My Few Bright Moments Of Actual Memory

Sometimes I honestly believe I was a goldfish with a five-second memory in another life. Which is why I think I love elephants so much. Really I'm subconsciously jealous of their memories, since elephants never forget and all that. See, I thought of a very good idea for tonight's post, complete with opening sentence and title, about five minutes ago, and within the past five minutes I've managed to forget everything I thought of. Pathetic? Yes, I think so.

So here I am, idea-less. And motivation-less. Can you believe it's already the last day of March? Because I sure can't. Last winter semester, March was a devil month. It was full of work and stress and cold and more stress, with no breaks whatsoever, and I swear it lasted for half a year. But this winter, I can't believe it's already gone. Sure, I was stressed and overloaded and cold still, but looking back, I can't remember when. Because these past thirty-one days have been non-existent. Not that I'm complaining, because underneath all that stress, March has been fantastically happy. But still. I'm not sure how I feel about my life flashing by so quickly.

Well, my fantastic idea has still not returned. Darn my awful memory. I wish I could say I was grateful for my memory, but . . . well, I had an end to this sentence, but I got distracted by The Pacifier on TV and now I've forgotten it. Do you understand why I'm not grateful for my memory? Or really my lack thereof. Though I guess I am grateful for the few bright moments of actual memory that pop up once in a blue moon. I always feel so special when those happen. And they don't come often. So word to the wise: if you have something especially important that you need me to remember, please put it in writing. Then text me about it. And a phone call wouldn't hurt either.

The Little Engine That Could

I don't think I've ever been more ready for anything in my life than I am for this semester to be over. Not that this semester has been bad; it's actually been quite possibly the best semester of my college career. However, it has been LONG. And at the moment, it is STRESSFUL. So I'm ready for it to be done. Just two more weeks of classes. That's all. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. It's all about endurance.

Tonight's post will be short, as they might be for a bit. I have too many papers to write for my actual classes to then have the energy to come up with some clever prose that will never be graded, or even seen by more than the loyal few. So today I'm thankful for the Little Engine That Could. Because he inspires me to push through these next two weeks. I know I can. I know I can. I know I can.

My Fantabulous Monday

This has quite possibly been the best Monday of the whole semester. Let me rephrase that: it's been the best Monday of the semester that wasn't a holiday. Why, you may ask? If you continue reading you'll find that . . .

Today actually started out nastily. I woke up at the entirely unholy hour of 5:00 in the morning to finish going through the last twenty student papers. But, two hours and forty-five minutes later, I was FINISHED. Finally. With all one hundred and fifty, at least until next week when the final draft comes in, but we'll ignore that beastly fact for the moment. Since it was 7:45 by the time I finished, I decided to not bother with Spanish class (today was supposed to be a review anyways) and went back to sleep instead. Much more productive, in my opinion. Well, I slept through my alarm and didn't wake up until 9:17. And consequently decided that my class at 10:00 wasn't worth it either, especially since I hadn't finished the homework for it. However, luck swung in my favor today (which very rarely happens, for the record) because my 10:00 class was CANCELED. Really, when does that ever happen? I'm pretty sure it was a miracle, and it couldn't have been bestowed on a more grateful subject (aka ME). After this week-brightening turn of events, how could my Monday be bad? I was practically giddy with relief as I went to my last class of the day. Which I actually ended up missing half of too because of a work meeting, so I officially had only twenty minutes in my day that contained any educational value. Crazy, right? I almost can't believe it myself.

The next large event in my day was a haircut. I've been debating this decision for a few weeks now. See, I planned on growing out my hair, particularly my bangs, because . . . well for no good reason really. But as it always happens, I get sick of those long, luxuriant tresses pretty quickly after spending ten minutes a day with my head upside-down trying to blow-dry some volume into the weighty strands. Today, while sitting in my twenty minutes of class, I decided that I was going to get it cut. So, as soon as I got back to my apartment, I looked up directions to the salon and went for it, before I lost my nerve. Now my hair is shorter than it's ever been since it first grew out after I was born. Talk about a change. I feel extremely light-headed at the moment, and it's taken me quite a while to get used to it (it helped that my roommates each gushed over how cute it is), but I think I've decided I like it. We'll see about those feelings tomorrow after I've actually had to do something with it, but so far so good.

Last on the great-Monday-making-events list was FHE. Tonight's FHE was just fantastic! We dyed Easter eggs, ate Easter chocolate, talked about exploding Peeps, and quoted Forrest Gump. It was splendid. Honestly, who doesn't love Easter activities? They just always put me in a great mood. Maybe because Easter means Spring, which means my birthday, which of course is the best day of the year. Or maybe because I love chocolate, which always goes along with any Easter festivities. Regardless, I love them. And today was chalk full of Easter. What could be better, besides the actual Easter weekend itself? Not much at this point.

So there you have it. My fantabulous Monday. The only thing that could have made it better is if it were actually this Friday, but then it would be rather less like a Monday, so that wouldn't really work. Bottom line is I'm grateful this Monday went so well. Because after all the stress of last week and the weekend, I needed an easy day. Who knew that day would be a Monday?

The Spontaneity Of Jellybeans

I think this weekend went by entirely too quickly. Hopefully the week goes by just as fast, but somehow I don't think it will, courtesy of that whole time-stopping gremlin thing again. But let's not focus on it. Instead, we'll focus on the weekend. Between a surprise visit at 1:30 in the morning, the Holi Festival of Colors, baby animals, and Dad's Favorite Dessert, everything has gone just about right. Except for the fact that I did absolutely no work, and the next few days will involve lots of catch-up. Oh well. It was worth it.

What I'm grateful for today is actually not something related to the weekend events, because I think it goes without saying that I'm extremely grateful for those. Today's post is actually about jellybeans. My roommates and I had an interesting discussion about them just barely. Maren received a big jar of the wonderful beans from her mother some time ago, and we've slowly been polishing them off in the weeks following. As she passed the jar around tonight to give us all a little during-movie snack, Sam mentioned that she doesn't like jellybeans because the uncertainty of them bothers her a bit (well, and they're not chocolate, which is a very valid reason). Maren replied that "the spontaneity of jellybeans is what makes them so good."

The spontaneity of jellybeans. How absolutely awesome is that phrase? Mostly because it's entirely true - you never know if that funny-colored white one is coconut, vanilla bean, or marshmallow, and pretty much the only way to find out is to shove the whole thing in your mouth and deal with the consequences, be they good or bad. And that's what makes them so fun. It's a surprise in every mouthful! Not always a good surprise, but a surprise none-the-less. And I love surprises.

