Want that Hurts

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!!!!

In the Morning

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.

Just Different

Somehow, I've changed.

And so has the world.

It's all just a bit different.

Maybe more than "a bit."

I've Figured it Out

Yahoo!

After months and months of struggle, I've made a breakthrough!

I know what I want to do with the next year of my life.

eek... I just might be going back to school after all...

Life is about happiness and the pursuit thereof.

Now go and do.

Moving Forward, Moving Over, Moving Through

When I introduced myself at National Geographic to all of the "higher uppers," they asked me what my goals were for the summer and what I thought they could to do help me expedite them.

I was honest.

I said I was here to figure out the rest of my life. They all laughed, and so did I. Then they told me they couldn't help me because they hadn't figured it out for themselves at 50 years old. "Join the club."

Much time and thought over the past few months has gone into this trying to "figure out the rest of my life." I'm at one of the biggest turning points I've ever reached. After so much time deliberating over my many wonderful options, I know I must move forward; but I still haven't figured out which directions that's in yet.

In the meantime, I'm trying to focus on what I'm know I'm supposed to do now. And I know I'm supposed to move over to my new apartment. As of this week, nearly everyone I came to the city with will be gone. Today I met my new roommates briefly at church. I can't express the blessings that have led me to these girls. Maybe I'm passing premature judgements, but I think I'm really going to love living with them. They're nice. I miss nice people.

I have a lot to share with you about my choices, thoughts, and decisions, but I'll get to that another time. I just know I'm looking for happiness, and I need to remember to find that in getting through every day, not just getting to the next.

God's got my back, even when I'm not patient enough to see it.

How Does Hair Know When to Stop Growing?

Have you ever wondered how a hair knows when to start and stop growing?

You know what I mean: why do eyelashes grow to a certain length? If you cut one of those small hairs on your forearm in half, somehow it knows it's been cut in half and grows to full length again--but only to it's normal length, and then no more. And why do some hairs grow really long (like those on your head) and some barely at all (like those on the inside of your wrist)?

I used to wonder this all the time.

One day, I decided to find out.

So, your hair grows out of what's called a hair follicle. This is basically a piece of skin that squishes old cells together and makes hair (what scientists call "keratin filaments"). With the follicle, there's this thing called the sebaceous gland. It produces an oily-waxy matter called sebum.

(Side note: The more hair, the more sebum. And the most sebaceous glands are found on your face and scalp, which is why your hair on your head gets greasy and your face gets oily.)

These glands are all over your body except your lips, palms, and the bottoms of your feet.

That's all great, right? But that still doesn't explain why the hair stops growing.

Well, these little hair-making machines, these follicles, like other machines can't run full-time without running themselves into the ground. They go through three phases: anagen (hair is growing), catagen (hair stops growing and falls out), thelogen (follicle recovery time before beginning production again).

So, here's the answer, are you ready???

The three phases run different lengths depending where they are on the body.

And the length of the phases dictates the length of time the hair has to grow.

So, an eyelash has an anagen phase of about a week or so, a pubic hair a few weeks, and a head-hair several years.

The varying lengths are mostly due to the genetic hard-wired info in the follicle, but sometimes hormonal or metabolic control (basically, changes in your body's chemicals).

That's why stress, malnutrition, and puberty can all affect the growth of hair on your body.

Now you know.

Just don't cut yourself shaving--that's a whole different matter.

Please comment below if you thought this was helpful!

Lastly...

there seems to be a pattern over there ------->

(and up...yeah, you have to scroll a bit)

Also seen right here:

To maintain this pattern, I either need to stop posting for the remainder of this year, post at least 117 times, or reach 171 posts (doubt I'll get to 711)...

I'm just saying.

Sources:

The Naked Science Forum

Wikipedia

second image, original source unknown

Award Winning

This week I had the wonderful opportunity of meeting with two highly achieved women in my industry.

We sat. We ate. And we talked.

Allison Argo is the founder of Argo Films--a six-time Emmy award-winning film company. As a documentarian, she has produced, written, edited, and narrated over a dozen highly-recognized films. She works hand-in-hand with PBS and National Geographic in creating her documentaries.

