Nothing hurts worse than feeling unwanted. Than feeling that a person would rather see anyone but you. That you do not even count as an option in their mind, now or ever.
You know that feeling? The feeling that surrounds your heart and feels like helium but instead of buoying your heart and spirits it feels as though it would suffocate you if you would give in? I find that although I might not be new to this particular feeling, it has been a long time since I have felt it so acutely.
No one wants to feel unwanted--but more particularly no one wants to have to draw the conclusion themselves that they are not wanted. If you would rather not have a person spend time thinking about you and hoping to do something with you... tell them. Do not give them the false hope that inevitably lifts them up higher than their safety net will allow them to fall into unhurt.
It is a strange thing to feel "unwanted". Being raised in the family I was blessed with, there was never a moment at the end of the day when I felt that my parents wished they had never had me, that my siblings were not happy that I was their sister--even if we had quarreled all day long.
The worst thing about feeling "unwanted" is the fact that no one ever says that they do not want you. In this sense, actions DO speak louder than words, particularly when hardly a word has been spoken.
Worse still is the feeling of the ongoing roller coaster ride where one day you feel as close as you may ever get with a person and then the next day you feel as though they would do anything to avoid you.
If I have ever made you feel that way, I want to apologize. It is not right. It is not fair. And no one should have to feel this way especially because of me.
My second plea this evening is this:
Please. Do not tell a person that you avoid them so you will not hurt them. That in and of itself will hurt them.
Now, reading this I can see how one could perceive it as conflicting what I have said formerly but this is what I mean by the latter part:
I apply this to dating. And thus I will continue to apply it for the ease of understanding. Do not convince yourself that you are sparing a person's feelings when you say that you would rather not even try to be in a relationship with them because you are afraid that you cannot commit.
I personally would rather hurt and be able to say, "At least we tried," rather than hurt and think about the never-ending rounds of "but what if?".
I am not a patient person by nature and yet it takes a great deal to make me give up. But I never want to give up without saying at least that I tried. Please. Do not make me give up. Do not force me to despair and say with an expression full of melancholy, "I couldn't... even if I tried."
If I adore you, I would pray that you would not take it for granted. If I lose sleep over you, if I have to force myself not to contact you within a day, if I pretend that it does not affect me in the least...
If, if, IF...
What if I had never said anything in the first place?
11 December 2013
21 November 2013
Of Daisies and Colds
I grew up in a house where watching movies was a natural occurrence. Everything from Godzilla to Star Wars, Pride and Prejudice to Ever After. Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks, Tri-Star... we watched and enjoyed them all.
Aside from this love of movies, I was also brought up with a love for the written word. I sadly don't read as much as I used to for the sake of pleasure but there comes a time every now and then where I pick up a novel and simply cannot put it down until it is finished. Sometimes this happens with a brand new book but just recently (meaning this very evening) I finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and I am pretty sure it was only my second time reading it the whole way through. Sad, I know. But it has been done and it was just as lovely as the first time.
Also recently as of this past week I seem to have come down with a cold. Not the one that knocks you out cold for a whole week but one of those annoying pesky things where you are stuffy and sneezy about 75% of the time. I have been taking cold medicine and I am sure I will be better soon (seeing as I also "splurged" and bought myself some orange juice fortified with Calcium seeing as it has been a little while since I drank milk into my system).
What do these three bits of news have to do with one another? Well, I will tell you.
One of my absolute favorite movies growing up was, surprise surprise, the romantic comedy entitled You've Got Mail. You know the one with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks? That strangely perfect chemistry based duo of the acting world? Well, for those of you who have never watched it, go watch it! It is a lovely movie. Not only is it the right amount of quirk and sass to keep my entertained but it also has the sweetness of the blooming friendship and romance that will make just about any woman (young or old) swoon.
Ryan plays a bookshop owner, having inherited it from her late mother. She has been taking care of the shop for a handful of years when out of nowhere, in swoops Hanks who is in charge of a big bookstore corporation (something akin to Barnes and Noble really) and starts to put Ryan's little bookshop out of business. And as luck would have it, (and I feel no qualms in telling you this because you figure it out in pretty much the first ten minutes of the movie) the two of them have been pen pals for a certain amount of time after having met in a chat room. Of course, neither of them knows the actual connection and you watch the story unfold. The friendship takes hold. And of course love blooms.
(You see it? The connection between movies and my love of books has been made. Now, you might ask, where does the cold come into play? Well...)
So, one of my favorite scenes in the whole movie happens when Ryan is stuck at home with a cold. You know the kind. Where you are practically drunk on cough syrup, you haven't taken a shower and thus your bed head has gotten away from you, tissues are strewn upon every flat surface, and even the dishes have gotten away from you.
Well, if I remember rightly, somehow, Hanks finds out that she has a cold and what does he do? He buys her flowers. And not just any kind of flowers. He buys her daisies! Pretty much the cheeriest flower the Lord ever created. "They're such friendly flowers," is how Ryan describes them in the movie. Anyway, Hanks gets up to her apartment and wheedles his way into the room (after Ryan has thrown a trench coat over her flannel pajamas and stuffed as many dirtied tissues as she can manage to grab in her hurry into the deep pockets). He makes small talk and eventually ushers her back into bed after putting the flowers in a vase for her (and she tows said vase of daisies with her to her bedroom) and he says a few more things that leave the audience wishing he would just tell her that they are meant to be and get it over with.... and he leaves.
Well, in conclusion, being the entirely hopeless romantic that I am, I await the day when something similar to this scene happens in my life. Now, I know the chances aren't all that great because it's a movie, written up by writers who are simply trying to please their audience... but there's no harm in wishing right? That the right guy will just waltz up to your door and disregard the fact that you feel like something the cat drug out of the bag so that he can give you a modestly sized bouquet of daisies?
It would totally brighten my day.
In other news, I landed a part-time job today off campus and am gearing up for another interview for yet another job tomorrow so I will lay down my cough medicine infused system for a couple of hours and hope that I will at least not appear sickly in the morning.
Wish my luck! Prayers are appreciated as well. And thank you so very much in advance!
Aside from this love of movies, I was also brought up with a love for the written word. I sadly don't read as much as I used to for the sake of pleasure but there comes a time every now and then where I pick up a novel and simply cannot put it down until it is finished. Sometimes this happens with a brand new book but just recently (meaning this very evening) I finished reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and I am pretty sure it was only my second time reading it the whole way through. Sad, I know. But it has been done and it was just as lovely as the first time.
Also recently as of this past week I seem to have come down with a cold. Not the one that knocks you out cold for a whole week but one of those annoying pesky things where you are stuffy and sneezy about 75% of the time. I have been taking cold medicine and I am sure I will be better soon (seeing as I also "splurged" and bought myself some orange juice fortified with Calcium seeing as it has been a little while since I drank milk into my system).
What do these three bits of news have to do with one another? Well, I will tell you.
One of my absolute favorite movies growing up was, surprise surprise, the romantic comedy entitled You've Got Mail. You know the one with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks? That strangely perfect chemistry based duo of the acting world? Well, for those of you who have never watched it, go watch it! It is a lovely movie. Not only is it the right amount of quirk and sass to keep my entertained but it also has the sweetness of the blooming friendship and romance that will make just about any woman (young or old) swoon.
Ryan plays a bookshop owner, having inherited it from her late mother. She has been taking care of the shop for a handful of years when out of nowhere, in swoops Hanks who is in charge of a big bookstore corporation (something akin to Barnes and Noble really) and starts to put Ryan's little bookshop out of business. And as luck would have it, (and I feel no qualms in telling you this because you figure it out in pretty much the first ten minutes of the movie) the two of them have been pen pals for a certain amount of time after having met in a chat room. Of course, neither of them knows the actual connection and you watch the story unfold. The friendship takes hold. And of course love blooms.
(You see it? The connection between movies and my love of books has been made. Now, you might ask, where does the cold come into play? Well...)
So, one of my favorite scenes in the whole movie happens when Ryan is stuck at home with a cold. You know the kind. Where you are practically drunk on cough syrup, you haven't taken a shower and thus your bed head has gotten away from you, tissues are strewn upon every flat surface, and even the dishes have gotten away from you.
Well, if I remember rightly, somehow, Hanks finds out that she has a cold and what does he do? He buys her flowers. And not just any kind of flowers. He buys her daisies! Pretty much the cheeriest flower the Lord ever created. "They're such friendly flowers," is how Ryan describes them in the movie. Anyway, Hanks gets up to her apartment and wheedles his way into the room (after Ryan has thrown a trench coat over her flannel pajamas and stuffed as many dirtied tissues as she can manage to grab in her hurry into the deep pockets). He makes small talk and eventually ushers her back into bed after putting the flowers in a vase for her (and she tows said vase of daisies with her to her bedroom) and he says a few more things that leave the audience wishing he would just tell her that they are meant to be and get it over with.... and he leaves.
Well, in conclusion, being the entirely hopeless romantic that I am, I await the day when something similar to this scene happens in my life. Now, I know the chances aren't all that great because it's a movie, written up by writers who are simply trying to please their audience... but there's no harm in wishing right? That the right guy will just waltz up to your door and disregard the fact that you feel like something the cat drug out of the bag so that he can give you a modestly sized bouquet of daisies?
It would totally brighten my day.
In other news, I landed a part-time job today off campus and am gearing up for another interview for yet another job tomorrow so I will lay down my cough medicine infused system for a couple of hours and hope that I will at least not appear sickly in the morning.
Wish my luck! Prayers are appreciated as well. And thank you so very much in advance!
08 November 2013
Viral
With social media being what it is, we have all heard of videos, blog posts, etc, going viral. Recently, it seems there have been a lot of blogs being shared about that express the writers' opinions on how relationships are supposed to work and other such related topics. My friends have shared a variety of these--most of which I have read personally, some that I have shared in my turn.
Now, whenever I see these blogs shared, there is always that person who takes a single phrase written by the blogger and blows it out of proportion or uses it to sum up what the blogger was trying to say (sometimes, even, taking it completely out of context and not getting the "gist" of the post at all). This bothers me (obviously) to an extent but something I saw yesterday bothered me even more.
It was the comment someone put at the top of a blog post they shared and it read: "Finally a retort blog post!" Really? Good grief, folks. It was one person's opinion. If you don't agree with it then, be my guest, and let them know in a respectful manner what your own opinion is but don't openly combat someone like that. I think the phrase or word for it is "trolling" when a person does that?
Regardless of what you would call it, I would respectfully say that it is an immature way of commenting and sharing your opinion on a subject that 100s before you (and I am sure even more afterward) have written a blog on. Think of your own blog post title and be tasteful and tactful. You aren't gaining anything by attacking the opinion of someone else (except for maybe your own twisted sense of pleasure from feeling like you have really given them the one-two).
So in conclusion of this short blog post with my very own, non-combative title--- I am actually thankful that my blog hasn't gone viral because I think it is petty to attack another person's opinion. It ends up looking like you are riding on the coattails of someone else. Just a last minute thought there.
Now, whenever I see these blogs shared, there is always that person who takes a single phrase written by the blogger and blows it out of proportion or uses it to sum up what the blogger was trying to say (sometimes, even, taking it completely out of context and not getting the "gist" of the post at all). This bothers me (obviously) to an extent but something I saw yesterday bothered me even more.