Well, I thought about what Maren said a little bit, and, in my current contemplative mood, decided that it's a good metaphor for life. Because the spontaneity of life is what makes it so utterly bearable, despite the potholes and speed bumps that litter the path. Imagine, for a moment, a predictable life: every day doing the same thing, eating the same food, talking to the same people. Does that sound appealing to you? It doesn't sound appealing to me. Yes, life cannot be one hundred percent spontaneous; necessities like college and work must happen on a set schedule in order for society to run smoothly. But a day without random actions thrown in would be quite the humdrum day indeed. So, whether it be making a midnight run to Walmart, taking a weekend-long road trip, or eating ice with a fork, make your days spontaneous. I promise doing so makes life extremely happy. And I'd like to thank jellybeans for reminding me of that fact.

Laughter

I have entirely too much to be grateful for today, and not much motivation to write about it. There's something else that's just a little more pressing than blogging right now. So we'll keep this short and sweet. Tonight I'm grateful for laughter, because that seems to be the theme of my day. And what could be better than that?



At the Holi Festival of colors. One of the many other things to be grateful for.

Les Miserables

I decided my roommate Maren is brilliant. Sometime this morning she texted me: "What are you doing tonight?" Well, since my Friday night plans had been postponed until Saturday, I had a big, fat nothing on the agenda. She then proceeded: "There's a theater group doing the school edition of les mis. Wanna go?" More inspired words have never been spoken.

For a measly $7.50, we, along with our other roommate Hanna, spent an extremely enjoyable two and a half hours watching quite possibly the most amazing high school students in all of Utah. They sang; they danced; they acted; they changed costumes in the blink of an eye. It was practically magical. And the craziest part is they were all between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. Performing Les Miserables. That play is hard enough for professionals, let alone teenagers. I don't mean to say the performance was perfect, but it was infinitely better than anything I could even potentially think of dreaming about. I left feeling quite unaccomplished.

But that doesn't diminish the fact that the play made for a very satisfying evening. Props to Maren for the suggestion, and for paying for my ticket during my current financial mix-up. Someday I'll actually read the book. Hopefully. For now I'll settle for gratitude for Les Miserables.

Flexibility

Today did not go as planned. In fact, it didn't go as planned from the very moment I woke up at five o'clock this morning. Because instead of working for two hours, like I'd planned, I got back in bed and slept until seven twenty-five. Every other day's plan disintegrated from there. Like how I planned to stay on campus all day. Or how I planned to grade for four hours. Or like how right now I planned to be working on my paper that's due tomorrow, but instead, here I am. Too bad this blog doesn't count as a grade, because I would so be all over that.

Despite my abysmal schedule-keeping abilities, I have good news: This day still turned out A-OK. Why? Because I actually do have the ability to be flexible, and more than just physically (at least I'd like to think I do). So today, I'm thankful for flexibility, because it's what gets me through on days, and weeks, like these, when nothing seems to go my way.

Hump Day

I successfully made it through Hump Day. I'm not entirely sure how, but I did. In the words of my roommate: "This day feels like it's lasted all week." And I couldn't agree more. (For those curious few, Hump Day is the midpoint of the week. By week I mean school week, which makes Wednesday Hump Day.)

This day has been rather rough. Hump Day is always a hard day, but during those weeks when I'm living for the weekend, it seems that much harder. Like this week, for example. Luckily the weather today was beautiful (though a little chilly), which definitely helped. I think if it had been snowing, I would have curled up in my bed with my elephant and refused to leave. But it wasn't, and I didn't.

So today, I'm grateful for Hump Day because, though a lot of soapy water and a few tissues were involved, I made it through. Which means I'm one day closer to the weekend. And I couldn't be happier about that.

UN Hot Food

My day today involved quite an adventure, which I've decided to share with you in this post. Let me give you a little background first. I like to think of myself as an experimental cook. Meaning I find recipes that seem interesting and then set out to make them, regardless of whether the recommended skill level matches mine or not. Consequently, I've had a quite a range of results. Most of them have been at least decent; some have even turned out very well, and some . . . well, some of my experiments have struggled mightily. Tonight was an experimental night, and it produced some very interesting results.

It all started a few weeks ago, when I was looking at recipes online. I've discovered this is something I like to do; don't ask me why, but looking at recipes that I think are awesome but that I know I'll probably never make has become a favorite pastime of mine. Anyways, in my meandering search through MSN's cooking web page, I discovered a recipe for Slow-Cooker Beef and Black Bean Chili. Our apartment recently inherited a crockpot, graciously donated by Sam's mom, and I, being the budding chef that I like to think I am, was looking for recipes that would involve this wonderful tool. So far, I've had very little experience with crockpots, but I felt like this was a good time to change that, and the recipe seemed promising. I decided to go for it.

Even though I collected the ingredients the next time I went to the grocery store, I didn't have a chance to actually make the stuff until today. I'm big on following recipes (mostly because the times when I've ventured away from the beaten path have been the times when the finished product was sub par), so I systematically went through and added each ingredient: 1 can of tomato sauce, 1 pound of beef, 1 cup of beans, 1 medium onion, 2 garlic cloves, 3 tablespoons of chili powder, 2 cups of water, 2 teaspoons of salt, 1/2 teaspoon of pepper. Not until after I'd added all the ingredients, turned on the crockpot, and started working on my homework did I realize that something seemed fishy about that. Did the recipe really say three tablespoons of chili powder? Yes, yes it did. In my mind, after the fact, that seemed like a lot of spiciness. But that's what the recipe said, so that's what it must be.

Well, I think something must be wrong with that recipe, because eating any food with that amount of chili powder in it is a new form of torture. Don't get me wrong; the flavor of the chili was very good. But that flavor only lasted for about two seconds before it was devoured by FIRE. And that fire could not be quenched, no matter how many spoonfuls of sour cream or cupfuls of water were used in the vain attempt to put it out. Needless to say, not much of the chili was actually eaten, and if anyone with a hankering for VERY HOT food feels so inclined, there's plenty left if you'd like to come over.

So what is the point of this whole story? The point is that tonight I realized how very grateful I am for food that DOESN'T clear out your sinuses and sear away your tastebuds. And I relearned that experimental cooking is still fun, no matter what the outcome. My final lesson: handle chili powder with extreme care, for it's a deadly weapon.

Productive Anticipation

I can't decide how I feel about anticipation. See, when I'm anticipating something like the weekend, it takes forever to happen. I swear there's a little gremlin out there with a huge grudge against me that controls the speed of time. There's just no logical explanation for the way my time works. When I want something to happen, time stops. When I don't want something to happen, time skips hours. It kills me, especially this week when I'm excited out of my mind for the weekend. Based on how long this day felt, I'm pretty sure tomorrow should be Thursday. And yet it's only Tuesday. I almost want to cry.