Kimber Holt Crandall finished her college education in broadcasting in less than two years. By the age of 19 she worked as an anchor in Idaho--this was after working for stations in New York, Washington D.C., and Park City. She is a two-time Emmy award winner for her work as a reporter, and she currently works for News 12, a cable news network in New York. By the way, she's not yet 25-years-old.

Both spoke of their histories, their careers, and their advice. And they showed me their work.

It's been a very interesting week for me as I have looked to what my future holds and the goals I hope to achieve.

Yet, in spite of my internal freaking out right now that I don't know what's going on with my life, I did figure out one thing: in spite of the accolades, I do not envy these women.

Allison has no family and Kimber has no life.

Several of my peers visited Kimber with me. The other girls left Kimber's apartment with a feeling of renewed hope and strength for their futures. They discussed how if Kimber can be home for only six hours a day and see her husband for only one, then they can do it too. They continued with a comparison of how little they saw their fathers while growing up, and how it didn't really make that much of a differences, and it can obviously be done.

I can't do that.

I want a future of happiness.

Am I in the wrong career?...

Unihemispheric Sleep

Define: Unihemispheric Sleep

Uni = numero uno

hemispheric = a half of a sphere (like that of the brain)

Okay, prepare yourself. Lately I've been learning about this really cool thing called Unihemispheric Sleep. I heard about it on a radio show. I know, just keep reading.

Dolphins are mammals, right? Therefore they need to breath above water. And not only do they need to breath, but they are conscious breathers, meaning they need to tell themselves to take a breath every time they jump out of the water. Crazy, right? That's not even the best part. In spite of their habitat being a great body of water and the fact that they need to remind themselves to gasp for air, they sleep. In fact, they sleep a full 8 hours every day. How? you might ask. I did. And the answer--unihemispheric sleep.

Do you remember that day last weekend that I went to Pinkberry? Well, over said frozen yogurt I told my lovely friends all about this new discovery; however, I dare say, I don't believe they were much impressed. So, unlike them, you have the freedom to pass up this post...but if I've managed to pique your interest, please stay tuned.

Ducks often sleep in rows of four with the outer two birds keeping one eye open for watch. If you wait around long enough, you'll see those two end birds get up and make a 180 degree turn before hunkering down in their guard-like positions again.

This is because the side of their brain connected to that one eye is alert and on watch; however, the other side is sleeping! They rotate to give the other side of their brain a chance to sleep as well.

You can see from these wave patterns that dolphins' brains do the same thing! When they sleep, dolphins go into a state animal experts call "logging." It's where they float along the surface like a log. Because this takes some attention on the part of the animal, not to mention the attention required for breathing, the dolphins must stay awake even in this relaxed state--but not all of them needs to stay awake. They rest half their brain at a time.

Some believe we humans used to be capable of this as well, but one day discovered houses with locks that kept us safe--so we didn't need to worry about protecting ourselves with one eye open.

At this point, "experts" have observed Unihemispheric sleep in birds and aquatic mammals (like those discussed above)...and possibly some reptiles, they're not exactly sure.

But half a brain a whole a brain,

everyone needs sleep.

Here's what happens when we don't get enough:

But surprisingly, in spite of the fact that we ALL sleep, doctors don't understand the necessity or process of sleep very well. Yes, we know the stages, but beyond that--little to none. Dreams? Why are brain is more active while we're asleep then awake? Why rats die after only a few weeks without it? How come our entire body is dependent on it?

No answers.

Well, I hope that didn't put you to sleep.

Like I said, I think it's fascinating!

I just wish we had more answers.

But in the meantime, I think up more questions.

Sweet dreams!

The Winter's Tale is by Shakespeare

Do you ever wonder why people are so different? I mean, more than just outward appearances--the way we taste food, what makes us happy, what affects us emotionally. We all experience life as individuals, separate individual beings.

I saw this woman on the train today reading a really trashy novel. And my thought was: "What a really trashy novel...Well, at least she's reading."

Although I will always believe reading has great value, I did catch myself after such a critical thought. I started to wonder if all of my likes, dislikes, judgements and priorities were ever "right" or just "different." Of course, truth is truth, and I wouldn't "believe" in somethings, like religion, if I didn't in this.

