Sincerely, Sorely Disappointed

"She had always spent her life waiting for something: for her father to come back from work, for the letter from a lover that never arrived, for her end-of-the-year exams, for the train, the bus, the phone call, the holiday, the end of the holidays. Now she was going to have to wait for death, which had made an appointment with her."

"It was precisely because she found everything so stupid that she had ended up accepting what life naturally imposed on her. In adolescence she thought it was too early to choose; now, in young adulthood, she was convinced it was too late to change."

"She would consider each day a miracle - which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences."

Veronika Decides To Die -Paulo Coelho

---

I think New Years Eve might be my least favorite holiday. It is the only one, in my opinion, that is nearly always a let down. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of New Years Eve, and I always get excited for it, which is precisely the reason I have come to dislike it so much. Why should the fact that I don't have someone to kiss tonight bother me more than the fact that I didn't have someone to kiss last night, and I won't have someone to kiss tomorrow? Sandy reckons that if I stop assuming everyone is out at a party and acknowledge the fact that the rest of the world is sitting on the couch watching TV in their pajamas and drinking sparkling cider just like I am I will appreciate the holiday a lot more. And maybe she's right. Perhaps if I lower my expectations of the day it won't always be such a disappointment.

I just haven't figured out how to do that yet.

Until next year,
karajean

P.S.

Good Riddance 2009. You were the worst.

I Spend My Time Just Thinkin, Thinkin, Thinkin 'Bout You.

This was originally a post about how I’m not exactly a wedding type of girl. How I’m not the type of girl who has had her wedding colors, music, and theme picked out since junior high. But then I realized some things go without saying. Plus, my general lack of wedding knowhow kind of makes me apprehensive to post about weddings in the first place, mostly because I know the likelihood of it coming off as one big cliché is high. And I’m trying to avoid clichés like the plague.

This comes up because I spent most of yesterday wedding dress shopping with Sandy, who was probably even less of a wedding girl than I was before she got engaged.

Someone else who sadly may not be a wedding girl is the bride who was trying on a dress next to Sandy in the second store we visited. She just looked… awkward, for lack of a better word, in her gown. Now, it may be because her choice was fairly ugly, but we were all inclined to think she just isn’t suited to be in a wedding dress. {Sad and judgmental, I know.} At this point I started to wonder if I am a wedding dress type of girl. My mom insisted that I am, and told me to try on a dress for “fun,” but I could not quite bring myself to do it. Instead, I put on a veil and stood in front of a mirror.

And let me tell you, I looked awful.

Maybe it was the unattractive veil. Maybe it just clashed with my converse, my jeans, my flannel shirt, and my hoodie. Maybe it was my less than perfect hair or my extreme lack of makeup. Maybe it was the unpleasant expression on my face.

Or maybe I am just not a wedding girl.

And maybe the fact that this distressing revelation and the even more distressing reflection in the mirror worried me more than it should have {I’m writing about it, aren’t I?} is evidence to the fact that I am more of a wedding type of girl than I ever realized. It’s not like I haven’t thought about my wedding, because I definitely have. But it is always in the vague distant future, with nothing exactly defined. {Although still distinctly perfect.} Even when I visited Tucson this fall and ended up looking through bridal magazines with two friends of mine who are definitely wedding girls, the only preferences I could be persuaded to divulge include my love for brightly colored daises and the song Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

Admittedly, however, those are preferences. And they are things I have thought about. And if I am being honest with myself, I want to look good in a veil, dang it. {If, you know, I decide that veils are pretty, and not ridiculous.}

So just maybe I am a wedding girl. And maybe somewhere in the vague distant future that will come in handy.

{Oh my. Yesterday must have really done a number on me. For a post that was not supposed to be about weddings control+find tells me I have used the word wedding 16 times in this one short post.}

A Post About My Dad, and Still Somehow Mostly About Me

When I was in the sixth grade there was a teacher, who for the sake of anonymity I will refer to as Mrs. Smith, {not to be confused with the actual Mrs. Smith who taught at VVL} who was not my teacher.

She was, however, her son’s teacher.

And I always wondered if he called her “Mrs. Smith” or “Mom” in class. I mean, either sounds weird.

I bring this up because today in church when they called the new bishopric I realized I am in the same predicament.

Bishop Durkin?

Dad?

{Maybe Bishop Dad?}

This minor dilemma aside, today was an awesome day at church. It might be a little weird having my dad as my bishop, and I’m probably about to become a lot more involved in ward activities, but I guess that can only be a good thing. And he is going to be great. I am so excited for him. Just like I am so excited for his band to start providing entertainment for ward parties. {How cool would that be?}

Besides, hopefully now people will remember who I am and stop asking me if I’m new.

Maybe someone will even sit next to me in sacrament meeting.

A girl can dream, right?


Happy Bishoping Dad!

Embarrassment of Riches

If you are as lucky as I am, then you probably got to spend Christmas with people you love.

And Santa may have even recognized the {difficult?} year you had, bringing you something totally awesome. In my case, I was thrilled to find not one, but two books with my name on them under the tree this year. I told my friend how fortunate I was and received this response: “A book? Were you bad this year? I’d take the coal.”

Hardly. Santa knows me all too well. If I was meant to be punished, it certainly would not be in the form of a book.

And, as it turns out, my parents also know me all too well. I just think they like to take credit for my “big” gifts, which is why my new cell phone had their names on the outside, not Santa’s.

They’re thinkers.

So if you are as lucky as I am, you might have spent the entire day in your pajamas reading, dozing, eating Christmas cookies, listening to the Glee soundtrack, and talking to your friends on your fabulous new toy. Or you know, doing something that sounds equally as appealing to you.

If you are a little luckier than I am, then you probably didn’t have to spend Christmas with freezing feet, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose.

But we all have to be humbled somehow. It’s the only thing grounding me in this embarrassment of riches.

It’s a tradeoff I’m more than okay with.


Merry Christmas!

Even Scrooge Wasn't Really a Scrooge

I think I love my family most on Christmas Eve.

Or, at the very least, I realize just how much I love my family on Christmas Eve.

When I was younger my favorite tradition was the annual Christmas Eve bedtime story. Where lots of other family read Luke Chapter 2, the Durkin’s read The Polar Express. And we love it. More recently, however, my favorite tradition involves the entire family piling {illegally} into one car and driving around my grandma’s neighborhood to look at Christmas lights. We pass judgment on the houses that win the decorating awards, deciding which ones should have won and which ones should have been disqualified for loading their yards with tacky blowup decorations. We lovingly heckle the people in the hay rides. And we sing. The past few years Sister and I have almost miraculously turned this car ride into family caroling time, cajoling everyone {minus one too-cool-for-school 16 year old} into singing Christmas hymns at the tops of our lungs with the windows rolled down. The Durkin’s love music, but I would say we rarely sing out loud, because, well, we’re not the most vocally gifted family.

So as I sat in the car tonight, singing The First {and second, and third, and fourth} Noel with my family, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of appreciation. Appreciation for the fact that we’re all still together, and immense appreciation for the fact that I am lucky enough to have been blessed with a family I actually love spending time with. I couldn’t help but lean my head against the window, close my eyes, and bask in the moment, saying a quick prayer of thanks.

