the ASL Supervisor. ASL truly is one of the loves of my life. Just wish I were better at it. I'm responsible for all of the events that need ASL interpretation--anything from an in-house Family History Devotional to General Conference. I don't actually interpret for the events, but rather hire the interpreters, do all the paper work, ensure the quality of the film production (all ASL materials need to be produced visually since the language is visual).

I am also the interpreter for two Deaf employees. They are both wonderful men to work with; however, I must say that this is where %90 of the intimidation of my job came from. I expect a lot from myself in my work, and I've never settled for less than the best, but it's so hard when you feel that your best just isn't cutting it. I was so nervous to interpret the first few weeks, my hands shook like crazy (awful when you're trying to interpret!) and I kept signing really dumb things. Slowly thought the nerves are fading away, and my language skills improve every day.

Although I'm over interpreting, some of my work allows me to dabble in translating as well (interpreting is from spoken to spoken--or signed--languages and translating involves a written form. i.e. taking a song and translating it into another language). This aspect really allows me to thing about the meaning behind things we say all the time, which I love to do. And it also lets me really focus on the best way to sign certain things.

Love it. Just hope I can be everything I need to be in this position.

I've also been swimming in wedding plans. ONLY TWO AND A HALF WEEKS LEFT!!!!!!!!!! I know! SUPER CRAZY. I just wish I could slow down and enjoy two minutes. Luckily, most things are taken care of, it's just the bazillion little details we have left.

What's been so fun is setting up house with Robbie. I seriously think he's gotten into it more than me. Last weekend we had a free Friday night--something we've not had in a very long time. Robbie called me to go over options of what we can do. He said we can either A. go to Ikea and look for some things still on our list or B. go to our house and clean up and unpack some more. I couldn't help but laugh. I thought it was so funny that Robbie wanted to either go shopping or play house on a Friday night. Our house really is so wonderful! And it's going to be even more so when we're both there!!!

Well, that's all I have time for. Maybe I can even post some pics soon!!!!

Are You Bored?

2011-03-18T21:51:00.000-06:00

This site made me laugh. :)

Dear Scissors,
I feel your pain... No one wants to run with me either.
Sincerely, Sarah Palin.

Dear sidewalk designers,
Please make the tiles either a little longer or a little shorter. It's tough to not step on the cracks while still appearing to walk like a normal person.
Sincerely, OCD.

Dear celebrities,
Yeah, if I had the money to buy designer clothes, have a personal trainer and a stylist I would probably look smokin' hot everyday too.
Sincerely, the rest of America.

Dear guys,
If your chest hair resembles a sweater, then it's time to trim it.
Sincerely, grossed out girls.

Dear medication,
Why are half of the side effects the symptoms I was taking the pill for in the first place?
Sincerely, confused.

Playing House

2011-03-18T14:47:00.003-06:00

My mother told Robbie the other day that I have wanted to "play house" since I was younger.

Really, what little girl doesn't play house at least once in their childhood? Even little boys occasionally get "roped in" (they like it) to being the "Daddy" or in my brothers' case, playing the Ken doll.

But it's true. I do very much so have a homemaker streak right through the middle of me. I always said I wanted to be a mommy when I grew up. And while I'm not even close to the mommy part yet (I hope that's a few years away!), I am more than tickled to start with the house part.

Robbie and I went furniture shopping the other day. It was so fun to jump from couch to couch and think which set will be a part of many memories to come. Robbie's really funny about picking the couch too, he says it's just as important as picking a good bed since it may be his bed when I'm not happy. Really, Robbie wont be able to put that on me though, he's always sleeping on the couch now without a wife sending him there. It will probably end up being his bed most of the time because that's where he'll fall asleep and I'll either have to squish on with him, or just cover him with a blanket.

Just before our two hours at the furniture store, we spent two hours cleaning out the last 30 years of dirty from the window sills of our house-to-be. Hopefully it wont take two hours to clean five windows next time!

We also spent about an hour, after officially putting the utilities in our name, touring the little area around our house. I am SO EXCITED. There is this cute little antique store around the corner, a cemetery up the street, a dance studio down the street, and the old fashion diner just around the corner. Robbie's excited to get our first utility bill so we can take it in and get library cards. :)

We're pretty sappy right now, but I can't help that I'm so happy. It's official, I think I've made it to cloud nine.

Wedding plans are coming along. 64 MORE DAYS!

I'm So Much More Mature Today

2011-03-11T20:52:00.001-07:00

In anticipation for moving into my new house with Robbie (YIPPY!), I've been picking through my piles of junk and "stuff."

After hearing about the load of boxes with which I've already filled our kitchen-to-be, Robbie has carefully asked me to try and not "collect 'stuff.'"

This is a weakness of mine. I am acknowledging this now. I do like "stuff," but I love the memories associated with things of my past. I'm tickled every time I pull out a random trinket from "that one time," or a poem I wrote so long ago. My hand hesitates over the garbage can. What to do?

We learn so much from our past. Have you ever looked back on your life a year, several years ago and thought, "I've grown up so much since then"? Well, I do this all the time. And I know my flippant feelings of being so much more mature now will only fade tomorrow when I look down my nose at the me of yesterday.

Sometimes I think the things I worried and carried so much about were silly and insignificant. I suppose this is a signal that I'm growing up. I would be more concerned if I were interested in the same things now as my 15-year-old self. However, in my piles of papers I spent the evening sifting through, I found a half sheet of paper with the title "goals for 2008." Granted, it's only been three years, but I was quite taken aback to see that I had the exact same goals this year as I had three years ago. Many people don't believe in New Year's Resolutions, I know Robbie doesn't. And I almost didn't make any this year. But I'm glad I did.

I love seeing progression in my life--sometimes harder to detect than the list of goals that has hung over my head for years.

Speaking of growth, I've been picking through pics for a video Robbie and I are putting together for our reception. Here's my new favorite picture of Robbie. I'm obsessed.

Wedding Plans

2011-03-10T09:25:00.003-07:00

Things are moving along quite nicely. ONLY 72 MORE DAYS UNTIL I GET MARRIED!!!!

I've been engaged for almost three weeks now, and here's what we have finished:
-Temple room booked
-Reception hall booked
-Tour of reception hall for finalizing decoration layout scheduled
-Purchased wedding dress, have an appointment next week for alterations
-Colors picked
-Refreshments decided upon, and arrangements made with vendor
-Photog picked
-Working on our video
-Bridesmaids and Groomsmen on board (most of them didn't have a choice :)
-Announcement concept drafted
-Announcement address list almost there
-House leased to move into
-Half of my stuff sitting in the kitchen of said house
-New job (starting in a week! yay!!!)
-Future in-laws have their plane tickets and we've got them a place to stay

For not having any wedding plans before getting engaged, I think we're doing pretty dang good!

Our goal is to have everything set and taken care of by May 1st (Wedding on May 21st), because here's what the schedule is like, Caleb's mission farewell and family party on May 15th, Bulloughs fly in May 18th, Ballet recital May 20th, Wedding and Reception May 21st, Caleb goes to the MTC May 25th, Josh (my brother) gets married June 10th, Robbie and I have a reception in Indiana sometime the next week. PHEW! If we can all survive...and not kill each other...this will be an amazing time in our lives.

Here's Josh and his bride-to-be, Amy:

I love them both so much and am so excited for them as well!

I'm Engaged!

2011-03-04T10:52:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that everyone who actually reads my blog already knows this, but I wanted to post it anyway. I love saying "I'm Engaged!" as many times as possible, so you'll have to indulge me for a moment.

I am so happy. This is so right. And I am so excited!

My road with Robbie has been a bumpy one, and it has taken us a long time to come to this decision and to find this happiness. But I am very grateful for every bump and twist in the path that lead us to the strong relationship we have now.

The decision to get married is a scary one, and requires a lot of faith and trust. In some ways, being single can be much easier than relying on and caring for someone in addition to yourself. However, I feel that with the added difficulty, comes an added measure of happiness!

I feel marriage follows after the pattern of Adam and Eve. We leave a state of child-like innocence, accepting the fact that life's difficulties and potential for pain increase, but also look forward to our ability for joy and knowledge and progression to increase and deepen and grow so beautifully.

Robbie and I will be married on May 21, 2011 in the Salt Lake Temple.

We signed on a cute, very old, little house in Lehi, where we will start our life together.

In our new {old} house.

Dear Diary

2011-02-06T07:37:00.001-07:00

When I was younger, I tried really hard not to cover my diary pages with sappy declarations of young love. I felt I was much more mature (yeah, right.) than the average teen, who failed to remember ("unlike me") that crushes are inevitably crushed. Sure, I had them. Goodness knows, I crushed on boys all over the place! I just didn't want documentation of my ever-changing romances, so I tried to keep the diary entries on the subject to a minimum.

Fast forward.

Now, my journal is full of page after page of love declarations, the name of my crush, and my roller coaster of emotion.

And I'm perfectly okay with that.

R. B. B.

♥

You Got Jimmered!

2011-01-28T09:27:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my wonderful "connections" to all things sports, my brother and I got tickets for the game. It was awesome. (And that's coming from a non-sports person, mind you.)

Here's an entertaining (even if you're not a sports fan :) ) recap boy put together for his sister who is preparing for her mission in the MTC right now.

1 Behold, I, Robbie, who am thy older brother, and do speak all manner of things pertaining to righteousness, or in other words, of things pertaining to the BYU Cougars

2 Do address this epistle to you, Sister Bullough, who art in the service of our God, which service causes me great joy

3 For thou art doing that which is great in the eyes of God. Thou art performing a labor that will bring souls unto Christ, yea, many souls, insomuch that no greater service can be performed than that which ye are performing at this time.

4 And I do write unto you this epistle to tell you of the great and marvelous battle which did take place in the land of the Cougars last night.

5 And it came to pass in the twelfth year of the oppressive reign of the Mountain West Conference – BYU having declared its freedom from those wicked judges

6 Which freedom was to commence on the first day of the seventh month –

7 And it came to pass on the twenty-sixth day of the first month, the Aztecs of San Diego State invaded the land of Provo.

8 And the Aztecs were mighty and strong, for they had yet to fall by the sword to anyone, being perfect in their record, and ranked fourth throughout the land.

9 But behold, the Cougars of BYU were also mighty and strong in their own right, yea, they were ranked ninth in the land.

10 And it came to pass that the Aztecs invaded the Cougars at the heart of the land of their possessions, yea, in the Marriott Center.

11 But behold, the Marriott Center was among the most fortified of all the strongholds in all the land. Yea, in 31 attempts to invade the land, the Aztecs had only been successful thrice.

12 And behold, the leader of the army of the Cougars was a man by the name of Dave Rose, he leading the Cougars to battle in the Marriott Center 88 times and defeating his enemies 84 times.

13 And it came to pass that this particular invasion marked the first time that two top ten teams did battle in the Marriott Center since Lehi left Jerusalem, yea, and probably even before that.

14 And the people of Provo did gather themselves together in the Marriott Center, yea, 22,700, many of whom arrived many hours before the battle was to commence.

15 And never before had there been a louder gathering in the Marriott Center. Yea, it was deafening to the ears and sent chills down the spines of all who had come to witness the battle.

16 And in the strength of their wives and their children and their bretheren did the Cougars go to battle with the Aztecs.

17 And it came to pass that there was one mighty and strong among the Aztecs, yea, and his might and his strength was known throughout the land.

18 And his name was Kawhi Leonard.

19 And it came to pass that Kawhi Leonard fell ill and did thrust up the contents of his stomach many times throughout the day and did receive IVs before the battle.

20 Nevertheless, he did fight diligently, insomuch that he did score 22 points and grabbed 15 rebounds for a double-double.

21 And he did hit a three-point basket in the final seconds of the first half.

22 Which first half was a truly great battle, for both sides did fight mightily for their cause, and neither team gained great advantage over the other, for it was a close and intense battle.

23 And it came to pass that the Aztecs had a 31-30 lead as the two sides pitched their tents for halftime.

24 And now, behold, the Cougars also had one mighty and strong, whose might and strength was also known throughout the land, yea, he was feared by many, and when others saw him tarrying in other parts of the land, his presence did cause them to quake, yea, quake even to the depths of their souls because of the great fear which he did cause to come upon them.