It was the comment someone put at the top of a blog post they shared and it read: "Finally a retort blog post!" Really? Good grief, folks. It was one person's opinion. If you don't agree with it then, be my guest, and let them know in a respectful manner what your own opinion is but don't openly combat someone like that. I think the phrase or word for it is "trolling" when a person does that?
Regardless of what you would call it, I would respectfully say that it is an immature way of commenting and sharing your opinion on a subject that 100s before you (and I am sure even more afterward) have written a blog on. Think of your own blog post title and be tasteful and tactful. You aren't gaining anything by attacking the opinion of someone else (except for maybe your own twisted sense of pleasure from feeling like you have really given them the one-two).
So in conclusion of this short blog post with my very own, non-combative title--- I am actually thankful that my blog hasn't gone viral because I think it is petty to attack another person's opinion. It ends up looking like you are riding on the coattails of someone else. Just a last minute thought there.
05 November 2013
Life's Tough...
Growing up, I watched a lot of Boy Meets World. Most of the time I laughed at the antics of the characters as they went through their lives but every once in a while, there was a truth spoken that I would carry with me for the rest of my life.
One such truth was spoken by Eric Matthews to his little brother, Cory, and though we all laughed when Eric smacked him in the forehead directly thereafter, the truth remained in my mind:
"Life's tough. Get a helmet."
Life is tough. Even for the people who are always smiling and happy, there is usually some battle that they are facing and we may never know just how hard it is for them to continue smiling for us and cheering everyone else on in their trials and struggles.
I have had my share of trials and must admit that from time to time I feel as though they never stop. That there is no reprieve. That I am constantly treading water and trying to struggle free from the pressure and choking hold that the dark has upon my soul.
As I was laying down in an attempt to sleep tonight, an ice pack tucked snugly underneath my back with a couple layers of material between (winter is around the corner after all), I started thinking--from time to time aloud--about where I am in life. This included not only my relationship status but also the status of my testimony and beliefs. What started out as ramblings became something moving to me and I had to sit up at once and start composing this blog entry.
I imagined myself in front of a crowd of people (I have a tendency to lay out scenes in my mind) perhaps they could be my single adult ward, or perhaps just a gathering of young people with my same base belief and tie to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
What I said was something similar to this:
I believe in Christ. I believe in His Gospel and know that Joseph Smith was the first prophet of the Restoration. Chosen by God to bring forth this marvelous work. I know that I would not be the person I am if not for my foundation in this church. I am grateful for parents who encouraged me to go with them to church every week--who taught me how to pray. And I am thankful for siblings who have and still set an example for the kind of disciple I want to be.
My soul aches when they fall just as I know theirs do when I experience my moments of weakness. I am grateful to know that we continue to love each other through these struggles and times of darkness and in the words of a friend of mine--continue to be FAMILY.
Sisters... you are so strong. We may have moments of weakness but at the end of the day we are strong. Our capacity to do good is larger than we can ever imagine. Our paths are our own. We will be asked to fight dragons that others of us may not encounter til later in life or not at all. Some of us will marry and raise families. Others of us will help our loved ones to nourish the minds and spirits of their children, perhaps our nieces and nephews.
It's a potentially frightening road that we will travel but if we arm ourselves with virtue, faith, charity, and light we will be able to follow it to its end.
I know it is hard at times not to get caught up in the dramas of relationships---from those with our friends to those with our boyfriends and sometimes even our boy(space)friends. But if you must be caught up, be sure to assess the situation you find yourself and know it is because you seek to make them happy. Do not fall in love to make yourself happy. Relationships are made of a desire to serve one another and those relationships that turn into courtships are made of the service that only you can give one another... or at least that is what I think.
It hurts when we cannot make another happy. I have experienced this with both my male AND female friends. I love them... and from this love stems a desire for them to be happy. It is unfortunate that I have hurt some, discouraged others, and perhaps even don't recognize that some soul wants my attention. I apologize for those moments... but I hope you at least understand that I do want you to be happy---regardless of my proximity to the reason for your happiness.
Some of the strongest, smartest, and most beautiful women I know are those who have been asked to trod the paths of this world alone. I am grateful to have such examples of faith and trust in God and the hope that it will work out in the end as long as they keep pressing on and allowing Him to guide them with His will and hands.
Men. I am not saying that this means you have to date these particular women. But if you refuse to do that... then please, I implore you, be our brothers. Help cultivate places of refuge and strength. Places where we can turn when the world has almost beaten us and take time to cry. Let us know that you love and support us. Men. Tell the sisters if you are their home teachers. Sometimes home teachers are the only ones we feel we can turn to.
Help us to know how we can help you and support you. Let us know when we hurt you. Why. Don't give up on us for, though we may say it from time to time, we surely have not given up on you.
These are just a handful of the words that I spoke to myself but it reminded me that I still feel. Compassion. Hurt. Tenderness. Disappointment. Peace. The day we stop feeling is the day that we lose hope. The day when we forget to bring our "helmet" along and face up to the toughness of life with our brightest light of optimism and hope for what the future has in store for us if we will only have the courage.
And this is what I will leave you with-- a quote from President Thomas S. Monson, the current prophet: "Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.'"
One such truth was spoken by Eric Matthews to his little brother, Cory, and though we all laughed when Eric smacked him in the forehead directly thereafter, the truth remained in my mind:
"Life's tough. Get a helmet."
Life is tough. Even for the people who are always smiling and happy, there is usually some battle that they are facing and we may never know just how hard it is for them to continue smiling for us and cheering everyone else on in their trials and struggles.
I have had my share of trials and must admit that from time to time I feel as though they never stop. That there is no reprieve. That I am constantly treading water and trying to struggle free from the pressure and choking hold that the dark has upon my soul.
As I was laying down in an attempt to sleep tonight, an ice pack tucked snugly underneath my back with a couple layers of material between (winter is around the corner after all), I started thinking--from time to time aloud--about where I am in life. This included not only my relationship status but also the status of my testimony and beliefs. What started out as ramblings became something moving to me and I had to sit up at once and start composing this blog entry.
I imagined myself in front of a crowd of people (I have a tendency to lay out scenes in my mind) perhaps they could be my single adult ward, or perhaps just a gathering of young people with my same base belief and tie to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
What I said was something similar to this:
I believe in Christ. I believe in His Gospel and know that Joseph Smith was the first prophet of the Restoration. Chosen by God to bring forth this marvelous work. I know that I would not be the person I am if not for my foundation in this church. I am grateful for parents who encouraged me to go with them to church every week--who taught me how to pray. And I am thankful for siblings who have and still set an example for the kind of disciple I want to be.
My soul aches when they fall just as I know theirs do when I experience my moments of weakness. I am grateful to know that we continue to love each other through these struggles and times of darkness and in the words of a friend of mine--continue to be FAMILY.
Sisters... you are so strong. We may have moments of weakness but at the end of the day we are strong. Our capacity to do good is larger than we can ever imagine. Our paths are our own. We will be asked to fight dragons that others of us may not encounter til later in life or not at all. Some of us will marry and raise families. Others of us will help our loved ones to nourish the minds and spirits of their children, perhaps our nieces and nephews.
It's a potentially frightening road that we will travel but if we arm ourselves with virtue, faith, charity, and light we will be able to follow it to its end.
I know it is hard at times not to get caught up in the dramas of relationships---from those with our friends to those with our boyfriends and sometimes even our boy(space)friends. But if you must be caught up, be sure to assess the situation you find yourself and know it is because you seek to make them happy. Do not fall in love to make yourself happy. Relationships are made of a desire to serve one another and those relationships that turn into courtships are made of the service that only you can give one another... or at least that is what I think.
It hurts when we cannot make another happy. I have experienced this with both my male AND female friends. I love them... and from this love stems a desire for them to be happy. It is unfortunate that I have hurt some, discouraged others, and perhaps even don't recognize that some soul wants my attention. I apologize for those moments... but I hope you at least understand that I do want you to be happy---regardless of my proximity to the reason for your happiness.
Some of the strongest, smartest, and most beautiful women I know are those who have been asked to trod the paths of this world alone. I am grateful to have such examples of faith and trust in God and the hope that it will work out in the end as long as they keep pressing on and allowing Him to guide them with His will and hands.
Men. I am not saying that this means you have to date these particular women. But if you refuse to do that... then please, I implore you, be our brothers. Help cultivate places of refuge and strength. Places where we can turn when the world has almost beaten us and take time to cry. Let us know that you love and support us. Men. Tell the sisters if you are their home teachers. Sometimes home teachers are the only ones we feel we can turn to.
Help us to know how we can help you and support you. Let us know when we hurt you. Why. Don't give up on us for, though we may say it from time to time, we surely have not given up on you.
These are just a handful of the words that I spoke to myself but it reminded me that I still feel. Compassion. Hurt. Tenderness. Disappointment. Peace. The day we stop feeling is the day that we lose hope. The day when we forget to bring our "helmet" along and face up to the toughness of life with our brightest light of optimism and hope for what the future has in store for us if we will only have the courage.
And this is what I will leave you with-- a quote from President Thomas S. Monson, the current prophet: "Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, 'I'll try again tomorrow.'"
29 October 2013
Of Souls and Kindred Spirits
Earlier this evening, a friend of mine got hit by a car while she was crossing the street. I was with my Family Home Evening group when a boy in my ward popped his head into the apartment and made the announcement. It was strange. I had just spoken to her not a few hours earlier, making plans for after our FHE's. Running outside revealed a fire truck, police cars, and much to my dismay, an ambulance, lights flashing and all.
I couldn't go to her side, but they were strapping her to a gurney and though I heard that she was responding and talking with the paramedics, my heart plummeted and tears I had been holding in for a weeks now came trickling forth. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. After the ambulance took off, I walked briskly to my apartment followed by my roommate. Soon my nervous energy and anxiety prompted me to start cleaning the living room at a rapid pace followed quickly by my roommate starting on the kitchen.
She asked if there was anything more she could do and my mind went into panic mode and I knew the person I wanted to call but wasn't sure if I would be allowed to. I finally called my dear friend (or texted rather) and asked that they drop by to give me a hug--something that seems to calm me, or at least let me know that it is alright to have a moment of weakness.
My friend came and after drying my hands (with my anxious energy I decided to make myself potato fries) I finally allowed them to hug me. I had controlled my emotions before their appearance but suddenly everything was brought back to the surface and I was thankful that he had responded to my simple request.
We talked of things, some related to our friend who had been hit and some to stop me from thinking darkly and nonstop of the current events. We took the garbage out and discovered the rain was freezing--perhaps it will snow tomorrow? He made sure I was fine though I knew he was busy as ever and was needed elsewhere. But that gratitude made the night easier to bear.
My wonderful roommate suggested a movie night for us and so we popped The Holiday in to her laptop and forgot the world for a while. After it ended and our other roommate had returned home with a favorable report of our wounded friend, we spoke of the craziness that life presents us and how inconvenient the timing of certain happenings in our lives are.