Tonight, after we finished looking at lights, however, my sister hopped into a car to drive down to Tucson to spend Christmas with her fiancé. And I thought about how Will was missing because he was spending his first Christmas with his wifey. And I don't mind telling you that I felt… lonely. Believe it or not, it was an unexpected feeling. I have heard more than one person grumble about the holidays this year because they have no one to spend it with and I have been counting myself lucky that I don’t fit into this category. I mean, I have my family. My fabulous family. See paragraphs 2 & 3 of you don’t believe me. So I thought I was immune to the Holiday Blues. But as I sat in the car tonight, I could not help but feel a little overwhelmed. I could not help but lean my head against the window, close my eyes, and think about him.

And I’m not talking about the most recent him, the one with the too good break up. {Although, if we’re being honest, I did think about him too.}

And I’m not talking about The Ex, the one who broke my heart in July and answered a year and a half long prayer this week by telling me he will be spending the next two years of his life serving the Lord in Des Moines. {Although, of course, I did think about him as well.}

I thought about the him I might be spending next Christmas with. Or the Christmas after that. And I thought about the him I will be with for all of the Christmas’s for the rest of my life. I thought about whether or not I have already met him. {My guess is that I have not.}

And then we arrived home, and read The Polar Express, and my mom cried, and my little brother wrote a note to Santa, and my Dad told us how much he loved the family.

And I felt happy again. And not so lonely. And now I am thinking about patience, and how it is my favorite day of the year, and how if I can’t be happy today than I don’t stand much of a chance any other time. And just like that, my minor case of the Holiday Blues is {mostly} gone. I have so much time to spend Christmas with numerous other hims.

I can wait.

I'm a Little Better on the Holidays

Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the year.

So even though I am sitting by myself in my bedroom listening to Jay-Z and waiting for my chronically late family when I could be listening to Christmas music on the way to my Grandmas's house, I am in a great mood.

Impatience doesn't exist on Christmas Eve.

Ironic, because as a kid this day was the longest one of the year.

Not anymore.

I would be okay with Christmas Eve stretching itself out as long as possible.

It's definitely the most magical day of the year, and I have always been a sucker for a little magic.

Even if I have to wait.

Brain Dead

Yesterday, the mall broke my brain.

There were too many people, and too many stores, and too much music, and too many things on the list, and not enough time. There might have been enough time, had Sister and I not spent more than 30 minutes staring at the earing rack at Forever 21 trying to figure out the best "ghetto gold" earrings to buy for ourselves. And then another 30 minutes at Hot Topic trying to throw together a present for little brother out of tacky t-shirts and awesome Alice in Wonderland memorabilia. Oh, and was the three times we drove up and down Main street attempting to find an antique store that may or may not exist. That was practical. As was the multiple times Sister and I got turned around and drove in the wrong direction on our way from one mall to another, as if we haven't lived in this city for the last 10 years. And finally, we spent entirely too long in Victoria's Secret trying to figure out which lip gloss we could purchase within the limits of our 10 dollar gift cards {also for ourselves}.

By the end of it our heads were aching and we had complained of nearly fainting several times. Sister pointed out that we were almost like characters in a Jane Austen novel. {A comparison which, by the way, I'll gladly accept. So long as I'm Elizabeth Bennett, of course, and no one else. Except maybe Marianne Dashwood.} We think it was Forever 21 that did us in, because before that our shopping was extremely efficient, but once we were stepped inside that trendy and inexpensive vortex without a clear idea of what we wanted we were hit with sensory overload and a huge case of shopping ADD, bouncing back and forth between the different jewelry racks too many times without the facility to focus on anything in particular.

It was all just too much.

And after that, we were done for. The list went straight out the window, as did all ability to use our brains and/or make a decision. I think we both remarked more than once that we felt like crazy people {standing inside Forever 21 for too long will do that to you} and we could not understand why other people in the mall did not seem to be bothered by the terribly loud music and generally frantic atmosphere.

After about 5 hours we got to go home for a break, but it didn't last. Less than an hour later we were back in the car with the little brothers on our way to do some more Christmas shopping. Luckily Target is quieter than Pac Sun, so it was not altogether awful, although by the time we got home from this trip, Sister and I were both reaching for the Tylenol bottle.

AND, even though I made the day sound like the.worst. it was the hilarious kind of awful, which I can fully appreciate and enjoy.

So, mission accomplished!

A Very Durkin Christmas

Christmas in the Durkin home means a lot of the same things it means for other families.

It means lights, shopping, baking, and family.

It also means staying up until 3 in the morning to watch terrible TV and drink sparkling cider out of champaign glasses with my sister {Our first, and hopefully not last, episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians}.

It means laughing {and some terrified screaming} at the absurdity of watching my parents race each other home from temple lights.

It means the "girl car" trying to compete with the AC/DC the boys were blasting on the way to the temple by simultaneously blasting Don McLean's American Pie.

It means making Elf Yourself videos with all of the members of the family {including Grandma} and laughing until my stomach hurts and my mascara is a little runny.

It means finally going to see New Moon because I have been waiting since November for Sandy to come home and see it with me and my mama.

It means spending too much time on the internet reading blogs and watching Subtle Sexuality.

It means having someone to sit with at church and laugh about everyone else in the building.

It means listening to Disney music and making plans to watch Mulan.

It means pictures, but silly embarrassing pictures, not perfectly posed ones fit to send out in a Christmas card. Because Christmas in the Durkin home does not mean Christmas cards. If it did, they would look something like this.


Merry Christmas!

Sometimes Even I'm Wrong.

It turns out I might not be as deathly ill as my fever {100.7!} and my sore throat {really, really sore!} had me believe yesterday.

Go figure.

My error in judgment aside, this is great news. Especially for the people I spent all last night serving food to, and the people I will spend about 10 hours serving today. Even as I type this my throat has started aching again, as if it knows working 3 shifts in a row is not the best idea for someone still recovering from a... mild fever and a tender throat. {I know what you're thinking. This sounds like a cold. And why didn't I realize it was just a cold yesterday? Because WedMd told me I had the mumps. That's why.}

On the bright side, there is always more Ibuprofen. I'm calling it a precautionary measure today. Precautionary medicine is allowed, right? I can't see how there could be anything wrong with that. Besides, I'm legitimately sick. I mean, I could have the mumps.

About My Illness & My Ego

I was right.

I knew I was getting sick last night while I was serving, and I knew I was getting sick while I was at the Red Robin Christmas party, I knew I was getting sick while I was doing laundry until a ridiculously late hour, and I definitely knew I was sick this morning when I woke up at 5:30 and could not get back to sleep.

So it turns out I was also right about how I was going to spend the day. Lying in bed in my pajamas. No running, no cleaning, no driving to Tempe to talk to me {cute} professor and finish selling back my books.

It also turns out that being right does precious little to make me feel better. But the Ibuprofen is stepping in where the vindication is failing. So that's something.

And mostly this post is the fruition of my extreme boredom and the fever reducer. So don't be surprised or alarmed if and when I spam my blog with pretty pictures and pointless stories over the next day or two.

And in order to make good on that promise, here's a story for you. Yesterday as I was leaving my house and walking to my car to go to work two boys {around 15 years old?} were riding by on their bicycles. As they rode by and I went to unlock my car they both looked up at me at the same time, and apparently were both so distracted by my beauty {or fabulous new sunglasses, or both} that they simultaneously forgot what they were doing and crashed right into each other. The result was two tangled up bikes and two very ashamed looking boys trying to free themselves from the mess. I mean, they actually fell over. Hard! They were lying in the street! It was great; a fabulous ego boost.

Totally made my day.