25 And his name was Jimmer Fredette.

26 And it came to pass that even Lord Voldemort did refuse to utter his name, and did call him he who must not be named.

27 And moreover, Chuck Norris did enter into a covenant with the Jimmer, whereupon the loser must grow a beard.

28 And it came to pass that Chuck Norris grew a beard.

29 And this Jimmer Fredette did have much weighing on his mind, for his brother TJ did perform for the students before the battle, yea, and twenty and four NBA scouts were there to observe the battle.

30 And it came to pass that the Jimmer did score from anywhere and everywhere on the battlefield.

31 Yea, the Aztecs did defend him mightily, yea, sometimes two or three Aztecs attempted to guard the Jimmer.

32 Nevertheless, the Jimmer did score 20 points in the first half, including the last 15 points for the Cougars.

33 And it came to pass in the second half that the Jimmer did dominate the battle. Yea, he did make a crossover three that exposed the foolishness of the ankles of D.J. Gay who tried to guard him.

34 And he did come off ball screens and hit fade away threes, yea, insomuch that he made shots that looked as if he were falling from off the face of the earth.

35 And he did drive to the basket and score, yea, and the number of his points was exceedingly great.

36 So great that never before had anyone scored so great a number of points in the Marriott Center among all the people of BYU.

37 Yea, the Jimmer did score forty and two points.

38 And it came to pass that the Aztecs of San Diego State were astonished, yea, exceedingly astonished.

39 And it came to pass that the Cougars won the battle convincingly by a score of 71-58, and the rumor spread throughout all the land that the unbeaten Aztecs had fallen and that the Jimmer had scored forty and two points.

40 Yea, even Kevin Durrant of the Oklahoma City Thunder – who himself scored forty and seven points in the NBA on this night – did tweet that “Jimmer Fredette is the best scorer in the world.”

41 And at the conclusion of the battle, the students, yea 5,000 strong, did rush the floor to congratulate the Jimmer.

42 And behold I tell you these things that you might know that the Cougars of BYU are perhaps the greatest team in the land.

43 Yea, they did fight mightily for their cause, insomuch that they were victorious.

44 And again, verily I say unto you, that never before had such a gathering of Cougars been so loud.

45 For those who came were filled with passion, insomuch that they shouted exceedingly loud.

46 And the people of BYU did celebrate exceedingly because of the greatness of their victory.

47 But behold, Dave Rose and his army did not celebrate exceedingly, for another battle did await them. Yea, in two days’ time, on the sixth day of the week, they will go to Albuquerque to do battle with the Lobos in the place that is called the Pit.

48 Yea, the Pit is not the Marriott Center, but is like unto it.

49 And Dave Rose and his army must be strong in mind and spirit so as to win that battle as well.

50 And behold, I, Robbie, do end my epistle.

I see PRIDE, I see POWER, I see a *** who won’t take no CRAP off of NOBODY!

2011-01-24T12:16:00.000-07:00

I've been a little MIA recently. I know. I figured the old adage "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" applied, and that you'd rather not hear days of continual complaining spewage. So I didn't share.

BUT I've done some soul searching, and much breathing, and I'm doing....better.

Have you ever felt as though your happy little life were falling to pieces right before your eyes?

Well, yeah.

I'll spare you the whiny details, but suffice it to say, I've been one lost puppy for the last several weeks.

I've learned (or relearned) a few things that I'd like to share.

1. You cannot control the feelings, thoughts or actions of anyone but yourself. So focus on what's in your control. Agency is a blessed gift--use it. Don't allow yourself to be acted upon, but rather act.

I realized the emotions of those surrounding me completely dictated my own emotions. At any given moment, if I felt I disappointed, offended or angered someone, I would become quite unpleasant to be around. And yet, within two seconds, if I discovered I hadn't originally disappointed, offended or angered, I could be happy again. That's when I knew my emotions weren't my own. I couldn't be happy unless people gave me permission to.

Most of the time, our perception of others is quite inaccurate. So what we think they think about us is also quite inaccurate, quite often. So, then, why do we allow our entire emotional states to be determined by this assumption? --an assumption, which is most likely wrong, about another's thoughts, which are beyond our control.

2. You are not merely a part of someone or something else. You are yourself. And that is great and wonderful. Allow things to be you--talents, hobbies, likes, dislikes, humor, experiences, dreams, beliefs. Don't change, again, based on an assumption of what you think another wants. And especially don't change who you are if someone's made it clear that's "not good enough" for them.

I went on a quest to find my personality, as though I had lost it. I felt as though I were some how all wrong--my interests and opinions, even what I found funny, were all wrong. I felt that I had somehow missed a boat at birth that would have allowed me an element of normality.

My mother has this joke, where whenever I do something odd (which happens a lot) she asks, "Does he know?" This came from a lighthearted discussion we had a while ago about boy, and whether he really knows how weird I am.

I do have a personality. Yes, it is weird. But that's okay. Everyone is different. I don't have to like or impress everyone, and they don't have to like me.

3. No one can define your worth. Rejection and acceptance from individuals or groups in the social sphere dictate much of our lives. Just think back to Jr. high school or high school. Makes me shutter. I know that I've been taught "You are a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves you" and I have relied on this many times throughout my life as a support. However, sometimes rejection, either the fear of potential or the actual manifestation of, can become so powerful in spite of our efforts to remember our individual self worth. We must see the value of ourselves AND ignore the demeaning opinions of others. This is most challenging.

My 16-year-old sister is at the time in her life where the opinions of others seems to be a life-sucking monster, continually craving and consuming the fragile self-esteems of all who dare cross its path. She's on her high school dance company. I was in her shoes not too long ago. Where those girls seem to have it all, and they make you feel like nothing. I watched her ache with the pain of feelings of worthlessness last week, and I ached with her. I laid in bed for hours the night she expressed her feelings of inadequacies to me, wondering "why?" I know I have very utopian ideals, but really, WHY?
I spent time with my sister helping her perfect each intricate move for the dance they performed last week. She's good. Her dancing is precise and graceful. But as the other girls filed into the room, confidence vanished from her eyes. She forgot entire sections of the dance, which moments before she'd had no troubles remembering. If only those girls knew that a simply gesture of inclusion could make the world of difference, if only they cared. Instead, the self-proclaimed alpha leader of the group (cheerleader, perfect teeth, perfect hair, can't say or do anything without checking herself out in the mirror) told her that she's really bringing the group down and needs to get her act together. WHY?? My sister knows she shouldn't base her worth on the opinions of these girls, but we are all human. And sadly, this is not something we grow out of.

My mom laughs every time she swipes her card at the store and the machine says "approved." She calls it her regular dose of self-esteem boosting.

One things that makes this point particularly challenge is that most people are just like us--waiting for others to accept them. My neighbor just spent several hours at our house explaining that she is planning on moving as soon as possible, after only living here for two years, because she has yet to feel excepted by others. She makes no effort to reach out, she doesn't attend any functions that would allow others to get to know her, and she allows her experiences with a few individuals to dictate her opinion of all around her. I feel awful she hasn't felt the love and acceptance our area has to offer, and I'm sure several people can care blame for that; however, we too must remember to reach out to others.

I guess those are my words of wisdom for the week. It's nothing you haven't heard before, but I needed to hear it again, so maybe you do too.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2011-01-24T11:19:00.002-07:00

"If Santa isn't real, does that mean Jesus isn't real either?"

- Katie, a 5-year-old.

Have I Told You Lately?

2011-01-12T21:49:00.003-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about all the people who have affected me, and helped me become the person I am today. Do you ever think off all the people who've crossed your way throughout the years?

Well, I just wanted to say "thank you."

Thank you for inviting me, sitting by me, listening to me, crying with me, supporting me, cheering for me, laughing with me, and loving me.

You guys are the best.

"They do not love that do not show their love."

- William Shakespeare

Go tell someone you love them.

I Can Fit in Your Suitcase

2011-01-12T15:34:00.000-07:00

Ghana

Ireland

France

India

Back to Harlem

I always have the itch to travel. If I could do one thing in my life, I think it would be to travel the world, taking pictures and writing. But more than usual, I feel this anchor pulling on my shoulders. It's keeping me grounded with it's back breaking weight, but my soul wants nothing more than to fly far away.

Today, I'm sorry to say, I'd rather be there than here.

Oh, the placed I'd go.

One day.

I hope.

100 Thick Slices of Bread = Bread Man

2011-01-11T21:02:00.002-07:00

I took these...

and this...

and him...

and did this!

What do you do in your spare time?

Digging Grandpa to his Door

2011-01-09T15:38:00.001-07:00

We took my gpa back to his house after his three week holiday vacation.

Everything looked so beautiful.

But alas, when we got to his house, the view turned from beauty to work as we surveyed the task at hand. We needed to somehow get gpa up his 1/2 mile driveway which was covered in 2 1/2 feet of snowy ice and a fallen tree.

Eight hours later, and a lot of sore muscles, we got him inside. By the time we left if it was dark and in the negative degree temps.

We dug and dug and dug. Our van got stuck three times. And the little girls made houses in the snow.

At least we all made it to our respective homes safely, and the view is again beautiful.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2011-01-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

The teacher congratulated one child on their correct answer by saying, "You have such a smart brain."

To which Lucy, another student, responded from her seat, "I've always wanted a brain."

-Lucy, my 4 year old cousin.

Spilling the Beans (the low-down on Indiana)

2011-01-09T14:55:00.006-07:00

I'm home from Indiana!

Went to bed at 2am, got up at 4am to catch my flight.

Luckily, I had this view out my plane window to keep me sane in spite of only 2 hours of sleep:

Now, down to what you really want to know.....how everything went.

I was quite apprehensive and somewhat pessimistic before arrival. I realized I was more nervous than I expected myself to be, but surprisingly, not nervous about meeting boy's family. I was nervous about boy. I made myself crazy with thoughts of what boy would think of my meeting his family. I tried on all of my clothes before leaving to get Camilla's (my little sister) required approval (then packed nearly everything I owned--just in case), I painted my toe nails three times (and naturally, ended up wearing socks the entire time), and I got advice from my brother Josh (who never shares his thoughts and feelings on this subject--ever) for several hours.

Upon arrival, I was so tired and worked up I felt really off emotionally. Thankfully we went right to bed when we finally got to his house at 2am.

We did all sorts of wonderful things throughout the week. In addition to Christmas at the zoo, the farm, and the Children's Museum, we also spent time at the Indianapolis Art Museum, window shopping around The Square (including the cutest cafe for lunch, the antique mall and a darling little ice cream parlor!), the entire first season of White Collar, learning to play poker, dinner theater, my first New Year's kiss, family visits, the local breakfast hotspot, the Barbie board game, dinner with his folks, football and basketball, a photo shoot, surviving an earthquake, cutting boy's hair, quiet moments together, and many, many more things.

My nerves about boy faded very quickly. I loved every moment I had with him. And not to get too mushy, but my feelings for him reached a depth I've never felt before.

As far as his family goes, they're wonderful. The first few days I noticed a lot of differences between my family and his, not a matter of "good or bad" but just differences. Then I started seeing similarities I hadn't expected to see. I loved both the differences and the similarities.

I can't report how things went from their side, although I think they'd have good things to say {at least I hope they would}.

I wish I could say everything was perfect, but sadly I have a regret. It's one of my weaknesses--a very prominent and difficult-to-overcome weakness. I shut down (or rather shut up) within situations I'm not entirely confident/comfortable. I've seen many people respond in similar fashions, so I know I'm not alone. I guess many compounding factors led to me not having much to say in most situations while there (i.e. I know nothing about sports, they already knew everything about me ((the one subject I in which thought I'd have the upper hand)), it was my first time meeting most of the people, etc.). But on the bright side, not saying as much as I'd have liked prevented me from saying something stupid.

Ultimately, his family was very nice, gracious and welcoming. My family missed me. And maybe with time his family will get to know me on a level that they will too.

Now on my reading list:

I Don't Want to Grow Up

2011-01-08T22:14:00.004-07:00

We went to the Indianapolis Children's Museum!!!

Where Robbie played computer games...

and I left to Never, Never Land!
"Second star to the right, and straight on till morning."

The dinos were awesome.

And the ever-changing planetarium ceiling was just as fun.

...another computer game.

(He claims this is supposed to represent me...no comment.)

He definitely made out with Barbie in front of me.

Which got him a job as her secretary.

Just in time for him to play the Barbie computer game.