Then what seemed like out of nowhere, she asked if I knew the feeling of loving someone without knowing them--not like the romantic love, but that of having been so close to someone in our premortal lives that once we meet them here on earth, it is more a meeting or reunion of our souls rather than making a new acquaintance or friend.
My answer to the question is yes.
I have had a handful of best friends where we "just clicked" or where it seemed easier to open up and just speak to them than it is with others. Some people... my heart just seems to move for. I feel as though I know them already without having to have the deep conversations. Then there are also people with whom I can share in an embrace and just feel "home". And it doesn't matter what crap we go through up until the point when we really just need them to stand beside us because our souls are so far beyond that, whether we realize it all the time or not.
I live for experiences such as these--to find those people that I loved so dearly in the premortal existence that not even this fogginess or cloud of mortality can separate our souls from knowing and recognizing one another.
I guess I just wanted to thank you--those who I have experienced this very special, treasured, and beautiful connection with for finding me again after all these years. For loving me enough to not give up on finding me once more and, upon finding me, not hiding your kindred spirit from the searching and desire of my soul.
I love you. And I look forward to reacquainting myself with you--no matter what form it takes or how long we have to wait until we find that we must make the time if we are to ever find the time.
Thank you. You are lovely.
I couldn't go to her side, but they were strapping her to a gurney and though I heard that she was responding and talking with the paramedics, my heart plummeted and tears I had been holding in for a weeks now came trickling forth. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to think. After the ambulance took off, I walked briskly to my apartment followed by my roommate. Soon my nervous energy and anxiety prompted me to start cleaning the living room at a rapid pace followed quickly by my roommate starting on the kitchen.
She asked if there was anything more she could do and my mind went into panic mode and I knew the person I wanted to call but wasn't sure if I would be allowed to. I finally called my dear friend (or texted rather) and asked that they drop by to give me a hug--something that seems to calm me, or at least let me know that it is alright to have a moment of weakness.
My friend came and after drying my hands (with my anxious energy I decided to make myself potato fries) I finally allowed them to hug me. I had controlled my emotions before their appearance but suddenly everything was brought back to the surface and I was thankful that he had responded to my simple request.
We talked of things, some related to our friend who had been hit and some to stop me from thinking darkly and nonstop of the current events. We took the garbage out and discovered the rain was freezing--perhaps it will snow tomorrow? He made sure I was fine though I knew he was busy as ever and was needed elsewhere. But that gratitude made the night easier to bear.
My wonderful roommate suggested a movie night for us and so we popped The Holiday in to her laptop and forgot the world for a while. After it ended and our other roommate had returned home with a favorable report of our wounded friend, we spoke of the craziness that life presents us and how inconvenient the timing of certain happenings in our lives are.
Then what seemed like out of nowhere, she asked if I knew the feeling of loving someone without knowing them--not like the romantic love, but that of having been so close to someone in our premortal lives that once we meet them here on earth, it is more a meeting or reunion of our souls rather than making a new acquaintance or friend.
My answer to the question is yes.
I have had a handful of best friends where we "just clicked" or where it seemed easier to open up and just speak to them than it is with others. Some people... my heart just seems to move for. I feel as though I know them already without having to have the deep conversations. Then there are also people with whom I can share in an embrace and just feel "home". And it doesn't matter what crap we go through up until the point when we really just need them to stand beside us because our souls are so far beyond that, whether we realize it all the time or not.
I live for experiences such as these--to find those people that I loved so dearly in the premortal existence that not even this fogginess or cloud of mortality can separate our souls from knowing and recognizing one another.
I guess I just wanted to thank you--those who I have experienced this very special, treasured, and beautiful connection with for finding me again after all these years. For loving me enough to not give up on finding me once more and, upon finding me, not hiding your kindred spirit from the searching and desire of my soul.
I love you. And I look forward to reacquainting myself with you--no matter what form it takes or how long we have to wait until we find that we must make the time if we are to ever find the time.
Thank you. You are lovely.
30 September 2013
It's a Monday
I quite loathe those days when I just fail at dance and thus start off on a bad foot for the day.
Today was one of those days. It seemed that for the life of me, I could not get a hold of the tango with my lab partner for my first hour of dance. Then whilst dancing the American social standard waltz, it just felt like every partner was too close. I could not get the timing right and I kid you not, I had my toes hit 3 times at least. It did not help when at the very beginning of class, one of the guys was trying to "cheer me up" and proceeded to "tickle" my sides. Yeah. No. You know those days when a tickle feels more like crab pincers in your sides? Or rather when a guy does not seem to be able to remember that you are a girl and must be tickled gently? Yes. That was today and it was that guy.
I asked him not to touch me, rather waspishly I will admit, and then he proceeded to apologize and touch my shoulder... a couple girls had witnessed it and though I am sure he felt a little affronted, they remarked that he had just done what I had asked him, nay! Demanded! That he not do... I will have to apologize on Wednesday but I just could not have it today, apparently.
As I walked home after a rather disappointing two hours of dance (which I usually thoroughly enjoy) I was walking through the BYU Bookstore and saw some beautiful paintings of the Savior along with one that I imagine could have been Mary, the one who went to His tomb, in the act of reaching out to the unidentified subject---who we could assume was Christ, I am sure.
My heart broke a little. Somehow I have not realized how near to the surface tears have been for me this weekend--though I didn't get rather teary during the Relief Society General Broadcast on Saturday and then on Sunday during which I watched the rest of it.
Walking home thereafter was quite the experience feeling as though I would break down and cry at any moment but then not. If that even makes sense.
(A side note: the discovery I made on the way home is I no longer like to walk at the ground while I am walking. I am not sure when it changed, but my usual gait is to look up into the world's face, looking for people who might need a smile. Well, I hardly felt like doing just this on the brink of tears just in case something else triggered the water works that I loathe displaying outside the comfort of home and church.)
Promptly upon returning home, I bundled up in my blankets and read my scriptures. Honestly, it has been a few days. Possible attribution to my woeful spirit? Most likely.
The end of this week will bring General Conference. I feel so much love from He who watches from above at the wisdom that lies behind the spacing of our General Conferences--every 6 months for those of you who are not members of the church. It always seems to come when my confidence is at its lowest, when I am the most confused, the most unsure of what steps will lead me forward.
Lighter note for this post would be the fact that my younger sister is expecting her mission call this week. I cannot believe how old she has gotten! I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about it and she remarked on how she still thinks of my sister as being 12 years old, new to Girl's Camp and in our cabin. She has really grown up and filled out since her lanky and waspish-limbed self. I could not be more proud of the young lady she has become and find it an interesting contrast to wishing she would be able to look up to me to looking up to her now.
She's a good girl. Genuinely and I know the Lord has big plans for her.
Today was one of those days. It seemed that for the life of me, I could not get a hold of the tango with my lab partner for my first hour of dance. Then whilst dancing the American social standard waltz, it just felt like every partner was too close. I could not get the timing right and I kid you not, I had my toes hit 3 times at least. It did not help when at the very beginning of class, one of the guys was trying to "cheer me up" and proceeded to "tickle" my sides. Yeah. No. You know those days when a tickle feels more like crab pincers in your sides? Or rather when a guy does not seem to be able to remember that you are a girl and must be tickled gently? Yes. That was today and it was that guy.
I asked him not to touch me, rather waspishly I will admit, and then he proceeded to apologize and touch my shoulder... a couple girls had witnessed it and though I am sure he felt a little affronted, they remarked that he had just done what I had asked him, nay! Demanded! That he not do... I will have to apologize on Wednesday but I just could not have it today, apparently.
As I walked home after a rather disappointing two hours of dance (which I usually thoroughly enjoy) I was walking through the BYU Bookstore and saw some beautiful paintings of the Savior along with one that I imagine could have been Mary, the one who went to His tomb, in the act of reaching out to the unidentified subject---who we could assume was Christ, I am sure.
My heart broke a little. Somehow I have not realized how near to the surface tears have been for me this weekend--though I didn't get rather teary during the Relief Society General Broadcast on Saturday and then on Sunday during which I watched the rest of it.
Walking home thereafter was quite the experience feeling as though I would break down and cry at any moment but then not. If that even makes sense.
(A side note: the discovery I made on the way home is I no longer like to walk at the ground while I am walking. I am not sure when it changed, but my usual gait is to look up into the world's face, looking for people who might need a smile. Well, I hardly felt like doing just this on the brink of tears just in case something else triggered the water works that I loathe displaying outside the comfort of home and church.)
Promptly upon returning home, I bundled up in my blankets and read my scriptures. Honestly, it has been a few days. Possible attribution to my woeful spirit? Most likely.
The end of this week will bring General Conference. I feel so much love from He who watches from above at the wisdom that lies behind the spacing of our General Conferences--every 6 months for those of you who are not members of the church. It always seems to come when my confidence is at its lowest, when I am the most confused, the most unsure of what steps will lead me forward.
Lighter note for this post would be the fact that my younger sister is expecting her mission call this week. I cannot believe how old she has gotten! I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about it and she remarked on how she still thinks of my sister as being 12 years old, new to Girl's Camp and in our cabin. She has really grown up and filled out since her lanky and waspish-limbed self. I could not be more proud of the young lady she has become and find it an interesting contrast to wishing she would be able to look up to me to looking up to her now.
She's a good girl. Genuinely and I know the Lord has big plans for her.
22 September 2013
Every Memory
I have been having quite the rough week and as such, I turned to my blog and wondered how I should go about writing a post. I thought about ranting and raving and complaining about how things never seem to go my way, or even bring up the controversies that one finds between men and women and their assumptions that "friend zone" and other such classifications and problems only arise for one gender and not the other.
However, I didn't want to depress myself even more.
Then, the title of my blog caught my eye: "I Will Cherish Every Memory". So here it is.
Last night and today, I was told that I wear my heart on my sleeve. While this is true in some instances, I want to amend this and say, I allow people to see my heart when I want them to. Apparently my desire to allow them to see happens so often that they assume they see everything. Now and again I will allow that my emotions escape me--thus those moments when people see me frustrated, angry, or liable to cry.
Over the last couple of months, I have had the opportunity to meet many new people. Some of them I want to get to know better. Others, I frankly could care less whether I see them ever again (this is a very small pool of people, I've come to realize). I've had my feelings hurt and I am sure I have hurt others feelings. I don't think there is anyone to blame for these happenings because as far as I know, none of these heart breaks were premeditated or counted on. They happen and then we move on.
I think something that you should understand about me is that as quickly as I can learn to love someone, the moment I feel hurt or in danger of it being completely wrong, I am almost as quickly able to shut down those instincts to love and I move on. It isn't necessarily that I hate or simply don't care for the person anymore but I have chosen to protect myself from future hurt and though I may continue to get to know them, I am a lot less likely to go out of my way to spend time with them.
I realize some of you reading this may think that this isn't very healthy but it allows me to continue on and continue to find happiness in the little things that I will probably continue to take joy in for the rest of my life.
So now that I have vented a little bit (even though I said I wouldn't...) I will continue on to reflect on my blog title. I will cherish every memory...
This past week I had the opportunity to go to my dance classes and they really do fill my day with light. We are learning tango in one and it's entertaining to see the many different faces of my classmates as they concentrate on the intricacies of the dance. It also helps that our friend who comes in to give an extra hand in the male department is quirky enough that even in the most discouraging of times, makes me laugh. To the point where I've had to make sure that he is behind me in our dancing line so I can concentrate on the dance steps properly.