However, spaghetti doesn't really taste all that bad--even though I swore this was a truth all my life, so obviously opinions change and we grow up.

But does this change the very things that make us who we are? Why do we have a central core that creates uniqueness?

I have so many journal entries from my 15 year old self asking where I "fit in," where my niche exists in this big world. But I don't know if that's what I should be doing, if those are the questions I should ask.

I think we're just supposed to find what makes us happy, endure what makes us sad, and learn from everything else.

Here are some things that define me and make me happy:

**start 1:00 into the video**

Blogging about Blogging

Way back before the time this blog existed, I was openly opposed to blogging. In fact, I was opposed to Facebook, myspace, Harry Potter, lacy tank tops, The Office, and any other thing I felt fell under the confined of that elitist little crowd known as "popular." In other words, I was a non-conformist.

Then I gave in.

I gave in to Facebook because necessity demanded it of me--I needed to Facebook stalk a guy I was interested in. I wore the stylish shirt because my aunt got me one for by birthday (when I realized my opposition derived from my lack of ability to participate (I didn't have one), not because of my actual opinion opposing the style). And my mom convinced me a blog would be a great outlet for developing thoughts, feelings, and writing.

I must say that the content of my blog has developed over the years. I used to believe no one read my blog; that permitted me to be wholly honest, and freely vulnerable about what I discussed.

My writing came in waves--sometimes the tide was high, and sometimes very low.

And I grew up some.

This past year I have had a very interesting relationship with my blog, and more than ever, the blogs down that sidebar on the right. I used to follow their lives and read the intricate details of their worlds more than I would post my own.

At one point last year, I decided I needed to change my entire image based on the lives of some of these girls.

I must admit, I am still swayed by their lives, but I am more of me than I used to be. And I wish that I could be even stronger in that than I am now.

I've just been thinking a lot about this recently in light of a Mormon Message video I saw the other day.

For those of you who are not familiar with these videos, they are short clips produced by my church.

Well, for those of you who are not familiar with the blogging world, this woman, Stephanie, has quite the reputation. Right along with many other blogs like rockstar diaries, dooce, and others I'm sure I don't know of, people follow nienie dialogues like their Bible. Even if they don't like the author, bloggers develop this insatiable need to know what's going on in the lives of other bloggers. They will form relationships, true friendships with others they have never met, but know more personal insights into their lives than even the neighbors of these writers might know.

I developed this same need to know.

I needed to know and be like bloggers I read about daily.

Imagine my surprise when I ended up in a college class with a girl whom I had never met but had been following the blog of for some time. I happened upon her blog through the blog of another blog which I found through another blog which I found through another blog which is written by a friend I actually knew. Weird, huh?

Then I started feeling self-conscious about the number of followers I had. It's kind of like when you first get Facebook and you don't have as many "friends" as others. All of a sudden that small number actually dictates the way you think and feel about yourself. OK, maybe you didn't have these feelings, but I did ever so briefly. I needed followers; I needed people to care about what I thought and said.

Really, though, I'm glad I let go of that quickly. I found the more people I discovered actually read my blog, the more contrived my entrees became. I want to write for me again. Don't get me wrong, this is a public site and I plan on leaving it that way, but I'm not writing FOR you anymore. Selfish? Maybe. But this is the way it needs to be if I'm going to be me.

I've had a lot of self-evaluation moments out here in this whole new world. I'm not a completely new person by any means, but I'm working on peeling off some unnecessary shells I've built around the real "me."

Do you ever feel as though society completely dictates your thoughts and actions.

It's scariest when I feel my own self-perception is based on looking through the eyes of others.

This is just one part of my long inner discussion with myself about how I "fit in" here, and where I'm going next in life, and how I let others make that decision for me.

If I have time, maybe I'll venture into the other half of this discussion about my experiences of "fitting in" in New York. But for now, I've decided not to worry about dressing like those girls on that blog, or finding a husband like her, or thinking about all the things that those people do.

I'm just going to be me for awhile, if that's OK.

Hellloooo, New York!