Where he created this Barbie outfit for me.

So I went and flirted with Ken.

No bribe I had to offer was sufficient to get boy on this Barbie runway. I tried oh so hard. But alas, he will not model or twirl...in public.

Fireworks of blown glass!

Yup.

Supposedly, this is what we'd look like with long legs.

Indy 500, here I come!

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all.

Come with me where you'll never,

never have to worry about grown up things again."

Farming Tobacco - Growing Life

2011-01-07T15:24:00.005-07:00

Boy's grandparents are third generation tobacco farmers.

While I could never live the life of a real farmer, there is a part of me that has always craved the rustic lifestyle of the honest, down-to-earth, hardworking, country folk.

I loved living in New York--so, so, so much. I still find myself aching for the wonders that city has to offer. But as amazing as the skyline is from Staten Island, I find an open field tucked in crisp winter air during sunset just as breathtaking.

The tobacco hanging out to dry.

In the barn.

More tobacco.

Of course, there was a tractor!

I didn't get to ride on it....but maybe another time.

Boy said this was indicative of Indiana culture.

Who doesn't like a homemade basketball hoop in the barn?

These are the storage elevators.

"Now, these leaves here at the top, see the dark orange color?

These are the ones that will kill you."

While driving around, Grandpa told many stories about the history of the land and the people who've owned it. Then the focused turned to me and boy.

"Now, I don't know how serious you two are, and I know it's none of my business... well, actually it is my business.

Let me tell you two a little about life: You can choose if you want to live a life of heaven or hell. If you choose to put Christ at the center of your life and potential marriage, your life will be heavenly, regardless of what bumps inevitably emerge along the road. But without him, life will be hell."

He told stories of bringing his newlywed Southern California wife to Indiana. She went from the comforts of her California home to a shotgun cabin in Indiana without running water and an outhouse so small you had to back into it--no room to turn around.

Ten kids later, I'm sure neither he nor his wife would describe their daily life as a slice of heaven--at least, not in the way the world would. But then again, the world doesn't know what heaven really feels like.

"Grandpa Bill" spoke of his deep love for his wife, children, and grandchildren. And the twinkle in his eye as he told these tales of family and religious devotion, revealed he truly had a taste of heaven.

...and for your information, he did emphasize SEVERAL times, he had not had a taste of his own tobacco--EVER. He just wanted to make sure I understood that. :)

Naturally, what's a farm without a rooster?

I tried for five minutes to chase all the cats into one picture,

but in the end I could only get six.... yes, ONLY six.

I LOVE ducks!!!

The greenhouses.

(This was Gpa Bill's favorite picture.)

Holy cow!

The dream: an old truck and the whole, open world in front of you.

There are many moments in this life during which we are required to reveal our true nature. We can't hide under our clothes, schedule, friends, employment, or education. We must expose the core of our character in a humble offering to those around us.

I know this sounds overly dramatized and superfluous, but without such depth of life we cease to be human--children of a God.

I believe in the quiet moments this busy world affords us, we show this inner character.

"The poetry of the earth is never dead." -Keats

Our relationship with the earth and our ability to see the beauty of God's creations is indicative of our relationship with God Himself.

Take a moment to breathe today.
Go admire the world.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion."

— Henry David Thoreau

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2011-01-01T19:18:00.001-07:00

Larry found a book he liked at Deseret Industries.

When he went to buy it, the lady at the cash register was hunched over her counter--sleeping.

*ahem*

*cough*

*COUGH*

*COUGH!!!!!*

...............................

...nothing.

Naturally, the next tactic?

Larry promptly leaned over and slapped her on the behind with the book he wished to purchase!

"Excuse me!"

Seeing this, the manager kicked Larry out of the store--out of DI!

He never bought the book.

- Larry, Robbie's 70 year old great-uncle.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2011-01-01T19:05:00.000-07:00

After opening all of his presents with moderate excitement, Andrew finds a dollar someone dropped in the family room.

"AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S A DOLLAR! SANTA LEFT ME A DOLLAR! MOM, I GOT A DOLLAR! DAD, I GOT A DOLLAR! I GOT A DOLLAR!!!!!"

Next year, I'm sure his parents will abandon the idea of hours searching for the right gifts, and spending many dollars buying list of requested items. Goodness, just give the kid a dollar.

- Andrew, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2011-01-01T19:01:00.000-07:00

"Mom, that fish doesn't look so good. I think it's drowning!!!!"

long pause.

everyone busts up laughing.

"Wait, guys. That's not what I meant."

- Grace, my 10 year old sister.

More from Indiana

2011-01-01T18:58:00.002-07:00

While Robbie drove me around town, we crossed this AMAZING barn!

I made him stop so we could take pictures.

...or rather, so I could take a million pictures, and he could stand where I told him to.

After I pulled myself away from the barn, we visited all sorts of other wonderful places.

(hehe. I guess in Indiana people use their semi trucks to pull family trailers.......)

Houses here are so colorful!

I love it!

I love the old town, farm feel!

An Indiana Update

2011-01-01T18:23:00.000-07:00

Robbie picked me up from the airport, and we arrived at his home at the blessed hour of 2am.

His cute sister make this welcome sign for me.

We went to "Christmas at the zoo."

...where this seal was told to pose for pictures...and didn't move for hours!!!

(other than to scratch his nose.

my nose would itch too if I were told not to move for hours. :) )

WE TOUCHED SHARKS!!!!

And saw a dolphin show!

...and this fish.

hehehehe.

So, I'm happy to announce I made it here safely.

Sitting next to me on my flight from SLC to Denver was a man who takes wedding pictures.

And from Denver to Indianapolis, my flight buddy was a wedding planner who specializes in flowers.

...funny. but I've got to admit, it did wig me out a wee bit. :)

To all those who keep asking, I'M NOT ENGAGED.

I promise I'll let you know when that happens in my life.

More pictures to come!

Short Lived

2010-12-27T08:33:00.002-07:00

I'm back.

Yeah... so much for a "break." I finally fell asleep last night. Hit up water aerobics with the old ladies at 0-dark-hundred hours. And I'm back. On the internets.

I'm a talker by nature, and I need someone to listen to all my problems. Normally I turn to my loved ones for that role, as to not sound like a complaining jerk on the world wide web. And who doesn't want a real hug of comfort over a simple blog comment of condolence?

But this time, I've decided not to burden the loved ones.

So, prepare yourself for some serious verbal vomit.

- - -

I've shot myself in the foot. I've allowed myself to spiral down--very low--in the pit of comparison. I know it kills my self-esteem, not to mention wastes loads of time, but my carnal nature concedes to the enticements of its evil lure.

Let me explain.

I feel like such a jerk.

Maybe I shouldn't explain.

Let me start in the middle.

One day, while psycho analyzing myself (pretty sure I've told you all how regularly that occurs), I realized my motivation for something I'd been doing. It was more than a light bulb turning on, it was as though someone walked up and slapped me in the face. The "something" I'd been doing was hating on a particular girl. Okay, maybe "hate" is a strong word. I just let her get under my skin. I would have a noticeably worse day for having thought of this girl, than if she weren't a part of my life.

I can't really blame her. Honestly, she's not done anything but be herself (which was apparently enough!...oops, there I go again.)

Really though, she's a fairly nice person (I'm trying!).

But this truly isn't about whether or not I'm going to ever become friends with, or even like this particular girl. It comes down to my motivation. I felt insecure and of less worth because of her. Silly, really. But true. And I couldn't deny it--nor could I ignore it at this point.

She threw me into the "not enough" cycle-- not pretty enough, not stylish enough, not successful enough, not rich enough, not smart enough, not skinny enough, and on and on.

My solution? Well, to hate her of course! And, if at all possible, get many others to hate her too.

Hello, Anna..............WRONG ANSWER!

But that was my natural reaction, and I didn't even realize it.

This isn't my only issue in life right now (believe you me, I've got plenty), but this seemed to significantly aggravate the others. And it's not just this girl, she just worked as a very nice example.

As I cut myself down (and worse, think less of those around me), I give this girl power.

- - -

I think my dog is dying.

Don't know what to do. I'm not one to shell out a bunch of money to get x-rays and such for a pet. But I really wish I could help her.

Here's a funny video of her. Chryssie likes to wait for everyone to leave the bedroom before crawling into bed and tucking herself in to the blanket pile. Sadly, her snores are a dead give away!

Isn't she cute??

- - -

I'm flying out to Indiana to see boy and boy family on Wednesday. I've been so wrapped up in, again, comparison and concern of comparison, I've not given myself much room to just be excited. I'm too worried about all the many, many ways I can potentially "mess up." I've gotten to a point of not caring, which isn't a good place to be either.

Luckily, I've got two days to pep myself up again.

- - -

Wow, I really do sound pitiful and whiny (I mean really, how much more pitiful can you get then "my dog is dying"!) when I put my complaints in words. Sorry for being a Debby Downer--but everyone needs a moment to vent, right? It's just a lot better when I spit up my complains instead of allow them to stir inside and rot. Normally I just write these posts and then delete them. But hey, who am I to deprive you of my drama? So if you just read that whole thing, again, I'm sorry, but you were told at the beginning it was nothing but verbal vomit--meaning, not my fault you just wasted at least 15 minutes.

Whew. I'll try not to fling that on you again. Can't even say it helped much. Hope to have something more positive for you later. I just couldn't put on a face and pretend today. Thanks for listening and putting up with me!

ps. my Christmas was wonderful. Hope yours was too.

It's Not You, It's Me

2010-12-27T01:09:00.000-07:00

It's definitely me.

If you haven't already noticed, I've been a little hit and miss lately. I'd like to blame the holidays, but I know there are other reasons involved.

Those "reasons" have been on my mind a lot lately. And after keeping me from being able to get any sleep tonight, I must kowtow to their demands.

I'm taking a blogging break. I'm sure this all seems fairly cryptic, which isn't my intention, but right now it needs to remain that way.

I may periodically post a "Times with Tabitha" when they occur, but that'll be about it for awhile.

Consider me on vacation in the Bahamas until further notice.

Checking out, Anna.

Times with Tabitha

2010-12-24T21:06:00.000-07:00

While at a buffet restaurant with my 30 cousins, Tabitha and came running to the adult table with many of the kids her age.

"Look, Mom! That man over there just gave us all gum balls!"

Promptly taking the candy from Tabitha:

"Sorry, Tabitha. We don't eat candy from strangers."

"Oh, darn."

Ten minutes pass.

"Mommy, Mommy! Can I have the gum ball now? He's not a stranger any more, his name is Cory."

- Tabitha, my 8 year old sister.

God is Love

2010-12-23T13:16:00.000-07:00

The gift of Christmas isn't wrapped up in presents or parties. The gift of Christmas is Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten of the Father, the Son of God. As you follow Him, you put people first. You may spend less time in lines and more time serving others. You may spend less money on - and more time with - the people you love. You may lose yourself and you may find everything else that matters.

Merry Christmas.

I'm on IMDb!!!!!!!

2010-12-22T14:10:00.003-07:00

So, I found someone with my name on IMDb.......

then I realized it WAS ME!

CHECK IT OUT!!!!!!

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-12-22T09:32:00.001-07:00

"Was that the Holy Spirit whispering in my ear?"

"What did it say?"

"Hit you!"

"No, Hyrum. That was the Devil."

"Oh, I wondered."

- Hyrum and Rachel, my 5 and 13 year old cousins.

Another 5:45am Wake Up Call

2010-12-22T07:09:00.002-07:00

Made it to water aerobics this morning.

There's nothing like running through a downpour of rain in the wee hours of the morning to get to your car, and then spending the rest of the time before the sun comes up shaking booty in the pool with the old ladies.

Love it!

Smells Like WHAT?

2010-12-21T19:59:00.000-07:00

So.... I ate a roll. It was delicious.

Day-old homemade rolls in the microwave for precisely 13 seconds make a delectable snack.

After the consumption of said roll, I SWEAR my hands smelled like baby skin.

You know, that distinct smell babies have--I had it, all over my hands.

I do not know if this specifically had to do with the particular roll I partook of, a distorted sense of smell, or a messed up psyche, but I tell you, rolls = baby smell (the good kind).

...maybe I really am just obsessed with homemade rolls!

