14 Days! 2 Weeks! 1/2 a Month!

Tomorrow morning marks the blessed 14 day countdown until I return to the shores of Oregonia. It's seems so odd to be so close to going home seeing as the ticket was purchased  2.5 months ago--though we had more or less set the date about 4 months ago.

Anyway. The point is that it is coming and soon and I really cannot believe that it is a mere two weeks until I can have all the hugs I want and good card game fights I can take for two weeks. That's right. I was generously given two whole week away from Utah. More importantly, two whole weeks on the coast with my loved ones there. 

The next two weeks themselves will be full of celebrations from get-togethers with friends, wedding receptions, and even a party at work. Then of course there is work to be done and preparations to make for the return home. 

As this year draws to its close, I am nearly bursting with gratitude for the happenings that have passed the time and the friends that were made, and even the friends that were kept. It's beautiful when you realize that you are where you are meant to be at a given time and that even though some people simple pass through your life others are at least making the effort to stay--whether because there is more they will teach you or more for you to teach them or perhaps even that they simply like the company you keep---I am thankful for those people. 

With the turning of the year, I feel a great sense of hope that next year will be even bigger and a lovelier mark in the past years I have been granted to live thus far. In just under two months I will be 24 years old. I don't feel near old enough but that's what the years tell me. 

Anyway. I just wanted to share my excitement over the time frame I will be living through before Christmas strikes. 

Love,

Me

Family

I have been aware of this for a very long time but as the holiday season and the end of the year draws ever nearer, it gives one pause and perspective to remember just how I have survived yet another year of this mortal life. And that, my friends, is my family. Not only because they are the one thing on this earth that is truly mine but because of their awareness of that fact and their willingness and unconditional acceptance and acting upon it.
Adulthood has been a rather wild and oft times rough ride for me and it boggles my mind to realize that I am coming up on my 6th year out of high school. I am still single and trying to figure out what it is I want to DO with my life. I get sick oftener than I would like and I am definitely not where I imagined I would be when I wrote that "10 Year Plan" back in my Senior year of high school.
I have suffered bumps and bruises but... in hindsight, I do not regret it. I have realized things about myself and about the people and world that I am surrounded by that I do not think I would have learned had things gone "according to plan".
I must admit, however, that this past year has been one of the most difficult. I am thankful that I have had a steady job so that I could have these difficulties without the added burden of great financial stress.
As those of you who read my blog know (and those who pay close attention to my Facebook posts even down to the comments on statuses) I came to the discovery this past year that I have depression and anxiety. The inkling of the possibility occurred to me towards the end of last year but did not bloom into a certain knowledge until around the end of January. Because of the nature of my anxiety, I did not set up meetings with a counselor until mid-March or so and by June I was told by my doctor that my depression, at least, was a chemical imbalance. Something he could not personally help me on.
Therefore I went to a medical doctor, told him my symptoms and started taking medication which I have been on for the last couple months now. I am happy to report that although I am not finished taking the medication, my emotion stability is much greater than it was to begin with and I cannot express my gratitude adequately. I have never been extremely savvy with expressing my emotions in front of others and was horrified at how I was quickly spinning out of control--waking in a slump and, no matter how many good and beautiful things would happen in a day, I could not pull my head above the water that I was drowning in.
I am steadily regaining my ability to see the beauty in the small things in my day and how refreshing it is to recognize them again.
However, I would not have been able to get to this point without my family. I know that they have kept me in their prayers quite diligently. I have been helped out financially so that the burden of doctor's bills would not be mine alone to bear. I have been given love and words of encouragement. Hugs when possible and smiles oftener than that.
I am thankful that they are so willing to help me out--that they make the time and have the energy with which to support me. I coming to the realization almost daily that this is not something to take for granted. My family is special. It is special in the case that they care so much and are willing and bold in the sharing of that knowledge. I have friends who would rather stay here in Provo rather than go home for the holidays. Why? I cannot fathom the resistance that they have or the home situations that they come from that would so strongly compel them to want to stay away.
My family is far from perfect. We fight and nitpick and have moods and moments of bad communication but I know that at the end of the day, if I had my choice, I would be there with them. Surrounded by them. I am thankful for the knowledge that at the end of the day, no matter the disappointments or anxieties we have caused each other, that we love each other and would do anything within our abilities for one another.
The world is so dark and lonely and it will only be darker and lonelier still if we cannot, first, learn to love our family--those who raised us and unconditionally (or at least should) love and support us. Life is tough. I could not make it through the end if I did not know two things--that I have a family here on this earth that love me and that I have a Father in Heaven who considered to give me one such as this that would be a help throughout my probation on Earth.
For these things I am most thankful. And I cannot wait for this month to pass and have us reunited (in house and over the internet) for Christmas.

Love,
Me

Composition

So I do not know if this is a normal thought process... but do you ever have those moments while listening to truly epic and poignant film scores and wish someone would compose music for the background of your life? Unfortunately, most of the film scores I listen to would not be able to apply to the moments that happen in my day to day ramblings. One hardly suffers anything on a general basis that would fit the compositions of John Williams from his scores for Episode III of Star Wars, for example... you know? The really moving pieces that make you cry when Padme realizes that Anakin has truly turned to the Dark Side? Yeah. My life is hardly so dramatic as that.

Ah well, it was just a thought that occurred to me and I figured I would throw it out into the void.

Wonder of Darkness

I come from a line of belief where I have been raised to see the good in people--to know that we all have the light of Christ in our lives, if not all the time, at least on occasion. But we are all born with the light which I believe contributes to the feeling of warmth that comes from holding a newborn child (an opportunity I have been blessed to share in a handful of times).
However, with the mention of Charles Manson in the news and how he is getting married, the conversations that I have been having with my supervisor brought up the point that serial killers tend to have a following. A great deal of people will see their "work" as what it is--twisted, disgusting, degrading, a perversion of our God given agency to harm those around them rather than help them. But they have followings nonetheless that have a high and unhealthy admiration and devotion that makes my skin crawl. Not to say I haven't done my fair share of late night Wikipedia perusing--there is a morbid fascination that causes me to ask "what lead them to this?" "Were there signs?" "Could this have been prevented?"
Furthermore, aside from the serial killers of history, I have pondered a time or two about Hitler and how his reign of terror developed into the mass genocide of the Jews and other people that he didn't see "fit" to live on this earth. How did he and all others like him manage to become the people they became? I mean, yes, agency and environment just to name a few contributing factors have a great deal to do with it but how did they make it here? To Earth? To inhabit bodies of flesh and bone to be tried and tested the way Heavenly Father's plan dictated?
Now, I am not a theologian by any means, but growing up going to church weekly has instilled at least a basic understanding and knowledge of the war in Heaven where the two plans were revealed (our Father's plan that included agency and Lucifer's which would force all back to Heaven) and the "voting" thereof that ultimately lead to Lucifer renamed Satan to be cast out of Heaven followed by his ardent supporters and followers. One third of the host of Heaven. The spirits that never will have the opportunity to receive bodies in the likeness of our heavenly parents are forever doomed to serve Satan and lost to us, their once brothers and sisters who chose to follow Christ in the acceptance of our Heavenly Father's plan to come to Earth to be tried and tested.
Our first trial passed, we were then sent to Earth. All of us alike in the fact that we chose the right. But would it stand to reason that our levels of how much we believed in our choice vary from spirit to spirit? We all chose to follow Christ but how many of us were fully committed and joyous in the prospect and how many just chose the path because they knew it would get them here? Were there any who were torn at the choice? Who followed the majority (the two thirds) because they feared being thrown down from Heaven?
It makes me wonder. It makes me burn with the curiosity of my knowledge from my pre-Earth life. Did I personally know those who would be murderers when they came here? Did I know any of them as well as I would like to think I knew those who I consider family here on Earth?

It makes me wonder....