In the other class though we've spent the better part of three weeks on the cha cha, my classmates are just a fun bunch of souls. And I am grateful for that part of my day.
I also had the opportunity to attend EviDance this weekend which is basically a concert where the school's dance teams get together and perform for the community. It was beautifully thrilling and I wish I could have gone again.
One of my best friends was thoughtful enough to send me a bouquet of flowers (the majority of them being daisies, my favorite flower) because my favorite season started this weekend. Which is also another thing to celebrate.
Autumn is finally here!
I had the opportunity to ride a scooter for the first time yesterday and I forgot how much I love to ride on motorbikes. It's as thrilling as it is calming. The wind on your cheeks and the freedom is glorious.
I also got to go to a little bit of a House Show last night after having attended my "niece's" birthday party. She turned 1 the other day. They just grow up so fast!
I cherish the moments when people have made me feel special throughout the last little while. Bittersweet though the memories may be, they are there and I'm thankful for the love that I have for them and the hope they kindle for a brighter day tomorrow.
However, I didn't want to depress myself even more.
Then, the title of my blog caught my eye: "I Will Cherish Every Memory". So here it is.
Last night and today, I was told that I wear my heart on my sleeve. While this is true in some instances, I want to amend this and say, I allow people to see my heart when I want them to. Apparently my desire to allow them to see happens so often that they assume they see everything. Now and again I will allow that my emotions escape me--thus those moments when people see me frustrated, angry, or liable to cry.
Over the last couple of months, I have had the opportunity to meet many new people. Some of them I want to get to know better. Others, I frankly could care less whether I see them ever again (this is a very small pool of people, I've come to realize). I've had my feelings hurt and I am sure I have hurt others feelings. I don't think there is anyone to blame for these happenings because as far as I know, none of these heart breaks were premeditated or counted on. They happen and then we move on.
I think something that you should understand about me is that as quickly as I can learn to love someone, the moment I feel hurt or in danger of it being completely wrong, I am almost as quickly able to shut down those instincts to love and I move on. It isn't necessarily that I hate or simply don't care for the person anymore but I have chosen to protect myself from future hurt and though I may continue to get to know them, I am a lot less likely to go out of my way to spend time with them.
I realize some of you reading this may think that this isn't very healthy but it allows me to continue on and continue to find happiness in the little things that I will probably continue to take joy in for the rest of my life.
So now that I have vented a little bit (even though I said I wouldn't...) I will continue on to reflect on my blog title. I will cherish every memory...
This past week I had the opportunity to go to my dance classes and they really do fill my day with light. We are learning tango in one and it's entertaining to see the many different faces of my classmates as they concentrate on the intricacies of the dance. It also helps that our friend who comes in to give an extra hand in the male department is quirky enough that even in the most discouraging of times, makes me laugh. To the point where I've had to make sure that he is behind me in our dancing line so I can concentrate on the dance steps properly.
In the other class though we've spent the better part of three weeks on the cha cha, my classmates are just a fun bunch of souls. And I am grateful for that part of my day.
I also had the opportunity to attend EviDance this weekend which is basically a concert where the school's dance teams get together and perform for the community. It was beautifully thrilling and I wish I could have gone again.
One of my best friends was thoughtful enough to send me a bouquet of flowers (the majority of them being daisies, my favorite flower) because my favorite season started this weekend. Which is also another thing to celebrate.
Autumn is finally here!
I had the opportunity to ride a scooter for the first time yesterday and I forgot how much I love to ride on motorbikes. It's as thrilling as it is calming. The wind on your cheeks and the freedom is glorious.
I also got to go to a little bit of a House Show last night after having attended my "niece's" birthday party. She turned 1 the other day. They just grow up so fast!
I cherish the moments when people have made me feel special throughout the last little while. Bittersweet though the memories may be, they are there and I'm thankful for the love that I have for them and the hope they kindle for a brighter day tomorrow.
15 September 2013
People
June 24th...
That was the last time I posted anything.
Quite frankly, I hadn't realized that it had been so long. Not because I've been living a particularly exciting life but the time does seem to have gotten away from me. So you can credit this update to my sister-like best friend and my lack of Sunday afternoon social life.
Every time I let the time get away and then look back at what has "happened" in the time that has lapsed, it reminds me of that quote that says life doesn't seem like a big change but it's the small changes from day to day that escape our notice that change us... or something to that effect.
I definitely moved over the last couple months! But only down the street, back to where I was living for the year and half before this summer term... yep. I am a big traveler, can't you tell? Anyway, people ask me why I moved back and you know those decisions you make merely because it feels right at the time? That is my reason. It isn't much of one but I don't believe in coincidences so I know there is a reason for me to be here again. Not sure why just yet---perhaps I will never know but hey, isn't that part of the fun?
I am really enjoying my new ward though and I was surprised when the bishop called to extend the call of activity committee co-chair to me. Haven't done much with it yet but my co-chair says that he has a bushel of ideas for our ward so I am excited to talk with him about those and get some stuff rolling.
I love the bishopric and their wives! So far we have heard the bishop and first counselor speak (along with brief testimonies from their lovely companions) and both of them told us of how they met their wives. Bishop's story was sweet and the first counselor's was hilarious. They are very endearing folk, to be honest.
The weather here in Provo has been just a little crazy but it gives me a taste of my beloved coastal rain so personally I have been perfectly okay with it. Lots of clouds and random thunderstorms. I think it is a fantastic way to say goodbye to summer and greet autumn with a snuggly hello! Scarves, boots and sweaters... my favorite season!
Some of the trees are starting to change color even. Not so dramatically that the unobservant would be forced to recognize it but enough to hint at what is to come.
My younger sister turned 19 the other day and for those of you within the church who were in attendance at General Conference (or picked up on the feverish chatter thereafter) and are aware that the age for missionaries have changed know that she is faced with the decision, mission now? Or later? She has chosen now and I couldn't be more excited for her. That will be the second of my 5 siblings to go on a mission. Crazy stuff! But now I will have something else to do on Sundays... write to that Amazonian beauty of a sister of mine.
It's odd to think that my little brother will be 18 next year which means he will be faced with the same decision--to go now or wait a little. I won't even bother asking his plans now because I know personally how much our plans can change in a matter of months.
Tangent time: currently, I am listening to my Bernadette Peters station on Pandora and the song People from Funny Girl started to play. This song has always been my favorite from that musical probably because I resonate with the lyrics. For those of you who haven't heard this song or seen the musical... voila! The lyrics:
People, people who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting a grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside
Acting more like children than children
Lovers are very special people
They're the luckiest people in the world
With one person one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half now you're whole
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person who needs people
I will be the first to admit that I love people (granted I do have those moments when I can be the most anti-social hermit there ever was). At the end of the day if I haven't spent at least a little time talking to someone or some persons, I feel the day has been wasted and my spirit wilts just a little. (Hugs are great too, but I've learned to get by... or so my grown-up pride would like to assure me).
But we were never meant to be alone! I believe the Lord placed us into families for many purposes one of them being to teach us to love one another and rely on one another. To be people who need people.
One part of this song that I feel needs my opinion stamped upon it, however, is "you were half now you're whole". I don't thinkwe I need someone to make me whole. I am whole and complete by myself. But I do believe that when we have someone in our life that compliments us, that encourages us to be our best self that we can have our happiness multiplied... and who doesn't want to be happy? Eternally? And that's why I count myself among the people who need people. Right now I receive that happiness from my family and friends but someday, when the Lord sees fit, I will be blessed to have that happiness that can only come from being married to the right man, at the right time, in the right place.
Oh, another update on my life. I was sick this last week and am just trying to fight the remnants of this pesky cold but I daresay the worst is over.
Oh, I am also planning my trip home for Christmas! More to come on that... I refuse to be out here in Utah for it for the third year running.
Happy Sunday!
That was the last time I posted anything.
Quite frankly, I hadn't realized that it had been so long. Not because I've been living a particularly exciting life but the time does seem to have gotten away from me. So you can credit this update to my sister-like best friend and my lack of Sunday afternoon social life.
Every time I let the time get away and then look back at what has "happened" in the time that has lapsed, it reminds me of that quote that says life doesn't seem like a big change but it's the small changes from day to day that escape our notice that change us... or something to that effect.
I definitely moved over the last couple months! But only down the street, back to where I was living for the year and half before this summer term... yep. I am a big traveler, can't you tell? Anyway, people ask me why I moved back and you know those decisions you make merely because it feels right at the time? That is my reason. It isn't much of one but I don't believe in coincidences so I know there is a reason for me to be here again. Not sure why just yet---perhaps I will never know but hey, isn't that part of the fun?
I am really enjoying my new ward though and I was surprised when the bishop called to extend the call of activity committee co-chair to me. Haven't done much with it yet but my co-chair says that he has a bushel of ideas for our ward so I am excited to talk with him about those and get some stuff rolling.
I love the bishopric and their wives! So far we have heard the bishop and first counselor speak (along with brief testimonies from their lovely companions) and both of them told us of how they met their wives. Bishop's story was sweet and the first counselor's was hilarious. They are very endearing folk, to be honest.
The weather here in Provo has been just a little crazy but it gives me a taste of my beloved coastal rain so personally I have been perfectly okay with it. Lots of clouds and random thunderstorms. I think it is a fantastic way to say goodbye to summer and greet autumn with a snuggly hello! Scarves, boots and sweaters... my favorite season!
Some of the trees are starting to change color even. Not so dramatically that the unobservant would be forced to recognize it but enough to hint at what is to come.
My younger sister turned 19 the other day and for those of you within the church who were in attendance at General Conference (or picked up on the feverish chatter thereafter) and are aware that the age for missionaries have changed know that she is faced with the decision, mission now? Or later? She has chosen now and I couldn't be more excited for her. That will be the second of my 5 siblings to go on a mission. Crazy stuff! But now I will have something else to do on Sundays... write to that Amazonian beauty of a sister of mine.
It's odd to think that my little brother will be 18 next year which means he will be faced with the same decision--to go now or wait a little. I won't even bother asking his plans now because I know personally how much our plans can change in a matter of months.
Tangent time: currently, I am listening to my Bernadette Peters station on Pandora and the song People from Funny Girl started to play. This song has always been my favorite from that musical probably because I resonate with the lyrics. For those of you who haven't heard this song or seen the musical... voila! The lyrics:
People, people who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting a grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside
Acting more like children than children
Lovers are very special people
They're the luckiest people in the world
With one person one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half now you're whole
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person who needs people
I will be the first to admit that I love people (granted I do have those moments when I can be the most anti-social hermit there ever was). At the end of the day if I haven't spent at least a little time talking to someone or some persons, I feel the day has been wasted and my spirit wilts just a little. (Hugs are great too, but I've learned to get by... or so my grown-up pride would like to assure me).
But we were never meant to be alone! I believe the Lord placed us into families for many purposes one of them being to teach us to love one another and rely on one another. To be people who need people.