And I hope I totally made their day when I honked at them as I drove past. Either that, or they died of embarrassment. Either works for me.

Laundry Service

It's almost 1:30 am, so why wouldn't I be awake doing laundry? After all, last night I was awake until after 2 cleaning my room. And tomorrow night is reserved for the bathroom.


On my last post Kayla mentioned that cleaning is a way she sometimes makes herself feel better. Turns out she was pretty right on. Even though I tend to clean at night when I should be asleep at least it is a distraction, and once it is done everything just feels easier; less cluttered, less confusing. And I've had just about as much confusion as I can handle these days. I'll take any silver lining I can get.

Maybe tomorrow I'll try some other ways to continue making myself feel better; I could run, shop, and/or head down to Tempe. Or maybe I'll sleep in until 10, stay in bed until 11, and refuse to change out of my pajamas until I have to be in to work at 5. We'll see.

I sure do love Christmas break.

It's Not Rocket Science, Just Lady Gaga

I have, over the last several months, become pretty good at cheering myself up.

I know that sometimes all it takes is a little browse through blogger until I find a quote that makes me feel better. {thanks caitlin.}

Being single used to mean that nobody wanted you. Now it means you’re pretty sexy and you’re taking your time deciding how you want your life to be and who you want to spend it with.

-Sex and the City
And once I'm feeling single and fabulous, a quick stop by the mall for some retail therapy sounds about right. I love Christmas shopping for other people, but it is also pretty great when I find the perfect pair of sunglasses for myself.

And then I head home to take ridiculous pictures of myself in said glasses and dance around my house, by myself, to some insanely loud Lady Gaga. {I'm only sharing this last part because I know you are all way to kind to judge me for this. Right?}


And now I feel great, like I didn't even spend last night losing sleep over one lousy boy. It's as simple as that.

So how do you make yourself feel better?

Tonight

I cried over him for the first time.

A mini-broken heart is still a broken heart, you know?

Luckily it doesn't matter if I sleep tonight or not, because I don't have anything to do tomorrow, minus driving to Tempe to turn in a final at noon. But I think I can manage that.

"Now I Know What a Fool I've Been, But if You Kissed Me Now, I Know You'd Fool Me Again"

I think today is the first day I have really felt in the Christmas mood. The house smells like Christmas trees, we're putting up ornaments tonight (!), I get to enjoy my first Sunday in months without panicking about school tomorrow, Mom and I are holiday baking after dinner, we sang Christmas hymns at church, and I am listening to Taylor Swift's Christmas CD as I type this.

lalalala

I feel good. I bore my testimony at church today. It's been cloudy, rainy, and cold for days. I finally got my schedule for next semester just the way I want it, and two of my favorite people are coming home in 1 week!

The only thing that dampens my mood ever so slightly is when Taylor's Christmas music runs out, and Cold As You starts playing, which I love, but which is a little too relevant these days.

***
"You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray.
And I stood there lovin' you and wished them all away.
And you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you."

***
That minor detail aside, however, things are pretty great, and I'm pretty happy! No wonder this is my favorite time of year. All it really takes is a pine scented candle to lift my spirits.

P.S. {For Santa}

I think I want this for Christmas this year. Maybe we can switch things up a little bit?

Love, Kara

A List of Things.

A few of things happened today.

I finished my Special Ed take home final, meaning I completely finished school for the semester. It does not even remotely feel real to me, partially because this semester has been one never-ending death trap, and partly because I had no finals to take, just a couple of papers to write. So I finished the last one today, on a Saturday, in my bed, and there was no “I’m finally done with school moment!” I tried to create one, but it didn’t really land. All the same, however, it is a relief to know that I’m done. And I think that despite all of my self-proclaimed collapsing my GPA will weather this semester just fine. It’s been through worse. {Ok, that might be a lie. I’ll have to see when grades are posted.}

I started Sense and Sensibility. I have spent my last several winter breaks with Jane Austen, so I decided it was only fitting to mark my return to pleasure reading with one of her novels. I have read Pride and Prejudice too many times to count, and will probably read it again within the next month, but for right now I am going to spend my time with the Dashwoods. I’m looking forward to it.

Today I went to work, and I realized that despite all of my complaining about them, I actually kind of like the people I work with, dang it. So now I kind of want to go to the silly Red Robin Christmas party, even though when I think about it I know I don’t really want to go. I knew I was better off not making friends. What a dilemma.

My fortune cookie told me that an attractive person has a special message for me. Still waiting for that one to happen.

And one very notable thing did not happen today.

I didn’t go to my ward Christmas party. After work I got all dressed up for said party, drove there, decided against going, turned around, and drove home. I realized there is no way I would ever have a good time. Ward parties are awful, Mormon dances are {by and large} awful, and all social gatherings are awful when you go specifically to see one person, unsure of whether or not they are even there.

So yeah, I stayed home. And I’m watching Saturday Night Live with my mom. At least Taylor Lautner is hot. Maybe he is the “attractive” one my fortune cookie was talking about? Let’s hope. Or rather, let’s not. I’m going to hold out for a real life attractive person, if that’s ok. New Years Eve is just around the corner, after all.

I Shoot the Lights & I Curse the Dark

"There ought to be a sideshow act for freaks like me
Yea I could be the star of the show
With my name on the marquee
In a room with a big red button that says 'danger do not touch'
And twice a day I'd mash it down
And you could watch me self-destruct"

-Chris Knight

From, My Professor

Kara-

Nice work. This is a twofold success. First, you explicate the poem insightfully. And second, you do a good job of defining modernism succinctly and accurately. I enjoyed this paper, and I learned from it. Good job.

I love the payoff.

:)

So, This Is Love?

It's 2:30 in the morning. But my paper is completed, coherent, and semi-proofread, so I finally get to call it a night.

I love this feeling.

The Difference

This is the kind of day that was created specifically we me in mind. The kind of perfect, December Sunday that is characterized by overcast skies and a chill in the air. The kind of lazy Sunday where church ends and noon and the rest of the day is begging to be spent in bed with a book, a pen, and a never ending cup of hot chocolate. If only I didn’t have this 6 page paper {due tomorrow morning} standing between and me and my Sunday.

In theory, it doesn’t sound so bad. Writing 6 pages isn’t really that many, and it’s not like writing isn’t one of my favorite things. Because it is. It is not even like I am uninterested in the paper topic, because I am. It is more like I quit reading a few weeks back, so I am not entirely sure what I am going to be writing about. And it’s the fact that it is my favorite month of the year and I would rather be watching Christmas movies. It’s the fact that my mind has been so distracted by other things this week I can’t even begin to tell you what went on in most of my classes. It’s the fact that while I have spent the last 15 years of my life being a model student, this semester I absolutely collapsed and would love nothing more than to put it all behind me. It’s the fact that I feel cheated out of my weekends when I have to spend them working and doing homework, and when I do go out, I don’t get to go out with the people {person?} I actually want to spend time with. Not to say that this weekend was all bad, however. If I look at it in separate chunks, it was actually pretty ok.

Friday night I went to a bonfire. I don’t think it was a planned YSA thing, but it definitely had the crowd of one. I generally had a good time, and I met some semi-interesting people, but it just cements the fact in my mind that YSA activities are not really my thing. I don’t expect to meet people there who I will actually want to spend time with. Besides, like I mentioned way back in August, making small talk is exhausting. And I don’t really care for it.