Thankful and Stories

I cannot express how thankful I am for Sunday. It is the beginning of my week. (Yes, I know... it has been said it is the last day but quite frankly, I look at it as the beginning, the fresh start so to speak.)
It has been one of those whirlwind weeks where I didn't know up from down. So many new paths opened up and just as suddenly closed towards the end of the week. Not that it is any fault of mine or those around me but I do find it interesting the little glimpses we are gifted into paths and futures that could be.
Don't get excited now. There are no big announcements coming from me this week. No. I will just be renewing my desire to work on myself--becoming a better person and honing in on the person that I truly want to be.
I had a question posed to me this week--about what I want to "do". Now, that is a rather open-ended question so honestly I floundered with the answer and bumbled across the answer that I want to write. That I want to be me and maybe make a difference in someone's life. To do this, I keep the feelings and experiences that I go through fresh in my recollection. I really get it when people say things like, "I'm just working on myself right now." I get it. It's scary to not be fully sure of who you yourself personally are and also trying to throw someone else into the mix.
It aggravates me, sure, but I understand the concept. I also figure that is why I am where I am in life at this given moment. There are multiple things I need to work on and come to terms with within myself before a throw my crazy into anyone else's plans.
Back to the question, however, I posed it right back to my questioner and the answer, although it should not have, surprised me. "To be happy," they said.
It was simple. Boiled down to the very essence of what they wanted from the future. And in a way, I suppose that would be my answer too... I just have an idea, albeit a very hazy idea, but an idea no less of how I am going to achieve this happiness. And that, my friends, is by sharing my heart with those I cross paths with in this life.
Does my heart go unchanged through these interactions? Heavens, no. But I do hope that with every interaction, every mishap, every accomplishment, every sorrow, every joy...! That it is becoming stronger and stronger so that it might face whatever the Lord has in store for me in this life and the life to come.
I am thankful for this beautiful time of the year wherein we are brought into close quarters to escape the chilling weather of the outside world to spend time talking with one another and passing the hours in conversation, whether it be huddled on the couch in a mass of blankets or gathered around the table playing board and card games. I am thankful for the opportunity that I am blessed with to go back to home base, recharge in the close circle of my loving family. I am thankful for the relationships that I have to them and the joy with which we all look toward our reunions with at the end of the year.
I am thankful. And I would be remiss not to count these moments in my life as blessings whether it be times of momentously joyful occasions or stinging life lessons to apply now and to be relayed with the wisdom of hindsight to those I will come into contact with later.

Now for the little story-idea-blurb of the week... or day. Whatever the case may be... anyway. I started the following a couple days ago at work.



Letting out a long sigh, Mari pulled her blanket more closely about her shoulders. The fog of her breath on the window slowly dissipated once more to reveal the snowy scene outside. Cars passed by below, splashing slush along the road as the snow continued to drift from the clouds above. The mailbox was hidden from her vantage point by at least a foot of the down-like precipitation, the lamppost being warm enough to ward the accumulation thereof upon its own head. She looked on as a cozy couple walked past under a large umbrella, their breath fogging the air as they talked and laughed with one another. Closing her eyes to their felicity, she turned from the window to look at the sparse furnishings of her studio apartment.
Mari walked over to the thermostat and looking at the dial pursed her lips in debate. Payday wasn't for another week and she was already pushing it with her electricity and heating bill. She sniffed subconsciously, rubbing her nose with her blanket wrapped hand before moving away from the thermostat once more. If she couldn't afford to warm up her house, she could at least go somewhere warmer for the last hours before she would renege to sleep.
She pulled her worn riding boots on over her wool socks and shrugged into the pea coat her mother had bought for her the Christmas before last. She already wore her beanie over her brown braid and grabbing her keys from the small table beside her door, Mari locked her apartment and walked down the hall. Pressing the call button for the elevator, she swiped again at her nose. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she listened to the muffled whir of the inner workings of the elevator thinking she probably should have just taken the stairs.
She almost did just that when the cheery ding announced the box's arrival and the doors slid open. She managed a smile at the older gentleman who had already been riding the elevator. "Hey, Marty, how goes the maintenance?" she asked as he cast a smile full of whiskers in her direction.
"The usual, Miss Lowe. Ms. Partridge's thermostat got jilted again--thinking she had it set on 80 when it really was 'only' 70," he laughed, Mari hearing the amusement he had for the little old lady who thought 70 degrees called for a parka. "How about you? Where ya headed?" he asked, shifting to his other leg, his toolbox swinging with the movement.
"I thought I would head out to the bookstore," Mari admitted, swiping her nose again.
Marty's mustache became bushier as he puckered his lips knowingly but he didn't say anything for they had had that conversation plenty of times before this. He had offered to help cover her extra heating expense but knowing that he hardly lived a life of luxury himself, Mari had declined saying that her time spent in Canada had prepared her for this kind of living.
The elevator reached the main floor and they said their goodbyes, Marty continuing on to his apartment in the basement. Mari buttoned the top button of her coat before walking out onto the sidewalk, the wind sweeping a gently flurry of snowflakes about her as she turned right and started the walk over the next few blocks toward the bookshop cafe on the corner. She wouldn't be able to afford anything more than a small hot chocolate with her small bit of accumulated change that she had been saving up the last month.
"Desperate times..." she laughed to herself with a shiver as she finally saw the friendly glow of her destination. Pulling her coat a little closer around her and she pushed the last few yards before pushing the door open, bringing in a swirl of flakes with her as the little bell above her head jingled. As the door swung shut behind her, she took in a deep breath, the warm smell of books, cocoa and coffee beginning its soothing effect.
Walking up to the counter, she let her eyes wander. Not many people were out and about with such weather so it didn't surprise her that the usually populated seats were empty aside from a few otakus in their usual corner.
"Mari! I wondered if I'd be seeing you today," came a voice from behind the counter drawing her brown eyed gaze back to the barista's counter. The smile lit her face even more readily than when she had seen Marty.
"Hey Dean," she responded unbuttoning her coat and draping it over the back of her usual stool.
"Hot chocolate?" he asked, not even waiting for her to respond before he turned to the steamer.
"Just a small one today," she said slipping onto the stool. She caught the look he threw over his shoulder at her, his crooked smile as beautiful as always.
"Did you see the weather? There is no way I'm letting you back out into the storm without a properly sized drink," he chuckled pulling out the largest size of cups.
"Dean..." Mari said in exasperation causing him to turn to the bar and walk over holding his hand out toward her.
"Give me what you have and I'll make up the rest," he said, his green eyes broaching no argument. She pursed her lips but feeling the gaze of the otakus on their little scene she felt the blush rise as she reached into her back pocket for her wallet. Out of all the change, she had carefully kept count of (much of it pennies and nickles) she dumped it into her hand and held it out to him.
"I'm guessing it's two dollars," he smiled letting the change drop into his large hand before pocketing it and returning to his work. "I'm not even paying for half of it, Mari, so stop giving me that look," he said and she could still hear the smile in his voice. She rolled her eyes, giving up the fight--again--and settling her chin on her laced fingers.
"Has it been this quiet all day?" she prompted watching him work. She really enjoyed watching how nimbly he did all of his work--flipping the levers, pouring the syrup...
"Helen said it was pretty busy this morning but then again it wasn't snowing as heavily then either so it makes sense," Dean responded. "I didn't get here until about an hour ago, though, so it hasn't been such a bad deal." She hummed softly.
"What were you up to earlier?" she followed.
"School then my other job," he informed. His contentedness with a slow shift made sense at that point. He was studying to be a doctor after all and his other part time job was as a pediatric shadow or something, keeping him on his toes at all times. So being able to work in a book shop that sold drinks now and then was easy and mindless compared to his usual day. Mari wondered at Dean's desire to be a doctor. He didn't exactly look like the stereotype with his shoulder length hair. He always kept it back in a hair tie and she was sure at the beginning of the day or during his more professional hours it probably looked a little tidier... but, as she saw him hook a few loose strands behind his ear before he put the whip cream on her cocoa, she couldn't quite reconcile his appearance to that of someone looking to work in a clinic one day.
She remembered when she used to tease him about it when they first began talking casually (they had met one day in the shop and soon he found she was a regular) and she had asked how he had gotten a part-time job at the pediatrics office. He had smiled saying that he knew a guy and left it at that. She hadn't pried and he hadn't spoken more on the subject.
"How are classes?" she asked pulling her gaze away from his hair to look at the caramel he drizzled on top of the cream.
"Mmm, studying for finals right now so more stressful than usual," he answered as he placed the cup in front of her. She murmured her thanks, wrapping her cold fingers around the cup feeling the tingling of numbness giving way to alertness in her nerves. She felt his eyes on her and she looked up at him.
She had caught that look from him again, the one where he was obviously trying to read her body language. She always thought he might make a better psychiatrist, needing to read the smallest actions of a person to get to the root of a problem rather than working with children that were blunt and would generally answer your questions because of their unwavering faith that you could heal their pains.
Mari coughed slightly embarrassed by his observation. "Well," she stammered, "I guess you're looking forward to classes getting out because that means Christmas will be here," she said looking up at him and seeing he had looked away from her face and was now focused on her hands on the cup of cocoa. "I mean, you'll be going home to see your family, isn't that so?" she prompted. He stared a fraction of a second longer before taking a deep breath and looking back at her face with a half smile.
"That's right. But I'll only be gone that week and back in time for New Year's. There are some appointments scheduled between the two holidays and it's a good opportunity to get some holiday pay," Dean said with a shrug as he took up a rag and wiped down the counter he had prepped her drink on.
"What's Oregon like in the winter?" she asked.
"You're just full of questions tonight aren't you?" he asked but the chuckle told her he didn't mind her inquisitiveness as he came back to the bar and leaned against it, his arms crossed lazily. "It's cold and when not covered in snowbanks, very green. At least in my neck of the woods," he qualified causing her to smile catching his play on the fact that he lived among the Redwoods along the coast.
Mari took a sip of her cocoa, testing the temperature so as not to scald her tongue.
"How about you? Are you going home?" he asked. She paused the cup still pressed to her lips and she took a little longer of a drink before setting it back down.
"Yeah," she responded softly. It would be her first time home since her brother passed away. He had come home early from his mission with medical complications and had never gotten better. She hadn't told anyone out here about it, feeling as though she wanted to keep it a place where she could escape. Escape from the fact that he was gone. Escape from the effect it had had on her parents. He had been the younger of the two of them and the more humorous of the two.
Mari dreaded it. Walking into her home where his laughter would just be an echo etched into the insulation of the walls. Her family had never been extremely well off but her parents had up til then been able to help her from time to time when she had a hard time making ends meet but after having to pay for her brother, Hank's funeral she couldn't bring herself to ask for money. Her current chilling habitation was a testament of having taken it upon herself to buy her own ticket home assuring her parents that she had enough for it.
But what was she going home to? With Hank gone and the rest of extended family so far away... just the three of them at home... what would this Christmas be like?
"...ri? Mari?" She snapped back to the present to see Dean peering into her face, his keen eyes seemingly trying to discern where she had gone without asking. She took in a sharp breath, blinking her eyes fiercely as she looked away from him. The otakus had left at some point leaving the two of them alone in the small shop.
"S-sorry, what was the question?" Dean stood up straight, his clean shave jaw clenched slightly in what she had learned to be his debate face. He was struggling with whether to press her or to let it slide. Mari sighed and decided to make the decision for him. "Yes, I am going home...but... Dean, it'll be my first time home since Hank passed away..."