One part of this song that I feel needs my opinion stamped upon it, however, is "you were half now you're whole". I don't think
Oh, another update on my life. I was sick this last week and am just trying to fight the remnants of this pesky cold but I daresay the worst is over.
Oh, I am also planning my trip home for Christmas! More to come on that... I refuse to be out here in Utah for it for the third year running.
Happy Sunday!
24 June 2013
Monday...
So, update.
Portland and Seattle are out--Seattle because it is really expensive and Portland because it apparently has the highest rate of sex trafficking (per my mother's knowledge). Quite frankly, I just want to go summer where the summers aren't so stinking hot and uncomfortable. And if the place has a large scope for the imagination, all the better, really.
Furthermore, though I love being surrounded by so many members of my church the pressure to either be married or go on a mission is getting stiflingly unbearable. My father continues to tell me not to worry about marriage but it is a little difficult when everywhere you go there are wedding announcements and Bridal Magazines for the perusal. It will be nice to breathe some fresh air where people aren't so concerned about my marital status or whether I am worthy to serve the Lord.
Moving onward--this week will be my first full week of work for both jobs. I am most grateful that my second shift, custodial, is so mindless but at the same time it gives me a lot of quiet time, thinking to myself. Now that some developments in my life have gone kaput, hopefully I will be able to turn this thinking to something useful. Perhaps I should carry a notepad and pen in my back pocket and think up ideas for novels?
The ride home is incredibly thrilling though, I must say. After clearing campus, there is a hill that I ride my bike down and, when timed correctly, I have a green light at the one stoplight and I pretty much roll all the way to the courtyard of my apartment complex. Makes for a quick and easy journey after what will start to seem like rather long days at work.
So, I think I mentioned this, but I bruised my ankle playing badminton a couple weeks ago now and I think the swelling is finally going down. Why? Oh, I might have actually taken time after work the last couple days to elevate and ice it. It is still definitely bruised (which I discover quite frequently at my custodial job, where I have accumulated more bruises on my legs than I care to count) but at least it doesn't inhibit my work.
I am thinking about weeding out some of my possessions--especially those of a clothing and accessory nature. I mean, let's face it, I really don't use half of what I have and I am pretty sure it is the pack rat mentality that keeps me saying, "But what if that's exactly what I need for this specific occasion?" Yeah. Another thing. I don't go to such occasions as would permit me to keep such belongings on the shelf. Really.
I should probably also start systematically using my lotion. Somehow I have ended up with quite a few bottles of different smells, brands and such and it would make it a lot easier to move if I didn't have so much of one product, quite frankly. I think I will also have a bubble blowing party here pretty soon seeing as I have found myself in possession of three bottles of bubbles (I promise I didn't use any of my own money to purchase them).
I think the one spot in my clothing selection that I actually use each item equally are my shoes. I guess it helps that I have church every week and thus have use for the different heels that I find myself to be in possession of.
I could be a pretty classy dresser if work was a closer distance and I didn't finish off the night with custodial work. It is a crying shame, really.
So, yes. This post has just been a lot of rambling on my part but there are simply times where one must ramble or give in to the stresses of the every day life that comes to pass because one is female.
And although I cannot host it, I definitely want to suggest a girls-night-in where we watch some real tearjerker of a chick flick. Purge the tear ducts, you know? I think it is healthy to cry now and again but I am a firm believer that one shouldn't cry for the same reason three times in one week. So if one doesn't have tears left, one won't cry, right? Haha!
Such is the reasoning of Cassidy Ward.
Happy Monday!
Portland and Seattle are out--Seattle because it is really expensive and Portland because it apparently has the highest rate of sex trafficking (per my mother's knowledge). Quite frankly, I just want to go summer where the summers aren't so stinking hot and uncomfortable. And if the place has a large scope for the imagination, all the better, really.
Furthermore, though I love being surrounded by so many members of my church the pressure to either be married or go on a mission is getting stiflingly unbearable. My father continues to tell me not to worry about marriage but it is a little difficult when everywhere you go there are wedding announcements and Bridal Magazines for the perusal. It will be nice to breathe some fresh air where people aren't so concerned about my marital status or whether I am worthy to serve the Lord.
Moving onward--this week will be my first full week of work for both jobs. I am most grateful that my second shift, custodial, is so mindless but at the same time it gives me a lot of quiet time, thinking to myself. Now that some developments in my life have gone kaput, hopefully I will be able to turn this thinking to something useful. Perhaps I should carry a notepad and pen in my back pocket and think up ideas for novels?
The ride home is incredibly thrilling though, I must say. After clearing campus, there is a hill that I ride my bike down and, when timed correctly, I have a green light at the one stoplight and I pretty much roll all the way to the courtyard of my apartment complex. Makes for a quick and easy journey after what will start to seem like rather long days at work.
So, I think I mentioned this, but I bruised my ankle playing badminton a couple weeks ago now and I think the swelling is finally going down. Why? Oh, I might have actually taken time after work the last couple days to elevate and ice it. It is still definitely bruised (which I discover quite frequently at my custodial job, where I have accumulated more bruises on my legs than I care to count) but at least it doesn't inhibit my work.
I am thinking about weeding out some of my possessions--especially those of a clothing and accessory nature. I mean, let's face it, I really don't use half of what I have and I am pretty sure it is the pack rat mentality that keeps me saying, "But what if that's exactly what I need for this specific occasion?" Yeah. Another thing. I don't go to such occasions as would permit me to keep such belongings on the shelf. Really.
I should probably also start systematically using my lotion. Somehow I have ended up with quite a few bottles of different smells, brands and such and it would make it a lot easier to move if I didn't have so much of one product, quite frankly. I think I will also have a bubble blowing party here pretty soon seeing as I have found myself in possession of three bottles of bubbles (I promise I didn't use any of my own money to purchase them).
I think the one spot in my clothing selection that I actually use each item equally are my shoes. I guess it helps that I have church every week and thus have use for the different heels that I find myself to be in possession of.
I could be a pretty classy dresser if work was a closer distance and I didn't finish off the night with custodial work. It is a crying shame, really.
So, yes. This post has just been a lot of rambling on my part but there are simply times where one must ramble or give in to the stresses of the every day life that comes to pass because one is female.
And although I cannot host it, I definitely want to suggest a girls-night-in where we watch some real tearjerker of a chick flick. Purge the tear ducts, you know? I think it is healthy to cry now and again but I am a firm believer that one shouldn't cry for the same reason three times in one week. So if one doesn't have tears left, one won't cry, right? Haha!
Such is the reasoning of Cassidy Ward.
Happy Monday!
23 June 2013
Life: Take 2
A couple weeks ago now, I had the opportunity to return to the motherland of Oregon to visit with my family. We celebrated my younger sister (the next in line) graduate from high school and had all around good family bonding time--even to a badminton game gone wrong when, choosing not to wear shoes whilst playing in the backyard, I stepped in a pot hole an bruised my ankle... it is still a little swollen and bruised but I blame myself for not taking the time to properly ice it every day since. Alas...
Anyway, while at home I had the chance to talk with my older brother into the wee hours of the morning... and I mean it when I say wee. By 3 AM, we finally came to this thought: why am I, Cassidy, even going to college?
Okay, okay, yes. It is a good idea to go to college and I am not saying it isn't for anyone. However, who ever said it was for EVERYone?
Quite frankly, high school was a cake walk for me. Rarely had to study and when I did seriously study it was because I loved the subject (such as my Art History class in my Senior year). However, I did as my mom always said I would--take on high school to prepare to go to college so that when the time comes, I wouldn't have too much trouble getting into the school of my choosing. How did that translate in my maturing brain? You will go to college... no matter what.
And so I did.
Quite happily at first. Not only was I accepted in my first choice, Brigham Young University-Provo but also my second choice, Brigham Young University-Idaho. All was looking up. But, I didn't apply myself as well as I should have while applying for scholarships and ended up with barely enough scholarship to get me through my first semester and only enough for my books for the second semester. I am not entirely sure where I thought all the money was coming from to do those things I needed (and thought I needed) to do, but by the end of my second semester, I was greatly indebted to my parents.
Thus, my plans to continue on in Provo were brought to a rather abrupt end when my coming home to attend my brother's wedding equated coming home to stay, once again, under the roof of my parents to work until I paid them off and then until I had enough in the bank to take another stab at school.
A year and a half passed, and with what I thought was a full-proof plan, I launched myself back into the Provo scene to tackle the university monster once more. Well. College was hard just as it had been that first semester when I had done average or below in most of my classes (only getting A's in my dance classes... go figure). As such, schooling slowed down to a crawl when I signed up for only a credit or two at a time suddenly realizing I had no idea what I was doing.
About 2.5 years too late, don't you think?
My passion, of course, lay in the performing arts but really how reliable is that? So, I started thinking up a different and more stable path. Teaching... music, of course. I thought that scheme up about a year ago. Nope. Still not even started.
So, here I am. Fighting my way through being on Academic Warning and (just recently) starting to work two part time jobs and I am feeling discouraged (just as my mother had predicted I would...although it is still summertime so at least I'm not under house arrest due to snowy weather).
The clearest way I could describe to my brother as we talked things out was this: I feel like I am banging my head against a wall trying to accomplish those things (like a college education) I thought my parents needed me to in order to feel proud of their oldest daughter.
And this brings us back to my mother's theory on high school: take the classes to prepare as if you were going to college and (these are my own words at the end) so it can be an option.
Anyway, while at home I had the chance to talk with my older brother into the wee hours of the morning... and I mean it when I say wee. By 3 AM, we finally came to this thought: why am I, Cassidy, even going to college?
Okay, okay, yes. It is a good idea to go to college and I am not saying it isn't for anyone. However, who ever said it was for EVERYone?
Quite frankly, high school was a cake walk for me. Rarely had to study and when I did seriously study it was because I loved the subject (such as my Art History class in my Senior year). However, I did as my mom always said I would--take on high school to prepare to go to college so that when the time comes, I wouldn't have too much trouble getting into the school of my choosing. How did that translate in my maturing brain? You will go to college... no matter what.
And so I did.
Quite happily at first. Not only was I accepted in my first choice, Brigham Young University-Provo but also my second choice, Brigham Young University-Idaho. All was looking up. But, I didn't apply myself as well as I should have while applying for scholarships and ended up with barely enough scholarship to get me through my first semester and only enough for my books for the second semester. I am not entirely sure where I thought all the money was coming from to do those things I needed (and thought I needed) to do, but by the end of my second semester, I was greatly indebted to my parents.
Thus, my plans to continue on in Provo were brought to a rather abrupt end when my coming home to attend my brother's wedding equated coming home to stay, once again, under the roof of my parents to work until I paid them off and then until I had enough in the bank to take another stab at school.
A year and a half passed, and with what I thought was a full-proof plan, I launched myself back into the Provo scene to tackle the university monster once more. Well. College was hard just as it had been that first semester when I had done average or below in most of my classes (only getting A's in my dance classes... go figure). As such, schooling slowed down to a crawl when I signed up for only a credit or two at a time suddenly realizing I had no idea what I was doing.
About 2.5 years too late, don't you think?
My passion, of course, lay in the performing arts but really how reliable is that? So, I started thinking up a different and more stable path. Teaching... music, of course. I thought that scheme up about a year ago. Nope. Still not even started.