However, there is this other aspect of anticipation that sortof starts to maybe make up for the awfulness of my grudge-holding time gremlin. My American lit professor likes to call it productive anticipation. This occurs when I anticipate something like a paper. If I didn't care one way or the other, the paper wouldn't get done. But since I anticipate it, I'm productive in actually doing it, and doing it well (at least that's his theory). Well, even though it's only Monday, I've already discovered that for me, this week, his theory really works. I have so much to anticipate this week (and to be ridiculously anxious about) that I've been extremely productive! It's strangely satisfying.

My day started at five o'clock this morning, when I woke up to grade essays for two hours. Not the best way to start out the day. I had class from nine to eleven, and I struggled to stay awake while learning the difference between como and donde, and how to spot the passive voice. Next was a attending a required conference with my professor about a paper, and doing the reading for my one o'clock class. Then class, which I managed to stay awake during, and a lovely walk home. Where grading started all over again, followed by a nap, a Spanish paper, FHE, more Spanish, and more grading. And now I'm here. Productive, right? Unfortunately, tomorrow will be extremely similar, complete with five o'clock wake up. Like I said, I'm ridiculously excited for the weekend. Though not for the sleep, because I guarantee I won't be catching up on that. To be honest, I'll probably be sleep deprived till the end of the semester. Such is life.

And speaking of sleep deprivation, my bedtime has arrived (really it should have arrived two hours ago). But tonight I'm grateful for productive anticipation. Because it's pretty much the only thing that's keeping me going right now. That and the eventual arrival of Friday.

Extended Family

Oh boy has today been a long day. Unfortunately, it's just the start of what's going to be a very long week. Here's the sneak preview: two tests, three papers (one in Spanish), twenty-four hours of paper grading, and ten hours of Writing Fellowing. All before ten o'clock on Friday night.

But I don't want to think about that any more than I have to. So let's talk about something different! Like what I did with my evening.

I'm very lucky, because my mother's youngest brother and his wife live in Provo with their five kids. Phil and Karen have always been some of my favorite relatives, probably because I've gotten to know them better than my other relatives over the years. My parents are the only ones from their siblings who live on the East Coast; everyone else lives somewhere between Iowa and California, so I haven't really gotten to know most of my extended family very well. Now that I live out here though, I have the opportunity to go to Phil and Karen's house every other Sunday or so, to eat dinner, watch Disney movies, or just sit and talk.

I went over tonight, and it was super fun, just as it always is. We ate homemade cinnamon rolls and popcorn, and watched Extreme Home Makeover and Undercover Boss. My cousins updated me on their lives, and I updated my aunt and uncle on the latest happenings at college. It was quite the relaxing evening. I've decided I love extended family; if possible, I want to live near relatives so that my kids will be friends with their cousins. We'll see if that actually happens, but it would be ideal. Until then, I'm thankful that I get the chance to live near by aunt and uncle, because it's super fun. Plus my uncle makes top notch homemade popcorn. But that's just icing on the cake.

Old Friends

Hindsight is 20/20. Don't let anyone tell you differently. In fact, I'd venture to say that my hindsight is 20/15, which is a big deal since my normal vision is approaching legally blind. It bothers me a little, this more-than-perfect backwards vision of mine. Because it means I can see every bump and blemish of my past that I wish were non-existent. Though, to be fair, it does make for some fun trips down memory lane when with the right people.

Tonight, I was with the right person. Her name is Stephanie, and we've been friends since I was twelve and she was fourteen (though how we actually became friends is something neither of us can remember - I guess hindsight does have it's shortcomings). We're in the same ward back home; we went to the same high school; we used to live on the same street, and we even liked each other's brothers at one point. We're pretty much the coolest people ever, in case you couldn't already tell. Anyways, these days she lives in Orem, and I live in Provo, so we get to hang out every so often and catch up. And tonight was one of those nights.

The best thing about catching up with someone you've known for years is the incredible range of topics you have to talk about. They range from current happenings to future plans to past events, with a few philosophical discussions and unhappy rants thrown in. It's quite fun. And Stephanie and I, well, we can talk. Between complaining about ex-boyfriends and stressing about the direction our lives our taking, we filled up several hours with conversation. It was fantastic. And made me hardcore thankful for old friends.

Summer Internship

Today was an absolutely fantastic day. Well the weather not so much. But the rest of it was just great. First and foremost, it was Friday. Best day of the week (and one week mark). Second, I got free pizza. Props to Maren for suggesting we go to the tennis match (where said pizza was). Third, the evening was fun, random Walmart excursion and sold-out movie included. And fourth, I got a summer internship!! It's not a paid internship, which means I still need to find a summer job, but at least it's a start! I'm so excited about it that I have to tell you the story.

So I was searching on the BYU website a few weeks ago and found this internship with a website called theliteratemother.org. It's an organization like those websites that review movie content to see if it's suitable for children, but it reviews young adult books instead. So concerned mothers can read reviews of books to see if the content is appropriate for their children. Well, I thought that sounded like a good cause, and a lot of fun (reading young adult books for a job? Could it get any cooler?), so I emailed the lady in charge, and she replied saying that she'd love to see my resume. After a much more extensive email conversation that's entirely too boring to include here, we set up an interview for this afternoon. The only catch was we set up a time but not a place, and I was supposed to wait for her call sometime today to know where to meet. So I made sure to look all nice (like skirt and heels nice, because that's what you normally do for an interview), and headed off to class, slightly stressed about the whole thing. The interview was scheduled for two o'clock in the afternoon. She called at one-thirty. I was sitting at the BYU Men's tennis match with my roommate practically hyperventilating with panic by that time. But she gave me the place, and I made it in time. Crisis averted.

It ended up being one of the most informal interviews I've ever had. We sat at a table in the common area of the Brimhall Building (which I'd never been in before and is rather sketchy), and chatted. That's the best way to describe it. She and the other lady in charge (who was also there) were both in jeans, and about five minutes in, they started discussing my job responsibilities. Really I think it was one of those interviews where they've pretty much decided to hire me, but they want to meet just to make sure that I'm not psycho. And apparently I'm not. Which is always good to know.

That's the story. And now I have an internship where I get to spend my summer reading books and writing reviews. Nerdy? Maybe a little. A good experience? I hope so. Super exciting and extremely fun? ABSOLUTELY. And now I don't have to stress about finding some prestigious editing internship for the summer that I would be miserable doing, because I found a very relaxed one that I will have fun with. I couldn't be more grateful.