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-12-21T10:45:00.003-07:00

With Christmas around the corner, the little one only become more and more cute. And the Santa naughty/nice list threats sure help. :)

Here's a bit Christmas cheer from those little ones:

"If Santa lives in the North, then the EASTer Bunny must live in the East."

-Alex, my 5 year old cousin.

MISSIONARY ...to be

2010-12-21T07:38:00.001-07:00

Look! Look! I told you the pictures were coming!

Caleb, my little brother, has finished his papers!

Only the interviews left and he's ready to submit them!

Doesn't he look good?!

I'll keep you posted on where he goes.

What's a missionary?

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-12-21T07:18:00.000-07:00

My young cousin had an "accident" in his pants the other day.

When Mommy asked, "Honey, why didn't you just go potty?"

He responded, with a very serious look of correction on his face, "Mommy, I did."

-Alex, my 5 year old cousin.

Off on the WRONG Foot

2010-12-21T07:04:00.003-07:00

The alarm blared in my ear at 5:45am. It was time for water aerobics with my mother!

I rolled over for two seconds, snuggled deeper into my pile of seven blankets, and returned to my conversation with a store clerk about picking out the perfect party dress.

Ten minutes passed.

I woke up, wondering why my mother hadn't yet stuck her head into my room.

Jump out of bed. Threw my suit on. And leaped up the stairs.

She was gone. SHE LEFT WITHOUT ME.

So, I'm throwing a pity party for myself by sitting in the dark, quiet livingroom and catching up on all my blog stalking.

I've grumbled for a few minutes, putting on the sad face hoping the Christmas snow globe next to me will have sympathy. I considered going back to bed and trying to get out on the other foot, hoping that would help. But, alas, I don't think it will. I'm going to have to resign to giving up my grumpiness by choice--not something I do easily.

And I realized I've been a little MIA recently, and decided I could put on a happy face for you (at 6am--I know, I'm that good), and catch you up on the happenings.

DRUM ROLL PLEASE!!!!!

I got a new camera!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Actually, my wonderful boy got it for me. And it's AMAZING.

So, now you don't have to read all of my long boring posts anymore. I'll have pictures. MANY, MANY pictures!

We did an early Christmas exchange. I wanted to open them in person, and we knew we wouldn't see each other until after Christmas. So, instead of waiting, we opened them early. (Naturally, I didn't complain!)

He gave me this super cute photo album of all my New York pictures (remembering our days past), and then a super, super nice camera to take more pictures (remembering our days to come).

So, be ye ready for bazillions of pictures!

Ok, I feel better just thinking about taking pictures. Maybe I'll go do that now.

Update since Mother's return:

She thought I had chosen to stay

and didn't want to wake me so early.

Really, she was just being thoughtful.

What a nice Mom.

I need to work on that whole getting grumpy thing.
Or rather, the not getting grumpy thing.

Times with Tabitha

2010-12-12T13:39:00.000-07:00

My father took young Tabitha out on a date to see a theatrical production of "A White Christmas."

He opened the door for her, and explained that's what gentlemen do for their dates.

To which Tabitha promptly replied:

"Dad, seriously, we can't date. You're at least six years older than me."

-My 8 year old sister.

So I Cried.

2010-12-08T21:43:00.000-07:00

I couldn't help it. I got in my car, and cried.

It was only a few tears. And I fought super hard to hold every drop back.

But, alas.

To no avail.

The tears fell.

So I had Cheerios for dinner, because I wanted to. And I put lots of sugar on top, because I wanted to.

And nobody can say anything about it.

And now I'm going to bed.

My "Mystery Man"

2010-12-06T11:44:00.003-07:00

I've realized in many recent conversations with friends that I've kept some goings on in my life a little more private than said friends have appreciated.

I guess it's story time.

Once upon a time, I met boy. Let's call him Robbie.

Robbie went to BYU. I went to BYU. Robbie majored in Broadcast Journalism. I majored in Broadcast Journalism. Thus, we met.

We've had all of our major classes together since the program prereqs in fall of 2007.

I thought he was a bit of a cut-up, sports fanatic.

He thought I was a brown-nosing nerd.

We never really talked.

Fall of 2009 I was his boss.
Anna- Newsroom Executive Producer and Tech Director.
Robbie- Sports Expert and Anchor

I crushed on him. He would never date his boss.

Winter 2010 I was no longer his boss.

He asked me out.

And again.

And again.

I wasn't interested.

And again.

OK. I was a wee bit interested. But I knew I would be interning with Nat Geo in New York, and I had no real intentions of going back to Provo....ever again.

We said our "good-byes" the night before I flew out. He was to remain "the boy who's my friend who I sometimes hold hands with. "And that was going to be that.

He hoped I would come back. I figured he'd go away.

But he didn't.

Text, handwritten letter, Skype, gchat, email, phone, etc. He made contact at least once every single day of the summer.

I refused to let things get serious, so I intentionally failed to respond to his text one day, just so he wouldn't have the rights of saying he'd "talked to me" every day of the summer. I also put back the postcard I was going to mail him because I didn't want to give him the "wrong idea."

But after a 9 hour Skype conversation one Saturday, I knew I'd done it. I'd given him the wrong idea. :)

He wanted to take me on a date, so he sent me a date in a box.

Then I invited him to visit me in New York. I know, talk about giving a wrong idea. Guess that wasn't my biggest concern at that point.

So we kissed atop the Empire State Building, discussed decorating ideas in the MET, and dreamed about the future while looking at the skyline from Staten Island.

Needless to say, I came home from New York. And I've been officially giving him the wrong idea for about 5 1/2 months now.

Here's a little about boy:

He's from Indiana, but grew up in Michigan, California and Chicago as well.

Served an LDS mission in Mongolia.

Where he ate really crazy food and did cool things like this -

He graduated in Broadcast Journalism this past April with the goal of becoming a play-by-play sports announcer. He currently works as the True Blue producer and the BYUB sideline reporter.

Where he gets to go crazy places

and interview really cool people like this -

If you couldn't already tell, he's more than a sports fan. And if you didn't already know, I know less than nothing about sports. But in spite of my writing as a 15-year-old "cannot like sports" on my list of attributes for boys I would date, it hasn't stopped us yet.

He buys me chocolates and presents, lets me pick the movies we watch, attempts to answer my unreasonable sports questions, plays with my little sisters, listens to and is interested in my never-ending babble and life philosophies, and tries to remember the names of my 30 cousins. He's terribly ticklish, which gets me into trouble sometimes. He loves clam chowder and the color blue. He turns 25 in January. He's a runner and plays the piano and violin. And he likes me, a lot.

Now you know. This is boy--my boy.

To Vomit or Punch?

2010-12-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

That is the question.

Yesterday was another very long day in jr. high school. For those of you who don't know, I've been freelance interpreting for the Deaf for several months. (...now that I've graduated with a degree that has nothing to do with my current job and I'm living at home with my parents at the age of 22. ((ps. I've recently understood both of these things to be a huge blessing. More on that later.)))

I've subbed as an interpreter at this particular jr. high before, and really enjoyed working with the group of Deaf and hard of hearing kids there. But this time was different.

The kids I was working with were just as nice, chatty, and attentive as they were before; it was the other students that made me sick.

While waiting outside math class, I overheard a group of students ridiculing the unaware deaf student several feet away.

"I just want to beat him over the head."

"Yeah, I'll be I could smack him into a pulp with my hard arm cast."

"I dare you to just walk by and punch him."

"I'll do it if you'll do it."

Luckily, these little bird brains were all talk, but, like most things of this kind, I took it personally.

Next, while walking out of a class, I walked right into a very loud, if not shouted conversation where a child somewhere around the age of 14 yelled:

"All Jews belong in ovens."

I'm not the strongest of people, and I don't have a hard cast to use as a weapon, but I was nearly positive I could beat that kid into a pulp within minutes if I wasn't completely positive parents and school would quickly ensue legal action against me.

I was absolutely disgusted. Again, I was hugely offended.

I concluded my day with a nice dose of jr. high P.E.

All the while, during any test, worksheet, or personal time of the students, I'd been reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, a postapocalyptic novel where a father and son struggle to live because of their love for one another. Throughout the novel, the boy constantly asks his father, "We're the good guys, right?" "We wouldn't hurt those people because we're the good guys, right?" "We would have saved that baby because we're the good guys, right?" Their emaciated bodies painfully grope for progression--away from "the bad guys." The gruesome horrors they endure daily are merely tolerated in survival mode as they live with no hope of a future and constant fear of death.

I will save you the details of what "the bad guys" do, but suffice it to say, I was not a happy camper yesterday. Not to mention the fact that I was sick with an upset stomach.

So, all of this together made my already churning stomach slosh with anger and malice--the very things I saw in others. This black hole of hate sucked me in as I realized I hated the hater.

My mind began to reflect on haters of the past. Other books that came to mind are Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Sozhenitsyn.

I remember one particular scene where a small group of men under the rule of Stalin are forced to dig an icy grave in the frozen land. After a full day of work on their weak bodies, the soldier over watch commanded one of the diggers to throw another into the grave, burying him alive. When he refused, the guard turn to the almost victim and commanded him to throw in his supporter. The man did. And he was buried.

I've often wondered where such hate comes from, how such people as Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Hassein, Mugabe and many other could have had mothers and fathers and childhoods and be children of God and still hate and kill in the way they did. And what of all their followers. How do you become evil? I don't understand it--really.

As I looked around this school and reflected on the words from The Road, "We're the good guys, right?" I placed myself in Nazi Germany where neighbors turned on neighbors, and friends gave up on friends. I thought of my own neighbors and friends; I thought of the students in the hall. If we were forced into a survival mode, if I were walking the road in postapocalyptic America, would I be a good guy? Would I give of my own vital resources to help another who all knew would "die anyway"?

I know hate is taught, but it is also accepted by the learner. What 14-year-old would come up with such things without a peer, parent or idolized person first saying such?

I interpreted a clip from an old movie last night where a man from another planet lingers in a cemetery with a young boy.

Bobby Benson: [indicating grave marker during a visit to Arlington] That's my father. He was killed at Anzio.
Klaatu: Did all those people die in wars?
Bobby Benson: Most of 'em. Didn't you ever hear of the Arlington Cemetery?
Klaatu: No, I'm afraid not.
Bobby Benson: You don't seem to know much about anything, do you, Mr. Carpenter?
Klaatu: Well, I'll tell you, Bobby, I've been away a long time. Very far away.
Bobby Benson: Is it different where you've been? Don't they have places like this?
Klaatu: Well, they have cemeteries, but not like this one. You see, they don't have any wars.
Bobby Benson: Gee, that's a good idea.

Why can't I come from a place where there are no wars? Why do people have to hate?

Times with Tabitha

2010-12-02T08:09:00.000-07:00

Half way through her large bowl of split pea soup, Tabs gazed at the green glob on her spoon and asked:

"Are there peas in this???"

-Tabitha, my 8 year old sister.

Thanksgiving Recap

2010-11-29T14:31:00.000-07:00

I ate some turkey. Played some games. And got sick.

Really though, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving week with family and boy! We managed to visit both sides of my family, and everyone traveled to and from all gatherings safely!

My brother, Josh, drove to Colorado to have Thanksgiving with his girlfriend (we have yet to get the full update on that one), and they successfully traveled through the storm. So, safety was one of the big things I found myself being grateful for this year.

Boy and I didn't get to visit his family, on account that they're in a different state and all--too far to drive for just the weekend. ..............however, I will be visiting over Christmas break! I know, kind of a big deal, right? I go back and forth between being nervous and excited. Mostly, I'm just trying to convince myself it's not a big deal at all. But who am I trying to kid.

That's a whole four weeks away though, so for now I'm just going to worry about my Christmas shopping, driving all over the state through the snow to my different interpreting assignments, and picking my next novel to read while hunkered down in some warm blankets. Any suggestions?

Times with Tabitha

2010-11-26T09:36:00.001-07:00

Grace has been quizzing us for days using a flip question book for sixth graders.

Boy has taken the brunt of these questions.

This morning, Grace asked the following:

"Put in chronological order: Galileo, Isaac Newton, Copernicus."

Do you know the answer?

Well, boy did. However, the answer looked like this:

Copernicus (1473-1543),
Galileo (1563-1642),
Isaac Newton (1642-1727)

Grace didn't just take the names, and required boy give the appropriate birth and death dates in order for the question to be counted as right.