November

November has finally arrived. We have returned to Standard Time. The days are getting shorter. And the cold much more crisp and snapping than it was all last month. In about two weeks time, I will be hitting my official year mark working at the Covey Center and what a year it has been. I have made friends and learned much about myself and gotten at least a little more applicable work experience under my belt and so once I do have a chance to escape the proverbial bubble, I will be much more qualified and confident in getting a job outside of Utah.

The other day, I got a message from my youngest sister asking whether I would be interested in a service opportunity when I get home for Christmas this year. The catch? We are being asked to dress as Santa's Elves to complete the task. It will be quite the experience, I am sure... just need to go out and find some sparkly blush for these cheeks of mine to help with the merry look that all children expect from Santa's little helpers. But I am getting a little excited about the prospect, to be honest. I love Christmas time and the magic and wonder that surrounds the holiday. And it definitely doesn't hurt when I can lend a hand to bring a little extra happiness to children.

On that note, there are 49 days left until I get to return home! Oregon will be a most welcome sight, I assure you, and I hope to spend a little more time looking at the ocean than I have the last couple times I've been home. It's been a while since I have had such a long visit home, however, so it will be interesting to see how stir crazy I am by the end of it! But it should help a great deal because of how many of us will be home. My older brother and his family will be coming in to town just a couple days after me and will be staying for quite the jot themselves--so there should definitely be opportunities for fun and getting out of the house. It will be nice to have so much time at home though seeing as I have so many people to see.

Now, seeing as it is indeed November and Thanksgiving is lurking just around the corner, I suppose it would be fitting for the next month of blog posts to list a few things I am thankful for each time.

So to start off with, I want to say how thankful I am for siblings.
The spotlight for today is my younger sister, Mikkaila. She is currently serving an LDS mission up north in Canada and has been out since about halfway through February of this year. I cannot believe how long it has been but at the same time, it isn't so very much different from the usual waits between holidays for my trips home except for the fact that I cannot hear from her directly as often as I would like---something that will definitely be remedied once she finally returns in the middle of the summer this following year. She is such an inspiration of change and focus for me. Her serving the Lord has been a wonderful reminder that if we are striving to do our very best then God will make up the rest. I can see how much stronger she is becoming in the faith and how much kinder an eye she has towards a future of marriage and having a family of her own. Her humility, though it doesn't surprise me per se, still finds a way to astound and inspire me to rethink the way I go about life and doing the service that has been given to me to do. I love her so much and am thankful for her perceptiveness of my emotional situation that helps her to say exactly what I need to hear.

As for the smaller things I am thankful for, I am thankful that I have friends here in Utah that make the sojourn so much happier than it would be if I were alone. I am thankful for the thoughtfulness that prompts them to invite me to spend time with them in their homes and with their extended families. I am thankful to be so surrounded by love to keep me from ever thinking that I am unwanted.

Until next time.

101

The cold autumn air bit my cheeks as I walked out of the arts building. A glance up at the sky revealed hardly any cloud cover so it would not rain at the very least on the walk home. Sighing softly, I took the first dizzying step homeward, a sentimental song sounding from the phone I held close to my chest. My mind wandered as I walked past trees with heart shaped leaves, the colors thereof varying from spring green to burnished gold, the last rays of sunlight catching their edges. 

I brushed the cold metal of the cross walk button and stood, joined by a stranger to await the "go" signal. He took off before the light turned green, my eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. "Does he want to be killed?" I asked myself, waiting properly for my turn to cross without danger of being hit by a car. 

I passed a corporate building, glancing in as I usually did when passing the glass and briefly acknowledged a newbie worker with a pleasant face--the worker with his hair swept into a low ponytail absent. This thought busied my thoughts as I waited to be able to cross the street, this time at a non-monitored crosswalk. A car stopped to allow my crossing, and I obligingly picked up my pace to jog across doing my best not to keep the passengers longer than needed. 

That is when it registered that the car coming from the other direction was still rolling forward, slowly compared to the usual traffic, but rolling nonetheless. Hadn't they seen me? Of course they must have--I kept up my jogging pace... but they kept rolling. 

I half-managed cry strangled from my throat as my momentum carried me into the path of the white car that had still managed to be unaware of my presence in the middle of the road. They stopped after my feet managed to carry me in an arc around their front bumper. 

Hand to my heart, I did not dare look back. I did not want to see their accusing faces focusing in on my stupid and reckless expression. My steps wobbled as I walked further down the street my breathing uneven as one's breathing is in such a situation. 

The struggles of the past week suddenly loomed in my mind as I considered what might have happened had I not maneuvered as quickly in evasion of the car or if they had continued in spite of my best but less smart of efforts. 

Why didn't I just allow myself to be hit? I wasn't in the wrong. It would have been the big bad car's fault not the idiot bird who flew into their way. 

Tears, trembling frown, and self-reprimanding thoughts followed like a storm cloud over my head the rest of the way home. How could I possibly consider having continued on the path and allowing myself to be hurt? At the expense of those around me? Monetary/emotional expense?

Curled up in bed, I worry at my lower lip. "Save me," echoes in the hollowness of my heart. "Help me..."

100

The rustle of the wind through the trees... ah. What peace it brings to the mind, the tumultuous heart, and the ruffled spirit. The scent of rain is in the air and my pillow beckons me to lay my dizzy head upon it but first I felt I must write.
I am most grateful for my Father's mindfulness and attention to my life. I have been quite distressed as of late in the matters of love and knowing one's heart as well as one's mind. Hatred bloomed without my knowledge and the flames were fanned into such a roar that I could barely hear my heart whispering that it was alright. It was broken, but it knows how to mend because it has been lovingly taught by its maker.
I very nearly wrote a post the other day for your reading pleasure in which I planned to allow the venom of my pain to scorch the eyes of any who in bored leisure happened upon it. There are still many things that my spite would utter if I would but unleash it however I know that in hindsight I would regret it--not for the sake of those who might find their names illustrated by it in false accountability but for my sake. Perhaps it is a selfish notion, but recently I have realized that I have been tossing my heart into the wind without the protection of a sound mind and steady sensibility.
I have allowed myself to be hurt multiple times in the last few months and have been soundly admonished by word and experience that, in the end, I am the one to blame.
Forgiveness is taking place in my heart, slowly but surely. But this forgiveness is not to be treated as synonymous with forgetfulness. Plans are being laid and structured to shut out the toxicity that lingers from certain experiences, bitter though instructive as they were, so that I might not continue the cyclical downswing into the depths of anger that should never have had place in my heart to begin with.
Please forgive my boldness of speech if it has ever hurt you but I will not change in my forthrightness as far as it keeps those around me from misreading my interactions with them and where I stand in my affection for them. Honesty. It is a virtue that continues to churn in my mind and will forever hold sway in my regard of those around me.

As some of you may have read in my recent statuses on Facebook, I have been watching quite a few period dramas as of late. Tonight's feature was Mansfield Park. Something occurred to me that has always been true though had only been acknowledged on a partially subconscious level. When everything is said and done, I am quite terrified of ending up with a man who hasn't been completely honest with me from the start. Admittedly, I have known a few men that were able to disarm me completely with their charm and some of those I have fallen into like with. Be wary of charm, my friends, for it covers up many defects that could hurt in the long run. If a man's temper is such that it is tossed with every breath of wind, I tremble to think where his anger might turn. When a man raises his voice around me in any degree of harshness I become very frightened. Physically I am not strong. If I feel threatened or that a man's attention is more pointed than it should be, I am quick to remove myself from the situation or, if given warning of it before the situation of being alone with him arises, I keep the situation from happening.
Call it instinct, a gut-feeling if you will.