So, here I am. Fighting my way through being on Academic Warning and (just recently) starting to work two part time jobs and I am feeling discouraged (just as my mother had predicted I would...although it is still summertime so at least I'm not under house arrest due to snowy weather).
The clearest way I could describe to my brother as we talked things out was this: I feel like I am banging my head against a wall trying to accomplish those things (like a college education) I thought my parents needed me to in order to feel proud of their oldest daughter.
And this brings us back to my mother's theory on high school: take the classes to prepare as if you were going to college and (these are my own words at the end) so it can be an option.
Wow. Can I get a round of applause?
As we continued talking, a well-known poem came to mind and though I am sure some of you have already thought of it, here it is in full.
The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
"Yet knowing how way lead on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back." In all honesty, until just now, I have not really thought about that part of the poem. But I see the truth in it. Here I stand at the fork in my yellow wood and wonder, which path will I take?
So often we think that we are taking the road "less traveled by" when we are simply doing the same as everyone else.
Now, before all of you think I will do something batty and just pack a suitcase of the bare minimum and run off to Europe or Hawaii, I realize that though it is a decision of paths, it will also entail some careful thought and planning.
It becomes increasingly evident that once out of the Provo bubble, housing will be different and I may end up either living with people with very different values than myself or simply living on my own but... I do not see this as a completely bad thing. I am halfway through my 22nd year, single and completely independent.
As for prospective cities, I have a few in mind and simply need to figure out which one would be the best fit for me (and I assure you, there will be a lot of prayer and faith involved in this process) and my focus for the next year and half (this is my projected time frame) I will be working and saving. I have already cut back the classes I will be taking in the fall (having to take at least one credit to keep my job on campus which actually pays a good deal above minimum wage so it would be a rather imbecile move to lose it) and when my next paycheck comes I will, as my brother put it, pay myself (after the usual 10% to tithing) and also try to continue living on just one paycheck so the other can by squirreled away (my own wording) for the time ahead.
So here is the question:
Should I aim for Seattle, Portland, Denver or Buena Vista (that's in Virginia, if you were unaware)?
21 June 2013
Hearts
Can I pose a question?
What is it that compels us to allow one another into our hearts? At the beginning of every meeting of the human spirit we are given two choices: either we are going to let someone see our hearts (even if only a piece of it) or what we show them will simply be farce.
I know I am not the only one who has put their heart out there into the open and prayed to God it would not be trampled on. But I suppose that is one of the ways in which we grow. We build our hearts with the pieces found in these little boxes labeled with our names, given to us from God.
Of course, as children, at first we put the least amount together possible, our hearts and desires being simple. But as time goes on, our hearts break and we have to fix them, each time growing bigger and, hopefully, more beautiful.
But why do they need to be broken?
Why can't we just assess our hearts as we grow and think, "You know? I think I could do better." Then, with that thought, we carefully take them apart, gentle as can be, rearrange and then present our "better" to the world.
Maybe it is because we would miss the intimacy which spurs wisdom into which pieces we lay our hands upon next.
A few days ago, I had the experience to be with the Sun. It was beautiful, bright and everything seemed so clear. But as the night fell and the Sun was setting, I felt tears in my eyes as I tried to behold its last disappearing rays. The Sun reached one of the last shining tendrils and wiped away the tear in the corner and how my heart did rise even while being cracked just a little. Bittersweet was the moment, we realized and soon the mountain obscured him and I was left to the darkness.
Of course, as suns are apt to do, the Sun rose once more but obscured in the clouds of distance. Now, I am not one to completely turn down the shade or even a little rain cloud but my heart ached for the Sun's warmth and so I shouted to it with every fiber of my being. I didn't want one ounce of my feeling to go unnoticed but, although the Sun expressed tenderness toward me, it would not come back and in some instances felt as though it were becoming even more distant.
As the Sun began to set once more, I couldn't stifle myself any longer for fear that if I didn't let my heart be known that I should implode like a dying star, turning into something that would continuously draw light and life into it without being able to feel the warmth ever again.
The Sun blinded me with its fierce truth and I realized then, the Sun was not mine to keep--nor should I have ever been under the impression that I could hold it to myself.
And so, I realize I have done what I have done now countless times before. I allowed someone into my heart, gave them a measure of my intimacy and care, concern and--dare I say it-- hope, and find myself dashed against the rocks under the salty tears of an ocean.
Now, I must open up that little box (I imagine it to be made of porcelain, a music box of sorts, that plays a melancholy but no less lovely song) that reads "Cassidy" and sift through the pieces that I have yet to find a place for in the heart I have composed--for it must needs be composed like a song rather than built like a building.
What is it that compels us to allow one another into our hearts? At the beginning of every meeting of the human spirit we are given two choices: either we are going to let someone see our hearts (even if only a piece of it) or what we show them will simply be farce.
I know I am not the only one who has put their heart out there into the open and prayed to God it would not be trampled on. But I suppose that is one of the ways in which we grow. We build our hearts with the pieces found in these little boxes labeled with our names, given to us from God.
Of course, as children, at first we put the least amount together possible, our hearts and desires being simple. But as time goes on, our hearts break and we have to fix them, each time growing bigger and, hopefully, more beautiful.
But why do they need to be broken?
Why can't we just assess our hearts as we grow and think, "You know? I think I could do better." Then, with that thought, we carefully take them apart, gentle as can be, rearrange and then present our "better" to the world.
Maybe it is because we would miss the intimacy which spurs wisdom into which pieces we lay our hands upon next.
A few days ago, I had the experience to be with the Sun. It was beautiful, bright and everything seemed so clear. But as the night fell and the Sun was setting, I felt tears in my eyes as I tried to behold its last disappearing rays. The Sun reached one of the last shining tendrils and wiped away the tear in the corner and how my heart did rise even while being cracked just a little. Bittersweet was the moment, we realized and soon the mountain obscured him and I was left to the darkness.
Of course, as suns are apt to do, the Sun rose once more but obscured in the clouds of distance. Now, I am not one to completely turn down the shade or even a little rain cloud but my heart ached for the Sun's warmth and so I shouted to it with every fiber of my being. I didn't want one ounce of my feeling to go unnoticed but, although the Sun expressed tenderness toward me, it would not come back and in some instances felt as though it were becoming even more distant.
As the Sun began to set once more, I couldn't stifle myself any longer for fear that if I didn't let my heart be known that I should implode like a dying star, turning into something that would continuously draw light and life into it without being able to feel the warmth ever again.
The Sun blinded me with its fierce truth and I realized then, the Sun was not mine to keep--nor should I have ever been under the impression that I could hold it to myself.
And so, I realize I have done what I have done now countless times before. I allowed someone into my heart, gave them a measure of my intimacy and care, concern and--dare I say it-- hope, and find myself dashed against the rocks under the salty tears of an ocean.
Now, I must open up that little box (I imagine it to be made of porcelain, a music box of sorts, that plays a melancholy but no less lovely song) that reads "Cassidy" and sift through the pieces that I have yet to find a place for in the heart I have composed--for it must needs be composed like a song rather than built like a building.
"For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads."
Doctrine and Covenants 25:12
So here is to those who allow those we come in contact with into our hearts, giving them the very tools with which we compose and construct our hearts so that they may break them down and give back to us that we may try again, to face our burning Suns and rest in the Moons of our time.
31 May 2013
To Boldly Go Where No Man Has Gone Before...
There is a video floating about the internet currently of a question and answer session given by Sir Patrick Stewart.
This man has a tender place in my childhood and also my teenage years first having been Captain Jean Luc Picard in Star Trek episodes and movies I watched with my father and then Professor Charles Xavier in X-Men which has been a beloved story line to me since I first watched the cartoon episodes and later on the movies.
Of course, I have respect for him as an actor and he is one of those that I aspire to be at least worthy to act alongside but with this video that has been going around, my initial respect and admiration turn to that love that one usually expresses toward the patrons of one's family (and within the Church, the prophet and apostles that we grow up listening to and receiving counsel from during General Conference every six months).
If any one reading this has not watched it yet, I would really recommend it because I know I won't do it justice in this blog response.
A young woman asks Stewart about what he feels his greatest work has been aside from acting has been but not until after she admits to having a similar childhood to his. Domestic violence is what they had in common and the young woman admitted to having watched another interview Stewart had been in where he spoke of the domestic violence directed from his father to his mother but he also expressed how he has moved past it and forgiven his father.
This interview had helped this young woman more than Stewart might have ever known had she not attended the question and answer session and been courageous enough to share a piece of her vulnerable heart in that audience.
Stewart spoke of not one but two organizations that he is a part of in Britain. One being called Refuge which is just that, an organization where victims of domestic violence, particularly women and children, can go to safe houses where they can truly feel safe and secure for perhaps the first time in years or even their lives. He spoke of how he does this work in the name of his mother. He couldn't help her "then" but he can help her "now". So, by this point in his answer, one who had never heard of his childhood might call his father a villain, a coward.
He continued to speak of his father who had served in France during a war in the 1940's. Upon his return he had developed "shell shock", post-traumatic stress which starting with WWII was referred to as combat stress reaction. It would seem that those with this physical or psychological injury would oft times not be able to reason and in some cases lose their self-control--in some cases resulting in domestic violence. Back in the 1940's no one knew how to treat this condition and thus soldiers with this problem were often told to buck up and be a man.
However, now we know of ways to help reduce the effects of this condition and that leads to the second organization that Stewart is a part of: Combat Stress. This, he says, he does in the name of his father.
How beautiful! How courageous and strong. To be able to forgive one's father and even do something to help those who have been diagnosed with the same condition. How interesting it is to see people working to break the cycle from both ends: to treat those who might start domestic violence and then to also take care of, support, and heal those who have been on the receiving end so that they can grow and continue on with life knowing that what happened to them was not right and thus help them to know that you can live a life without that violence. To be promoters of peace instead of instigators of hurt and hate.
On the other hand, how important it was for Sir Patrick Stewart to say that yes he had forgiven his father but it should not be dismissed simply because he was "ill" as some would refer to it. It is up to men, he said, to protect and guard the women.
Our safety is most often in their hands.
As his closing thought on the subject, he mentioned hearing the doctors and ambulance operators tell his mom, "Mrs. Stewart, you must have done something to provoke him." Or in other words, the reason her husband had acted out in violence was all her fault.
Wrong.
Violence is NEVER the choice men should make.
So in closing of my thoughts, it makes me curious. When did Stewart realize that what the paramedics were saying was wrong? There is an innate truth within each of us. That is why when people say things that we strongly agree with, it not only resonates in our minds but in our hearts and souls as well. Same with those things that we strongly disagree with. Whenever I hear something that goes against my innate truth, my very soul recoils from it and the light of truth comes forth to buoy my heart and spirit with at least the feeling of those things that are true.
It also brings me the warm feeling of gratitude and love I have for my father and how he has treated me since I was very young. I know there are times when I have frustrated him, gone against his wishes, but not once has he abused me. And always, after scolding, there has always, always, ALWAYS been an increase of love.
In Section 121 of the Doctrine and Covenants (a set of scripture read within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) verse 43 reads: "Reproving betimes with sharpness...then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy."
