WITH HIGH HOPES and NO PREDICTIONS

Ready to Run

2012-01-27T22:10:00.000-08:00

I'm on my brother's computer and found this little clip from St. George. It's of Jess and I pulling into the city center at the end of our first marathon. Don't we look energetic? I'm so excited to run Ogden! I can hardly allow myself to hope that it will meet up to what St. George was, though. I can't say enough about how much I enjoyed that experience. Notice in the clip my sister-in-law, Whitney, holding a sign to encourage me along. You can hear Eric yelling like crazy in the background. He never let up and I love him so much for it. And then you can hear my mom whoop and holler and then (my favorite) tell me she loves me. I think she said 'I love you' at least five or six times in the span of 50 meters. So endearing and a perfect vignette of this mother-daughter relationship we have.

Every time I reflect back on that race, the support I received from my family kind of blows me away. To them it might have seemed so simple, but to me it meant so much. It was cool enough they were even there. But they weren't just passive observers; They were engaged supporters meeting me at every point they could to cheer me on. I hope in heaven I can relive that experience. Truly it is in the top ten of life experiences.

Coming up in May is the Ogden Marathon. I'll be running it with my very best friend, Michelle Kruzie German! Along with her, my partner in crime, Jessi Venable! Also Kiley Kruzie, Danielle Davis, Brittany London, and Anna Eschler! A whole caravan of friends are coming up from Austin and it will be epic. Not only am I running it with a group of stellar girls, I'm running it as a Huntsman Hometown Hero in honor of Sarah Hays Shurtz who passed away of cancer in November. I would be thrilled if each of you joined my efforts to raise $500 before race day by donating. Sarah was a runner herself with a 3:31:00 marathon PR. And at only 30-years-old when she died, I think she had even faster times in her.

If you would like to donate to this cause (even $10 would be appreciated) follow this link to my personal page: Personal Donations Page

Sarah Hays Shurtz Obituary: View Sarah Shurtz's Obituary by Salt Lake Tribune

Book Review: The Happiness Project

2012-01-26T18:43:00.001-08:00

Okay, this isn't a book review. I'll take the pressure of myself and just call it 'my thoughts on happiness.' (Calling it a book review makes me feel inadequate and strangely speechless.)

I'm not a girl who is apt to give flowery adulations to anything without inserting also my complaints. (You can imagine how well this lends itself in relationships.) Rest at ease, I consider this a character flaw in myself and am at present making good faith efforts to fix it. I'll prove it. This is all I have to say about the book, The Happiness Project: It was well worth my time to read, gave me thoughts and ideas that yielded long hours of introspection, and I believe I am better for having read it.

If you haven't heard about this book, this is it in a nutshell: A highly educated woman (married with two children and living in New York) sets forth to see if she can make herself feel happier- elevated from the state of already fairly happy- by strategically focusing on doing certain things each month. She records her experience and offers her suggestions and perspective.

Finishing this book, I imagined what my own happiness project would look like. As I did so, I realized I'm playing by a slightly different set of rules to happiness than Gretchen Rubin simply because of my religious beliefs. In pursuit of happiness, I am actually in pursuit of worthiness.

Last week, as I was preparing for church on Sunday, I read in the George Albert Smith manual the following statement: "The happiest men and women that you know in the world are those who are conforming their lives to the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ." Please try not to gasp, BUT... I don't even know how to put this... I don't know this is true. I know a lot of very, very happy people who are not conforming their lives to the gospel and I know many who are and are quite miserable. I do believe that ultimately, those who follow God's plan will enjoy the greatest happiness. I just don't believe that it is apparent while we're living. (I imagine myself reading this post a few months down the road and wanting to edit it because I've developed a whole new perspective. Oh, well. As of today, it stands.)