When he couldn't get any of the dates correct, Tabitha proceeded to chastise boy with:

"Robbie, you don't know anything about the Book of Mormon!"

(In Tabitha's defense, Grace struggled with the pronunciations, and said "Isaac Newton" as "Isaiah-ic Newton.")

-Tabitha, my 8 year old sister.

What's Irreplaceable?

2010-11-22T20:53:00.003-07:00

I lost my purse.

It may have been stolen.

I feel sick. Utterly sick to my stomach with a throbbing ache on the right side of my head.

I had so many wonderful things to tell you about this weekend. I went to a Silent Weekend, where my sister and I, along with at least a hundred other people, used American Sign Language to communicate. I met up with some of my best friends, whom I haven't seen in ages, and saw Harry Potter and had a sleep over. And I got to see boy.

But the pictures I intended on sharing are in my camera, which is in my purse, which is NOT anywhere to be found.

What do I do?! I don't even know when I lost it!

Feeling sick. sick. sick.

Cash. Cards. Camera. Jewelry from my late grandma. Favorite pocket dictionary. Planner. Handmade Bag. Gone.

Hopefully not for forever.

sick. sick. sick.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-11-18T14:16:00.000-07:00

"Morning, Mom!"

"Good morning, Hyrum!"

"Mom, what's today??"

"Today is Thursday."

"Oh. Well, how many more days until tomorrow??"

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

I'm Not Made For Middle School

2010-11-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

Today I interpreted for an 8th grader. She was nice, didn't want me to walk too close to her in the halls, but nice. The content was more than doable for my interpreting skills, consisting mostly of movies and worksheets, obviously doable. Some of the kids looked so little and cute, others towered over me and even caused me to lose my balance as they pushed passed me in their self-obsorbed manner, so maybe I only saw one or two cute kids.

I am so. so. so. so. so. so. so. so. so. so. glad I'm not in middle school--even if some of the teachers thought I should be and tried "encouraging" me to get to class.

Ugh.

How We See Ourselves

2010-11-17T19:22:00.002-07:00

Situation one:

So..... friend and I were reflecting back on the earlier days. We do this often. It's fun to share journal entires and thoughts surrounding a particular event, and compare what we were REALLY thinking.

Friend made a comment weeks ago that he saw me as "quiet" when he first met me.

Recently, we had another such conversation where I referenced the earlier comment about being "quiet," and laughed at how we initially had such "incorrect perceptions" of one another's personalities. To which my friend responded that he still saw me as being quiet.

I was really taken aback. Me? Quiet? I saw myself as pensive, and even decisively reserved in certain social circumstances, but I've never used the word "quiet" to describe myself.

Maybe our applications of the word were different. Sure. But my mind raced through memories of a very social, outgoing, talkative me.

Situation two:

Recently, I went to a very formal ball with my boy. I spent hours tediously curling my hair and applying makeup. I know that everyone has a different style, and individuals often feel strongly about said personal style, but boy commented (very innocently, might I add) about my wearing too much makeup. (I also have to add that he said very wonderful and kind things about how "gorgeous" he thought I was, and that I was the "most beautiful" girl there... this other comment was very small, and again, very innocent.) Whatever intent he had when making the comment, I couldn't help but let my thoughts wander in comparing other things we might see differently.

I'm sure you can tell, I'm trying very hard not to paint these situations as negative things, but rather factual things. The world looks different through each of our eyes. I know this.

But more than how our world around us looks, I can't shake this thought of everyone around me seeing ME differently than I see myself. I felt self-conscious, and slightly defensive.

I don't have anything conclusions or profound thoughts on the subject. I'm just having an unnerving out-of-body experience trying to size myself up and examine my world from the perspective of others. I don't recommend it.

What Do Babies Know?

2010-11-16T21:14:00.001-07:00

As a child, I don't believe we understand the existence of time before our birth. We only understand the creation of life with beginning at our own creation.

I pondered this the other day when I realized I'm taking my mother's position--the position I've perceived her as having my entire life--and she my grandmother's, and my grandmother passing on.

I heard all growing up that "parents know better than children" because "they've been there." I though I understood, "mom was once a child;" but in reality, I don't think young brains are capable of understanding the "before our time" concept.

It makes me wonder what I think I'm capable of understanding now, but am truly not.

It also makes me wonder what babies DO know that I am also incapable of understanding.

via

Look, Mommy! Look! A Real Job!

2010-11-15T19:56:00.002-07:00

Phew. It's been a long, hard road these past few months in the employment arena. I've had so many rough days solely because of my sitting duck lifestyle. I'm a busy body, and when my body ain't busy I ain't happy. But I FINALLY feel as though my life is heading in a productive, paid direction again.

I worked three separate interpreting assignments AND worked in my freelance position writing web content for a business. Yippy. I've really expanded my range of interpreting assignments and have really broadened my capabilities. I'm not making tons of money. But "some" is good.

Now, if I can just get up the energy to work on my novel tonight, I'd be doing real good.

...Remind me, now, why doesn't this money stuff grow on trees?...

Work. Work. Work.

Poor Tabitha

2010-11-12T18:27:00.004-07:00

Wednesday afternoon, Tabitha began complaining of a toothache. My mother examined the tooth in question, and agreed that the tooth appeared loose, but worried that it was also an adult tooth. That evening Tabitha cried through the night.

By Thursday morning, her top lip was so swollen, it nearly touched her nose, and her right cheek was swollen from her lip to her eye. My mother called the emergency dentist, and he sent them to the ER. After being admitted to the hospital, Tabitha had an IV and lots of drugs pumped in her.

They extracted a baby tooth next to the adult tooth, and said there really was no more they could do. The doctors didn't know what was causing the pain and infection, and therefore didn't have a clear idea of how to fix it. She is now home, and antibiotics are helping.

She really wants to show everyone her face, hoping it will help her get on a commercial for the hospital or something so that she can make some extra money--thank you Tabitha for thinking of pocket change while we're all worried about whether your dying! So, I told her I'd share with you instead. If you have a great desire to donate to the Tabitha Fund, that's your own prerogative.

As for me, we're just glad she's home, and hope she continues to get better! Keep her in your prayers.

"Normal" side.

Swollen side (half the size of what it was yesterday afternoon).

Our bruised and battered little girl.

She's very concerned that her smile is now lopsided.

We're sure she's feeling a lot better by this evening though, as she is downstairs laughing at herself hysterically.

Oh, Tabitha.

What Does "Failure" Really Mean?

2010-11-08T21:21:00.003-07:00

So, I'm a little behind on my NaNoWriMo daily novel writing.

...Okay, I'm a lot behind.

Fail?

Maybe. Or maybe I can just point and laugh at others and tell myself I'm not THAT bad...

Tomorrow will be better.... I hope.

But don't hold me to it.

Failure

Shh. It's a Secret

2010-11-08T11:08:00.000-07:00

I've always loved secrets--not the ones kept from me (I'm rarely fond of surprises), but, of course, the ones I'm involved in keeping.

I do a wonderful job of weaseling my nose into all sorts of private conversations. I do quite well at keeping these kinds of secrets, but I'm rather awful at keeping personal secrets, the private thoughts in my head, to myself.

I've thought a lot about secrets for several weeks now. I've pondered on the role of privacy in our lives.

I have a friend, a best friend, with whom I've managed to share all of my secrets. For some reason, the words of certain secrets can rest heavy on our souls, and simply speaking them aloud to another helps relieve some of their weight. I had heavy secrets. And I shared them. This simple act unlocked a hidden door, permitting this person passage into my heart, giving them a key to the heavy door of privacy.

My thoughts have circled this moment, repeatedly. I recall the details of the dark night when bitter words fell on sweet ears. Then my thoughts wind up and project an expectation on my future--an expectation of open and intimate sharing. The thick door which was once locked, is passed through freely, and left open.

But where does this leave privacy?

Are intimacy and privacy contradictory? Can they coexist? Should they?

I think of my mother, commenting on a child's inability to wait five minutes to make their next request, causing them to barge into an occupied bathroom with their list of demands. Yet, simultaneously, I remember the childhood rule of not locking the door of our only bathroom creating a sense of familiarity in our family, we were more than siblings, we were friends.

Lack of privacy can cause one to go insane; yet, too much privacy creates isolation.

When your spouse asks, "What are you thinking?" do you answer them in full honesty? Does he or she have a right to your very thoughts?

Privacy is important, but what is it's role in our lives?

Do You Hear the Music?

2010-11-08T10:42:00.000-07:00

It rained this morning. It's pouring now. Thanks to daylight savings, my body woke at it's usual time, but at the new hour of 5:30am. I laid in my warm bed, briefly contemplating how I would use this gift of time--sleep, read, work. After ten minutes of trying to keep myself awake while closing my eyes, so as not to drift off and lose the time to unconscious rest, I heaved myself up from the shamble of my cosy covers.

My family is having car problems--it's a habit of ours--so my mother was driving the girls to school and my dad into work. I elected to go with them and help my mother after dropping off the crew. With all sisters in dance, she has been cleaning the ballet studio to supplement tuition costs for years.

My cold, tired body hoisted itself into the car, flipping through the pages of my new novel as quickly as I could in the dim light of the morning.

Soon, we were in the studios, mopping floors, washing mirrors, and scrubbing bathrooms. I haven't really danced in years. I may have dabbled in a few college classes here and there, but nothing like my time spending every afternoon as a "studio rat."

As I bent over, reaching to a child's smudged handprint on the mirror between to bars, I had a powerful and unexpected flashback. I recalled standing in that very room, the air heavy with body heat and sweat. I remember the aching muscles, the lack of confidence, the shoes and tights and leotards and hairnets. My body marinated in the memory, growing heavy the longing for that elated rush of finishing a combination with a perfect triple pirouette, landing with precision and poise. I could almost hear the melodic, classical piano notes filling the rooms, begging to carry your fingers and toes.

I miss it. I miss dancing so much.

The Beautiful Ballerina Project

Times with Tabitha

2010-11-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

"Mom! Mom! The mustard bottle says "Since 1904"! We're still eating it and it went bad over a hundred years ago!"

-My 8 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

2010-11-08T09:50:00.000-07:00

"I got ready so fast this morning, I even had time to brush my teeth."

-My 8 year old sister.

Everyone has a Story

2010-11-03T08:05:00.001-06:00

I loved reading biographies on blogs, websites, and the inside cover of books--the short (or long) blurbs about the author. I don't know why the person is just as important to me as their work, but I always find I have this insatiable crave for more and more details about their history. One of my favorite little facts to search for is what said people are getting or have gotten degree wise, and where. I think that's because in my heart of hearts, I'm trying to convince myself that there are plenty of writers out there who have degrees in things other than writing (like me), who still find themselves publishing incredible works. But I also love to hear about where they live, how many kids they have, what their hobbies are, why they chose the topic they did, and why they love what they do.

People are so fascinating to me--both their told and untold stories. Have you ever just people watched? I love watching strangers (a little creepy, I suppose. but I feel I'm not the only one who does this, so somehow that makes it okay.), but I also love watching people I know as well. Comparing the personality seen through peoples words with the personality resonating from their actions always interests me.

I just love people so much. I love history on a global and personal level. I care about the individual, and their intricate part in this ever-complex web of life.

I wish I could help people tell their stories. This desire is such an integral part of who I am, it's the reason I majored in journalism, work as an interpreter, and want to write. It is me.

I hope you don't think I'm a total creeper for not only people watching, but completely psychoanalyzing everyone around me. I seriously need to stop doing that.

Politics are for the Dogs

2010-11-02T08:05:00.001-06:00

The time has come! It is indeed election day. And, alas, the future is not bright. This morning, my father returned from the voting booth and informed us that he had done his best, and voted for the best candidate available--our dog. He wrote in the name of our little Cocker Spaniel, and voted for her. Now, Birdie (the dog) didn't do much campaigning, so we're not sure how far she'll get; but there may be hope yet at the end of this dark political tunnel.