The man I marry, I pray, will have an even temper. Have an empathetic disposition. Be of an honest nature. And I pray he is strong without being frightening to me in any way. I suppose this might be a lot to hope for and perhaps in the coming years I will become stronger and be able to handle someone who is a bit more moody but at this moment in time... but then, perhaps that is why my situation is the way it is at the moment. Growing up is difficult--and taking a lot longer than I thought it would.
I pray that I will be worthy of him when the time comes--when we finally meet. And that I will understand why I had to fight my way through these years meeting such men as had good qualities but not the ones that complimented me well enough to stand the test of time--no matter how short their allotted time with me happened to be.

And now a "treat" for any of you who have trudged through this post.

His attention snapped from the ground to the woman who approached him. The wind had whisked its way past her form and brought the scent of autumn in the mountains. It mingled in the air with the petrichor and brought back the ache that he thought had been diminished by time. She had, after all, left him on a day very similar to this one five years before. 
The memory played for him as though it had happened just yesterday. The tears in her eyes as she admitted to being unsure of her feelings for him. They had been seated under the roof of the gazebo in his parents' backyard while it had rained. They both knew he would ask for they had talked about the prospect of a future together multiple times--so how could he not?
Just as the rain had lifted, he slipped down to one knee before her and opened the small velvet box to show the small sparkle that he had been able to afford then. She had begun to cry. He had anticipated it, having been told by his friends that they had cried or that their wives had cried. 
But the "no" had been a surprise. 
"Hello, Nathan," she said softly, bringing him back to the present. Her hair had gotten longer. Had her face always looked so mature? She was dressed smartly in her black pea coat that obscured any glimpse of the dress she must have been wearing underneath. 
His heart pricked again as he took in her appearance--she had matured. The very air about her was confident. He might have thought her a completely different person but... he would never forget that smell.
"Margaret," he finally said, his voice huskier than he anticipated. Did pain flicker across her brow? "Or do you still go by Maggie?" he asked. Ah, yes. The tenseness in her shoulders dispersed and her smile grew more genuine. 
"Maggie," she affirmed taking another step closer and he turned, offering his arm to her. She slipped her hand into his, tentative at first but more assured as they walked back down the way he had come. 
"We didn't expect you for another day or so," he began glancing down at her curly brown hair to see her nodding. 
"Yes, well, I guess I couldn't stand being away for even a day more," she said casting a smile up at him. He nodded in his turn and they continued to walk in silence. He gazed about at the dewy grass and autumn leaves that strewed the ground and he wondered how much longer they had until it would start to snow in their little town. "There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you, Nathan," Maggie said suddenly causing him to refocus his attention on her. He wondered why she had brought such a topic up. Hadn't she seen the announcement? "I realized soon after I left that I had done wrongly, Nathan. But you know me... too proud for my own good!" she rattled on and he stopped walking which only caused her to slip easily from his arm and turn to look at him as she continued but as his horrified expression finally registered in her mind her words drifted off and she looked perplexed. 
"What's wrong...?" she asked after a small time, the wind picking up and tossing her curls as washing his senses with the old but cherished scent. He had been so sure that he was over her--or at least that her arrival back in town had been only the casual visit to her parents. 
"Maggie... didn't anyone mention....? Didn't you see....?" he stuttered not being able to put the truth into words the problem only causing more discomfort when she slowly shook her head to indicate the negative. He wet his lips nervously before taking her hand in his and he felt or rather acknowledged the sensation of the metal band that kept the contact of her fingers upon his from being complete and she looked down at their joined hands before slowly turning Nathan's hand, his left hand, over. The silver gleamed bright even in the overcast light. 
"Oh Nate..." she said, the tremor in her voice glaringly evident and only amplified by her embarrassment. He felt her tears before he saw them. But when she tilted her face up it held a self-deprecating smile. The wind kicked up one more time and he pursed his lips before turning his face away. He would never forget that smell. 
"I guess I should congratulate you..." she managed before pressing her hand firmly but gently against his arm. He couldn't find his voice and he didn't watch as he heard the click of her boots as she ran. 

I Love Writing, I Love You

I have passion for many things. Dance, music, theater are definitely the first to come to mind. But when it comes down to it, I find it sort of funny how the thing I am most passionate about is the quietest form. It is writing. 

I find I have always been able to express myself best in writing. Don't get me wrong--the playing loudly of the piano may release stress but there is just something relaxing in being able to put what you are feeling and thinking into words. Into these little symbols we call letters that everyone associates with the same meaning or a similar feeling. 

I may not have ever had the chance to go to a dance conservatory, an acting school, or a musical institution but I did get to go to school. A school where the learning of both sexes was deemed equal and good. I learned how to form my letters in rough chicken scratch that I eventually molded and practiced into the handwriting fewer and fewer people get the chance to see. But whether it's pretty to look at or blank of any instantaneous emotion in a set font the fact remains the same--that I was taught and then was encouraged to practice. 

Writing has given me wings like no other medium has. In those days when I feel like I am not worth very much (regardless of how many people tell me otherwise and as opposing as the very thought is to the upbringing of my family) there is a place in me that reminds me of all the fictions and even non-fictional material that I have written and shared. And people have been able to relate to it. Some have even called it powerful. And that is something. 

I also have a capacity to love that astounds even myself--scares me sometimes. And to realize that that ability will only be enhanced with my future experiences is stunning and quietly humbling. 

Now, what do these two things have to do with one another? I am sure you will understand by the end of this.

Hello Darling.

I wonder what you are up to at this very moment. Are you studying? Socializing? Sleeping, perhaps or maybe working? I just wanted you to know that I have been thinking about you... I have been thinking about you for a while, actually. 

I also want you to know that I am working. I am striving to become the best, happiest person I can possibly be on my own. I am practicing my talents and building up my patience. I am experiencing new things every week. I have had a few heartbreaks, too. But there has been such triumph that it mostly makes up for the thud of those moments when I realize that once again I was mistaken and that I had not actually found you. 

I am encouraged daily that you are out there, searching just as I am. That you, too, are striving to be deserving of me when that day comes and we finally meet--whether that means we're meeting for the first time or are simply, finally having a meeting of hearts and paths. 

I hope you haven't completely given up on me as I haven't given up on you. Soon we will find that final, elusive corner and chances are, I am going fall flat on my butt. Unless of course you have the reaction time of a superhero, in which case you might just catch me and allow me one less bruise.

I have had a hard time, dearest, but I know when I look back on it, I will realize just how much I needed those experiences to become the woman I am today.

I love you. So very much. 

Good luck on whatever trials the Lord is blessing you with now. And know that I am waiting at the end of them and at the beginning of Us. 

Until then, pray for me as I pray for you.

Stay close to your family and I will do better in regards to mine. 

Enjoy the autumn colors and weather. I hope your hands stay as warm as your heart. 

Love,

Me

Contentment in Catastrophe

 So about two days ago now, I dropped my highly expensive touch screen phone with all the bells and whistles into The Water. Therefore, I have been basically phoneless for the past 48 or so hours. Now, most people would have a major freak out at this point being so attached to their phones that they cannot function without them.
Thankfully, I have a work schedule where I usually wake up with plenty of time to get ready and do my usual walk to work (about a 20 minute adventure) so the absence of my alarm device isn't really a huge issue--plus the fact that I have an awesome roommate that makes sure that I am awake with plenty of time to get ready for church on Sundays.
I am at work for a good portion of the afternoon and these are the hours that I am usually checking up on my social media anyway to pass the time between phone calls and walk-up customers.
As far as photography goes, if I really feel the urge to take a photo, I do have a good camera that I can pull out and snap a shot with and transfer to my computer to let everyone know what culinary masterpiece I have whipped up for myself! (Okay, perhaps not that so often as the usual "don't I look cute?" selfie... yeah.)
The point is, I can do everything I need to do without a phone except for making phone calls or shooting texts (which, let's be honest, I don't do a whole lot of to begin with--and those I do text I can just as easily shoot a facebook message to).
In fact the vast majority of my phone usage can actually be accredited to on-the-go music. Even when I have Spotify on my computer at the click of a button, I usually just let my phone play the music so my computer essentially goes a little more speedily since it doesn't have to think about playing music as well as everything else.
While I walk to and from work I usually have my own little life soundtrack playing from my phone which I felt made the walk to and from work quicker seeing as I had something to occupy my thoughts.
And then it happened.
The "catastrophe" that left me without my constant music.
Walking to work was quiet but it didn't feel as long as it usually does without music.
Walking from work however is where I noticed the difference most.
Yesterday was pretty chilly so I was bundled pretty good but I felt I looked pretty cute. There was a nice breeze that carried the leaves about me in an almost magical way as my hair was tossed this way and that. I couldn't stop smiling as I walked. It is autumn. And I nearly missed it because of the occupation that my constant music has had in my mind. As I walked, listening to the beauty that is Autumn, I decided that I would stop by the cafe for a hot chocolate.
About halfway to the cafe, my boss pulled up beside me and offered me a ride home. Normally I would jump at the idea for the sake of getting home more speedily but I declined saying I had plans to stop in for a drink anyway. He drove off and I continued on my merry way. I wasn't worried about time. I wasn't worried that someone would text me and suggest we do something. I was on a date, so to speak, with myself and everything and everyone else could wait.
I got a dark chocolate peppermint hot chocolate and, taking my time to slow down and just observe where I was walking, I took a lot longer than usual to get home but when I did my cheeks were pink with the kiss of cold, my fingers were warm from my drink, and I was content.
In my refusal to rush home, to continuously check my phone to see the time/for messages/for SOMETHING, I had allowed my thoughts to calm and just take in the joy that is Autumn.
You know those moments of quiet, peaceful thought where you really connect to the idea that there is a God and that He has created little moments like those just for you? That all the beauty that is our Earth was created because He loves us?
I believe He created autumn for people like me who take joy in the chill without snow. Who love long walks with crunchy leaves and nipping breezes. Who are content with cups of cocoa and bundling up in peacoats, boots, and scarves.
And if I HAD to drop my phone in The Water, I am glad it happened at the beginning of October in which Autumn lives.