I've had this epiphany several times in my life- that it is exactly because I believe what I believe and want what I want that being happy sometimes eludes me. The most obvious example: I am alone and struggle with feelings of unfulfillment consistently. I am sure these feelings would choke me less if I didn't believe in and desire most to be a wife and mother. (Why do I feel embarrassed writing this down.) Or would I be as harrowed up by my blaring imperfections as I am if I were not in pursuit of 'conforming my life to the teachings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.' I feel self-conscious, grief, disappointment, discouragement in this pursuit. Not high-flying, endorphin-surging, overwhelming happiness. Am I the only one?

Don't misunderstand me. I don't fantasize about letting go of my religion and living unencumbered by these "rigid rules and commandments." Being better is my passion and hobby. What else could force me to devote an entire weekend day to it and pull me to my knees daily for it? I don't want you to respond with encouraging examples of the ways that living the gospel saves me from the trials in the world. I get that I'm avoiding lung cancer by not smoking and STDs by not having sex.

What does John 15:2 mean? "Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away; and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit." Jill Davis suggested this means that those who do good are added upon with trials to be better. This makes sense. Nobody I know that runs is running to stay average. Everyone is yearning for the next step and the time when their body can do more, push harder, be stronger. So we increase our workload by degrees.

A friend explained that he had a mission companion who believed that a person could always be happy and tried in his way to live somewhat of a "Pollyanna" existence. But, my friend pointed out, even Christ was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief" and these feelings are in the plan for us.Is this a discouraging thought? It can be, but I'm also aware that "the pain now is part of the happiness later." Later isn't only referring to eternity. It's referring to greater measures of happiness in this life.

Is hope the same as happiness? I believe I have a brighter hope than my non-member friends. Especially in terms of my expectations for marital relationships and family. I actually feel bummed out sometimes listening to them talk about dating. It seems so shallow and empty to me. They hope for so little. My hope is so bright because of my beliefs. (I mean seriously, my hope is eventual Godhood... what is brighter than that?)

While I confess to bouts of sadness and occasional tears, I anxiously report that generally I feel exquisitely happiness. It's grown since I moved to Salt Lake (mostly because of the many friends I've made and the little life I've carved out for myself here.)

Oh, flatter me!

2012-01-20T12:33:00.000-08:00

"None are more taken in by flattery than the proud, who wish to be the first and are not." Benedict de Spinoza (1632-1677) Dutch Jewish philosopher.

This post is inspired by a thought that came to me while viewing the Mormon Message, "Voice of the Spirit." Have you seen it? I'll post it at the end of this guy ("this guy" referring to this blog post.)

The gist of the video is an answer to the posed question, "What voice are you tuning in to?" Among the different kinds of voices suggested was "flattering voices." The imagery shown in the video to compliment flattering voices is a boy rolling through the neighborhood on a skateboard with headphones in. He coolly bobs his head as he whizzes past an old man strolling down the side-walk.

Punk music is a flattering voice, huh? I tried to understand what's flattering about the music we listen to. I guess I would agree that most music on the radio is generally celebrating ourselves. No matter what you did- you cheated, you lied, you got angry- the song justifies it and brings pride to the behavior. I guess that is pretty flattering. Nothing you feel you're out-of-place for feeling. Much different than a good friend that will listen and then set you straight, a good song will agree with you in every grievance. You feel upset and like taking revenge? You go girl! Make him suffer! You love a married man and are seeking him out? That totally makes sense! You shared something special with him! You're happiness is most important anyway! Do it! You get the idea. Think about almost any song. They are flattering to your own emotions, right?

I had a funny experience listening to the radio a while ago. I told my sister about it because of how distinct and surprising it was. I would say this took place back in June. I had made a marked effort to "tune out the world," so to speak, and had been listening to only Sunday stuff… conference, mormon channel, classical music, MoTab, etc. One day after work, I climbed into my car and decided I'd had enough of all the churchy stuff and flipped the station to some pop radio. Within the minute I had it on, I had this knee jerk reaction of being repulsed. The phrase that went through my head was, "This is not my gospel." I would equate this experience to your national news radio station of choice suddenly broadcasting what North Korea has playing in every home. You would immediately recognize the sentiments and politics as "not my country." You'd probably be a little repulsed you had almost trusted in it without thought. So yeah, the juxtaposition of gospel principle based audio to today's pop music was intensely revealing to me. I was a little amused at how off guard that experience took me.