Saturday morning I was a missionary! And it turns out I was right about that experience. Knocking on doors is scary. Even when you have a companion nice enough to let you stand there nervously smiling while he does all of the talking. Will I go again next month? Maybe. Am I glad a dragged myself out of bed yesterday morning and actually went? Sure, why not. Does it increase my admiration for the young men who actually spend two years of their lives doing this? Absolutely.

Saturday evening I worked, and my shift was fine. Nothing spectacular, but I made money and people were friendly. You can’t ask for a lot more from a weekend shift waiting tables. I finished work about 9:30, and {briefly} considered going out, but in the end I opted for my pajamas, a movie on TV, and a bowl of captain crunch.

So that was my weekend, until today. And like I said, it was not bad. But it feels unsatisfactory for some reason. I think if I would have had things my way, it would have been completely different. And that’s the difference. That’s why I am writing this instead of my paper. Well that and I’m a glutton for punishment. {Apparently.}

I guess it’s time to get to work. I can only complain for so long before I get tired of myself.

Givens.

There are going to be some givens.

I am going to get my work done, but I am going to procrastinate until the very last possible second, complaining and dragging my feet the entire way.

I am going to change my mind. Especially when it comes to the opinions I espouse most confidently, most vehemently. I am going to ramble on about how I hate everything to do with poetry in a vaguely holier-than-thou attitude, and shortly thereafter find myself waxing poetic about my newfound love for T.S. Eliot, “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” and for the title character.

I am going to refuse to let it bother me, and insist on enjoying the experience for what it was. Except for when it all comes crashing down on me, and I inexplicably wake up sad 5 days later, disappointed that not only did I not get what I wanted, but for all my mental preparation I was not at all prepared. Because I am going to do that too.

I am going to be confused. Confused when I find myself looking at the exact same situation as someone else, yet unable {or unwilling} to see it the same way they do. Confused when people act in a way different than I would, and yet cannot adequately explain their actions to me.

I am going to “Have the strength the force the moment to its crisis” one second, and know “there will be time… Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea” the next.

I am going to pray. A lot. I am going to pray while driving to school, pleading that I will somehow be able to make it through the week, even though the predicament I find myself in is 100 percent my fault. I am going to pray before tests I have not studied for, during shifts that I am too emotionally drained to finish, and before I fall asleep each night, when I am too exhausted to give the prayer the attention it requires.

I am, from time to time, going to fall apart a little bit. I am going to allow myself to wallow in self pity while simultaneously viewing the glass as half empty. I am probably going to cry, and heaven knows I am going to be stubborn. Stubborn enough to let myself collapse when I need to, and stubborn enough to pull myself back together when said collapsing ceases to be effective.

I am going to be selfish. I am going to write about myself instead of writing my English paper, because as much as I love T.S. Eliot, I love myself just a little but more.

I am going to be predictable. Chances are these things only surprise you if you don’t know me very well. I am going to be easy to read. I am going to show my emotions and my eyes are going to give me away.

every.single.time.

P.S.

"I ask that my testimony of the Book of Mormon and all that it implies, given today under my own oath and office, be recorded by men on earth and angels in heaven. I hope I have a few years left in my “last days,” but whether I do or do not, I want it absolutely clear when I stand before the judgment bar of God that I declared to the world, in the most straightforward language I could summon, that the Book of Mormon is true, that it came forth the way Joseph said it came forth and was given to bring happiness and hope to the faithful in the travail of the latter days.

My witness echoes that of Nephi, who wrote part of the book in his “last days”:

“Hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, . . . and they teach all men that they should do good.

“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day.”14

Brothers and sisters, God always provides safety for the soul, and with the Book of Mormon, He has again done that in our time. Remember this declaration by Jesus Himself: “Whoso treasureth up my word, shall not be deceived”15—and in the last days neither your heart nor your faith will fail you. Of this I earnestly testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

Jeffrey R. Holland

I will read this every day until Saturday. Maybe it will give me courage.

Disclaimer For My {Future} Behavior

This is my "to-do wall". It encompasses approximately the next 9 days, not including work. It also does not account for the time I will be spending in class. Just looking at it makes me want to throw up. I do feel marginally better now that everything is written down though. I feel like I have accomplished something, plus everything seems more manageable this way; less scary. I am worried, however, that I have forgotten something. If it's not on this wall, chances of it getting done are very slim. Chances of me getting everything done that is on the wall are very slim. And as much as I am dreading writing the four {yes, FOUR} papers I have to write in the next week, there is something much scarier on one of those post-its.

Something not homework related.

Something church related.

Here's what happened.

1) Today in church we watch Holland's talk from conference. {Watch here and here} It was our last meeting of the day, and it left me feeling super excited about church and about sharing my testimony. {Just like last time.} I felt inspired. And then I went to tithing settlement.

2) While talking with the bishop, he asked how I was liking the ward. I told him that it was okay, but I sit by myself every week. {That was a big mistake. Now I am going to be fellow-shipped.} He responded by nicely asking me if I would attend the proselytizing activity on Saturday morning.

3) What I said was "I would be too nervous!" What I am wishing I said was "No, thanks." He told me that he was nervous when they went last month too, and that we would just be knocking on doors, inviting people to temple lights, and giving them a survey. Temple lights are harmless enough {my words}, and he assured me that no one was mean last time, so inexplicably, I said yes. Yes, I will go knocking on doors in an attempt to make contacts for the missionaries. Yes, this Saturday morning will find me sharing my testimony with complete strangers. Yes, I will {hopefully} find some way to get past this mind numbing fear. Yes, this will be a good experience... question mark?

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7

I know I have shared this scripture before, but humor me. It's a favorite. I also know the Book of Mormon has done nothing but bring peace of mind and safety for my soul, so why should I feel so incredibly nervous about potentially sharing that knowledge with others?

Answer: I shouldn't. And even if I do, I won't let that get into the way.

About Last Night.

It is weird to use the term "break-up" when I was unaware I was in the type of relationship where a break-up was possible until it was happening. But break-up we did. It was definitely a new experience for me. In a weird way it is nice to know that these things are possible sans crying, a hallow pit in my chest and stomach, and an overall feeling that makes me want to die. In fact, I learned these things can happen with lots of laughing, good conversation, hugging, and friendly/playful touching.

In other words, it went well.

{Too well?}

I had this crazy idea that if and when this thing ended the confusion would also end. But this is me we're talking about, and if there is anything think about, I will "over-think" about it.

So...?

So.Excited.

I have been waiting for this day for a long time.

That was then:


But things are very different now:


It's going to be a good day.

Life Is {Not So} Good Today

Homemade fudge, wheat thins, sparkling cider, and a Say Yes to the Dress marathon with my mom. An okay end to an otherwise crappy day.

Song Of The Evening (So Tell Me Darling)

Does anything more need to be said?

Life Is Good Today

I love Thanksgiving because it is such a lazy day for me. I didn't help with any of the cooking, and I didn't help with any of the clean up. I drove and ate and talked and read Vanity Fair and slept. And that's about it. And I love the Friday after Thanksgiving because once the shopping is over, Lazy Day, Part II commences. Only this time I get to eat leftovers, which is infinitely better than the original Thanksgiving dinner.

I'm thankful for a lot of things this year. But I know you don't care to read them in the same way I don't care to write them all down. But right now I am feeling fat, happy, and drowsy, so I thought I'd acknowledge the day.

It was nice. And relaxing. And lazy.

Only one person was missing, but I'll see her soon enough.

And now it's time to call it a night.