Jeopardy

I have absolutely no motivation to do anything today. Something about Thursdays just make me want to sleep and watch TV all afternoon. Don't mind the fact that I still have 24 hours of grading left and two papers to write by next Tuesday. And yet I sit here and watch my roommate flip through the channels while waiting for The Office to start. Yeah, I'm getting so much done.

Speaking of flipping channels, I've discovered it's a pet peeve of mine. I can't stand when people continuously flip TV channels. Or radio stations. Or any sort of anything that's able to be flipped. I'm not sure why I care, but I do. When people don't stick with one thing for longer than five seconds, it takes lots of restraint for me not to punch them in the face. Okay maybe that's a little harsh. But still. It drives me crazy.

Which is why tonight, I'm grateful for Jeopardy, because that's the show we finally stuck with. Plus it's just an all-around awesome show. This is Jeopardy!

Toilet Paper

You know how they say you don't know what you've got till it's gone? Well, we ran out of toilet paper in my apartment this morning, and boy are they right. I never realized how much I love that stuff until now that we're out of it. Having no toilet paper has left us with only three options, none of which are very desirable: use an alternate form (like paper towels), hold it till you get to campus, or just don't go. Yeah... It's been a bit of a rough day.

Thinking about this whole conundrum of not missing the toilet paper till it was gone made me get all philosophical and think about other things in my life that are like that. I didn't care about playing field hockey until the fall after my senior year when I realized I wouldn't play it again. I didn't think twice about having my own bedroom until I had to start sharing one. I didn't appreciate my mom until I moved to college. And the list goes on. It's depressing, but I couldn't think of one situation off the top of my head where I fully realized what I had while I had it. I felt like an awful person!

So then I got thinking about how to combat this problem, because I don't want to go through life never appreciating what I have and regret that I never did when I lose it. And I came up with two solutions: always express my appreciation, and count my blessings daily. Let's discuss.

Always express my appreciation: I'd like to think that I say "thank you" often. Like when that random boy walking out of the library holds the door open so I can walk in. Or when my professor hands me back that test that I'm pretty sure I failed. Even though they don't necessarily warrant a verbal expression, I like to say it anyways in situations like these. And I have this blog, which helps with the whole attitude of gratitude. But I still think I could be better about this. Everyone likes to be appreciated, even for the dumb little things like taking out the trash. And if someone appreciates the work you do, you're more willing to do it again! At least I am, and I'd like to think I'm not alone. So that's goal number one - always express my appreciation. Really I think this planet would be a lot happier if people would say "thank you" more.

Count my blessings daily: I am awful about this. My brothers would say it's because I was spoiled as a child, so I have this idea that I should have everything handed to me, and I take it for granted. NOT TRUE. If anything, they're the ones that got off with a cushy deal. I'm pretty sure they've forgotten the meaning of the word housework, but I distinctly remember cleaning the toilets biweekly through my entire senior year. My mom even made me clean the toilets when I was home from college for the summer! Anyways. I think I'm so awful at this because, plain and simple, I forget. I forget that I have a decent apartment and enough food and money for college. And I forget that I have a bright future and people who love me. I forget to be thankful for all these little miracles in my life. So that's goal number two - count my blessings daily. I think by doing so I'll realize that I'm infinitely more lucky than I already know I am.

Well there you have it: my philosophies on life. Who knew they'd come from pondering our lack of toilet paper? It just goes to show that you can learn life lessons from the weirdest things. Like toilet paper. Which I'm grateful for, and I dearly wish we had. Typical day in the life of a college student, I guess.

Oh Happy St. Patrick's Day! And Happy Birthday Mom!

"Meteorological PMS"

I'm pretty sure Mother Nature has gone insane. At least during March in Provo. On Friday, it was pretty nice in the morning, but by the afternoon it was chilly. On Saturday, it snowed. On Sunday, it was sunny and freezing cold. On Monday, it was pretty nice. And today, it's been absolutely gorgeous. Blue skies, sunshine, WARMTH. I was sweating just walking to the edge of campus so that I could start my walk home. Contrast that with Sunday's blue skies, sunshine, and FREEZING weather: I started to walk home then and thought I was going to get frostbite. You'd think El Nino picks the day's weather out of a hat. "Oh look, today it says snowstorm! Yesterday was sunny and 60? No big deal! We'll just blame it on March and make everyone suffer!"

These ridiculous weather mood swings definitely factor into my dislike of Provo. I believe I started explaining this dislike in an earlier post (my St. George one, to be exact) but I've never gotten around to finishing it. I supposed now is as good a time as any! I was fascinated by Provo when I first moved here. It's so different from Maryland that it was like a shiny new toy: you love it for a while, and you just can't get enough. But then you get bored. And in Provo, it's very easy to get bored. Add to that boredom my discovery that I like trees more than mountains, and you get a recipe for disaster. I think my dislike was solidified when it snowed during finals week of Winter semester last year. At the END of April. And by snow, I don't mean a few wimpy flurries. I mean enough-snow-to-build-a-fort-in snow. Moving from a state where the hint of snow meant school cancellation to a state where the snow-pocalypse could happen without the slightest school schedule change, I was highly displeased by this unholy dumping. All it did was make my life miserable, and right around the time of my birthday, no less! But besides that, Provo just doesn't have as many distractions as a city like, oh, St. George does. Though, let's face it, not many cities do. This whole rant is entirely off topic. Let's get back on track.

How does this all play into gratitude? Well, as much as I may complain, I am enjoying the current weather. So today I'm grateful for the "meteorological PMS," as my friend so aptly described it, because it made for blue skies and sunshine. Tomorrow, I might not be so grateful, but today, the weather was a beautiful thing.

Edgar Lee Masters

Today I discovered a new favorite poet. His name is Edgar Lee Masters, and I'd never heard of him before I looked at the syllabus for my American Literature class and realized I had to read his poems for class. I wasn't all that excited at first. No-name poet + lack of sleep = an awful reading assignment. But then I actually read him. And boy am I glad I did!

I guess I should give you a little background about my American Lit class. I didn't want to take it. Plain and simple. Because I hate American literature. For some reason, Nathanial Hawthorne and Ernest Hemingway don't seem like a bundle of laughs to me. Unfortunately, basic American Lit is a required class for every English major at BYU. So I very reluctantly signed up and planned on being annoyed the whole semester. And guess what happened? It's turned out to be my favorite class! Funny huh? Part of that is because of the professor (The professor really makes or breaks English classes. My professor brought us donuts one day because he needed to "repent" for missing class the time before. And he likes to make fun of the authors as much as he teaches us about them. It's a pretty sweet deal). And part of that is because I'm actually discovering that I like American literature. Well, only some of it. But that's more then when I started the class! Though in all fairness, we haven't gotten to the Postmoderns yet, which is where the literature goes wacko. So we'll see if I feel the same way at the end of the semester.