Beside the flattery of music and that it teaches a lot of the doctrine of Satan, music holds another power. You can tap into any emotion almost instantly by listening to a particular song. It's almost like a drug. And, like a drug, this power must be used carefully. For example, sometimes it feels good to allow yourself to feel sad… or to wallow. But wallowing can only be allowed for a short period of time (depending on what you're grieving.) I have go-to sad songs I call on in moments of true despair. One, Kristy recently introduced me to, is "Fool of Me." I don't even have to be sad for this song to reach back and harrow up something painful to recall and melodramatically focus on while I listen to it. (Insert: Something you should also know about me is I practice crying on the spot. Why? Because don't you think that's cool?! To be able to shed tears on demand without reason? Shanna and I practice together. We can be in the middle of a conversation when either of us interjects, "Crying contest. Go." And we both grimace our faces and focus on the floor. The first to shed a tear wins. Laugh now, but this talent may land me an Oscar someday.)

When I'm asked what kind of music I like, I always feel a little bit stumped. I'm inclined to answer, "everything" because I feel like I pull from just about every genre (except that really dark stuff.) In fact, I blew out a speaker in my Subaru while listening to Def Leppard's "Let's Get Rocked" somewhere on the spiderweb of California freeway. Sometimes I feel like loud, angry music with a good strong bass can actually beat a bad mood out of me. When you can physically feel the vibration of a beat in your heart, few things are better. My dream car has a list of requirements. At the top of that list is a cool fabric interior (like herringbone? …wait, that's what I have now) and a tricked out sound system (the opposite of what I have now). My choice of music for running is kind of strange. The typical gym anthems drive me crazy. Any pop, actually, discourages my athleticism. I run really well to chill, chill music. I'm talking Yo-Y-Ma-Norah-Jones-John-Meyery chill. Music you could take a nap to. It seems like it would be counter productive, but calm music is the perfect antidote to exercise anxieties and I feel like I breath better and run strong when I'm relaxed. Upbeat stuff just stresses me out. (Minus a select few songs… that is, DNVO. Love that one for running!) No surprise I can't listen to any music when I'm racing. I hate the distraction. Yeah, me and my competitive racing. I'm just so picky about my running conditions. When titles are on the line, you kind of have to be.

Speaking of song and music, I've been trying to compose a list of my all-time favorite songs. When I get board at work (which is never! …okay, it's fairly often), I open up my excel spreadsheet of favorites. Lists I am now compiling are: favorite movies, favorite songs to karaoke to, favorite life experiences, and travel destinations I hope to visit someday. I think you all would be really entertained to see my favorite songs to karaoke to (They are not the same as my favorite songs at all.) But I'll leave you with a short list of a few of my favorite songs:

I Believe In You and Me, Whitney Houston (from The Preacher's Wife)
Peel Me a Grape, Diana Krall
How Deep is the Ocean, Diana Krall
Plenty, Guru featuring Erykah Badu
The Rain from Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" (performed by Turtle Island String Quartet on the Winter's Solstice IV album)
Have You Seen Me Lately, Counting Crows (acoustic version)
Butterflies, Michael Jackson
They Can't Take That Away From Me, Frank Sinatra (duet version with Natalie Cole)
DNVO, Justice
The Water is Wide, Charlotte Church
Like an Angel Passing through My Room, Sissel Kyrkjebo (from MoTab's Spirit of the Season album)
Impossible, Anberlin
Wonderboy, Tenacious D
Blackbird/I Will, The Swingle Singers
Hide and Seek, Imogen Heap
Calling My Children Home, Emmalou Harris (live version)
Opening: The New World, Songs for a New World
(And the dirtiest, worst, most deplorable songs that I love…love to dance to, I can't mention here because it will forever dirty my name. But call me, and I'll give you the scoop.)