P.S. It is officially the holidays. I can stop apologizing for listening to Christmas music, and I have started a tally for each time the movie Elf is on our TV. So far the count is two. {Two separate TVs at the same time.} Don't you just love this time of year?

Step One.

Today at church we did the obligatory, Go-Around-The-Room-And-Name-One-Thing-You're-Thankful-For. After a minute or so I decided that I would say that I am thankful for school, because lately I have been feeling anything but. As of late school has basically been the bane of my existence, and I expend way too much time and energy cursing the entire educational institution. As I was thinking, however, I remembered President Hinckley's 6 Be's and how the first one is Be Grateful. And how I am pretty sure we are supposed to be grateful for every.single.thing. in our lives. Including opportunities that not everyone else has {aka higher education} and trials that will eventually make me a better person {aka higher education}. I also thought about a conversation I overheard in relief society, which went something like this.

Girl 1: Have you registered for next semester yet?

Girl 2: No. I'm not sure if I'm going to school next semester. I kind of want to drop out and just go to MCC and take joke classes.

Girl 1: {Insert reaction I cannot recall because I was so engrossed in Girl 2's comments.}

Girl 2: Yeah, and {boyfriend} is not helping. He's really encouraging me to dropout!

Girl 1: Really? He wants you too?

Girl 2: Yeah. He says he would love it.

*****

Um, what?!? At the risk of not only sounding judgmental, but of definitely judging this girl and her boyfriend, I never want to be like that. I never want to be with someone like that. So this Thanksgiving I am going to make an honest effort to be thankful for this ridiculous thing called college.

I've Been Thinking (I'm A Joke That You'd Probably Enjoy)

If we listened to our intellect, we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go into business, because we'd be too cynical. Well, that's nonsense. You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.

-Annie Dillard

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

-Helen Keller

Disney Songs Hold All the Answers

I thought my heart had learned its lesson
It feels so good when you start out
My head is screaming 'Get a Grip Girl!'
Unless you're dying to cry your heart out!


Hope your weekend is fabulous! And I hope mine is too.

Distracted.

I have been forgetting everything left and right these past few weeks.

It appears I am finally collapsing under the weight of the semester. Last Saturday I showed up to work 50 minutes late because, well, I "misremembered" the schedule. The week before that I showed up with the wrong shoes on because I forgot to change. Late Sunday night I remembered that I had a Geology exam the following morning. I also remembered that I had two online Geology quizzes due the Friday before {which needless to say were never completed.} Yesterday in SPE I sat down in class and only remembered we had homework due as the professor was instructing us to turn it in.

But for some reason, none of these things are getting me down.

It is hard to stress about life when I get to stay up until 4 in the morning watching a meteors rain through a gorgeous sky with new and old friends. Or when I get to drive out to Tempe to spend the night with the girls in Rosewood, laughing uncontrollably as it continues to get later and I continue to leave my homework untouched in my school bag.

I'm having trouble worrying about my grades when past experience has taught me they are going to be fine.

It seems pointless to let myself be unhappy when Thanksgiving is next week.

It is silly to dwell on the past when I am excited about the future.

Hopefully I will figure out a new system for next semester. But if not, this one is working pretty ok, too.

Elder Packer > English 241.

Yesterday, at 11:50, Elder Allan F. Packer was scheduled to speak at the institute. Yesterday. at 11:50, I was scheduled to be in my English 241 class. So, of course I made the decision to go to class, and I felt pretty good about it. As I parked in the institute parking garage, however, and saw boys walking into the building while simultaneously pulling ties out of their backpacks and putting them on, and girls changing into heels in their cars, I became pretty jealous. I considered going anyway, but convinced myself not to because I was in jeans and a t-shirt. I walked all the way to my class, sat down, and started talking to my friend, who will hereafter be known as Mormon Boy {despite the fact that it took me months to figure out he was Mormon, and sometimes the fact still surprises me.}

Me: I am so mad I have to be here instead of at the institute.

Mormon Boy: What's happening at the institute?

Me: Elder Packer is speaking.

Mormon Boy: Let's go.

Me: Really?

Mormon Boy: Yeah, why not?

Me: It's church dress.

Mormon Boy: Oh...

Me: Yeah.

Mormon Boy: Let's go anyway.

Me: Ok?

So we got up and left class, well after nearly everyone else had sat down {except for the professor, thankfully.}

On the way there, I mused out loud what the professor would say if anyone told him we were there and then left. He pointed out that professors build allowed absences into class, because sometimes they understand that you just need to not go to class. Plus, this would be more productive towards eternal salvation in the long run. And really, how do you argue with that logic?

It turned out to be a really helpful talk for me. It was all about making decisions, which anyone who knows me well can attest that I am the absolute worst at. I took plenty of notes in my journal {which was slight awkward, what with Mormon Boy sitting right next to me and most definitely reading over my shoulder} and hopefully I will be able to work on the suggestions Elder Packer made. The thing that hit me the hardest was when he said that we need to not only decide what we want to do and who we want to be, but also to take the time to envision it. Take the time to envision your life. Then, when it comes time to make an important decision about a career choice or something else life altering {cough: marriage :cough} picture in your mind where that decision will take you, and then compare it to the picture of the life you have already envisioned for yourself. If the two line up pretty well, it's probably a good decision. If not... you might want to rethink some things.

It just made so much sense while he was talking, and I couldn't help but think that if I had that advice a year ago, and I had not been too stubborn to listen to it, things might be very different for me right now. I mean, they might be exactly the same, but I just loved the idea. He also pointed out that Moroni 10:5 does not solely apply to questions regarding the truth of the church, but for questions regarding any aspect of life. I never looked at it that way before. I definitely will now, though.

So, in the end, I have learned that ditching class is certainly healthy every now and then. Especially when the alternative is listening to a man of God.

Kind of Like An Adult

It's basically a weekend night for me because I don't have school tomorrow OR Thursday.

I know.

Now I just need to find something fun to do, and someone to do it with.

The.End.

P.S. I got my credit card in the mail yesterday, and I felt almost like a real adult. Maybe we can have some fun with this?!

'Maybe' Pretty Much Always Means No

Maybe one of these days I will decide I want to start writing in here again. Maybe one of these days I will start thinking of interesting things to say, or life will slow down enough that I will stop making lame excuses not to write. Maybe I will stop deleting everything I write under the pretense that it is not good enough.

A very big part of me hopes that happens very soon.

Have a good week!

I Am So Restless.

Tonight I put on my running shoes for the first time since I participated in Race For The Cure on my birthday. And it was a solid two months since I had them on prior to that. Sometimes I feel like I am so busy, and other times, like today, I can't find enough ways to fill my time. By 3 o'clock this afternoon I had finished my homework, attended class, met up with Krystal on campus, gone to the bank, and filled up my car with gas. Since then I have been napping, cleaning, sitting around, and sighing impatiently. In a desperate attempt to get out of the house I grabbed my running shoes and iPod and took off. It helped, but 2.25 miles can only last for so long, and now I am home again with nothing to do.

I need more friends. Or, in reality, I need more friends who live in Gilbert. That way I wouldn't have to sit at home by myself on slow nights like this. And maybe I wouldn't have to sit by myself at church every.single.week. That would be ideal.

Take Four

This officially marks the fourth time in 2 days I have sat down and attempted to write something. At first I was shooting for something worth reading, but that has quickly degenerated into an attempt to find words that are even worthy of being written down. At the moment I am 0 for 3, so we'll see how far I get into this before I hit the delete button in frustration.