I know this to be true. I am also a firm believer in the notion that hate only breeds hate and that is why there must be a leaven of love to protect those who have experienced so much hurt, hate and rejection by the forces of the world around them.
If we can show forth love and have the strength to forgive one another and learn where our hands can lend strength and protect those in harm's way, how much of an influence for good can we be in the time to come?
This man has a tender place in my childhood and also my teenage years first having been Captain Jean Luc Picard in Star Trek episodes and movies I watched with my father and then Professor Charles Xavier in X-Men which has been a beloved story line to me since I first watched the cartoon episodes and later on the movies.
Of course, I have respect for him as an actor and he is one of those that I aspire to be at least worthy to act alongside but with this video that has been going around, my initial respect and admiration turn to that love that one usually expresses toward the patrons of one's family (and within the Church, the prophet and apostles that we grow up listening to and receiving counsel from during General Conference every six months).
If any one reading this has not watched it yet, I would really recommend it because I know I won't do it justice in this blog response.
A young woman asks Stewart about what he feels his greatest work has been aside from acting has been but not until after she admits to having a similar childhood to his. Domestic violence is what they had in common and the young woman admitted to having watched another interview Stewart had been in where he spoke of the domestic violence directed from his father to his mother but he also expressed how he has moved past it and forgiven his father.
This interview had helped this young woman more than Stewart might have ever known had she not attended the question and answer session and been courageous enough to share a piece of her vulnerable heart in that audience.
Stewart spoke of not one but two organizations that he is a part of in Britain. One being called Refuge which is just that, an organization where victims of domestic violence, particularly women and children, can go to safe houses where they can truly feel safe and secure for perhaps the first time in years or even their lives. He spoke of how he does this work in the name of his mother. He couldn't help her "then" but he can help her "now". So, by this point in his answer, one who had never heard of his childhood might call his father a villain, a coward.
He continued to speak of his father who had served in France during a war in the 1940's. Upon his return he had developed "shell shock", post-traumatic stress which starting with WWII was referred to as combat stress reaction. It would seem that those with this physical or psychological injury would oft times not be able to reason and in some cases lose their self-control--in some cases resulting in domestic violence. Back in the 1940's no one knew how to treat this condition and thus soldiers with this problem were often told to buck up and be a man.
However, now we know of ways to help reduce the effects of this condition and that leads to the second organization that Stewart is a part of: Combat Stress. This, he says, he does in the name of his father.
How beautiful! How courageous and strong. To be able to forgive one's father and even do something to help those who have been diagnosed with the same condition. How interesting it is to see people working to break the cycle from both ends: to treat those who might start domestic violence and then to also take care of, support, and heal those who have been on the receiving end so that they can grow and continue on with life knowing that what happened to them was not right and thus help them to know that you can live a life without that violence. To be promoters of peace instead of instigators of hurt and hate.
On the other hand, how important it was for Sir Patrick Stewart to say that yes he had forgiven his father but it should not be dismissed simply because he was "ill" as some would refer to it. It is up to men, he said, to protect and guard the women.
Our safety is most often in their hands.
As his closing thought on the subject, he mentioned hearing the doctors and ambulance operators tell his mom, "Mrs. Stewart, you must have done something to provoke him." Or in other words, the reason her husband had acted out in violence was all her fault.
Wrong.
Violence is NEVER the choice men should make.
So in closing of my thoughts, it makes me curious. When did Stewart realize that what the paramedics were saying was wrong? There is an innate truth within each of us. That is why when people say things that we strongly agree with, it not only resonates in our minds but in our hearts and souls as well. Same with those things that we strongly disagree with. Whenever I hear something that goes against my innate truth, my very soul recoils from it and the light of truth comes forth to buoy my heart and spirit with at least the feeling of those things that are true.
It also brings me the warm feeling of gratitude and love I have for my father and how he has treated me since I was very young. I know there are times when I have frustrated him, gone against his wishes, but not once has he abused me. And always, after scolding, there has always, always, ALWAYS been an increase of love.
In Section 121 of the Doctrine and Covenants (a set of scripture read within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) verse 43 reads: "Reproving betimes with sharpness...then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy."
I know this to be true. I am also a firm believer in the notion that hate only breeds hate and that is why there must be a leaven of love to protect those who have experienced so much hurt, hate and rejection by the forces of the world around them.
If we can show forth love and have the strength to forgive one another and learn where our hands can lend strength and protect those in harm's way, how much of an influence for good can we be in the time to come?
15 May 2013
Ruminations
I dare say summer is upon us. The heat is already getting higher than I am comfortable with though it has been a wonderful happenstance that the wind comes in in the evening time to cool the atmosphere enough to encourage a comfortable sleep.
I really do appreciate my new environment and though I only get to live in it for a couple months more, I am glad of the time I have been able to have. I have already made a couple friends and although my most favorite people are moving out (curse roommates who are moving on to bigger and better things in life) I look forward to the times ahead of me.
What is it about summer that makes one so nostalgic? As I was walking home from work tonight, I had the sudden desire to visit a few people that I have told myself it is better to say goodbye to. Was it a moment of weakness? Or was it something stronger urging me to keep those ties? I have no clue. I suppose in the coming weeks if it only becomes stronger, this impression, I will eventually go for a quick visit but it is almost like when you go home to visit after being away for a good while.
You expect some things will be the same (and few of them are) but then you realize that life goes on, whether you are there to witness it or not.
I think the biggest manifestation of this in my life right now is the growing up of my three younger siblings. The sister directly below me on the food chain is graduating from high school at the beginning of June and is working on her mission papers as far as I know. Regardless of the fact that the Church lowered the age of female missionaries from 21 to 19, isn't it still too soon?
My younger brother will have been dating for almost a full year by the end of this month and let's not even get started on the youngest sister and sibling (at the age of 15). In the back of my mind, I realize that these siblings will not always be at home in the future when I finally get opportunities to go home. One day it will probably even just me visiting my parents (and of course the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins that happen to live thereabouts). Life is moving at a rapid rate. Another two weeks and we will have hit June. Almost halfway through 2013! In the words of Ingrid Michaelson, all we can do is keep breathing.
Another realization I have come to is that I may have completely messed up a potential happy ending. Now now. I know that there isn't just one chance at a happy ending. I am a rather vain creature, you see. And I definitely understand what they mean when they say, you don't know what you've got til it's gone.
Funny isn't it? How something is laid out before you that you have hoped and wished and prayed for since you realized you would be allowed to start dating at 16 and BAM! You balk and push it away because you don't think it's the right thing or you realize you are simply not ready for it.
The Lord's timing. I wonder how many times He has witnessed my choices and thought to Himself, "What on earth are you doing?" It's a good thing His patience is infinite or I would have been burnt to a crisp by now, I'm sure of it.
Ah well. I am glad He hasn't given up on me completely. He's just helping me through the next few months to survive so I can get back to school and finally start becoming someone who can contribute to society.
Now that I have said this I am begging you not to "extend words of comfort". I have had it all said to me:
"You're still young!"
"It will come when you're not looking!"
"Enjoy your singlehood!"
I love you all. But for heaven's sake, I write down these feelings because it is the only way I can get them out of my system and take a deep breath to plunge into the next day. If I want your opinions or advice, I promise you that I will come to you directly and ask. This is not my way of crying out for help. I am expressing myself the best way I know how to--through writing. It is how I reason out the hectic thoughts that take up much too much space in my mind.
And I figure there may be another girl out there of about the same age going through the same thoughts that might benefit from knowing that she is not alone in thinking, "What the heck!" about the things that she feels should work out just so in her life.
I know it comforts me when others feel the same way about these topics and I hope that when things do happen and the man comes "when [I'm] not looking" that I will spare other single folk the words of comfort that have been given to me.
I know your saying these things are meant to expressed with the utmost love and compassion but do not worry, I know you are rooting for me even without saying such things.
Until next time!
I really do appreciate my new environment and though I only get to live in it for a couple months more, I am glad of the time I have been able to have. I have already made a couple friends and although my most favorite people are moving out (curse roommates who are moving on to bigger and better things in life) I look forward to the times ahead of me.
What is it about summer that makes one so nostalgic? As I was walking home from work tonight, I had the sudden desire to visit a few people that I have told myself it is better to say goodbye to. Was it a moment of weakness? Or was it something stronger urging me to keep those ties? I have no clue. I suppose in the coming weeks if it only becomes stronger, this impression, I will eventually go for a quick visit but it is almost like when you go home to visit after being away for a good while.
You expect some things will be the same (and few of them are) but then you realize that life goes on, whether you are there to witness it or not.
I think the biggest manifestation of this in my life right now is the growing up of my three younger siblings. The sister directly below me on the food chain is graduating from high school at the beginning of June and is working on her mission papers as far as I know. Regardless of the fact that the Church lowered the age of female missionaries from 21 to 19, isn't it still too soon?
My younger brother will have been dating for almost a full year by the end of this month and let's not even get started on the youngest sister and sibling (at the age of 15). In the back of my mind, I realize that these siblings will not always be at home in the future when I finally get opportunities to go home. One day it will probably even just me visiting my parents (and of course the grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins that happen to live thereabouts). Life is moving at a rapid rate. Another two weeks and we will have hit June. Almost halfway through 2013! In the words of Ingrid Michaelson, all we can do is keep breathing.
Another realization I have come to is that I may have completely messed up a potential happy ending. Now now. I know that there isn't just one chance at a happy ending. I am a rather vain creature, you see. And I definitely understand what they mean when they say, you don't know what you've got til it's gone.
Funny isn't it? How something is laid out before you that you have hoped and wished and prayed for since you realized you would be allowed to start dating at 16 and BAM! You balk and push it away because you don't think it's the right thing or you realize you are simply not ready for it.
The Lord's timing. I wonder how many times He has witnessed my choices and thought to Himself, "What on earth are you doing?" It's a good thing His patience is infinite or I would have been burnt to a crisp by now, I'm sure of it.
Ah well. I am glad He hasn't given up on me completely. He's just helping me through the next few months to survive so I can get back to school and finally start becoming someone who can contribute to society.
Now that I have said this I am begging you not to "extend words of comfort". I have had it all said to me:
"You're still young!"
"It will come when you're not looking!"
"Enjoy your singlehood!"
I love you all. But for heaven's sake, I write down these feelings because it is the only way I can get them out of my system and take a deep breath to plunge into the next day. If I want your opinions or advice, I promise you that I will come to you directly and ask. This is not my way of crying out for help. I am expressing myself the best way I know how to--through writing. It is how I reason out the hectic thoughts that take up much too much space in my mind.
And I figure there may be another girl out there of about the same age going through the same thoughts that might benefit from knowing that she is not alone in thinking, "What the heck!" about the things that she feels should work out just so in her life.
I know it comforts me when others feel the same way about these topics and I hope that when things do happen and the man comes "when [I'm] not looking" that I will spare other single folk the words of comfort that have been given to me.
I know your saying these things are meant to expressed with the utmost love and compassion but do not worry, I know you are rooting for me even without saying such things.
Until next time!