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I'M IN NEW YORK! I didn't think I'd ever make it here, but I am, in fact, sitting in the basement of my housing complex on the edge of Harlom in NYC! My friend, Rob, picked me up from the airport last night, and then gave me a walking tour of the city today. Here are my thoughts:

As I exited the airport doors, I felt the heavy air consume my body. It had been raining for several hours by this point, and the air was thick with moisture. The cars were nothing but stop and go--no room for weak brakes. One large truck literally looked both ways (if that) and then simply drove through a red light. Another car saw the red light and stopped under the light, in the middle of the intersection, until it turned green again.

I love the man who welcomed me to the house--dreadlocks and all! "What the pen isn't working? Well, this is a non-profit organization. What do you expect?"

The subways smell like urine and the city a cacophony of fragrances ranging from fried onions to cheep perfume to more urine.

We visited the Manhattan temple, and the security guard at the front door was helping herself to a large cup of coffee. It was rather humorous.

I live in a dorm apartment on the same floor with a Russian opera singer and Tommy.

More than anything, I am SO EXCITED to start my internship with National Geographic tomorrow!

I'll try and keep the updates more regular now. Maybe I'll even get around to recapping on what's happened in the past month.

Delete

I wrote a lengthy explanatory post about how I've discovered a new part of myself--a new facet of confidence, if you will. But I realized I was writing for me this time, and not you.

So, "delete."

I will summarize for you: I've discovered I like the personal essay more than the short story. And I don't need to become a famous author. And I'm happy with myself.

ps. I really like this song.
("They" won't let me embed the video, sorry. So, if you want to listen bad enough, you'll have to expel extra effort and click on the link.)

6 Seconds

That's how long it took me to figure this out. I must be a genius.

They say only people with an IQ with 140 and over are able to figure this out.

If:
2 + 3 = 10
7 + 2 = 63
6 + 5 = 66
8 + 4 = 96

Then:
9 + 7 =????

Dear Blog,

I am yet again "finding myself," and I love it! Just as relationships develop over time, I believe we must develop an understanding of ourselves--a relationship with ourselves, so to speak. We constantly change, and constantly need to reacquaint ourselves with who we are as individuals. I have learned more about myself through God this year than ever before, and I know I should be able to say that every year for the rest of my life. I am strong. I am competent. I have a burning testimony of my Savior and his gospel. I love talking. I'm often very prideful, but I wish so very much that I weren't. I love cooking. I love making others happy. I always strive to please those around me. I need attention. I think very little of myself most of the time, while simultaneously putting myself above others. I often worry about my future. I can't really picture myself finding love again. I love music. I love writing. I love the temple. I talk back when I shouldn't. I hold myself to an extraordinarily high standard. I feel pressured to achieve perfection. I make my bed every day. I love food. Dancing makings me very happy. Sign language tickles my insides and always makes me smile. I want to serve the Lord. I want to find an eternal best friend. I want to fix my daughters' hair (when I have them of course). I hate social games/manipulation/pettiness. I highly dislike television reporting while working three jobs and taking classes (even if this gets me into trouble with my professor...ugh!). I love my family so much. I want to have ducks again. I can't wait to go to Africa! I wish I had a car. I can't always decipher between right and wrong. I judge people harshly. I wish I could change a lot about myself. I have a definite liking for physicality with boys; but in spite of this attraction/desire I can't even allow myself to continually date an individual who doesn't meet standards (unlike roommates who think dating is for physicality). I can give my heart and soul in eternal commitment to my future husband. I wish I were a better writer. I'm grateful for my current roommates. I need to read the scriptures daily (as in: I need to do better at this). I allow Satan to work on me. Laughing causes me great joy. I hate working with arrogant people. Sometimes I think inappropriate things are very funny. I get confused with my own feelings. Crisp autumn air is one of my favorite things. I hate ice skating. Nuts make me gag. I hate being smothered by boys. I allow boys to validate me. I feel as though I have no real friends apart from those with which I am related. I wish I were funny. Often, I feel as though I fake being smart. Cleaning helps me feel good about myself. I'm always tired and hungry. I'm like an onion.

"Stop...no you stop...no you STOP!"

I’m tired of whining. I’m ready to grow up. I have such a blessed life, and I’m the only person that can short-change the opportunities before me. I need to “pick myself up by my boot-straps.”