I woke up early this morning to finish a take home midterm, and then immediately went back to sleep and slept through my first two classes. I am so tired I don't even feel like I am present on campus. I am basically a zombie in class, and if it weren't for the fact that my car feels so far away I would be spending this break taking a nap instead of doing this. I don't know why I am so exhausted. Halloween was great, but it's not like I partied that hard or stayed out until dawn. When I remark how tired I am in class {or slump over in my seat, nodding off, as the case may be} someone invariably looks at me and says "busy weekend?" I nod yes, which is then followed by "so did you totally destroy your liver too?"

No.

"I didn't drink, I'm just tired."

Oh.

It's been enough to garner a few confused shrugs.

It was a great weekend, however {sobriety and all}. My third attempt at a recap post of the holiday simply looked like this:

Halloween 2009 > Halloween 2007 + Halloween 2008

Not exactly a genius equation, granted, but still entirely true. I had the opportunity to spend time with the girls in Tempe, dress up {in my boots and a leather skirt!}, see Regan for the first time in over a month, AND dance the night away with some creepy strangers; so basically it was fantastic.

On an unrelated note, life is progressing along nicely, and by that I mean flying by so quickly that I don't even know what date it is most of the time. I cannot believe October is already gone, and we're at the "beginning of the end" portion of the semester, finishing up last assignments before talk of finals begins. I have never felt so disconnected from school in my entire life as I have this semester, but even within that I have grown to absolutely love attending my two literature classes. Sometimes, especially in Early American Literature, I find myself unable to stop smiling simply because the discussion is making me near giddy. I'm not surprised, however, as American History and English have always been my two favorite subjects. This class might just be a match made in scholastic heaven. And I am more than ok with that.

A Place For the Genuine

We just started a poetry unit in my ENG200 class. {Yuck.} So while I sit back and impatiently wait for it to end, I am going to take slight pleasure in these two poems, because, hey- I'll take anything that can help me get through Shakespeare's sonnets in one piece. {Double yuck.}

Dream Song 14

Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) ‘Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no

Inner Resources.’ I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,

who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
--John Berryman

Poetry

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond
all this fiddle.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
discovers in
it after all, a place for the genuine.
Hands that can grasp, eyes
that can dilate, hair that can rise
if it must, these things are important not because a

high-sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because
they are
useful. When they become so derivative as to become
unintelligible,
the same thing may be said for all of us, that we
do not admire what
we cannot understand: the bat
holding on upside down or in quest of something to

eat, elephants pushing, a wild horse taking a roll, a tireless
wolf under
a tree, the immovable critic twitching his skin like a horse
that feels a flea, the base-
ball fan, the statistician--
nor is it valid
to discriminate against "business documents and

school-books"; all these phenomena are important. One must make
a distinction
however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the
result is not poetry,
nor till the poets among us can be
"literalists of
the imagination"--above
insolence and triviality and can present

for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them,"
shall we have
it. In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
the raw material of poetry in
all its rawness and
that which is on the other hand
genuine, you are interested in poetry.
--Marianne Moore

Staying Away

Well. It's been awhile, for two reasons. 1) My computer broke and is now tragically wasting away behind a desk at Geek Squad. 2) I went away for the weekend. One of these events was fabulous, one of them, not so much. I'll let you sort which is which.

I am currently killing time in the computer commons on campus, and as much as I thought I would use this time to write, that's not really going to happen. Because I don't feel like it. It is gorgeous and cloudy outside and I would rather be out there.

I am going to leave a song however, and I would ask you to listen to it with your eyes closed if you aren't a Twilight fan. {The song is good, I swear.}

strike.

do you remember vacations?

the real kind that last longer than two days?

the kind that suspend reality for just a little bit so you don’t have to worry about school or work or money or drama or to-do lists?

yeah, neither do I.

but that is what I desperately need right now.

i guess ward summit this weekend will have to do until Thanksgiving. {geez}

hopefully it will be enough to get me through the next month without another breakdown/freak out. {although I doubt it.}

because if it isn’t, I see a strike in my future.

a strike against all of the things I don’t want to deal with.

starting with school.

and if my strike started tonight, I could forget about studying for this geology test.

but I am going to attempt to stick it out through this weekend, and see if a couple of days at Camp Lo Mia isn’t exactly what I need right now.

i’m keeping my fingers crossed.

and I am just praying I can make it to Friday.

p.s. if i do strike, you are all welcome to join me. i swear the world will continue to spin even if we don't.

Sunday Morning

"To live in the world without becoming aware of the meaning of the world is like wandering about in a great library without touching the books."

-- The Secret Teachings of All Ages

A Mid-Month Check-Up

- Go to a corn maze
- Eat candy corn & candy pumpkins until I am sick to my stomach
- Spend one night as someone I’m not
- Go to my very first Haunted House {ok, that’s a lie}
- Turn twenty
- Go to the state fair {fingers crossed}
- See leaves that have changed
- Break out my fall clothes
- Attend my family ward Fall Festival. {Even though it is lame I still kind of love it.}
- Drink hot chocolate
- Watch a scary movie {maybe}
- Carve pumpkins and eat their seeds
- Enjoy myself as.much.as.possible.

It looks like I still have some work to do. This month is going by incredibly fast.

In other news, the Black & White party last night turned out to be a ton of fun, and I am entirely glad I went. I was seriously considering not going, partly because by the time Friday rolls around every week I am so thoroughly exhausted that I feel marginally ill and would like nothing better than to curl up in my pajamas and sleep the entire weekend away. Luckily, though, the girls were able to convince me to go to the party, and a couple of hours making myself pretty, a couple of hours helping the girls in 632 decide what to wear to make themselves pretty, and then finally a couple of more hours dancing the night away were the perfect cure for my fatigue. Unfortunately, however, I woke up this morning with a splitting headache that pretty much lasted all day, so I spent one whole day of my weekend lounging around and sleeping anyway. I guess there is no avoiding my end of the week exhaustion. Maybe from now on I will be able to hold it off until Sunday, allowing me to take complete advantage of my built-in day of rest.

And, upon re-reading that last paragraph, I just realized that I sound like an 80-year-old lady, not a 20-year-old college student. Such is life I guess.

In an attempt to somewhat conceal my lameness however, I won’t write about how I spent the better part of my evening watching a Halloweentown marathon on Disney Channel with my two little brothers.

{Oops.}

A {Candid} Black and White Picture For A Black and White Party

P.S. These are the boots.

Little Letters {Part II}

Dear Boys,
Being a creeper ain't a good look for you. Trust me.

Dear Red Robin Guests,
Stop coming into the restaurant and saying it's your birthday. Because it probably isn't. And I hate singing to you.

Dear ENG241 Midterm,
Even though you are tomorrow, I may or may not have studied at all. {Hint: I didn't.}

Dear B&W Party,
I'm not so sure, anymore. I'm not so sure.

Dear Fall,
Please bring on the weather that allows me to wear boots and sweaters and scarves, because I am on the verge of wearing them anyway in this 90 degree weather.

Dear Candy Corn,
I think we need a break. It's not you, it's me. But it's only the 13th, and I will definitely be back before long.

Dear ENG200 Professor,
Thank you for the belated birthday gift in the form of an A on my first paper.

Dear Corn Maze,
I'm coming! I swear. Provided I find someone to come with me. Because this really is not the type of thing you can do alone.