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."

There and Back Again, a Single Woman's Travel Log

"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."- Carl Sagan

Ah, the wisdom I find on my refrigerator. I sometimes think the best part about moving into an apartment that has already been settled into is the little discoveries you make from day to day. There are a handful of quotes floating about our kitchen currently, none of which has anything to do with my contributed decor, and I will say that I have read this particular quote a time or two but only recently has it blossomed into meaning in my life. 

Let me explain.

Back on Monday, the 3rd day of the month of June, I decided that I would be going home to Oregon to surprise my younger sister who was graduating that Saturday from high school (some times referred to as the easiest part of life... which I must say is completely untrue and perhaps deserves a blog post all to itself). Now, on my part-time working wage this was no walk in the park for my account. However, the more I thought on it, the more sure I was that I would regret not making the trip more than the aftermath it would wreak. 

I laid out my plan, asked for the proper time off from work, booked my train tickets (for there were multiple for both the journey to Oregon and then back again) and I was off! 

The first leg of my trip started at 11:30 PM on Wednesday night and would last a little over 15 hours. Quite frankly, had I known the layout of a train better it might have passed a little more adventurously but as it is, I stayed in my seat (aside from the necessary trips to the lavatory) and drifted in and out of sleep. Just before getting on the train, I had struck up a conversation with a young man who looked about my age. I asked if he had ever ridden the train before and after admitting that, like me, he hadn't, I suggested we be friends and thus (once he found there were only shared seats to be found) he sat down beside me. 

I soon found that he was LDS (like myself) and affianced. Furthermore his trip was a surprise as well but for his fiancee. We passed the waking hours quite pleasantly talking about relationships and his area of study (not so much the math major part but the minor he received in Arabic and the influence his serving in Ethiopia and Uganda on his LDS mission had on this decision). 

The train arrived in Sacramento and Jamie was staying on for another couple of hours to travel further south toward Berkley. 

Sitting down in the train station at Sacramento, I let go of the breath I had not been aware I was holding and wondered what I would do for the next ten hours. Yes. That is right. 10 hour layover in Sacramento? Apparently it is a common occurrence when traveling by train. 

As I sat there wondering what in the world I was going to do, two young men approached me and asked if I would be staying at the station for long and if so would I watch over their belongings whilst they went to the mall and made some purchase. Figuring I had nothing else to do, I shrugged a shoulder and said sure though I was trying to see if my friend who lives in Sacramento would come spend time with me. 

The older of the two, Joel, gave me his phone number and said that if I needed to leave sooner than it took them to do their shopping I could call him. Assuming it would be a good idea that he know my number as well just in case he was the type not to answer his phone when an unknown number calls, I sent him a text. Before I knew it, we were having a pleasant conversation. 

I found out through observation that one could check in their bags for a small fee for a few hours at the Baggage Check and upon telling the guys this, they returned and though I had resolved to explore Old Sacramento alone, Joel suggested he come with me since he, too, wasn't planning on boarding a train anytime soon. We bid farewell to the other guy who had to get on the train in 30 minutes time and started our exploration of Sacramento. Of course I missed the sign that pointed to Old Sacramento (which I discovered on my trip back from Oregon...) we ended up walking through the mall (with a stop at Bath and Body Works of course) and passed both the Catholic Cathedral and the Capitol. 

Finally finding a map, we discovered that, indeed, Old Sacramento lie on the other side of the mall. Good heavens, I thought to myself. 

So we turned around and headed back. However the heat and humidity was killing me so we took a break and sat on a shady and grass-covered knoll and had some good discussion. He told me of his family and I told him of mine. I don't think you could have found any two pasts that were so contrasting. However, our pasts are what have made us who we are now and that is what we are given to work with. 

Old Sacramento. If you have a sweet tooth like mine, it's the best place to go. I am pretty confident in saying that we ran across 5 different candy shops within 2 square miles. He thought it was ridiculous and I thought it was fantastic. The architecture was pretty neat to look at and admire as well. 

It started to get dark and the wind was picking up in a rather chilly way. We walked back to the station and continued our conversations and were mistaken as a married couple multiple times. We had a good laugh at that. I cannot express how grateful I was to have such a companion there because, much to my anxiety's dismay, my train was nearly two hours behind schedule. 

He dropped me off on the platform and I felt rather torn knowing that he still had a few hours left in Sacramento (which turned into two days, I believe) but all good meetings must come to an end.

Well, I found myself on the train for 8 more hours as I headed up to Klamath Falls, seated beside a foreign gentleman who was quite polite and endearing making the ride easy and not so worrisome.

I was glad to get to Klamath to find the train had made up its lost time and I only had to wait an hour for my bus to Medford to arrive. Ironically, the best sleep I got was on the bus where I finally had two seats to myself and for some reason seemed infinitely more comfortable compared to the full day and half before. 2 hours has never passed so quickly in travel time before but when I tumbled off the vehicle and into the blessedly comfortable air of Medford, I only had to wait 5 minutes before my mother and aunt came rolling up in my aunt's newly acquired blue bug (she has had a green one for years but apparently it recently gave up the ghost, so to speak). 

I was thrilled when Mom suggested Olive Garden for lunch and we had quite a merry time at it too, catching up on all the news and my travels up until then.

However, it has become most apparent that when one is kept from traveling winding roads for too long, the immunity to car sickness that one builds up wears away. We stopped for a few minutes in Gasquet to use the restrooms and purchase some refreshment. Now, anyone who knows me, knows I will usually willing reach for a Root Beer or Cola when offered but my stomach was having none of it and I did a very Mikkaila thing (Mikkaila being my younger sister for whom the surprise of my visit was) and reached for bottled water. It surprised Mom a little bit but knowing I was feeling unwell deemed it a smart choice on my part. 

After removing my leftover pasta (which had smelled great at the restaurant but not so great to the woozy me) to the trunk and drinking about half of the water bottle, I cozied up in the back seat with my pillow (which I had brilliantly brought with me on the train ride, seriously) I dozed off, thankfully, until we rolled into the driveway, finally arriving home. 

As is usual, my younger siblings (except for Mikkaila who was still at work) came trampling out of the house and demanding hugs. Laden with my baggage and still feeling a little woozy, I told them to at least let me set my things down first in a more exasperated tone than they deserved seeing as it had been two months since they had last seen me and almost a year since I had last been home in Oregon. 

However, I obliged them with hugs and kisses once my things were set aside and was grateful for a shower that had been denied me for two full days by this point. (Probably the one true downside to traveling by train.) Soon, my older brother and father returned home from fishing on the open sea and a few hours after that Mikkaila was finally home.

I walked out quite calmly as she rolled into the driveway, the windows down, music blasting and (I wish I could have taken a picture of that face) she saw me. The windows couldn't roll up fast enough, the car turned off safely enough as I greeted her on the driver's side of the car. I nearly choked on some fly away hairs when she hugged me but that was the first brilliant sign that I was right in coming home.

This was all written about the 15th of June of last year (being 2013). How time sure does fly. 

He Thought About It (Or Rather Her)

He thought about it. (Pick up the nearest book, turn to page 49 and use the first sentence as a writing prompt.... nearest book was Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson M.D.)