Every year the State will be the dog that chases its own tail... engaging in a futile attempt to close a perpetual budget gap. -Richard J. Codey

I would rather be beaton and be a man than to be elected and be a little puppy dog. -Davy Crockett

Dogs are great assets to candidates, and the feeling seems to be engendered that if a dog loves the candidate, he can't be all that bad. -Dick Gregory

Politics are not my concern.... They impressed me as a dog's life without a dog's decencies. -Rudyard Kipling

During the Prince's visit, King Timahoe will be referred to only as Timahoe, since it would be inappropriate for the Prince to be outranked by a dog. -Richard M. Nixon (writing to White House staff on how to address the president's Irish Setter, during a visit by Prince Charles)

You want a friend in Washington? Get a dog. -Harry S. Truman

Dogs are great assets to candidates, and the feeling seems to be engendered that if a dog loves the candidate, he can't be all that bad. -Dick Gregory

Diplomacy is the art of saying "Nice doggie!"... till you can find a rock. -Unknown

I may have grown cynical from long service, but this is a tendency I do not like, and I sometimes think I'd rather be a dog and bay at the moon than stay in the Senate another six years and listen to it. -John Sharp Williams

I Don't Care What You Wear

2010-11-02T07:37:00.001-06:00

I'm sick of reading blogs, just to watch them turn into sites of "here's what clothes I picked out to wear today." I want to read what's in your head, not look at the way you styled your hair on it. I don't mind the occasional fashion post, or even entire blogs devoted to such (I can choose not to read those), but please don't profess to write your "inner most thoughts and desires" and then just post a picture of someone else's living room..... unless that's as deep as your inner most thoughts and desires go.

OK. That was a little harsh. Please don't kill me if you actually keep one of these blogs. Some of these blogs are done well (probably yours), I'm referring to the ones that aren't (definitely not yours).

I'm just looking for some good reads. Got any really good ones you follow?

NaNoWriMo

2010-11-01T19:20:00.000-06:00

Today is November 1. I can't believe October has already come and gone.

Not only does this month welcome in the beginnings of our winter season, today marks the first day of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).

Think I can do it?

A whole novel in a month?! (Well, at least the first draft.)

1,667 words a day?!

At least a few minutes of every day I linger in the beautiful thought of one day becoming a published author.

Could today be the beginning of making dreams into realities?

I'm sure going to try...

Knocking His Halo Right Off

2010-10-31T20:23:00.002-06:00

Boy and Me.

Happy Halloween!!!

A World in Six Words

2010-10-28T13:48:00.000-06:00

When asked to write a full story in six words, legend has it novelist Ernest Hemingway responded: "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Earlier this year, many contributed their own six word stories to a compilation entitled, It All Changed in an Instant.

Many famous names left their six word mark: Gloria Steinem ("Life is one big editorial meeting"), to author Frank McCourt ("The miserable childhood leads to royalties"), to actress Molly Ringwald ("Acting is not all I am").

Now, Hint Fiction shares stories of a slightly longer word count--entire lives wrapped up in twenty-five words or less.

j. j. steinfeld wrote:

"Before their wedding, Gino revealed he was adopted. Eugenia admitted she was adopted too.

"I was a twin, Gino added.

Eugenia said, So was I."

jenn alandy wrote:

"His wife calls while we are in the hotel room. 'Yeah, I'm enjoying my time without the kids,' he says. I stare at my feet."

marcus sakey wrote:

"He held her crepe-paper hand and summoned an autumn day, sepia and smoke, and dancing, and music that sounded nothing like the beeping of machines."

What's your story in twenty-five words or less?

Just Pray

2010-10-28T08:33:00.003-06:00

Pray for the people of Indonesia; the volcano erupted again. And while you're at it, pray for the people suffering from cholera in Haiti, and the families of the Mexican massacres, and the families enduring the weather in the Midwest, and the hearts of the government officials both in office and running for office, and all of the people in the Middle East, and those down to their last dollar who don't believe there is anything left to be thankful for this holiday season. Well, it'd probably just be safe to pray for us all at this point.

Snow!!!!

2010-10-27T08:17:00.000-06:00

It snowed in the valley last night!!!!

Snow always reminds me of one of my best friends going completely bazurk a few years ago at the sight of the first snowfall of the season. She's from England, where there isn't much snow, if any at all.

Most of my life I've disliked this cold, wet stuff. But I realized I really just didn't like walking through it to school every day.

I'm excited for the winter wonderland this year!

Do you like snow?

where am i going?

2010-10-27T08:06:00.000-06:00

I ask myself this question all the time.

Sometimes I'm referring to tomorrow. Sometimes I'm referring to my emotions. Sometimes I'm referring to the salvation of my soul.

I've heard it said, the best way of knowing where you are going is to understand where you've come from. Well, maybe that isn't said; maybe I just made it up. I don't remember. But still.

If this were truly helpful, how to I go about understanding yesterday?

When I was young, maybe somewhere around eight years old, I remember standing in front of a small crowd. I was in a line with other boys and girls around my age, and I had a red balloon tied to my wrist. I watched the air-filled plastic ball float up and down with every slight lift of my wrist. And I waited. Each boy and girl took their turn answering questions about him or herself. I don't remember why, but we just were. One of the questions--the only one I can remember--was, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I had an answer. I didn't have to come up with it, and I didn't hesitate when sharing it. "I want to be a mom." I was so sure of that fact. And I didn't really worry about changing that answer. I loved my answer. It was true.

Years later, I was faced with another question: "What classes do you want to take that will help you prepare for your future career?" My answer was less sure. I thought I wanted to be an attorney, but I didn't quite understand the complicated factors surrounding the becoming of one. But my mom helped me figure out what my options were, and I signed up for some classes. I felt content with my answer. And I was excited about the possibilities.

Things didn't work out so well with my high school law training. Truth was, I hated the teacher. Bigger truth was, the teacher hated teaching. And I was faced with a new question. "What school would you like your ACT/SAT scores sent to? And what major would you like on your application?" I panicked. I really hadn't a clue. I didn't know I could write "undeclared," so I asked my mom what I should put at the top of my test. I had picked the school I wanted to attend, and my mom encouraged me to put "pre-communications" as my major. She said I had been interested in it earlier, but I honestly didn't know what it even would entail. I felt passive about this answer. But I knew I could just change it later.

A lot of things have happened since then. A lot of yesterdays have passed.

The future is always scary and always complicated--the complications are just different.

I don't worry about whether I've put my shoes on the right feet anymore (and according to Tabitha, I'm pretty good at that whole "left-right thing" now), and I care so much about having someone to sit with during lunch.

I still don't know where I'm going always, but I have a pretty good idea of where I've been. I know that I've at least survived the past, and things work out somehow eventually.

I know I come from a God who loves me. And I know I want to get back in the end.

It's Nothing Personal

2010-10-25T08:00:00.002-06:00

I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't put a whole lot of personal information about my life on here. I tend to gravitate to long divulging rants of my deep, inner thoughts--which, naturally, isn't personal. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the time no one read this blog, back to the time when I posted all of my secrets here--on the world wide web--because it was private. I would talk about roommates, boys, and coworkers without the slightest risk of their finding this site. But now things are different. Yet, something inside of me still wants to gossip with you--tell you everything. I want to giggle about boys (or rather, boy), vent without guilt, and dream without limits.

*Biting bottom lip* .....think I should just spill?

Well, if you're making me. :)

Okay, so, here's the update on my life:

I've been dating boy for about three or four months (we don't really know...). Boy has liked and chased me for quite awhile longer than I cared to notice. I played the games, worried about what boys thought, and racked up the free dinners for years; but when boy came into my life, my focus was wholly elsewhere. I had decided to serve a mission for the LDS church, and I had already begun packing my bags for an adventurous summer in New York (possibly leaving to never again return). I was still quite okay with the pleasant company and free dinner boy offered (he was a million times better than some of the other crazies I'd been dealing with.), but ironically, my journal entry the day of our first date simply says, "Today I've truly decided to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My heart is burning, and I am ready to go. I know it is the right thing for me." ....Yeah, DAY OF our first date. Kinda funny.

Anyway, I went to New York (and loved it SO much! ...hoping to go back some day), and, as you saw before, boy came out to visit me. (That was only after two months of talking every day, including an 9 hour conversation on Skype.)

Wow. It sounds like I'm announcing my own engagement or something. I'm kind of freaking myself out. So, let me add here, that is NOT the end of this story... *phew* maybe I shouldn't talk about boy on here. I may get myself into trouble.

Before I drag more sappy details out, let me say, I was still in missionary (or potentially taking a job with Nat Geo TV in New York) mode, and didn't really feel anything for boy. He was sweet and all, but it's hard to make feels come that simply don't exist on their own.

So, boy tried harder and harder. And I came back to Utah. My papers are still unfinished. And I turned down two job offers for Nat Geo TV.

Now, I'm working as an American Sign Language interpreter, taking piano and voice lessons, fixing my little sisters' hair, and running carpool for my mother--all while living in the basement of my parents' house. Not really where you dream of being when you're 22, huh? But it works. Well, it more than works. I'm really quite happy with it all--most of the time.

(Oh! I'm also helping my mom with her business, starting a business of my own, and writing a novel. And I get to come home to hot meals from my mom every night!)

Yet, my never-ending itch to go and do still sits at the base of my neck, and I don't know if I will be here much longer. I haven't the slightest clue what my future holds at this point (that was entirely unacceptable a month ago), but I'm learning to embrace the adventure.

I look at women in their 30s and then 40s and think, "One day I'll be you." Then I shutter and try to think of something else. Growing up is really scary. Children think you know a whole lot and that everything works out by the time you're as "old" as I am (goodness, my little sister told me I should be married by now, and asked me what was wrong with me!!!). But sometimes I'm not old, sometimes I'm still young. And sometimes I'm content not making grownup decisions.

So, bring on the adventure! And let me live every day to the fullest! That way, by the time I reach my 30s and 40s, I can feel satisfied and pleased with my life.

Maybe I really shouldn't write ultra-personal posts. I'll only get myself into trouble. My only point was to inform you that I'm happily dating and happily working. Life is {mostly} good.

Life in the Fast Lane

2010-10-24T12:34:00.000-06:00

I drive fast.

Faster than I should, I know.

I also say things about other drivers, things that aren't always nice. But I tell myself it's okay because the windows are up and they can't hear me.

I've always lived my life as full as I can. I pack so many things into my schedule, sometimes I do too many things to allow myself to enjoy any of them.

I want to live a full and active life, but I want to enjoy it as well.

It's such a hard balance.

Do you ever feel pressured to do more than you can? Do you ever wish you were capable of living with sleep as an option? Do you ever just stop and notice the ladybugs?

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-10-24T12:26:00.000-06:00

Donna is the proud mother of five girls and two boys--Mikey and Hyrum.

One day, Donna grabbed Hyrum and gave him a great big hug.

"Who's my good boy, Hyrum? Who's my good boy?"

Sigh.

"Mikey is."

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-10-24T12:22:00.001-06:00

"We're going to sing 'Up on the House Top!'"

"You're not going to sing up on the housetop, you're going to sing up on the stage."

-Julie and Mark, now aunt and father, said over 40 years ago.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-10-24T12:19:00.001-06:00

"Mom, if Shelli's name is really Michelle and we just call her Shelli for fun, is my name really MicJulie?"

-Julie, said 40 years ago when she was a little child.

Times with Tabitha

2010-10-24T12:16:00.001-06:00

At the ballet, I took Tabitha down to look at the orchestra pit.

Upon our return from this adventure, brother asked,

"How did you like the orchestra pit?"

"I like it just fine, but don't call me pit."

-My (now) 8 year old sister.

Want that Hurts

2010-10-18T10:33:00.000-06:00

Have you ever wanted something so badly, the very thought of it causes your head to spin and stomach to churn. It shouldn't, the thought should be exciting and invigorating; but with each glimmering mental image of my self actually obtaining said want, the thought is quickly smothered by my fear of failure. "What if I can't?" Oh, I want this so, so, so, so much. I happened upon a job profile of some random woman today who's resume was basically my wish list. I admit, I envied. I coveted. I wanted from the bottom of my soul. I craved so deeply, the intensity of suction at the bottom of my stomach nearly turn my body inside out. Ahhhhhh! What do you do when you want something this much? What do you do when you risk falling flat on your face? What do you do when it will take several years to just get there, and then you still might fail? What do you do when you feel you'd have to risk everything, but if you succeed, it'd all be worth it? Yet, if you fail......... If all the hard work, the years of effort and tears, and your pride all get dashed to pieces, is it still worth it? Should I try in spite of the risk of failure?

I want it so much, even my toes are tingling with desire!!! ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-10-14T19:19:00.001-06:00

"Teacher, I'm sorry, I can't read this paper for the class."