Now back to today's class. We were assigned to read a few of Masters' poems, and since I'd never heard of him, I braced myself for the worst. Really I would have been okay with anything as long as he wasn't like Emily Dickinson. And I was very pleasantly surprised. His poems were simple stories, rather than being an incomprehensible jumble of lines that has some psychological hidden meaning that no one ever understands. I love stories. One point in his favor. And what's more, they were interesting stories that I could relate to! Well, sortof. They were all told from the perspective of a dead person, so I guess I can't completely relate. But still, relatively relatable means point number two. On top of that, I enjoyed the assigned reading so much that I even looked up some of his poems that we weren't assigned to read. FOR FUN. Who does that? I guess you could classify that as my nerdy moment of the day. But what can I say, I really liked his poetry, which I'm grateful for because it made my homework much more enjoyable. And I'm grateful that I'm actually having fun in this American Lit class. I guess what they say is true: don't judge a book by it's cover. Or don't judge a class by its...course description?

Here is a sampling of Edgar Lee Masters' poems for your reading pleasure:

Lucinda Matlock

I went to the dances at Chandlerville,
And played snap-out at Winchester.
One time we changed partners,
Driving home in the midnight of middle June,
And then I found Davis.
We were married and lived together for seventy years,
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve children,
Eight of whom we lost
Ere I had reached the age of sixty.
I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed the sick,
I made the garden, and for holiday
Rambled over the fields where sang the larks,
And by Spoon River gathering many a shell,
And many a flower and medicinal weed--
Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys.
At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all,
And passed to a sweet repose.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness,
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?
Degenerate sons and daughters,
Life is too strong for you--
It takes life to love Life.

My Non-Confrontational Bones

Sometimes I wish I were more confrontational. You might think that's an awfully mean thing to wish for, but hear me out. I'm pretty sure there's not a confrontational bone in my body. I might have a tiny, semi-aggressive bone somewhere that thinks about sticking up for itself every year or so maybe. Maybe, but it's debatable. That's not to say I'm a total doormat who let's everyone and their grandma walk all over me. I'm just not a fan of making arguments out of situations that don't warrant arguing over. Because if I'm bad at being confrontational, I'm even worse at arguing. And both usually end with me crying anyways, so it's better if I just stay away from them altogether.

That being said, tonight I wish I were more confrontational, because if I were, I would attack my peacefully sleeping roommate with a pillow at this moment. I think that would be a much more effective form of payback than my earlier attempts to peg her with a crumpled-up paper ball. Why the sudden urge to hit my roommate with various objects? Because she deserves it for teasing me so much! Really I think it's fair: she teases me, I throw things at her - it all equals out in the end. I guess that's the beauty of roommates.

Living with roommates is a rather tricky thing. I swear living with brothers was so much easier. Yeah, they walk around in their boxers and leave their wet towels on the floor, but I can deal with that. It's the emotions that I have trouble with. (That and the mounds of hair all over. I swear between the five of us we shed more than an entire pet store. It's gross.) Five young adult women living in an apartment that's really more fit for two people, with hormones and boys and PMS, makes for quite a roller coaster ride. But we make it work, and, in my opinion, we make it work well, because even though we all have our differences, we all have things in common too. So everything balances out. It doesn't really matter in the long run who ate whose food, or who borrowed whose DVDs, or who did anything along those lines; in the grand scheme of things we all still get along. And what's more, we don't just tolerate each other; we're actually FRIENDS. Which is pretty amazing.

Well, now that I got all sentimental, I'm afraid my confrontational desire is gone. My roommate should consider herself lucky that my tiny, semi-aggressive bone decided today wasn't the day to stick up for itself. Though really I think I'm more grateful for that. Because if I had gone through with my pillow scheme, she would have gotten mad. And then her fiance would not have been quite as willing to carpool as he is now. Which would have been a disaster. Plus it probably would have made our relationship relatively unpleasant for a few days. And I'm pretty sure she would pay me back by dumping water on my head while I was sleeping the next night. So overall, I'm actually grateful for my non-confrontational bones.

Lists

I am not the most organized person in the world, as my roommate will attest to. However, I really do love lists. They're just so neat and simple, and super easy to make too. Actually sticking to them is a whole different story. But making them, well, it's as easy to make a list as it is to take candy from a baby.

Today's list was a grocery list. Not the most exciting, I know. And to be honest, I didn't even manage to get everything on my list because the grocery store was out of bran flakes (I don't actually eat bran flakes, but I wanted to make bran muffins, and bran flakes are sortof a necessity for the recipe). I'm pretty sure there's always at least one item that the grocery store is out of when I really need it. Regardless of the slacking of the grocery store, my list was very helpful. Especially since I remembered to bring it instead of leaving it on the kitchen table like I did last time. Yeah, that list wasn't so helpful.

In my examination of lists tonight, I realized that they seem to be something that I make unconsciously. Which is actually a problem because I have an awful memory, so not writing down my lists means I tend to forget half the items unless I continually review them every ten minutes or so. To combat this problem, I write them on my hand. Which really actually makes the problem worse because after about the third time of washing my hands, there is no more list. No bueno.

I actually remembered another list in the course of my evening. Every Young Woman probably has at least seven of these lists lying somewhere around her house because I swear we made them monthly in class. It's the "What I Want My Future Husband To Be" list where you write down every single trait that you think Prince Charming has and decide that your husband will have all those traits too. When I was a Beehive, my list consisted mostly of things like good-looking, funny, likes to do dishes, RM, romantic. And it was about three pages long. By the time I was a Laurel, my ideas about love had matured a little, and my list was more along the lines of honest, loyal, trustworthy, spiritual, and other profound qualities. Though I won't lie, good-looking was still on that list. However, by the time I was a Laurel, the whole husband-list-making activity was a bit of a joke because really what were the chances of finding a guy like that? Little did I know that my chances were very good. Mentally looking back at my list today made me realize that I hit the jackpot. And I'm actually grateful I made it so long ago. Even though at the time I thought it was dorky, now it makes me realize just how lucky I am.

Frank Conversation

If yesterday was a day when I had too many thankful things to write about, today is the complete opposite. Nothing particularly grateful-worthy sticks out. Except maybe the conversation I just had with my roommates. We have quite the awesome conversations while watching Disney movies and eating homemade popcorn on Friday nights.