There was a time with each of these songs when I would listen to them on repeat for days and sometimes weeks.

Tale as Old as Time

2012-01-19T15:17:00.000-08:00

(Anna, Jess, & Michelle rockin' their glasses. Cute girls.)

Something very exciting took place last night: We viewed in the theater Beauty and the Beast (in 3D... which really I don't care about.) I loved it so much! This was the movie of my girlhood. I remember watching it for the first time in the theater when it came out. I was with Anne, Aimee, Stephen, and my little brother, Eric. I remember all the parts we laughed at and I remember all the parts of the movie we acted out on the way home that night. Lumiere's "Hello" to Maurice as he's ascending the spiral staircase up to the tower. The classic "You look so, so... " "Stupid." We rolled in laughter at that one. My mom bought me the cassette tape for my birthday and I would listen to it when I went to bed. To this day, I can recite the entire prologue at the beginning word for word, which I graciously did for the girls last night on the car ride over. =) They loved it. Especially Jess. She was captivated. A sampling? Okay. Ahem. Once upon a time in a far away land a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter's... (Okay, seriously. Do you believe me now? I know all of it.)

So now I'm older and of course it is just a children's story and just a Disney movie. But I'm going to be honest, this insensitive girl got teary at two parts of the movie! The first was when the beast fought off the wolves and then fell down into the snow. Yep, I shed a tear out of each eye. And then, at the end when the beast is transformed into his body. Got just a little teary then, too. I love the theme of redemption in this movie. I think when the beast fought off the wolves for Belle, it reminded me of how it's so hard not to love a good heart. In spite of everything. In spite of the yelling and rudeness and pain he caused Belle, in that moment his true colors came shining through. And then the end, it's pretty self explanatory why that tugs at my heart strings, right? In that moment, I identify with the beast. I think probably we all do. We all look forward to the day of our redemption.

Go see it again. Such a great story.

Knowing is Half the Battle

2012-01-09T23:27:00.000-08:00

Tonight the girls and I hit up Karaoke Cafe. This has become a Monday night tradition... our own little FHE, if you will. We decided to pick a theme for the night: Sad, heart-brake songs-love gone wrong. Oh, man. I was close to tears before we even started! (Which is the goal of these songs.)

I love Shanna and Kristy for a number of reasons. Not last among those is how easily I can confess to them. There is something about being a girl that makes it next to impossible to hold shameful, guilty feelings inside- as stupid or miniscule the reason is for having them. We have to confess them! (How many times has a friend muttered under her breath what she paid for a new pair of shoes I complimented her on? She just had to confess!) And I love that I have Shanna and Kristy to hear out all the things that ail me.

Tonight's "confession" was from me. All three of us felt very sad for the predictament. I felt and feel awful. Sometimes I'm soooo dumb! Does it ever happen that the worst of yourself meets together in a Bremuda Triangle at the worst possible time? I hate disappointing people I care about. Uhhh! So, why do I feel calm right now? (Karaoke is therapeutic?) Why does this dust-of-the-earth humility feel good? *thinking* Just a guess: 1.) I feel protected from future bad choices of this sort. 2.) I learned a lot about myself and where I am which is helpful to know exactly how I need to move forward. 3.) I feel willing to accept the come-what-may because I'm so humbled.