Her eyes were a keen sort of brown, now that he thought about it, lit with a fire and imagination that he would never fully comprehend. Those eyes had seen much more pain and desolation than they ever ought to have witnessed. But then, they were not hardened to the human plight. This translated through the way she moved, the gentleness of her hands, through her very bearing when confronted by those in pain.
He had never met another woman quite like this Charlotte and she touched a place in his heart that he had thought to be cut out and burned a long time ago. As he gazed out the window at the falling snow he wondered whose hearth she knelt as that night, tending to the fire intermittently while she comforted the household and more importantly the invalid she had come to minister to directly.
It was indeed a marvel that she wasn't oftener sick than the rogue cold that was sometimes the aftermath of being kept awake over too many days in the vigil of the healer. He had never personally called her to his side when he was ill, though he had thought about it from time to time. But her attention was far too much for one such as himself to afford. Not that she charged exorbitant prices for her services (for she actually only asked for sustenance when she was at a particular home for a prolonged amount of time) but he could not afford her. He felt himself unworthy of even the smile she sometimes cast his way when he passed her in the marketplace as she made her tired but no less cheerful way home (though, sometimes it was more melancholy if she had not been able to save whoever she had been asked to tend).
However, she always smiled at him. The dimple in her cheek leaving a sweet indentation pointed to by the corner of her mouth much like the Big Dipper and the North Star. She always greeted him in the same warm manner. "Good day, Charles. I hope your mother is well?" To which he would nod, no words being able to issue forth from his mouth until she passed, out of earshot once again.
The crackle of the fire snapping more sharply than it had all day recalled him to the company he kept. His mother, Ms. Mosgrave, was reading a book Charlotte had recommended to her after having treated her cold a month or so ago. And they were joined that particular evening by Sophia Croft, the woman he was expected to marry. She, with her blue eyes, looked at him expectantly and he remembered with a jolt that she had asked him if he had been feeling well. Had he answered the question already and she had asked another? Or had he lost himself in thinking about how he had been feeling under the weather and started to think about Charlotte instead of answering aloud.
"I... I am sorry, Miss Croft. What was the question?" She laughed and he felt the tension mount in his shoulders. He didn't like it when she laughed--it always felt as though she were enjoying a private joke.
"I asked if you have been well," she prompted, "and then, rather suddenly, you walked to the window and looked out as if the answer was there and not actually within your own self."
He nodded almost absently before nodding firmly. Sophia needn't know he was unwell for she would surely insist upon staying until he was quite well.
"I am well," he finally answered to which her eyes narrowed the smallest degree but her smile remained the same. "And how are you, Miss Croft?"
"Won't you call me Sophia? You have been courting me after all for the past year," she said, a tightening at the corners of her eyes gave away her consternation at the fact that he still refused to address her informally as would befit one in love. But he was not in love, regardless of how everyone else felt about the match.
Now if it had been Charlotte...
Charlotte called everyone in the town by their first name and only those who were jealous of her freedom scorned her for the informality of her very person. But then again, she had helped in the birth of the vast majority of the town and though she didn't look it, she was older than the vast majority as well. Token of her being a witch and longer lived than the normal folk.
Indeed, she had assisted in the delivery of himself from Ms. Mosgrave, before his father died away on a journey he should not have taken in the first place and had been warned away from by Charlotte herself.
But though she was older than he, Charles had no qualms in loving her just the same as if she was younger than he as her appearance suggested.
"Charles?" Sophia prompted, the agitation more prominent in her features as he looked over at her and saw his mother pause in her reading and look at him with a spark of amusement in her weathered features. She had told him that the day would come when Sophia would stop putting up patiently with his tendency to start thinking about topics unknown. Aside from that, Ms. Mosgrave had confronted him a number of times and though he never admitted to her being spot on, she had surmised just what or rather WHO he thought of in the times when he was suddenly absent from the conversation.

Of Past Trips and Conversations--Application

After almost a full year, I finally went home this past week. 
I went as a surprise for my younger sister who was graduating on Saturday and though there were a few close calls, my cover was not blown in the end and it was all a grand success. It was wonderful not just because I got to help celebrate such an occasion, but my older brother was also there (though he was initially there for business and would continue on at home a little longer after I left). 
My brother and I are just like any other pair of siblings--getting on each others' nerves, knowing what buttons to push to elicit the most extreme reactions, etc. But I am grateful to know that at the end of the day, we love one another and that is what truly matters. We are certainly still ironing out the ways of stepping around those words that will make us fight but love is the base. 
One of my evenings there, we sat up talking and once my parents were in bed, he switched the topic to what he must have been planning for a while up until that point to speak to me about. 
As with every young adult, I am trying to find my way in this world but the more I go in the direction that I think will lead me to the end all be all of happiness the more I feel that I am simply banging my head against the wall. 
It irritates me to look back at high school and see how much I achieved and how easy it seemed at the time. And now, school, college, is the biggest struggle I have but even when I succeed little by little, it brings no real sense of peace... rather a grim sense of accomplishment that I am that much closer to the milestone I believe everyone expects me to achieve. 
I don't know about you, but I despise myself for living this way and yet it is the path directly in front of me so why shouldn't I traverse it?
My brother combated this idea with another: not why not traverse it but WHY? Stop thinking of the reasons I should not choose something different and think of WHY I am so bullheaded in my pursuit of this path if it brings no satisfaction into my heart.
Forget everyone else and their expectations and urgings and turn inward, just this once.
He asked me why I, as Cassidy, am trying to follow this path and behind those words I felt the current whether he meant to put it there or not of why am I trying to follow this path when it is obviously not working and merely causing a hiccup-like progression in my life?

After thinking about it, I finally came up with an answer that might not be all encompassing but is at least a start. It is because I have been brought up and taught that we must seek learning, be an educated people. The scripture that comes to mind can be found in the Doctrine and Covenants from the scriptures I as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints read--section 88:118:

 "...yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith."

This bit has always intrigued me but I wasn't ever sure what it meant. What I am starting to realize is it means exactly what it says; "seek" learning and knowledge by your study and faith. This encourages the idea in my mind that as long as I am continually learning and growing in wisdom and knowledge and leaning to the Lord's understanding when I fall short, then who says it has to be within the strict institution of a college campus?

Just a note here, I am not bagging on college or any other sort of "higher institution" and I especially believe in the words of my mother when she told me that I should attend high school as if I were to go to college, because at least then, if my attempt to move on with life without college should fail, I will have taken the classes and tests needed to recommend me to those who have the charge to admit students into the school.

A lot of unnecessary grief has been laced in my relationship with my parents over the issue of my living alone and supporting myself. But we have talked about it and over time, I believe we have come to a sort of balance that will only increase in sturdiness over time. 


(I am continuing this post after about a year and a half.)

I am not currently taking classes at the Y. Rather, I am solely working at the Covey Center and working on becoming truly solid in my independence. As I have written a couple times, I discovered my depression and I wonder if that isn't another reason why the whole institution wasn't working out or even if it added to my reasons to suffer. 
Regardless, I am here. Working and coming up on my one year mark at the Covey. I am slowly coming to the realization that I need to work more on my spirituality and growth in my testimony than in anything else that I could possibly pursue at this time. 
So that is what I am doing. I am reading the Book of Mormon, again, along with some manuals that are intended to prepare me for future covenants with the Lord, whether I face the covenants alone or with the man that the Lord has prepared for me.
So. I'm working on me. Becoming the woman the Lord intended me to be. College has been put on hold. Testimony is being kicked into gear. I am on my way to healing the hurts of the past 4 years and doing my best. 

Wish me luck!

Angels

So, I have had a couple conversations lately that have been weighing on my mind and there has been a topic that keeps coming up. I keep being told to pray and the Lord will help me or I've been informed that others I know have been praying and asking the Lord for help and so they believe that is where help will come from.
But did you ever stop to consider that I have prayed? Desperately asking for help, for a friend, for compassion, for understanding? Is that not what you have prayed for as well? For help? A friend? Compassion? Understanding?
I am not saying that you shouldn't pray, or that prayer doesn't work (my life and the lives of those around me are testament enough that there is a Christ, a loving God who looks out for us on a daily basis) but what if you're missing the answers?
Remember the story we have been told multiple times over about the man sitting on his rooftop in the midst of a terrible flood? He prayed and prayed for the Lord to save him, to help him. He is then visited by people on a raft, in a boat and lastly at the time of greatest peril a helicopter and they are there to give him a hand to lift him to safety. But he turns them all away saying that, with the greatest of his faith, that the Lord will save him.
I am a firm believer in the idea that the Lord is in the details of our lives. The people with whom we cross paths aren't there merely by coincidence but because we learn from each person who touches our lives for good (or ill, as the case may be). But how many times must we be told that the Lord will send angels to aid us? To save us? To buoy up our spirits? How many times has a person come into your life when you needed it most and you shook your head saying, "The Lord alone must save me." What if He sent that very person? What if He sent you the raft? The boat? The helicopter? What if you are turning away His help because it isn't as obvious as you expected it to be?
Isn't it said that God works in mysterious ways? That He sends angels to do His will when He cannot be immediately by our side?
I am not saying that I am not guilty of turning away the raft, or even the helicopter. Perhaps I have done it more than I will ever be able to count.