I grew up with two brothers and no sisters, so I was really pretty nervous about living with five other girls when I first came to college. Girls can be very tricky to deal with, as I'm sure any guy from the age of three on up can attest to. Lucky for me, I ended up with a pretty sweet set of roommates, and we've had quite a few good times over the past year and a half, including an uncountable number of deep and profound conversations. Our conversation this evening was neither very deep nor very profound, but it sure was very amusing.

Tonight's subject was boys, which is understandably a rather common topic among us. Really it was more about boys who cheat. Or one boy, I guess. See, my roommates decided to express their real feelings to me about said boy, and it's quite funny what people will tell you after the fact. They had no problems telling me just how awful they think this guy really was because they know I've moved on. Never in a million years would they have dared tell me their true feelings even a few months ago (well, maybe one of them would. In fact, one of them did). Yet tonight, they showed no mercy and just let it all out. It was rather enlightening. And while I thought they were maybe a little harsh (though they did have some valid points), I appreciated their honesty. I'm always grateful for frank conversation (and I like using 'frank' in this context; it reminds me of Seven Brides For Seven Brothers - "Ma called him Frankincense, 'cause he smelled so sweet"). I've had a lot of it tonight, and even though it hasn't been on the most enjoyable topics, I'm still thankful for the willingness of others to tell me their true feelings.

A FREE T-Shirt . . . And Then Some

I decided to start my post a little bit early today, mostly because I'm once again putting off all the other million things I should be doing. Story of my life. The only problem is, I have several things to be grateful for today. See, sometimes I have days where nothing significantly deserving of thanks sticks out, and some days when one certain thing happens that I'm extremely grateful for. And then there are other days when I have so many thankful things that I don't know which to choose. Today fits into that last category, if you hadn't already guessed. Really this entire explanation is my long-winded way of apologizing in advance for what will probably be a long and rambling post: I am deeply sorry, from the bottom of my heart, if this post takes many unnecessary and obnoxious detours along the way to its purpose. There. You've been warned. What you choose now is no longer my problem.

First grateful moment: when I received my bright yellow, adult small, donation promoting, FREE t-shirt. See, I am a poor college student with a much smaller wardrobe than I would like, and it's quite a tragedy really. Because the bigger your wardrobe, the less often you do laundry, and the less often you do laundry, the more money you save for, oh I don't know, the staples of life maybe? And, of course, more clothes. And more clothes makes for a more effective...wait for it...Circle of Laundry. (I feel like I should cue African music here.) That's why a FREE article of clothing, regardless of how hideous it may be, is a bonus to any day.

Luckily for me, this t-shirt isn't hideous. Yes, it is bright yellow, which is one of the worst colors for me, but at least it's less lemon and more sunshine, which happens to be my favorite color. So it all balances out. Why, you may wonder, did someone hand me a FREE t-shirt today? Because I'm a volunteer! I signed up to help with this donation program called Choose 2 Give on campus, and therefore I get to wear my wonderfully bright, promotional t-shirt every day next week (I hope they weren't serious about it being every day, because I can see that getting real nasty real fast). Yet at the moment, even contemplating the state of said t-shirt by next Friday cannot dampen how grateful I am that I got the FREE t-shirt today.

Second grateful moment: when I realized I'm just as weird as everyone else. Sometimes I feel like I stick out. Sore thumb, black sheep, odd man out - take your pick of metaphors. In my high school, I was one of about fifteen LDS kids out of 1,000 students. In Utah, people act like I'm from a foreign country when I say I grew up in Maryland. Even in my family, sometimes it seems like I don't fit in. But today, in the Language Testing Center in the basement of the JFSB, I realized that maybe I'm not so different after all. Here's the story.

I was taking my Spanish test just like normal. A little bit of background: this testing lab isn't the same as the regular Testing Center. It's a computer lab, so all the tests are electronic. And every Spanish test I've ever taken in it begins with a listening portion. However, because I'm a visual person, I always bring a piece of scratch paper so that I can take notes and write down the answer while I'm listening. As I was doing the listening portion during today's test, I accidentally vandalized BYU property. See, the track had ended, so I reached for the mouse in order to mark down my answers on the computer. But I forgot that the pen I was using to mark down my answers on paper was still in my hand, and the mouse was a little too close to the wall of my testing cubicle. As I reached for it, I accidentally drew on the cubicle wall. Oh the horror. I thought I should at least be fined, if not dragged off to jail. And then I noticed. There were dozens of other pen marks in the exact same area as mine. Holy cow, I'm not the only stupid Spanish test taker! It was quite a relief to realize, let me tell you. I may stick out sometimes, but sometimes I'm just like everyone else. Which I'm grateful to know.

Third grateful moment: when I was treated with openness and honesty. I am a very nosy person, and I will be the first one to admit it. I like to know everything, even if it does not pertain to me in the slightest, and it's very hard for me not to pry into things that really aren't any of my business. That said, if I know it's a sensitive issue, or that the person might not want to discuss it, I make a colossal effort to restrain my large nose and just let it be. Sometimes it works more than others.

Today I had the opportunity to exercise that restraint despite my overwhelming curiosity. And yet it wasn't even necessary because, despite the fact that I really had no business prying into anything of that nature, I was met with a willingness to be honest regardless of the subject matter. It was amazing, and I'm thankful for it. Though I do feel a little bad about introducing the subject in the first place. I think my next goal should be to work on my tact.

Sorry for the monster post, but today I couldn't cut it down to just one thing.

TV Breaks

Today was quite the boring day, mostly because I spent a good bit of time going through those 150 student essays and giving feedback on how to restructure theses about Moses and unify paragraphs about Abraham. I don't blame you if you're so bored you want to fall asleep after reading that; just imagine reading at least 5 pages of that per essay, and you'll start to feel my pain. I've only gone through 14 of the 150, and I'm not sure if I want to cry myself to sleep or bang my head against the wall at this point. This is going to be a long few weeks.

Luckily I've discovered a very good break-time activity, for those wonderful moments when I get a relief from the drudgery of slogging through sentences. It's called catching up on the TV shows I missed because I was working when they were actually on TV. I know it sounds a little counter-productive. Why don't I just watch the TV shows when they're actually on and work a different time right? Because where's the fun in that? Besides, if I actually watched the TV shows when they were on TV, then I wouldn't have a fun break-time activity! So really it makes perfect sense.