"Why not?"

"I just can't read your handwriting."

"Kira, it's typed."

- Kira, an 8 year old friend.

Times with Tabitha

2010-10-14T13:00:00.000-06:00

"Josh, I want you to hurry up and kiss your girlfriend. I want to be an aunt as soon as possible."

- My 7 year old sister.

Today is a Good Day

2010-10-14T10:09:00.000-06:00

I just decided it will be so. Which means, it will be so.

via

God Bless Update

2010-10-13T21:56:00.002-06:00

31. 9:01 p.m. - Pedro Cortez, 25, an electrician, helped install the communications system used to talk back and forth with the surface. He lost a finger in an earlier mining accident. He and his wife are separated and have one daughter.

32. 9:28 p.m. - Ariel Ticona, 28, was still awaiting rescue when his wife gave birth to their second daughter. They named her "Hope." He worked with Cortez to install the underground communications system.

33. 9:55 p.m. - Luis Alberto Urzua, 54, shift foreman at the time of the collapse, is widely credited with helping the men survive by enforcing tight rations of their limited food, lights and other supplies. Speaking for the miners shortly after their discovery, he told Chilean President Sebastian Pinera: "We hope that all of Chile shows its strength to help us get out of this hell."

God Bless

2010-10-13T18:15:00.002-06:00

Rescue order men pulled from Chilean mine
By The Associated Press (AP) – 33 minutes ago
In order, the men pulled from the San Jose mine in Chile, with some details on each:
1. 12:04 a.m. - Florencio Avalos, 31, the second-in-command of the miners, was chosen to be first because he was in the best condition, and best able to deal with any difficulties that might arise.
2. 1:10 a.m. - Mario Sepulveda Espina, 40, captivated Chileans with his engaging personality in videos sent up from underground.
3. 2:08 a.m. - Juan Illanes, 52, is a married former soldier who urged his fellow miners to be disciplined and organized while trapped.
4. 3:09 a.m. - Carlos Mamani, 24, the lone Bolivian, started at the mine five days before the collapse. One of 11 children who emigrated because he could not find work, he has been promised a house and a job by Bolivian President Evo Morales.
5. 4:10 a.m. - Jimmy Sanchez, at 19, is the youngest miner and father of a months-old baby.
6. 5:34 a.m. - Osman Isidro Araya, 30, a father of three, had planned to quit the mine at the end of August because of the risk.
7. 6:21 a.m. - Jose Ojeda, 47, is a widower with no children who has diabetes. Two of his nephews were at the site to greet him.
8. 7:02 a.m. - Claudio Yanez, 34, is a drill operator who requested cigarettes be sent down while awaiting rescue and expressed disgust at the nicotine patches he received instead.
9. 7:59 a.m. - Mario Gomez, at 63, is the oldest of the miners. He also is the most experienced, having first entered a mine shaft to work at age 12.
10. 8:52 a.m. - Alex Vega, 31, who is married with two children, had been saving to buy a house and move out of his parents' home. His father helped in rescue efforts - using a false name because officials prohibited relatives from doing the dangerous work.
11. 9:31 a.m. - Jorge Galleguillos, 55, was injured in at least two earlier mining accidents. He has 13 brothers and requires medication for hypertension. Officials have promised to help his son, who is a university student.
12. 10:11 a.m. - Edison Pena, who is 34 and married, was reportedly among the most depressed of the trapped men and asked rescuers to send down a photo of the sun. He tried to run every day for exercise, and is a fan of Elvis Presley.
13. 10:54 a.m. - Carlos Barrios, 27, is the father of a 5-year-old boy. He is separated from his wife.
14. 11:30 a.m. - Victor Zamora, 34, was an auto mechanic and laborer who has worked at the mine for five years. He sent up poems to his wife, who is pregnant, and is the father of a 4-year-old boy. While underground, he complained of tooth pain.
15. 12:07 p.m. - Victor Segovia, 48, kept a diary of life below, asking those above to send down more pencils and paper. He has five children, is an electrician and plays guitar.
16. 12:49 p.m. - Daniel Herrera, 37, was a truck driver and taxi driver. Herrera is single; his mother and sister have been waiting for him at "Camp Hope," the relatives' encampment outside the mine.
17. 1:38 p.m. - Omar Reygadas, 56, helped organize life below ground and reportedly survived other collapses in the mine. A widower, he has six children, 14 grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, including one born while he was trapped.
18. 2:49 p.m. - Esteban Rojas, 44, proposed a church wedding "once and for all" in a message to the woman he married in a civil ceremony 25 years ago. They have three children.
19. 3:27 p.m. - Pablo Rojas, 45, reportedly went to work at the mine six months ago to help pay university fees for his son, who is studying medicine. He is married.
20. 3:59 p.m. - Dario Segovia, 48, is a lifelong miner whose father first took him underground at age 8. Twice married, he had three children from each marriage. He had worked at the mine for three months, drilling holes for dynamite. He has 12 brothers and sisters.
21. 4:31 p.m. - Johnny Barrios Rojas, 50, worked for 25 years at the mine and served as the medic for the group because he'd had first aid training. Awaiting above are relationships that need healing as well: his wife and his lover met at Camp Hope.
22. 5:04 p.m. - Samuel Avalos, 43, is married with three children, had been working as a street vendor and got a job at the mine for more money.
23. 5:32 p.m. - Carlos Bugueno, 26, found himself trapped alongside a childhood friend, Pedro Cortez. A passionate soccer fan, he asked to have game broadcasts piped below. Relatives said the former security guard went to work at the mine to earn money for a car and house.
24. 5:59 p.m. - Jose Henriquez, 55, formed and led a prayer group while trapped and had friends send 33 small Bibles down the tiny supply hole. Chilean reports say that in January he helped save several miners who had passed out in the mine, apparently due to gas, and had to be rescued himself when he was overcome returning for another miner. Married with twin daughters, he has spent 33 years in the mines and survived a landslide on the surface in 1986.
25. 6:24 p.m. - Renan Avalos, 29, is the brother of the first man out. He had worked at the mine five months.
26. 6:51 p.m. - Claudio Acuna, 35, proposed to his girlfriend Fabiola Araya from below ground. He has two children.
27. 7:18 p.m. - Franklin Lobos, 53, a former professional soccer player, drove the bus that carried the miners to work. Lobos was a midfielder on the Chilean teams La Serena, Iquique and Cobresal, and was on the national team that qualified for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. He has two daughters.
28. 7:44 p.m. - Richard Villaroel, 23, is returning to his wife, who is in the late stages of pregnancy.
29. 8:13 p.m. - Juan Carlos Aguilar, 46, has worked as a miner since he was 19. He is married with two children.
30. 8:37 p.m. - Raul Bustos, 40, a hydraulic engineer, was caught up in both of Chile's two recent tragedies. The tsunami caused by February's earthquake destroyed the shipyard where he worked. So he journeyed north to work in the mine — two months before he was trapped there. He would travel back 20 hours by bus to visit his wife and two children.

Tripping at the Finish Line

2010-10-13T12:31:00.001-06:00

I am a horrible runner.

As a child, my aerobic activity of choice was always dance. I loved looking beautiful as the music pulsed through my blood. I loved having every part of my body in line, all the way down to my pinky finger, as I executed intricate combinations of coordinated head, arm, leg and foot movements. Every inch of flexibility gained became a battle won, and a huge source of pride and self-worth. To feel powerful and graceful simultaneously is a rush few people in this world experience.

So, what does this have to do with running? Well, I'm not dancing any more. I subbed dance at my old studio this past month while another teacher recovered from having a baby, but I have not personally felt the elating bath of precision, poise and passion through dance for some time now. Actually, it's been years. In the stead of this wonderful aerobic activity, I've tried to pick up running. I don't know a single dancer that runs--seriously. It's as though your body only knows how to do one or the other. But, alas, my life has moved me on to picking up "the other."

Last year, my friend and I set out to run a 5k at the end of the semester. We had one semester to work up to jogging 3.1 miles without slowing or stopping. I still remember our early days; it was a joke. We literally had to stop at the half way mark of each lap, not even half mile! Like I said, pathetic. I wanted to quit. I wish I had quit before I even started so I wouldn't have to be reminded of my achey body's weaknesses. But my friend was wonderfully supportive, and never a quitter.

So, I didn't quit. We ran almost daily together. I started loving it. I loved how I felt after I ran. I loved the sense of accomplishment I had each time I pushed myself a little bit farther and a little bit faster. I loved the effects it was having on my body.

Pretty soon, we were running our 5k at least 3 times a week. Success!

Then we stopped.

We got busy. Both of us understood finals were the priority. It was just easier to go "next time."

I've run off and on since that time, but it's been nothing like the drive and consistency I had before. Plus, I slide back in my abilities. ugh.

I'm trying to pick myself up again. I'm trying to go when I can. But I have a long way to go before I can again say, "success."

I feel like this sliding back happens in my life all the time. I set goals; I get excited about things; I work hard. But then life reminds me how difficult simply moving forward can be. Sometimes I believe I'd be more ahead if I'd just stop trying. With each effort to move forward one inch, I'm pushed back two. I know this isn't realistic, but the thought makes giving up look mighty good sometimes.

Lately I've wanted to do a lot of giving up. I find a lot to complain about, and a lot to be unhappy with.

I know giving up is rarely an acceptable answer (I should say never, but I'd like to reserve some loophole possibility to excuse myself on occasion...). I know it's not acceptable today. I just wish it were.

Sometimes I think I'm closer to a win than I realize, and I just need someone to pick me up and remind me I want to finish the race, to feel my pain and cheer me on.

Saving the World

2010-10-09T14:54:00.000-06:00

I work at a school for children below the poverty line. Some of the families are just under the weather, some come from broken homes with broken hearts, some are creating bridges from unhappy homes to happy ones through foster care and adoption, and some have court orders to attend or they'll lose their children.

The foster father of a very cute and quite student at this school explained that one of the hardest things they faced when taking in this little boy and his two siblings, was teaching them that food did not come out of the garbage can. This 3-year-old boy was so afraid of being hungry, the father would find him shoving handfuls of flower and sugar in his mouth, and gnawing on cans of food.

Another young boy in the class is so scared of being left alone, he follows the teacher, holding the back of her shirt, around the room.

Some days, mothers come in crying.

I've seen bruises.

Some parents eat dried out school chicken nuggets by their children with a deeper look of hunger than even their 4-year-old shows.

I see their aching want as parents to give the world to their children, but not being able to give them food.

It hurts my heart. I want to make everything better.

In my dream, I changed my house into a very large and loving foster home.

I saved all of the kids from harm, and hugged them till the overflowing warmth of my soul covered them in a life-long protective blanket.

We ate, laughed, and lived without worry. I just wanted everyone to be happy.

Why can't I save the world?

Times with Tabitha

2010-10-09T14:02:00.000-06:00

"What time is Granny's funeral on Saturday?"

"Tabitha, it's not her funeral! It's her 90th birthday party!"

"Oh, right. That's what I meant."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

2010-10-09T13:55:00.001-06:00

Background: My boy works for Brigham Young University Broadcasting sports, and has expressed his opinion to my family many times about the BYU football team's recent, umm, shall we say.... shortcomings.

Well, my family is not a big sports family, but last night Tabitha expressed her deep concerns for sports because of it's importance to boy, who she considers to be one of her best friends.

Last night, Tabitha prayed quietly next to her bed: "....And please bless {boy} that he can let our football team win."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha {and friends}

2010-10-09T13:45:00.000-06:00

"Look at how big the Great Salt Lake is!"

"Mom! Mom! Is there pepper in there too????"

-Hyrum, my 5 year old cousin.

Times with Tabitha

2010-10-05T16:34:00.002-06:00

"How do you spell 'haft'?"

"As in, 'I halved the apple'?"

"No, as in 'I haft oo do that.'"

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

2010-09-29T15:55:00.000-06:00

"Oh my goodness! Their steering wheel looks just like our steering wheel!"

- My 7 year old sister.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

2010-09-27T20:52:00.007-06:00

My younger brother has a wonderful sense of humor. Everything is a joke to him. And often, regardless of whether or not something is truly funny on its own, somehow anything that bounces off Caleb becomes funny.

My family is full of laughter.