I wrote a letter to Ryan today. He comes home in only two months! After responding to his letter, I set about to give an accounting for my life since he always asks for one. Without effort at all, I could only report how happy I have felt lately. Honestly. I feel really happy. Even when I'm sad, there is an underlying happiness. Perhaps I'd been under a cloud for a long time and am now coming back to normal life. Whatever the case, I love it. It's been growing for a couple years now, and I attribute it to the power of the atonement. I sometimes hesitate to post my "church talk" on my blog because I wonder if those who stumble on my blog will understand and respect the place that it is coming from. I'd hate to think that my honest and most personal feelings would be sneered at. Anyhow, I love discovering how the atonement can change my heart and feelings. I love discovering how much I need it; how desperately I need it. Life really is a sort of game about chasing feelings. Where would I be without joy? Without all the deep and sincere feelings the atonement allows me to have?

I keep thinking about the concept of knowing something. I think 'know' is like the word 'love.' There should be a million different words to describe the nuances within each that are not apparent in the flatness of one, single word. We don't throw whole trust into these words when they're used because we don't know where on that spectrum this 'love' or this 'know' came from. Consider the phrase "ever learning and never able to come to a knowledge of the truth." This makes so much sense to me right now. And it makes me feel like an idiot because I have been the subject of such a description. I have been crystal clear on something and had that clarity reaffirmed so many times, but when a window of doubt opens- a loop hole- I jump right through to that place where I don't "know" and try to doddle in the mire of neivity. But no matter how hard I try to stay neive and deny my level of "knowing," I'm forcefully shoved out of that comfortable place by experience. I cannot stay there no matter how hard I try. I openly confess this only because I am confident that each of us deals with a level of this within ourselves. It really is epidemic. For example, (an extreme example) it is common knowledge the harmful effects of pornography on family and society. However, the industry is exploding. Why? Because the powers that be "know" but will not "know" (i.e. claim to know) for the purpose of being able to shirk responsibility. Or, a less severe example: You identify a bad habit that you've casually maintained for years. When it comes down to it, you clearly see it is not good for you to keep up this habit. But you reason with yourself that it's not so bad and you wouldn't be all that better off without it. Beside, you aren't actually sure if anything would substatially improve if you overcame said habit. God must be aware of this disease among us: Not choosing to know and claim that we know.

Jail House Blues

2011-08-09T16:14:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, I've been dancing a lot lately! ...perhaps as a distraction more than anything. (It's kind of like how as soon as I got 'promoted' at work and had tons of work to do from home, I was going running more diligently than ever.) Anyhow, I'm back in the Swing Scene and am all on fire again with dreams of traveling to Lindy exchanges and possibly competing. I LOVE SWING DANCING! There are so many reasons why I feel it is the superior dance form (in the vein of partner dancing.) I won't go into it here but PLEASE watch the video below and consider that this is completely un-choreographed! It's all lead and follow genius. Superior??? I think so. And how cool is it that this dance form was invented here in America?! Very cool.

Bleeding for Love

2011-08-03T16:54:00.000-07:00

It’s been some time since I’ve logged on to my blog. It’s been a nice break. But I miss writing so here I am again. I took a writing class in college (which- come to think of it- everyone takes a writing class if they go to college) and I remember the teacher explaining how you need to “let yourself bleed onto the paper.” What I think she was getting at is we need to reveal ourselves in our writing- we need to be honest- for it to be good... for it to be at all enjoyable (or enlightening) for the reader. I think that’s why I haven’t been blogging. Bleeding on my blog is just too revealing; I haven’t been up to spilling on here all the things that have been going on... all the things I’ve been feeling.

I recently discussed with my roommates how every time I recall bawling in front of them the night the earthquake/tsunami hit Japan, I emotionally feel the same as though I were recalling being naked in front of a crowd... I feel all exposed and uncomfortable; I feel embarrassed. And it’s kind of funny to me that in complete honesty, I really feel so awkward to have lost it in front of them like I did. It makes total sense that I did! And I think they totally understand that! Nevertheless, it has still left me feeling stripped naked.

Blogging sometimes does that to me. In a moment, I say so much. I bleed on here. And later, I wonder why I posted my vulnerability. But somehow, it is always the thing that I come back to write about.