Chuck was my viewing pleasure during today's break. It was quite a good show, and definitely a worth-while break. Because somehow, stupid spy jokes combat dry research papers very nicely. It was a small tragedy in my life when the show ended and it was back to reality. But, you'll be happy to know, I already have my break-time scheduled for tomorrow; Numb3rs is on the menu. Thank you, whoever invented TV shows. They make my work schedule infinitely more enjoyable.

Spanish Class Opening

I've been stressing a little bit lately, but I like to think it's for a good reason. More like several good reasons. This is my conferencing week for my tutoring job. That means I hold one half-hour conference with each student I'm tutoring to talk with them about the strengths and weaknesses of their papers. This is also the week when the 150 essays for my TA job are turned in, and I have to go through each of them within the next two weeks. Not to mention that I have a paper due, a Spanish test, an editing workshop, and a presentation all happening this week. Oh, and I have to finish my application for the Jerusalem center, start looking for summer jobs, and potentially try to land an internship. I'm surprised I haven't run away screaming yet.

On top of everything that's happening this week, I've also been stressing about my future: aka Spring Semester. I want to stay for Spring. First, because I want to take my last college-level Spanish class before I leave the country for four months (if that actually happens). Second, I don't want to find a job back in Maryland because I can 99% guarantee you it will be some crap retail job that I will hate. Plus, most of my friends no longer live in Maryland, which puts a damper on the social life. Crap job + no friends = no bueno. Third, spring in Utah just seems like it will have so much potential, especially if certain fun plans happen to work out. However, there was a little wrench in my reasoning: the Spanish class I wanted to take, which is pretty much the entire reason I even started thinking about staying for Spring, was full. Major problem? I think so.

And now for the good news. For the past few weeks, there's been nothing I could do about my little problem except periodically check online to see if any spots opened up in the class. (Which, by the way, is from 8-10 in the morning every single day. Can you say awful?) Well, today I got extremely lucky. As I signed onto MyMAP on the BYU website, I will confess I had just about no hope. Until I saw that little 'A' next to the class that meant 'available.' I think I alarmed my roommates with my shout of joy. I was so stunned with my ridiculous good fortune that I almost forgot to add the class to my schedule. Talk about a potential tragedy.

But a tragedy was averted, and I managed to click that little black 'A' despite my celebratory hand movements that almost broke my roommate's nose. Talk about excitement! So I have my Spring schedule, complete with awfully necessary classes. Boy am I grateful I checked the class schedule today, even sans hope. Now all I have to do is talk my mom into sharing my excitement.

Postponed Deadlines

My American Literature professor uttered the most beautiful words I've ever heard today: "Let's face it. I'm not going to get to these essays today or tomorrow, so you might as well just turn them in on Wednesday." I have never been so tempted to hug any teacher I've ever had as I was after he said those magical sentences. I was so happy that I even seriously considered making him cookies for a second there. But let's not get too crazy here.

I'm pretty sure I'm the World's Worst Procrastinator. Even as I'm writing this, I'm putting off several assignments that hold a much more important place in the grand scheme of my life than this blog does. However, am I doing any of those? Nope, not a chance. And what's my plan after I finish this post? Hmm, maybe watch some TV, blog stalk a few people, write a missionary letter or two. Are any of those activities related to my fifteen credit hours or two jobs? Negative. Would you like to know how many infinitely more productive activities I could be spending my time on this evening? Hopefully you don't, because there are just too many to count. And I wonder why my life is stressful. Should be a no brainer, right?

I should try to be better about my procrastination problem. I'm sure my essays would turn out better if I started them the week before the due date instead of two hours before. And I probably wouldn't stress about work if I actually graded a few essays a day instead of leaving them all for the day before they're to be returned to the students. And yet, even though I have this knowledge, I do absolutely nothing with it. You know that American Lit essay that my professor postponed? Yeah, I haven't even started it, and it was originally supposed to be due last Wednesday. And now that I know it's not due till this Wednesday, it probably won't get started till Tuesday night at eleven o'clock. Oh the dilemmas of being a college student. So even though I know my professor's generosity really doesn't help me the slightest bit in the long run, I still am grateful for it. At least for now.

Moral Support

Do you ever feel like you're too young for your life? Like you have to be too responsible, and make decisions that you're not ready for? I hate that feeling, and yet I seem to feel it more and more often the older I get. Like today, for instance.

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Let me explain. I like being happy. Who doesn't, right? But I don't like feeling that my happiness comes at the expense of others', and right now, I feel like it does. See, I'm extremely happy. I love my life, because I have just about everything I could want (except maybe a Spring Break, and a million dollars). Yet, I know that in order to stay this happy, I have to be the bearer of really really bad news to someone else. How can I in good conscience do something that I know will hurt another person? And at the same time, how can I not do it and hurt myself? It's quite an awful dilemma.

I know this post is a bit depressing, and you might even be wondering how anything grateful will come out of it. But I promise I'm getting there. I decided (with a little help) that honesty is the best policy in this situation, and it's better to just get the hurt over with, like a BandAid. However, just because I made that decision doesn't mean it will be an easy one. Lucky for me, I know I have moral support, so no matter how difficult it gets, I have someone to lean on. And tonight I say, thank you for that.

Life

I'm so grateful for life right now. Really there's not much more to say.

St. George

Don't be alarmed; I know I'm writing this post much earlier than normal (at 6:59 in the morning early, to be exact). There is a reason for this madness, and I'd like to think it's a very good one too. My roommates and I are driving down to St. George today, leaving at ten o'clock sharp, and I know that the need to post will completely slip my mind once I'm in that beautiful city. Hence why I'm posting at this not-entirely-God-forsaken-but-pretty-darn-close hour of the morning. Because I am determined to actually stick to my goals with this blog. Which might get a little tricky on Saturday, since I'll be in St. George all day, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I love St. George. I can't even express to you how much I love St. George. I've come up with two valid reasons for this inexplicable love. First, St. George reminds me of Albuquerque, New Mexico, and I love Albuquerque. Now you're probably wondering, why do I love Albuquerque? No clue. My parents and I stayed a night in Albuquerque on our way to Philmont (the Boy Scout Ranch of America) when I was eighteen, and it was magical. There's just something about the desert that I love, probably because it's so vastly different from what I'm used to in Maryland, which is about a far from desert as you can be, short of living in a rain forest. Plus, Albuquerque is a sweet name. So it's practically perfect. St. George reminds me of Albuquerque (the whole desert, red rocks, palm trees, adobe houses thing), and therefore I love it. Except St. George doesn't have the awesome sideways stop lights that I took a bajillion pictures of in Albuquerque because I thought they were just so cool. But oh well. It's still an awesome place.