Dear Miley Cyrus,
I absolutely loathe myself for not absolutely loathing you USA song. But that doesn't change the fact that I still loathe you the most.

Dear Room,
If I had one wish right now I would wish for you to clean yourself. That's how desperate this situation is. You have even been put before my burning desire to be super stretchy.

Dear Discount Tire,
You saved my life today. Or, less dramatically, my bank account and therefore my sanity. I owe you!

Dear Sandy,
You best come home for Thanksgiving! Seriously though. You better.

**UPDATE: Apparently my Candy Corn letter was mostly a lie, because less than an hour later here I am watching The Office and eating the sweet corn.

Inutile Loveliness

The next time someone asks me why I deign to love the Midwest {it happens more than you'd think} I am simply going to pull out my copy of Lolita and read them this passage:

"By a paradox of pictorial thought, the average lowland North-American countryside had at first seemed to me something I accepted with a shock of amused recognition because of those painted oilcloths which were imported from America in the old days to be hung above washstands in Central-European nurseries, and which fascinated a drowsy child at bed time with the rustic green views they depicted- opaque curly trees, a barn, cattle, a brook, the dull white of vague orchards in bloom, and perhaps a stone fence or hills of greenish gouache. But gradually the models of those elementary rusticities became stranger and stranger to the eye, the nearer I came to know them. Beyond the tilled plain, beyond the toy roofs, there would be a slow suffusion of inutile loveliness, a low sun in platinum haze with a warm, peeled-peach tinge pervading the upper edge of a two-dimensional, dove-gray cloud fusing with the distant amorous mist. There might be a line of spaced trees silhouetted against the horizon, and hot still noons above a wilderness of clover, and Claude Lorrain clouds inscribed remotely into misty azure with only their cumulus part conspicuous against the neutral swoon of the background. Or again, it might be a stern El Greco horizon, pregnant with inky rain, and a passing glimpse of some mummy-necked farmer, and all around alternating strips of quick-silverish water and harsh green corn, the whole arrangement opening like a fan, somewhere in Kansas."

And then, this person, recognizing magic when they hear it, will inquire about Lolita, asking first what it is about. And I will answer {possessing none of the magic Nabokov has} that it is about 30-something Humbert Humbert who is in love with 12-year-old Lolita. And then, understandably disgusted, they will never read it, which is a shame, because it is one of the most beautifully written novels I have ever had the pleasure of reading.

Birthday Success

Who would've guessed? My birthday was lovely. Quiet, but (and?) lovely. I have a few really good friends, and I am grateful for that. I have a really good family, and I am grateful for that. And I now own a pair of really fabulous black suede Steve Madden boots, and I am oh-so grateful for those :)

The whole "birthday weekend" thing turned out to be a bigger success than I anticipated. I didn't even cry {a terribly birthday tradition of mine}. I did very minimal amounts of homework {and none whatsoever of Sunday}. I definitely ate terribly for 3 straight days {Saddle Ranch, Olive Garden, Oregano's}. And a few lovely people pretended like it was my b.day even when it was not. I am only now realizing that this might make next a year a bit of a disappointment when I can no longer claim 3 days as my own. But we'll cross that bridge when it comes.

Now that the weekend is over, I can concentrate all of my attention where it belongs. Not my Computer midterm tomorrow, or my Early American Literature midterm on Wednesday, or my ENG 200 midterm on Wednesday (?) and Friday, or my Geology test next Monday, or my Early American Lit. class discussion next Friday, but instead: Halloween. That's right. I have my priorities strictly in order. I'll be brainstorming costumes and celebrating fall in full force from now on. If there is anytime leftover, maybe I'll do some studying. If not, I am not going to stress, because who has time to stress when there are pumpkins to be carved?

twenty.twenty.

Starting 12:40 pm tomorrow, it is officially my birthday weekend. {!}

My twentieth is not actually until Sunday, but I am claiming the whole weekend on account of the fact that Sunday birthdays have historically been the worst.

{Ask anyone.}

A “birthday weekend” is really just my excuse to eat terribly for 3 days straight and not do a lick of homework, by the way. I am not going to force people to worship the ground I walk on for the entire 3 days.

That starts Sunday.

Just kidding.

It starts 12:40 pm Friday.

Have a charming weekend! See you in a few days.


P.S. I have never been of the mindset that it is tacky to call just a bit of attention to your own birthday. I’ve seen Sixteen Candles {mostly}. That ain’t gonna be me. Besides, I love everyone’s birthday, not just mine.

So there.

Justification over.

Mo' Money Mo' Problems?

Today I was supposed to go to the bank in order to deposit my hard earned tips, a fail safe way to avoid spending my money too quickly. {I didn't.}

And then I was supposed to go to work and earn more tips.

Instead, I went to school and paid $8 to park because I was too stubborn to remain enrolled in my Tuesday institute class.

On my way home from school I went to Costa Vida, and spent $7.84 on a delicious lunch/dinner as a pre-reward for the as-of-then undone homework I knew I would have to spend my entire night doing.

And then I gave away my shift at work in the optimistic hope of finishing my English paper early so I could actually get all of my homework done.

And then I took a nap.

The good news is, I actually finished my paper {a particularly fabulous one on Stephen Crane's "The Open Boat"; read it and thank me--the story not my essay}, but the obvious news is that I ran out of ink, which is how I found myself walking around Walmart in my Christmas pajamas at 11 pm.

Oh how it made me miss Natalie.

So I spent more of my un-deposited cash on computer ink.

And some adorable orange sunflowers to put in my room. Naturally.

{Who needs a man when you can buy yourself flowers? The fake kind that don't ever leave, and the kind that I can spray with my perfume so they smell their own kind Britney Spears great.}


And finally I bought myself some mascara.

And some eye liner.

And now I don't need to go to the bank anymore. Problem solved.

Think About It.

{P.S. I am about 98% kidding.}

Lead Thou Me On

For the second Friday in a row my English 200 class has been canceled. Instead of returning immediately home after my English 241 class I decided to take a small detour to my alma mater. Before you judge me too much for hanging out at my old high school on a Friday afternoon, however, you should know I really just stopped by my old seminary to say hi to my teacher. We visited for awhile and he talked about Seminary General Conference which had taken place the day before. I reminded him of how he made me bare my testimony without warning during April of my senior year, which for some reason ticked me off beyond belief. I guess he had “promised” me I wouldn’t have to or something, and then when he did, I was outraged. I went to the podium, bore my testimony, and then immediately walked to the back of the room, picked up my stuff, and stomped out of the building. {Not before stopping by his office to give him a dirty look, however.}When I remembered that, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for being so dramatic and marvel at myself for being so unnecessarily upset.

“I can be stubborn.” I remarked laughing, and he just laughed even more.

I guess stubborn is an understatement.

I turn 20 in one week {which in reality means very little but in my mind means a heck of a whole lot} and I cannot help but wonder if I am every bit as obstinate as I was as a senior and high school. And then I get to stop wondering because I am sure the answer is a resounding yes.

When prompted, I let people know that my two favorite hymns are If You Could Hie to Kolob and I Believe in Christ, respectively. More recently, however, I have become fond of and even grown attached to Lead, Kindly Light, which chronicles the pleas of someone 100 percent the opposite of me. We sang it in relief society the other day and I was so touched when the song ended that I immediately copied down the lyrics into my notebook. I have since taken to looking at them multiple times a day and listening to the song every chance I get.

Lead, Kindly Light, amid th’ encircling gloom;
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead thou me on!
Keep though my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene- one step enough for me.