So, I’m reading a romantic fiction right now and I’m just a few pages until the end. The main character, Ashley, holds back a lot in her dating relationship and her love interest, Matt, has a really hard time finagling her to let him in. (That’s, of course, the CliffsNotes to the CliffsNotes version.) Although I felt a little exasperated while reading it by how simplistic her trouble is (that is, the ‘why’ behind her holding back), I couldn’t help but identify with Ashley because this was the complaint/grievance I got from “the last one.” That I hold back... and hold back... and hold back. I’m only saying this because I’m asserting that what is true in writing must be true in relationships. You have to bleed before the other for emotional closeness. I’ve never really thought about it this way.

I want some security.

2011-03-28T09:50:00.001-07:00

AWOL

2011-03-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

I've almost quit blogging all together. I've completely lost interest lately. Dunno why. Here's what I've been up to (without pictures... because I never remember to take them..) :

NCAA Basketball.
I may have missed church yesterday. I may have been watching basketball all day.

Moab.
My first real race (i.e. long distance race) was the Moab Half Marathon. I ran it in 2003 with some guys who were in my BYU ward. It was the most awful racing experience I've had to date. But for whatever reason, I went back and ran it a few more times. Last year, I went down to Moab just to watch and cheer on the runners. So, I randomly decided to do the same this year and luckily I had a friend who was on board. We left early Saturday morning in time to see the first runners come in from the canyon, then we took off and biked Slick Rock. That was soooo tough. It was really windy not to mention I don't really know how to bike on that kind of terrain. I survived and was able to pull out a 4 mile hike after that before we drove home. It was a short trip but totally worth it.

Training.
I started training for St. George a year ago this month. And I have a notion that I'll be registering for it again. So naturally, I'm training. I recently acquired a gym pass and I've been curiously wandering around 24 Hour Fitness in Murray trying to figure out how to make use of it. I refuse to use the treadmills though. So far, I've done weight classes like body pump and ... forgot the name of the other one.

Freaking out.
Yeah, I recently experienced the most cry-y episode of my life. (Yes, I just made up the word 'cry-y.') Now that the experience is behind me I can make light-hearted comments about how I felt and what I went through. But from 1:30am the morning of March 11th until past midnight the next day, I was deduced to a pitiful ball of tears. I never realized how many tears my eyes can actually produce! I never knew the kind of hurt that I learned and felt in those 24 hours. I was almost catatonic for the days following. It's amazing how much weeping takes out of you physically and emotionally. Gratefully, Ryan is alive and well. Perhaps eventually I'll invest a little more time into a blog post about what went on, etc. As my good friend pointed out, a good healthy cry every once in awhile is good for one's complexion.

Good Morning!

2011-02-08T20:54:00.000-08:00

"My whole life is great! I can do anything good! I like my job! I like my friends! I like my room! I like my hair! I like my church! I like my mom! I like my sisters! I like my talents! I like my personality! I like my humour! I like my story! I can do anything good!"

Shaun White Love

2011-01-31T16:15:00.000-08:00

Charlotte Lundell, Shaun White, & Shanna Taggart
January 21, 2011, Park City, Utah

Fate brought us together. Just days before I put in writing my goal to board the half pipe within the 2011 calender year. I think I need this picture put into a locket charm for a necklace or something. In any case, I kept a smile on my face for days after meeting this guy. I've had luck with celebrities named Shaun/Shawn lately. (Recall that Shawn Stockman held my hand and looked into my eyes while singing a melody of romance in September.) What Shaun will I meet next? Sean Hannity? Sean Kingston? Sean Connery?

Shaun White is ranked #2 of the 100 Most Powerful Athletes. For article, click here.

Your Hands

2011-01-30T23:23:00.000-08:00

It is not the design of heaven that we be rescued from all difficult situations. Rather, it is the Lord's will that we learn to handle them. The sense of being overwhelmed is very much a part of the journey. The power with which God clothes us in His holy temples does not imply that our journey will be an easy one. As we accept our lot and move forward with what the Lord has asked of us, we discover that we enjoy the company of the Holy Ghost, angels feel constrained to join us, and the heavens open to our vision. As you seek direction, the Holy Ghost will lead you far beyond your own thoughts and mark a course that reaches beyond that which you can see even by the light of day.