So, sadly, I am at work and in between the above and now the fire has been taken out of me... it's been a rather stressful day.
In short, don't turn away something instantly because it seems too beautiful to be true or you don't feel deserving of it. The Lord wouldn't put it there if He didn't mean for you to at least try to incorporate it into your life.
I love you, my friends, please allow me to help you when I offer. It helps me to turn my thoughts outward. If you don't want it, please be considerate of the fact that it may have taken me a lot of courage to offer in the first place. Sorry.

Let's Be Honest

Just to start us off.... I may as well just own up to what this blog really, truly is and that is in fact that it is a dating blog--my take on dating, my opinions on it, and my scrutiny and commentary on my experiences with the dratted thing. 

Ah. Now that that is out of the way, onward.

This evening, as I was brushing out and braiding a wig I purchased the other day from WalMart (still unsure if it will actually be used in this year's Halloween costume) I was having one of my imaginary conversations. The topic being why I never want to hear the words "you look amazing/beautiful/pretty/cute (insert word of choice)" from the men that break my heart because, let's face it, it is really painful to be told you are "everything I could want" and then be rejected for the exact same reasons (apparently, it is possible). However, as I was getting all my feeling on the subject out into the void I came to a realization, an epiphany if you will, as to why it hasn't worked with the guys who, at the end of the day, DO want me and have made their stance perfectly clear on the idea that I am the one they want to wake up to for the rest of their lives.

Basically, I came to the realization that the reason it hasn't worked with them is because they want to possess me. Wait, what? Don't you mean they want to be in a relationship with you? No. Possess. And this is what I mean--I am okay with someone expressing jealousy over my spending time with others but when it happens after any portion of time I spend with others? And furthermore when it is followed up with, "I know I can't control what you do BECAUSE (emphasis added) we're not officially together..." Wait. Hold up. 

What makes these people think they will be able to dictate who I can and cannot spend time with once we're dating? Why do they feel the need to "control" me? I grant that every one is entitled to their opinion of others and they are more than welcome to express concern over how much time I spend with my friends (especially, I suppose, those of the opposite sex) but I fully intend to make time for my friends pre-relationship if they in turn are willing to make time for me. 

I think that is one of the reasons I end up falling for the people I do because they constantly encourage me (maybe a little too much at times) to spend time with my other friends. Why? Because, as much as they like to spend time with me and have my undivided attention, they realize they shouldn't be the center of my life and world. 

I have a feeling some persons out there will call me a liar but the idea of giving up my independence terrifies me. The idea that I won't be able to make plans without checking everything with my significant other makes me at least a little sick. Sure, there are times (sometimes a full week or so at a time) where they are the only person I really care to be around (being an introvert at heart, I believe, does that to a person) but that won't always be the case. There are a few select men in my life that I fully intend to continue healthy friendships with after the whole marriage shenanigan and you better believe I don't aim to marry someone who cannot be mature enough to share my time with them without going into a jealous, huffy-and-puffy, pouting, rage. 

Yes. I want someone to want me one day. Someone who will want my attention as often as I can give it. But I also want someone who will set me free from this idea that I will be theirs to "control" and possess once I "finally" submit myself to being their girlfriend and finally wife. 

I am sorry... but I am not sorry that I do not want you to put me on a pedestal out of reach of everyone I have every enjoyed spending time with, giving care to, and generally being in relationships with. I am not Rapunzel and heaven forbid you go all Mother Gothel on me. Because, let's face it, that's just creepy... plus, I really don't have a lot of hair to begin with. ;)

Another Writing Exercise

"Write about the one thing you never expected him to say." Ah Pinterest, what fun we'll have. Ha.

We walked away from the music and dancing to a quiet spot, neither of us saying a word. I couldn't say what was going on in his head, which box he was thinking in, but my mind was going a mile a minute. Was I walking too close to him? Too far away? Why did my stomach have to spin in somersaults? Should I speak first or wait quietly until he spoke? Was it colder out here than it had been all summer? Did I have enough milk in the fridge to get through the weekend?
He came to what I perceived as an abrupt stop although once I resurfaced from my increasingly sporadic thoughts I saw it made sense to stop seeing as we had crossed the street and any further would put us in the dark of the trees. But my mind flicked to the next series of thoughts--did he mean for us to sit on the bench? How close was too close? How far was too far? How? What? Where? When? Why?
I sat in a jerky motion down on the bench sitting neither in the center of the bench nor on either extreme end. Let him decide what to do or how close to sit. He sat at the extreme end and my heart plummeted into my stomach. Should I move further away? Should I...?
"Amelia." He spoke softly but it sounded loud and he easily had all of my attention... or at least all except the niggling thoughts that kept my heart from rising to its rightful position. "How was your day?" I blinked and quickly looked down at my hands when his gray eyes lifted to look at me directly.
What did he mean? How was my day? How else could my day have gone while I was hoping and simultaneously dreading the moment we were in right then? My day had been horrible, dragging, and I still had the residual headache of having to focus on my work at the office while still running through "what if" scenarios in my mind!
"It was fine, I guess," I answered a beat late. I could feel his gaze on my face, the narrowing of his eyes as his eyebrows drew down in his usual concern when he knew I wasn't telling him the truth. He didn't push it, however--had I wanted him to?-- and gave a soft, "Oh, that's good."
The silence reigned uncomfortably again. I shifted and he stayed aggravatingly still. Wasn't he the least bit nervous about this conversation?
"How was your day, Ewan?" I inquired stiltedly. I had made the mistake of looking at him and when he looked back (was that relief in his eyes?) I was stuck. His eyes were bluer than the usual cool gray.
"Busy, as usual. A little stressful but what else is new?" he asked rhetorically. I slowly nodded wishing to look away but not wanting to miss seeing his face even though I had just seen it a few days before. His smile faded and he let his gaze turn up to the sky and I sighed softly being released from the spell. I worried at my lip. Why was talking so hard? I knew what needed to be asked... he knew what needed to be said... couldn't we just be over this already?
We both started to speak at once and chuckled in embarrassment. "You first," he offered and I nodded though I stayed silent for another minute or two that felt like an eternity.
"What are we?" I finally managed to ask not strong enough to look at him so I considered my shoes pushing at the cement. I knew what he was going to say already... he'd said as much in the text he'd sent a few weeks prior but, glutton for punishment that I am, I had to hear him say it aloud. I needed him to tell me we were "friends" and see it in his eyes... see that all the admiration and near-adoration he had once regarded me with was gone. I needed to see that he was resolved and that I had no place in his world except for as his friend or, more painfully still, his pseudo-sister.
When he didn't respond, I finally peeled my gaze from the ground to look at him and the sight squeezed painfully at my heart that had somehow found its way back to my rib-cage. How long had that look been trained on me?
I loved him. I still loved him. His eyes, his nose, his expressive mouth... I even loved his ears. I'm sure my expression was pitiable as I stood up from the bench and paced a few steps away. I had to or else give way to the instinctual action to kiss him. I stopped under an oak, picking at its bark as I cast a cautious look over my shoulder. Ewan continued to look at the air I had just vacated, his brow furrowed as he thought of the best words to express himself... as he always did.
"Please, Ewan..." My voice came out softer than I had intended as if afraid to call attention to myself again. After a moment, he looked up at me and I took a tentative step toward him before faltering and wrapping my arms around myself. It was definitely colder.
"I just need to hear it from you, Ewan." He opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he looked down and I shook my arms out in frustration before pulling them through my hair. When he still wasn't forthcoming with the words I knew he was going to say I turned to look at him. My body warred with me. Every fiber of my being wanted to reach out and tell him that he didn't need to say it. That I understood. That it was fine. That I would be fine. But I was determined to let my brain win this war.
"Repeat after me, then, if nothing else, Ewan," I barely managed to contain all the waspishness that had been building over the past weeks but my tone must have still woke him up to my nearing breakdown. "I just want to be friends. Nothing more. Now your turn," I urged, my gaze imploring him to say it and be done with it.
His face crumpled into a defeated expression before he shook his head and stood up, a tentative smile upon his lips. To my horror, he took the last few steps to close the space between us. I jerked back but not quickly enough before his hands grasped my upper arms, firmly but not painfully.
"I can't." The words were simple but I still returned them with, "What?"
"I can't repeat those words to you, Amelia," he clarified, the smile becoming softer in its more pronounced state.
I couldn't speak, my head shaking in negative as I tried to step away but he followed my step allowing his hands to take my face gently so he was sure I was looking at him. "Let me try again," he said with a soft laugh--self-deprecating perhaps? "I can't because it would be a lie...not just to you but to myself." My face crumpled and I tried to pull away, to hide my face but the tears were already slipping from the corners of my eyes and he held my face steadily. "Don't hide from me, silly girl," he spoke tenderly as I pulled weakly at his hands.
"Why are you doing this?" I cried, not able to comprehend what he had said as holding any truth. My hands curled into the front of his shirt, my brain telling me to push him away, punch him, slap him--DO SOMETHING to make him let go! But the rest of me? He heard the rest of me as he pulled me in, holding my head against his chest.
"Because I am selfish, remember?"
The words caused me to hiccup a laugh in the midst of the tears and I felt his smile through my hair as he kissed it.
"I thought that it would be easy if I just stayed away... but not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you, Amelia. Believe me. I don't even want to say I could forget you. I just hope you can one day forgive me." My head was spinning and not just from being so close to him that I forgot to breathe as I always. "However," he said after a while of silence in which I sniffled unattractively. I pulled back at his "however" and prepared for the worst. What a horrid word.... "however"...
My opinion of it must have showed on my face because he laughed with his eyebrow quirked up and his lips pursing to the side before he spoke. "However, I still don't think we should dive straight into a relationship... but we will have our time together...once each week at least," and when I started to shake my head, he grabbed my chin firmly and looked at me seriously, "or else you can punch me."
I rolled my eyes at him causing him to laugh as I realized just how close he was and I could feel his laughing breath fan my face. I pursed my lips and pulled slightly back feeling my resolve crumbling. Heaven knew I wasn't going to allow myself to kiss him first but then, after a slight hesitation from him during which he looked at my wary gaze, I didn't have to for he brushed his lips against mine and he might as well have sucker punched me. My breath whooshed from my lungs and for a moment the past weeks didn't matter.
Too soon, as always, he stepped away from me not before pushing my hair away from my face and caressing my cheek as though to assure himself that I was still there.
"Should we go back?" he asked with his pursed lips that hid the smug smile I had always berated him for. I rolled my eyes again and kissing him lightly on the cheek, I danced away and toward the music once more with a look of challenge thrown over my shoulder. He shook his head but followed catching up to place an arm about my waist as we walked back together.