When I really get laughing, I have this horrible habit of flailing my arms in this fanning-like motion and hopping around demonstrating my newly intense need to pee. It's quite the scene--believe me. The flailing arms have been a joke in my family since I was little, and my mother often mocks this motion while I do it, which only increases the laughter and intensifies the need to pee.

Once you get us going, the picture is nothing short of this: My laugh dance, Mom's snorts, Grace and Tabitha's loud-mouth quacks, Josh's snickering convulsions, Dad's tears, Sarah's unbridled giggles, Caleb's half muffled chortle, and Camilla's bubbly teehee.

And some jokes never die in our house.

Years and years ago a young man began taking ballet at our local studio with us. His name is Noah, pronounced NO-ay. One of the first times we used his name at home, my mother thought we were saying "no way." Now nearly EVERY TIME someone says "no way," my mother quickly counters with, "Noah doesn't dance anymore!" And then she cracks up into a snorting laugh at her own joke.

But sometimes, humor can be inappropriate. As I said, my brother has a joke for everything, and this does not exclude off-color humor.

Sometimes cultural, stereotypical, and racial humor can be honestly funny, and I may even try to muffle my own chuckle. But that doesn't make them right.

James Willie Jones publicly apologized this week after his outburst earlier this month on a public school bus where he threatened children for bullying his cerebral palsy inflicted daughter. Bullying actions allegedly escalated to the point of hospitalizing the girl due to stress. Jones said the children even threw a condom at her head.

We may think something is funny in private, but the humor we allow to infiltrate our soul will undoubtably infiltrate our society.

Now, don't be too quick to judge me either. I'm not a straight arrow, and I do know how to "take a joke." But I also know how to recognize when something is not a joke.

I'm not trying to be prudish. I'm just asking for us to take a look at our culture, the way our society is slipping.

Mack Bawden, a senior at Copper Hills High School, was spotlighted in an article in today's Deseret News. He was spotlighted because he has done something unique.

Amy Donaldson began her article,

"Mack Bawden wants his best friend, Cameron Judd, to experience everything he does--dances, dates and even the pain of getting up early to train for the Copper Hills cross-country team.

"The problem is that Judd couldn't do any of those things without help.

"The 17-year-old West Jordan boy has cerebral palsy and, were it not for the help of his friends, he'd likely be stuck on the sidelines.

"But sometimes, the kindness of a single person changes everything."

Copper Hills senior Logan Anderson, left, and Mack Bawden push fellow senior Cameron Judd, who has cerebral palsy, in a cross-country meet in Herriman.

Pictures

Next time you begin "I shouldn't say this, but..." or "This is horrible, but..." or "This joke is just awful, but..." or any other sentence that leads into your lightly jesting about another's handicap, color, or way of living differently than you do, try to be the exception.

And while we're at it, if we're no longer judging by physical appearance, let's not judge based on what someone might wear over that physical appearance, or the car that might drive that physical body around, because in the end, we're all the same--each having a mother, each wanting to find love and acceptance, each making it through the ups and downs of life.

While the old adage, "Boys will be boys" may work for my younger brother, it doesn't work for the men who need to be men that lead in politics but lack in statesmanship, who represent our religious groups but not our religious ideals, and who have children but fail to understand the meaning of father.

Saturday evening, President Thomas S. Monson, the Prophet and authoritative leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, made a worldwide address asking us to see beyond the mortal casings of those we see every day.

And although I more than doubt that our future is one of loving deeds. And I doubt that kind and higher road wont always be so unique as to be make the front page of a newspaper.

But maybe, as the jokes fade and we laugh with people and not at them, we can reach beyond ourselves and touch the soul of another--we can be the "single person [who] changes everything."

Maybe we can make our own way of living "differently."

Maybe we can take the road less travelled by.

Little Smiles, Litte Toes

2010-09-24T09:24:00.002-06:00

Meet my little sisters....

Fan of Times with Tabitha?

Let me introduce you to the eccentric nut. :)

Playing in the rain:

Sarah as a master chef:

Grace's favorite? Baseball!

...and the rides before the game.

(Her preferred chant to yell at the top of her lungs:

"WE NEED A PITCHER, NOT A BELLY ITCHER!)

And last, but not least!

Camilla!

Checking out the ropes before her first day...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Our favorite things to do together: paint nails (my job), jump on the tramp, go swimming, race Mario Kart, cook fabulous works of art, talk about life, laugh at each other, be the last one to pinch or poke the other, dance (all the time!), simply be together.

Life is always a party with four little sisters!

In the Wilderness

2010-09-23T23:36:00.004-06:00

Wildflowers, marshmallow fingers, crisp mountain air, the lullaby of a rushing stream, a sky full of diamonds, and dancing under the moonlight-- whispers of God's love.

A Sucker for Suckers

2010-09-23T15:13:00.000-06:00

We made raspberry flavored lollies!

In the Morning

2010-09-21T22:13:00.004-06:00

I have been told, I am in the morning of my life.

A few days ago, at about 10am, I wondered if I existed at the 10am stage of my time here. That particular morning I happened to have slept in. Although this wasn't typical for me, it still made me a little uncomfortable to think that I hadn't done anything with myself beyond showering and, if I was lucky, making myself appear presentable for the day.

In a brief laps of time I reflected on the earlier parts of my life and realized that these too were acts of waking up and getting ready. The typical child spends the majority of their time awake between the ages 5-18 (plus however many years for higher degrees) in school. But why? To learn, yes. But really, in a strictly applicable sense, to prepare for a job, raising a family of their own, etc. Or in other words, to prepare for the rest of their life.

When I turned twenty I went through this time of fixating on the fact that I had potentially concluded a quarter of my life. I felt overwhelmingly old. I know that may sound silly, especially to those significantly beyond their twenties, but it was definitely a reality check moment for me. I have a fairly poor memory, and I could only recall insignificant snippets from here and there of my childhood--an entire quarter of my life pieced together in a few random memories.

My earliest memory: Riding my tricycle around our small apartment complex and feeling as though I'd gotten lost because it took my short, three-year-old legs a lot longer for me to work my way around the building than I anticipated.

I remember my father purchasing me a 25 cent toy from a small candy machine in the hospital while we waited to see my mother and newly born little sister.

My mind swells with my earlier dreams and ideas of the world, as I recall the first time my mother helped me apply the lightest shades of eyeshadow and lipstick, so that I might wear makeup in public.

I can't help but relive the churning stomach and trepidation of auditioning for high school dance team in front of my more popular cheerleader peers.

I chuckle at the memory of moving away to college and realizing I needed to buy my own toilet paper.

And I daily recall the morning only a month ago when I woke up to the traumatic death of my grandmother.

This is a quarter of my life, in so many words.

Just as the beautiful pastel blues, pinks, and yellows of the sunrise fade into the warmth of the afternoon, so too does the novelty and magic of childhood fade into our background of life.

Inevitably, storms come and go unexpectedly or not, and life presses forward until we each hopefully glow in the rays of a brilliant red and purple sunset.

It's hard for me to fully grasp the duration of an entire life--so long and yet so short.

I find myself staring at women only a little older than myself, wondering how I will get there, but recognizing time's unfailing ability to push us forward.

A very eccentric but wise man once told me, the waves never stop moving. He explained how he had sat on the beach one day alone for 10 hours, until he realized the waves never stopped moving.

So it is with our lives. The waves are always beating against us. The water is always changing. Sometimes the liquid can feel cool, refreshing, and brilliant on the shore of a beautiful beach; other times we feel as though we are drowning. Over time, the water refines us, removing blemishes and rough spots. But the waves never stop moving.

I don't know what time it is in your life right now. I don't know what you've done with your minutes already spent. And I don't feel the need to give you some unasked for, cliche piece of advice.

I just want to let you know, I think wrinkles are beautiful.

Times with Tabitha

2010-09-21T22:11:00.002-06:00

"Do you know why it's hot right now even though it's fall time?"

"Why?"

"Because the earth needs to get rid of all its extra hotness before it can become winter."

- My 7 year old sister.

Times with Tabitha

2010-09-21T22:08:00.002-06:00

My boy picks up Tabitha's headband and puts it on his head.

"Look, it matches my shirt."

"You can't wear it though; it doesn't match your boyness."

-My 7 year old sister.

Failing at Life

2010-09-15T08:31:00.003-06:00

Have you ever felt this way?

I do. Sometimes.

My entire life I've been obsessed with making to-do lists.

Confession: Sometimes I add things I've already completed to said list just so I can cross it off.
Please tell me I'm not alone in this crazy behavior...

As part of my never-ending lists, I also set an absurd amount of goals. Most of the time the "goals" exist only as fleeting thoughts and therefore are only wishes and not goals. Yet, even the goals that do become real goals by establishing themselves on a flimsy, white page rarely make a difference in my life.

So, I devised a plan to ensure real change, real improvement, and real betterment in my life.

Here's how it goes:
I have 3 goal. ONLY 3. The first goal will always be what I call my "dailies;" in other words, the religious things I do every single day without fail or change of time (i.e. prayer, scriptures, journal). The second goal is for improvement, something I'd like to work on that will help add to my life. And the third goal is for betterment, eliminating a bad habit that holds me back.

I set my goals and wrote them in my journal.

THEN (that's not all yet), I told a friend. Actually, I told two. I have two very close friends who set their own goals based on this pattern.

I've heard tell that 21 consistent days makes a habit. We must keep our goals, ALL OF THEM COMPLETELY, for 21 straight days. At that time, we reward ourselves for our success. However, 21 days does not mean "the end." We reward ourselves, and then we have the opportunity to start one more goal. It is only at 42 days that we can remove a goal from this required daily routine.

IF, knock on wood, we even so much as forget to complete a single aspect of our three goals, we much sacrifice something (we've agreed on media) for 3 days, as well as start back at day one for your 21 day cycle.

We've named this plan: "Are you good?" We ask each other constantly "Are you good?" as a reminder.

Today is day 18 of that plan.

We are all "good" to varying degrees.

Each of us has had to ask for an exception once. But we also believe in forgiveness. :)

I hadn't intended on telling you the entire structure of the plan, but rather that it's very difficult for me to keep up. I have 3 simple goals, that's all. The first week was cake, but ever since then I've really felt disappointed in both my efforts and their results. I think it's because survival of life has been my priority and improvement thereof has been the afterthought.

All my life I've had to be careful with sentences like: "When this test is over, then I'll be happy." "After these projects I'll be less stressed." "Dang. I forgot to call her last week. When I get on top of all my craziness, I'll have to give her a call."

This week I heard a profound statement:
"We're doing better than we think we are, but we can all do better than we are doing."
-Julie B. Beck

I'm surviving, and therefore failing life.

It's time to take a deep breath, and live.

It's time to think better, do better, and be better.

...but not kill ourselves, cause that's not living either.

Falling in Love with my Hands

2010-09-14T13:30:00.002-06:00

I've started taking sign language interpreting classes again.

On the drive home from my first class I couldn't help but smile. I even laughed--out loud.

I felt the cellophane wrapped tightly around my heart rip. I felt the dirty glass I had seen the world through let in a little more sunshine. I felt. The numbness melted ever so slightly.

This is right.

Times with Tabitha

2010-09-07T20:28:00.003-06:00

"Today at ballet we learned Susan's Balance Basics:
First you put your ears over your shoulders. Then you put your shoulders over your hips. Then you put your hips over your toes. And then you keep your bum in. And last you pull in your abominable muscles."

-My 7 year old sister.

The Deepest, Most True Kind of Love

2010-09-03T12:48:00.005-06:00

{I want it}

May I fall in love one day, and never fall out again.

Danny & Annie from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

4-wheel Excursions with George Clooney

2010-09-02T13:59:00.003-06:00

I'm a secret agent.... on the bad team.

After many daring tricks and stunts, I distract the other party and we all escape successfully. However, (oh no!) somehow in the thick of things I get separated from my team. A small piece of paper floats down out of nowhere with a clue. Easy. I know exactly where they've run off to. I grab an apple for the long journey and take off. Before I know it... I'm wearing a long, black, flowy evening gown.

Swish pan!

I'm walking slowly on a ledge with flowy dress flowing, tossing said apple in hand.

Shot opens wide to reveal my crew revving the engines of their oversized ATVs. I throw the apple to none other than George Clooney, my secret evil lover.

I jump on the back of his bike and we tear through the hot desert sands that surround us.

Don't you wish you were in my dreams too?