Joseph Fielding McConkie, "Finding Answers" Ensign, February 2011

Soul Man

2011-01-24T22:31:00.000-08:00

This is my new love of music:

Mmmm. Where do I sign up for that?

Mama Knows Best

2011-01-23T20:47:00.000-08:00

This girls voice kind of blew me away. Check it out:

A Single Girl's View on Dating, First Dating, & Falling in Love

2011-01-18T15:37:00.001-08:00

Aaron and me the day he graduated from the academy... and I locked my keys in my car just hours before I had to go take a final.

Chris and not me beside him... because I never remember to take pictures. But doesn't he look good?! (He is now happily engaged.)

Eric and me taking a break from roller skating. (He is now happily married.)

(And if I had the pictures, I would add Patrick who is now married with a baby, Jared who is now married with a baby, and Pete who's memory was incinerated shortly after the break-up. I can be dramatic at times.)

[March 27, 2011 addition to post. I received this picture in my email just a few days ago and thought of no better place for it than here on the blog.]

Pete and I at a BYU football game... this would have been the fall of 2005, I think. Crazy!

As promised, here goes: I'm a 27-year-old girl who is single and dating. Dating a lot, actually. But before you congratulate me let me insert that most dates are first dates. SOOOooo many first dates... the neighbor, the friend, the friend of a friend, the guy from the ward, the guy on facebook, the guy from the party, the guy at dinner. And if that's not enough, I have married friends with proven man-hunting and marriage-making skills who are more than anxious to help me catch a date with all their marriagely wisdom. Well, you get the picture. There are one million ways to meet guys and with average attraction and charm, I consider myself moderately successful at putting out "the vibe" if I'm interested. What constitutes interest? I guess the opposite of repulsed or turned off by. I go out on first dates with guys that ask me depending they're not a creep or a jerk. But even that is sometimes hard to tell. Still, I keep myself open to dating someone that is interested in me until I realize disinterest in him: I'm board when I'm with him; I don't feel engaged by his thoughts; I don't feel like myself around him; I'm not enjoying dating him, etc. But with all this dating, there is little development of emotional closeness. And for girls, at least, that is where it is all at (after the pecs and tight buttocks, of course.) Realizing this, I wonder why this type of connection isn't happening and feel myself turning off to avid first dating as a means of finding it.

Stop. Stop right there. Don't try to diagnose my illness; the "why" to my failure in finding emotional closeness. I know. You want to figure out why I'm single. We're so vulnerable to judgement as young single adults. There is always a reason, some character flaw that is looked for in diagnosing the cause of one's singleness. Is single and progressing happily as bad as married unhappily? Why is it a free-for-all when it comes to the single? I digress... But do you realize how many married idiots there are out there?!

With hesitation I share that this Utah dating scene is really throwing me off! Granted, I've only lived out of state for 3 years and I should have all this Utah stuff figured out by virtue of my residency but those three years outside of Utah were some of the most positive dating years of my life! They've set the standard for my expectations. It didn't ever seem as difficult to enjoy dating and find sincere, vested interest. Here's what I have to say about dating in Utah: Their are just too darn many of us! Here in Utah there is always somebody smarter, better looking, funnier, better educated, richer and more that none of us feel motivated enough to focus on one. Not me. Not guys either. So, it really takes being in a position where interaction happens consistently be you dating or not. Falling in love doesn't necessarily happen in the rigid convention of dating, although dating plays it's role. We fall in love by continual positive interaction with one another, depending on one another, sharing with one another, trusting one another. Sometimes it takes a common social setting for these things to happen in addition to or outside of dating. Take Angela from The Office. Who would fall in love with her outside of the workplace? Andy and Dwight are forced to be around her and she's kind of all they got... or at least all they focus on. The slams and put downs from her may be enough to discourage a guy from asking for a second date but they aren't enough to make either of them quit their job. This analogy is unintentionally drawing comparisons of me being Angela and "the office" being the small dating pool of Texas or California. I didn't mean to go there. Hahaha! I'm really not as beasty as Angela.