Rain

Her heart was racing as she continued down the darkened streets, her feet splashing the puddles that were growing larger by the minute. The lights had gone out not twenty minutes before and the only light to lead her was the intermittent strikes of lightning and the flicker of candles in the windows she passed. 

The phone call she had received before all the power went out had ripped her from her house without thought of shoes or coat and the storm had plastered her hair to her neck and face as she tried to shake the water from her eyes. How much of the water was tears? How much of it was rain? She couldn't tell.

Her toes had gone numb from the cold of this wintry rain. A brief memory lit her mind's eye of the day she had met him in a storm much like this--only it had been summer and they had danced...

She made out the sign of Drury Park with the help of yet another flash of lightning, the roll of the thunder vibrating from her toes to prickle along her spine. 

Nearly breathless she finally called his name. "James!" She shivered violently--cold? Adrenaline? Fear? There was no answer as she strained her vision, frantically looking over every piece of the park that she could make out as she happened upon it. Her calls pitched higher, more frantic with every disappointment. 

Lightning. A crumpled heap burned on her vision under a tree... the oak tree. 

"James..." his name whispered across her lips as she stood frozen for but a moment before making her way toward him, tripping over her numb feet and the edge of the sidewalk. Her feet sunk into the puddles in the saturated grass as she struggled up the small incline to finally drop to her knees beside him. She hesitated before reaching over and pulling him upright with his back against the oak.The lightning that lit his face reveal a long gash on the left side of his face, the blood trailing beneath the collar of his shirt. 

"James," she said softly caressing his face just past the gash.

His eyes fluttered open to look at her, a smile tugging at the right corner of his mouth. "Hey there, beautiful. I wondered when you would come along," he said, his voice husky with cold and strain. She gave a short, bitter laugh at his saying the same opening line as their first meeting in Drury Park.

She shook her head as she opened his coat enough to see the dark crimson spreading over the white of his shirt. She sniffed pathetically before looking back up at him, the lightning lighting his face for her to see. He watched her, his eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he reached up to stroke her face. "Don't look at me like that," he said softly and she felt her throat constrict around the accusations she wanted to throw. Why did he have to come to this park? Why hadn't he run like she asked him to? Why...why was he dying?

Instead she pushed her hair away from her face and half stood, trying to bring him up with her. "We need to get you to a doctor, James. Before it's..." she began but he pulled her back down with whatever strength he had left to him.

"Too late," he finished. "Besides," he murmured, "if I were to live, then you would still be a prisoner."

"No! I've made up my mind. We can escape together. I won't allow him to use me a day more... I--" she said stroking his face, willing him to see that she was stronger than when they had first met. But he was shaking his head and caught one of her hands in his. It was at this point that she realized he could no longer move his left arm. 

"Mary," he said. Just her name. Nothing more until she took a deep breath and looked at him--not to continue her train of thought but to listen to him. "I would not wish to free you from one man to have you become my prisoner." She shook her head wanting to tell him that she did not understand. "You'll understand one day... your freedom has been paid for... now, learn what it is... to be free." 

"But..."

"Mary," he whispered once more, and she looked at him, her heart squeezing painfully as another fork of lightning lit the park and his face. His beautiful, perfect face. She had fallen for the angel while in the hands of the devil. 

Mary kissed him almost before the thought permeated her mind. His lips were warm even as he lay dying, a testament to who he really was. Her own personal sun, she had thought at one time, but now a dying star. His arm wrapped about her waist for the last time as he kissed her softly, briefly, before allowing his head to rest on her chest. She shifted slightly so she could hold him in her arms one last time. 

They stayed like that for a time, Mary's breathing almost steady aside from the sniffs triggered by the tears that continued to slip with the raindrops down her cheeks onto his head, James' breathing getting shorter. His head shifted slightly and she looked down at the crown of his head.

"The beat of your heart...." he said, his words quieter now so she had to tilt her head further to catch them. "It matches the rain..." She let out a slightly strangled laugh, trying for light.

"Is that so?" Mary said just a soft. 

He hummed in a tired acknowledgment before whispering, "I find peace in the rain..." 

She hugged him more tightly at that before the silence returned.

It was broken only by the roll of thunder, although even that was drifting away with the eye of the storm. The rain however didn't give any sign of relenting. On instinct Mary kissed the top of James' head. 

"I love you, James..." she murmured. She felt him release a sigh and he stilled and the rain let up...misted...then stopped.

Writing prompts from pinterest are fantastic things aren't they?

What Hurts the Most

So firstly, I just want to say how much I love my little sister, Mikkaila, who is on her mission for the church. I did the math, and in two weeks she will be 1/3 of the way done with her mission (not that I will tell her that because if she wants to know she'll probably have it figured out already). I love how she takes what I write to her every week and responds just the way I need her to. Sometimes I wonder if she knows something I don't (which is entirely possible) but whatever it is, I'll let her keep it to herself until she gets back.

So it has been kind of great lately in the fact that although I haven't been getting tons of sleep, I am definitely getting back to myself. This is evident in the fact that it takes very little to make me smile or feel genuinely happy (i.e. a butterfly crossing my path or a sudden downpour of rain). However with this realization comes the realization that what I have been feeling has been a lot closer to true feeling than it has in the past year. For example, when I am brought to tears it is because I truly feel it deserves to be cried over and not simply because I spilled a little milk on the counter. Likewise, when I appreciate someone it is because I feel they truly deserve a place in my life rather than, "oh, he gave me attention! Let me lavish my attention on him!" No. If I am texting you, wanting to spend time with you... it's because I want you in my life, believe it or not.

I have been told by people in the past that they were purposefully avoiding me--which translated into their ignoring me--saying that it was for my good.

Now, I am pretty sure I have said it before, but I'll say it again. I don't respond well to being ignored. There are three levels of hurt in the texting world and I list them in order of how badly they hurt from least to greatest (not to be confused with greatest to least).

1. Words--whether they be on purpose or if what you're trying to say just doesn't translate into written form very well (seeing as one is denied the opportunity to see your expression or hear the inflection of your words). They can cause hurt, yes, but you are still communicating to an extent.
2. Confirmation--also known as the words that you eventually send to explain why you haven't been responding. I don't mean when you say that you were with friends/family/doctors/class--but when you say that you would rather carry a certain conversation on in person so as to avoid hurt number one. But most of the suspicions for the reason you have been ignoring me have been confirmed and, though it hurts, at least I know what is going on in your mind... more or less.
3. The Act of Ignoring--I am anxiety girl... able to jump to the worst possible conclusion in a single bound. I am also very apt at assuming that I have said something/done something horribly wrong in your eyes and that I, in fact, deserve to be ignored or you have something to tell me that is going to break my heart, etc, etc, etc.

Does this make sense? I know I am overzealous and have way more affection and love to give than some people neither expect or are used to or, perhaps, even want. It's a curse really.

I was brought up in a home where I was loved and knew it. Always. I never had to doubt. My younger brother was the type to insist upon goodnight kisses and hugs every day and it sort of rubbed off on me. And now every time I go home, me and my younger sister are quite cuddly. So I guess what I'm saying is it comes with the package.

I am an overzealous, detail-oriented, cuddle bug with more affection than I know what to do with. I think everyone deserves to be loved. If you are important to me, I will remember details about you, dates that are important to you. You will feel important.

Is there anything I have missed?

(This occurred to me the other day and I finally had a moment to write it up... it's something that has been on my mind for a few months now. XD)