Finals Are Coming...

Now is the time that many students dread; an accumulation of all that was SUPPOSED to have been learned throughout the semester will be tested and graded.
The time for learning is passed. The time for reckoning is here.

But why do I feel like I am learning more than ever right now?

I am discovering myself. But I suppose the test of self is ongoing.

I Feel Your Pain and Wonder Why it Has to be This Way.

There is so much pain around me—pain that I cannot heal. I hurt, they hurt. And now I hurt from my own problems and from theirs. But I cannot heal them. Why does death take loved ones from us early? Why do illnesses debilitate the faithful, the righteous, and undeserving? But most of all, why can I do nothing?!

This week, more than ever before, the existence and prevalence of pain and problems in everyone’s lives has manifested itself strongly unto me. There are billions of people in the world, and yet we feel alone. People may reach out to us, but in fear we recoil back into our shells, our safe places—lonely, but not vulnerable. I now understand Christ’s willingness to give Himself for the pains of the world. If I could, I would. But even if our sacrifices could heal, I myself am not a worthy enough sacrifice to compensate.

I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel sick. Fat. Ugly. Tired. Empty. Hurting. Angry. Stupid. –Probably all feelings coming from Satan, but he’s doing a really good job at convincing me I’ve had enough.

I’M SO CONFUSED!

Life doesn’t even make sense to me anymore. I use to be so sure about who I was, where I was going, and who I wanted to become in the meantime. Now I just don’t know. Nobody has any answers!

“REMEMBER: THERE’S NEVER A PERFECT MATCH”

Says the bus driver. I’ve always know that life isn’t perfect and I’m not perfect and that’s not going to change. But why can’t I at least have a perfect match?!
If God has all of the answers, then why doesn’t he share them with me?? I know he is there, I’m sure of that. But then why do I still feel so alone?

I FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO BE SICK!

My head an stomach are swimming so much, I can’t even think straight.

HELP!

The random thoughts I have

Okay, I know that I haven’t been on for awhile. This is partly because I have been extremely busy, and partly because in spite of all of my business nothing exciting has happened.

I have a few issues on my mind that I would like to vent at this time. First of all, why is it that why you like a guy and believe that you are sending out all of the right signals he just doesn’t get it, at all; but if you don’t like a guy, to just be nice to him means “come get me I’m yours.”

Secondly, I am so tired. Tired from lack of physical rest and tired from lack of mental rest. I have learned some very important concepts in the past few days about my life and the direction it should be taking. Those who know me also know that I am somewhat of a perfectionist and extremely anal about the phrase “doing my best.” I did some research on the topic of perfection, and directed my search primarily towards God’s definition of perfection. I discovered how I far off the mark I have been for so very long. My efforts towards perfection (according to my definition) stem from my deeply rooted desire to impress those around me, primarily my Heavenly Father, parents, family, and associates, not limited to, but specifically including those I do and those I would like to date. Now, after having said all of this, I realized that my “success” does not determine who I am and should not determine how others view me. It is not the result or out come that I should be judged by, as this is the role of Jesus Christ and my Heavenly Father. More accurately, others should view me through my efforts, not the result but instead the process. I am tired because I am running so very fast in directions that are good, but not always necessary. I have decided to slow down—to rest. And as my dear roommate would say, “have some fun Anna! Lighten up. Live a little.” I think that I just might.

Am I weird? Sometimes I just wonder…

Last week I had a run-in with life, and those I live with. I wound up with a little time one my hands alone in the dark to think. For many years I have felt somewhat out of place in life. I use to say that I was always looking for my “niche.” This week I realized that I have a niche. I am who I am; I don’t need to change that to fit into someone’s niche. And that it is not someone’s niche that I am looking to fit in, but instead someone I am looking to fit into mine. It occurred to me that someone is out there just for me. And that they will love me, eternally, for exactly who I am. I won’t need to feel embarrassed about any aspect of myself, but will be accompanied in both the late night philosophical conversations and the even later night hyperactivity. Someday I’ll find my best friend-today is just not that day.

Hum…I think that is all on my mind for now. Actually, with the head cold that I now have, there’s not much room for anything at all in my throbbing head.

Another day…Another thought…Another feeling.