The second reason I love St. George is that it's NOT PROVO. When I first moved the bulk of my life to Utah to go to college, I thought Provo was a pretty cool place. Mostly because I've never lived anywhere but Maryland, so anywhere would have been a novelty. Except maybe North Dakota.

And now I'm afraid I must cut this short, to resume another day. Because we're about to leave, and I'm not staying another moment in Provo. I'm just so grateful for St. George that I can't wait to be there. Well, there's another big reason why I can't wait to be there. But that's beside the point.

The Laundromat

I’m writing today’s post in one of my favorite places: the laundromat. Don’t judge; it’s really a fantastic place. See, I’ve always loved everything about laundry (except the actual doing it part really). Ever since I was little, the laundry aisle in the grocery store has been my favorite; my mom always told me I was damaging my brain when I would stop there for a minute to take a whiff. In our townhouse, we had a top-loading washer, and I used to go down to the basement while it was running and lift the lid because I loved the steam that came off the hot, soapy water (my mom told me to stop doing that too). When I was sixteen, we got a front-loading washer, and one afternoon I sat in front of it with my brother’s girlfriend, and we watched the entire cycle. And now, I live mere minutes away from a laundromat, and I couldn’t ask for anything better. I love sitting and watching my clothes spin; there’s just something relaxing about it that cheers me up no matter how bad the day.

Today wasn’t a bad day by any stretch of the imagination. It was simply a long day, mostly because I want it to be Friday so very much. Why is it that time decides to move so incredibly, excruciatingly slow when you really want it to speed up so that it’s practically nonexistent? One of those mysteries of life that will never be explained, I guess. Anyways, going to the laundromat was a wonderful relief from my interminably long day. Time seems to disappear in the laundromat, and all I really care about is the mindless spinning that somehow cleans off my clothes and cleans out my mind. The laundromat is this magical sanctuary where I can check all my thoughts at the door and spend a blissful hour and a half surrounded by nothing but machines humming and water running before I’m forced to pick up my package of cares and enter back into reality. Oh how grateful I am for my sanctuary.

Memory Lane

I've always wanted to go on a really cool trip to some completely foreign country where they don't even remotely speak English. But...no dice. At least not yet. One of these days I'll talk my dad into letting me tag along on one of his business trips to somewhere awesome, but until then I'm stuck in the US of A.

And until that magical day, I have to consent myself with going on different trips. Today happened to be "a trip down memory lane." Let me explain how this happened. It was recently brought to my attention that I might get facebook picture stalked on occasion, so I decided to go back through a few of my older albums to make sure they didn't contain anything too incriminating. I expected to find a few pictures from my awkward years that really shouldn't be on facebook, and maybe a few that were actually funny despite their extreme embarrassment, but I actually found an enjoyable time. It was quite fun to go through all those old pictures because it brought back all those old memories, which were much less awkward to sift through than the pictures were. And you know, I've had a pretty fun life.

Well then I started getting all nostalgic and had several of those "Oh remember when..." moments, and I tragically didn't have anyone to share them with. It's just not really the same unless you can talk about it with someone who was really there, because someone who wasn't there wouldn't understand why you laughed so hard at the slimy stuff you stuck your hand in, or the fact that you forgot sunscreen, or whatever the inside joke was. Regardless, all those good times from way back when were still fun to think about. And thinking about them made me realize that I really am a lucky girl, both back then and now. I've got a good life. And today I have memory lane to thank for reminding me of that fact.

Natural Optimism

Today was a great day. Nothing spectacular happened, but nothing bad happened either. Therefore, it was a great day. I suppose I could just end there, and say I'm grateful for great days, but where's the fun in that? Plus, if (when) I ever have another day like this, I won't know what to write about because I'm not allowed to be grateful for the same thing twice. Well, I'm not allowed to post about it anyways. So let's delve a little deeper, shall we?

I used to be extremely optimistic. Everyday was a great day, hands down. I could forget my lunch, be late to school, have a Calculus test, and run an hour of sprints at practice, and it would still be a great day. For some reason, this optimism slipped away, beginning sometime around my junior year of high school. My days started becoming good, and then just okay, and then I had bad days about as often as okay ones. By the time I hit my first semester of college, I was practically a pessimist, though I didn't realize it. Until my friend pointed out that I hadn't had a great day in about a year and a half. Talk about an unwelcome wake up call.

I hate being pessimistic. It makes me feel like I'm living under one of those little black rain clouds, complete with lightning, that only rains on you. So when my friend alerted me to the fact that I'd become a pessimist, I didn't know how to handle it. I mean, how do you make the sun start shining again? Well, that's been my mission for the past year or so: to regain my natural optimism. This has involved several hours of relaxing "me" time, an unhealthy amount of chocolate, and even a few days of forced joy, among other things. But, you know, I really think it's starting to work. Because today was a great day! And I'm very grateful for that.

Swimming

I learned a rather disturbing truth today (well, relearned it): I am out of shape. By out of shape I mean, HOLY COW, am I out of shape! That fact was made painfully clear to me this evening when Maren and I decided to go swimming. Sounds like a harmless adventure, yes? Don't be fooled. It was anything but.

It started out innocently. Yesterday, Maren and I discussed going to the gym after FHE today (actually during Stake Conference, funnily enough). Well, I completely forgot about this discussion. Until, after we tragically lost a hard-fought game of Cranium to our FHE brothers, Maren brought up those dangerous words: "Did you still want to go swimming?" The extremely lazy, TV-loving part of myself wanted to sit on the couch for the rest of the evening, watching Psych and texting, but the rather tiny, yet somehow miraculously forceful, die-hard health nut part forced the lazy side of me out the door, complete with swimsuit and goggles. We made the short drive to the gym and had a little problem with the womens' locker room attendant (a highly frustrating story for another day) before making it to the pool.

I love pools. For some reason, I just love the smell of chlorine. Maybe because it reminds me of the laundry detergent aisle in the grocery store, which is one of the top five best smells on earth. And, as much as I may complain, I really do love swimming. I used to be relatively good at it when I was younger. But after the first lap of the evening tonight, I felt like an obese eighty-year-old woman with asthma! Talk about discouraging. I'd like to blame it all on the fact that I'm living in a place 5,000 miles higher than what I'm used to, but let's face it: it probably has more to do with the fact that I haven't seriously worked out since last August. Wow that sounds awful. And yet, for some weird reason, I'm very grateful that I did work out. As difficult as it was to actually force myself to exercise, and as sore as I might be tomorrow, overall, it was definitely worth it. Whether or not I'll actually work out again in the near future is debatable, but for tonight, I'm glad Maren uttered those rather dangerous words.

In other news, I've made it one whole week! Talk about an accomplishment.