20 April 2013
Winds of Change
You know that moment when you finally realize that spring has come and along with it the change in location and environment that seems to hold so much promise? Well. That happened to me. This evening. While trying to fall asleep at a decent time (first time in about a week that I have tried drifting off before midnight 30).
This whole month I have been vaguely aware that not only was the school term coming to an end as spring began, but that I would also be moving out of the complex that has been my home for the last year and a half. The people within the complex have not changed all that much--or at least it did not seem to be so seeing as I was here to welcome them in the spring and summer.
But at the beginning of this month, I had also told myself that I would start packing not too long after the first week... it is almost the beginning of the last full week of April (which I will be moving in the middle of) and I have yet to even by packing tape necessary to put the boxes back together that I squashed down a year and a half ago. Yes... it would seem that the month got away from me and it is about time I start packing... perhaps if I find a spare moment tomorrow I will be able to at least purchase that packing tape.
I find it kind of entertaining that all I have to do is move a block away from this complex (literally) and I will suddenly be in a new ward, surrounded by people I have probably seen on campus a time or two but never had a reason to speak with. It is a rather exciting prospect and I am looking forward to living in the nicest bit of housing I probably ever will while attending school.
But I am also glad that I will not be moving into this new ward completely friendless--indeed, a good friend of mine (who lived in that particular ward once before) also happens to moving into it once more. Thank goodness.
Other than that, there really is not much to report about what has been going on in my life.
Though we (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) had General Conference a couple weekends ago so that is always exciting. I will admit that it was a great source of comfort for me to hear the talks from the General Authorities. I was truly questioning a few choices I have made as far as paths ahead of me go and I was glad to receive the peace of knowing that I made the right choices for me and that as long as I continue to strive to improve myself, then everything else will fall into place.
I am definitely looking forward to this summer as a battery recharge. Of course I do not plan to become a recluse, but I do see myself taking a little more time to reflect about those things that I have been doing up until now, the goals I have, and such other thoughts with myself. I want to organize myself in such a way that I will be completely ready to take on this fall semester by storm.
Now some of you may wonder if I have been going on any dates as of late and I will inform you that I have been on one recently and finally it was the guy asking me and not the other way around. It was pretty refreshing.
However before any of you jump to conclusions, I have come to recognize that it might just be that it is not my time yet and I am learning to accept that. Besides, with this mind set, it makes the settings for dates a whole lot less stressful. I am simply being myself and not beating about the bush and hiding the more energetic and prominent parts of my personality and character.
It is funny to see how far I have come since my high school days. I am not so introverted anymore and get only more extroverted the longer I know the people around me. Why hide myself when I am not embarrassed and ashamed of my quirks?
If a person is going to be "intimidated" by who I am naturally, then there really is no reason to pursue anything beyond the bounds of friendship and sometimes even acquaintanceship. I am not going to become any calmer or any less self-expressive. I am always going to want to perform and put myself out there. And I do not see anything wrong in this.
And as a short side note: my heart goes out to those in Boston.
This whole month I have been vaguely aware that not only was the school term coming to an end as spring began, but that I would also be moving out of the complex that has been my home for the last year and a half. The people within the complex have not changed all that much--or at least it did not seem to be so seeing as I was here to welcome them in the spring and summer.
But at the beginning of this month, I had also told myself that I would start packing not too long after the first week... it is almost the beginning of the last full week of April (which I will be moving in the middle of) and I have yet to even by packing tape necessary to put the boxes back together that I squashed down a year and a half ago. Yes... it would seem that the month got away from me and it is about time I start packing... perhaps if I find a spare moment tomorrow I will be able to at least purchase that packing tape.
I find it kind of entertaining that all I have to do is move a block away from this complex (literally) and I will suddenly be in a new ward, surrounded by people I have probably seen on campus a time or two but never had a reason to speak with. It is a rather exciting prospect and I am looking forward to living in the nicest bit of housing I probably ever will while attending school.
But I am also glad that I will not be moving into this new ward completely friendless--indeed, a good friend of mine (who lived in that particular ward once before) also happens to moving into it once more. Thank goodness.
Other than that, there really is not much to report about what has been going on in my life.
Though we (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) had General Conference a couple weekends ago so that is always exciting. I will admit that it was a great source of comfort for me to hear the talks from the General Authorities. I was truly questioning a few choices I have made as far as paths ahead of me go and I was glad to receive the peace of knowing that I made the right choices for me and that as long as I continue to strive to improve myself, then everything else will fall into place.
I am definitely looking forward to this summer as a battery recharge. Of course I do not plan to become a recluse, but I do see myself taking a little more time to reflect about those things that I have been doing up until now, the goals I have, and such other thoughts with myself. I want to organize myself in such a way that I will be completely ready to take on this fall semester by storm.
Now some of you may wonder if I have been going on any dates as of late and I will inform you that I have been on one recently and finally it was the guy asking me and not the other way around. It was pretty refreshing.
However before any of you jump to conclusions, I have come to recognize that it might just be that it is not my time yet and I am learning to accept that. Besides, with this mind set, it makes the settings for dates a whole lot less stressful. I am simply being myself and not beating about the bush and hiding the more energetic and prominent parts of my personality and character.
It is funny to see how far I have come since my high school days. I am not so introverted anymore and get only more extroverted the longer I know the people around me. Why hide myself when I am not embarrassed and ashamed of my quirks?
If a person is going to be "intimidated" by who I am naturally, then there really is no reason to pursue anything beyond the bounds of friendship and sometimes even acquaintanceship. I am not going to become any calmer or any less self-expressive. I am always going to want to perform and put myself out there. And I do not see anything wrong in this.
And as a short side note: my heart goes out to those in Boston.
01 April 2013
Why Would I Want to Be Famous?
I was on pinterest not a few moments ago and every once in a while when I peruse the site, I will click on the Celebrities link and check out what new pictures have been posted onto this nifty little site. Not going to lie, it was pretty cool to come to the realization that Charlie Chaplin and Hellen Keller were contemporaries and even met at one point.
However, as cool as these moments of "ah ha!" are, I am finding more and more often the disappointment of seeing those celebrities that I will admit that I have idolized at one point or another having pictures posted of them in questionable attire and situations.
I guess the one that really disappointments me are the photographs that have been turning up of Miss Watson. My favorite quote by her was spread far and wide over facebook most especially in the Mormon circles it would seem:
"I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing. If I do an interview with photographs people desperately want to change me – dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there’s the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that’s not me. I feel uncomfortable. I’d never go out in a mini-skirt. It’s nothing to do with protecting the Hermione image. I wouldn’t do that. Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my boobs out and a short skirt, have a look at everything I’ve got?’ My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder."
What happened? I see more and more of her artfully placed wearing very little and even some instances where I am sure she is supposed to give the feeling of being completely bare in front of the camera.
It just makes me wonder--how hard is it really? To say no? To skirt around the contracts that give the photographed no say in what she wears? Or for that matter, if she will wear anything at all?
It is hard to realize that someone I thought would finally give girls a great role model at least in matters of modesty and finally slipped off that path and given Them what they want--- Hermione in a mini-skirt.
How much pressure is put on these girls that seem wholesome at the start of their careers but then start taking the same pictures as every other top cat celebrity?
I guess we will never really know what I would do if I were placed in the same situation. But this is what I would hope from me:
1. I would watch my speech so it wouldn't be misconstrued and reflect incorrect views on my personal beliefs.
2. I would refuse to be photographed in anything less than to-the-knee shorts, baby doll sleeves and appropriate neck and hemlines. If the material is sheer, I better be wearing something underneath (like slips and such, that's what they are for after all).
3. I wouldn't partake in questionable activities and any show, movie or picture I appear in would be something that not only I would be comfortable seeing or rewatching but that my family could partake in and not feel that they lost me.
4. I would be myself. Chances are you would even catch the usual CTR ring on my finger.
5. And lastly, although I am sure that I have already implied this, I would conduct myself in a manner that would not reflect poorly on myself, my family, or my religion.
Now that I have laid this out for you to see, feel free to hold me to this if I ever I get famous. I have a feeling if it really is as hard as pinterest of the world wide web would have us believe to keep your standards, morals and word, I will be printing this short list and hanging it on the mirror I look into every morning to remind myself what I have promised.
Here is to hoping there are a few celebrities that will be brought to light in the future that I can encourage my little girls to look up to because I know that they will be looking.
Side note: I still love Miss Watson as an actress. She is incredibly talented and I hope there are a few things that I can watch from her in the future.
However, as cool as these moments of "ah ha!" are, I am finding more and more often the disappointment of seeing those celebrities that I will admit that I have idolized at one point or another having pictures posted of them in questionable attire and situations.
I guess the one that really disappointments me are the photographs that have been turning up of Miss Watson. My favorite quote by her was spread far and wide over facebook most especially in the Mormon circles it would seem:
"I find the whole concept of being ‘sexy’ embarrassing and confusing. If I do an interview with photographs people desperately want to change me – dye my hair blonder, pluck my eyebrows, give me a fringe. Then there’s the choice of clothes. I know everyone wants a picture of me in a mini-skirt. But that’s not me. I feel uncomfortable. I’d never go out in a mini-skirt. It’s nothing to do with protecting the Hermione image. I wouldn’t do that. Personally, I don’t actually think it’s even that sexy. What’s sexy about saying, ‘I’m here with my boobs out and a short skirt, have a look at everything I’ve got?’ My idea of sexy is that less is more. The less you reveal the more people can wonder."
What happened? I see more and more of her artfully placed wearing very little and even some instances where I am sure she is supposed to give the feeling of being completely bare in front of the camera.
It just makes me wonder--how hard is it really? To say no? To skirt around the contracts that give the photographed no say in what she wears? Or for that matter, if she will wear anything at all?
It is hard to realize that someone I thought would finally give girls a great role model at least in matters of modesty and finally slipped off that path and given Them what they want--- Hermione in a mini-skirt.
How much pressure is put on these girls that seem wholesome at the start of their careers but then start taking the same pictures as every other top cat celebrity?
I guess we will never really know what I would do if I were placed in the same situation. But this is what I would hope from me:
1. I would watch my speech so it wouldn't be misconstrued and reflect incorrect views on my personal beliefs.
2. I would refuse to be photographed in anything less than to-the-knee shorts, baby doll sleeves and appropriate neck and hemlines. If the material is sheer, I better be wearing something underneath (like slips and such, that's what they are for after all).
3. I wouldn't partake in questionable activities and any show, movie or picture I appear in would be something that not only I would be comfortable seeing or rewatching but that my family could partake in and not feel that they lost me.
4. I would be myself. Chances are you would even catch the usual CTR ring on my finger.
5. And lastly, although I am sure that I have already implied this, I would conduct myself in a manner that would not reflect poorly on myself, my family, or my religion.
Now that I have laid this out for you to see, feel free to hold me to this if I ever I get famous. I have a feeling if it really is as hard as pinterest of the world wide web would have us believe to keep your standards, morals and word, I will be printing this short list and hanging it on the mirror I look into every morning to remind myself what I have promised.
Here is to hoping there are a few celebrities that will be brought to light in the future that I can encourage my little girls to look up to because I know that they will be looking.
Side note: I still love Miss Watson as an actress. She is incredibly talented and I hope there are a few things that I can watch from her in the future.
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