I was not ever thus, nor pray’d that thou
Shouldst lead me on.
I loved to choose and see my path; but now,
Lead thou me on!
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years.

So long thy pow’r hath blest me, sure it still Will lead me on
O’er moor and fen, oe’r crag and torrent, till
The night is gone. And with the morn
Those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!

I think these lyrics are so beautiful to me because even on my best days I am never this good. I have never been in possession of the kind of faith and humility it requires to trust this fully. The kind of faith it requires to say: Look, I don’t need to know everything, I don’t really need to know anything, as long as I know what You would have me do next. And not only that, but I have always been of the mindset that I am going to make decisions regarding my future all by myself. Occasionally I relent, and ask for help, but usually only after months of struggle. When I sing this song I recognize so abundantly the faith I am lacking, but rather than make me sad it gives me hope. Hope that one day I can be like this. Hope that today I can be like this, even if I wasn’t yesterday and even if I am not tomorrow. And just as importantly, this song serves to remind me that it is ok that my future is sometimes one big black hole of scary. He can see everything, and that is good enough for me. Or, at the very least, it can be good enough for me, if I let it.

I guess this post is my roundabout way of saying that I am glad I had the chance to watch General Conference this weekend. I had already made up my mind not to post about it, but it seems I cannot help myself. I am sure over the next days and weeks plenty will be said about Jeffrey R. Holland’s talk, and I hope all of it is esteeming because in my opinion it really was the most powerful {and my favorite} talk of the weekend. I am sure I will post a link to it as soon as I find on, if only so I can visit it whenever I please.

Song(s) Of The Day

Because sometimes one just ain't enough.

Paper Planes, because I watched Slumdog Millionaire in bed this morning and loved it. And because I have had this song stuck in my head ever since.



Someday, because sometimes {albeit not always} this song feels like an anthem for my life. And because I have been listening to this all week. The weathering is finally cooling off enough to {comfortably} drive with the windows rolled down, and this has proved the perfect soundtrack. Thanks you, Steve Earle, circa 1986.

First.

I have 2 favorite months, and one of them is October.

I have a second favorite holiday, and it is Halloween.

I have a birthday, and it is on the eleventh.

I have a favorite season, and it is fall.

I have this anticipation for October, and it is epic.

This month I will:

- Go to a corn maze
- Eat candy corn & candy pumpkins until I am sick to my stomach
- Spend one night as someone I’m not
- Go to my very first Haunted House {ok, that’s a lie}
- Turn twenty
- Go to the state fair {fingers crossed}
- See leaves that have changed
- Break out my fall clothes
- Attend my family ward Fall Festival. {Even though it is lame I still kind of love it.}
- Drink hot chocolate
- Watch a scary movie {maybe}
- Carve pumpkins and eat their seeds
- Enjoy myself as.much.as.possible.
Please let me know if you would like to join me in any {or all} of these endeavors. They won’t be nearly as much fun alone, but I will do them alone if I have to. I am going to do October right. No matter what.

And now, I am off to eat the candy corn I bought today as celebration.

This Post Could Be A Country Song

I have this pair of jeans.

I’ve had them since I was in 8th grade.

That’s six years, ladies and gentlemen.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

I know.

Every time I wear them {which had slowly and sadly dwindled to about once a year} someone kindly suggests that I throw them away, on account of the fact that they are disgusting.

I might be more inclined to take their advice if they weren’t the most comfortable thing I own. Sure, I could always buy a new pair of jeans two sizes too big with pre-ripped holes in the knees, but it wouldn’t be the same.

So I wear mine.

And they make me happy.

I mean, think about it. I have had these since I was 13-years-old. How many things do I still have {and love} from when I was 13? A couple of stuffed animals, and a blanket maybe, but the list isn’t long.

And so I wore my jeans today, and now I will put them back in my drawer until the next time I feel the need for extreme comfort and reminiscence at the same time.


*On a side note, my mother also had a pair of very old and extremely ragged jeans that she loved {the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree I guess} and I recently may or may not have been partially responsible for her getting rid of them. {Hint: I was.}

I’m sorry mom!

I have seen the error of my ways.

Mondays are My Least Favorite Day of the Week

Mondays have always been the worst, but this semester they are worse than usual. 6 classes in one day is about 2 more than I can handle, and 3 more than ideal. My Monday schedule also makes Sunday nights practically unbearable because I am plagued by the thoughts of homework I should be doing. Monday nights, with FHE, are a little better, but by the time I am done for the day it is 9 o’clock and I am ready to pass out, and any hope I had of being productive soars right out the window. Tuesday is only occupied by one class, but this 3 hour long nightmare is quickly becoming the bane of my existence, and if it weren’t for the fact that I could sit here and blog in the middle of class I would lose my mind, absolutely and completely. And then Tuesday night I work, but the restaurant is slow, and the people are cynical, and the money is scarce.

To sum up: 4:15pm Sunday-10pm Tuesday is the longest 53.25 hours of.my.life.

And I hate it.

{With a few minor exceptions.}

Luckily for me, Tuesday night-Sunday afternoon is immensely more enjoyable.

Only 8 hours to go.

Google : 0 Kara: 0 (We're All Losers Here)

I recently confided in a dear friend of mine that a situation keeps arising in which I find myself continually at a loss for things to say. {Shocking, I know.} I can’t chalk this aberration up to nervousness, seeing as how when I am nervous I usually begin a discourse of unreasonable rambling without the slightest idea what I am talking about and why. So it’s not nerves, necessarily, but something is driving all words directly from my mind. It would be a little more acceptable if it were merely driving all interesting things from my mind {another phenomenon I have experienced} but no, I simply am left without words all together. My dear friend suggested that I practice what I am going to say in the mirror. Skeptical but willing I immediately went and stood in front of the mirror. Instead of thinking of clever or interesting or witty things to say {or anything at all for that matter} I began a silent examination of my face. By the time I was done, I had accomplished nothing except to heighten my self-consciousness and remove my stubborn eye makeup.

Slightly annoyed but mostly undaunted, I instead turned to Google for help, and it turns out there is no shortage of advice pages devoted to conversation starters for the socially inept. For example, searchwarp.com thinks it would be a good idea for me to get the dialogue going in said awkward situation by turning to someone and saying “Peanut butter and what?” Or better yet, asking them if they have any relatives in jail, if they are a good parent, what their favorite Cyndi Lauper song it, what their favorite Care Bear is, and if they have ever been in love with two people at the same time. Hmmm. If a virtual stranger randomly said any of these things to me I am afraid I would fix them with an incredulous stare and turn the other way as soon as I had the chance. I can’t help but wonder if these things actually work, but I am inclined to think they don’t, as I was roped into attending an FHE activity last week where we speed dated and with each new person we had a different topic to discuss. Like, if you won 30 million dollars what would you do with it, and if you could have any super power what would it be. I found it insufferable, especially when a specific guy told me he would like to be the punisher, who is apparently some kind of super hero powered by the rage he feels as a result of his entire family being murdered. What?! So then I responded that I would like to be super stretchy because I hate when I am in bed at night and realize I need to get up to turn the lights off. He did not look impressed, and neither did I.

3 minutes never lasted so long.

So Google failed me, and I am afraid I am going to have to either be content with my new status as a mute or search deep into the recesses of my brain to string together coherent thoughts if and when the situation ever arises again. And if that doesn't work, I can always rely on “Peanut butter and what?”

Cause that makes sense.