My mom often picks my brain for explanations of the epidemic of singleness that has settled upon a once anxious alter-going demographic. I like to return her questions with something like this: "because we are all emotionally tormented by the failed marriages of our parents." Checkmate. That's not entirely true. There are a lot of complex reasons that giddy, high flying feelings are harder to come by when we're older. One is we are becoming increasingly diverse in our life experiences with time which multiplies our differences and divides the number of things we share in common.

But here's the bottom line:

I realize I just pulled all the romance out of falling in love. It's not all that. I'm just trying to communicate that going out on dates (first, second, or third) really isn't a big deal to me. And that I think falling in love is a long process that takes more than just going on dates. It takes knowing someone for a long time. If a connection is going to happen it will happen, interest will develop, if there is something there. That is why I'm not really anxious to go on dates with guy friends neither do I really oppose it. It is what it is.

And that's what I have to say about that.

From Bondage

2011-01-16T22:32:00.000-08:00

While commemorating the progression of equal rights in the United States, I feel inclined to proffer my readers with excerpts from Abraham Lincoln's debate with Senator Stephen A. Douglas in 1858. Lincoln made a clear stand on the imperative need to end slavery's growth and move toward it's eventual abolition, come what may, in spite of the feeling that there was no good solution. The economy seemed to depend wholly on it's perpetuation.

(And despite what I hear on the radio from the black community- that Martin Luther King, Jr Day is their day- I would remind them that this is my day, too. My values have been championed in this fight, also.)

"Before proceeding, let me say I think I have no prejudice against the Southern people. They are just what we would be in their situation. If slavery did not now exist among them, they would not introduce it. If it did now exist among us, we should not instantly give it up. This I believe of the masses North and South. Doubtless there are individuals on both sides who would not hold slaves under any circumstances; and others who would gladly introduce slavery anew, if it were out of existence. We know that some Southern men do free their slaves, go North, and become tip-top Abolitionists; while some Northern ones go South, and become most cruel slave-masters.

When Southern people tell us they are no more responsible for the origin of slavery than we, I acknowledge the fact. When it is said that the institution exists, and that it is very difficult to get rid of it in any satisfactory way, I can understand and appreciate the saying. I surely will not blame them for not doing what I should not know how to do myself. If all earthly power were given me, I should not know what to do as to the existing institution. My first impulse would be to free all the slaves, and send them to Liberia - to their own native land. But a moment's reflection would convince me that whatever of high hope (as I think there is) there may be in this in the long run, its sudden execution is impossible. If they were all landed there in a day, they would all perish in the next ten days; and there are not surplus shipping and surplus money enough in the world to carry them there in many times ten days. What then? Free them all, and keep them among us as underlings? Is it quite certain that this betters their condition? I think I would not hold one in slavery at any rate; yet the point is not clear enough to me to denounce people upon. What next? Free them, and make them politically and socially our equals? My own feelings will not admit of this; and if mine would, we well know that those of the great mass of white people will not. Whether this feeling accords with justice and sound judgment is not the sole question, if indeed, it is any part of it. A universal feeling, whether well or ill-founded, cannot be safely disregarded. We cannot make them equals. It does seem to me that systems of gradual emancipation might be adopted; but for their tardiness in this, I will not undertake to judge our brethren of the South.

When they remind us of their constitutional rights, I acknowledge them, not grudgingly, but fully and fairly; and I would give them any legislation for the reclaiming of their fugitives, which should not, in its stringency, be more likely to carry a free man into slavery, than our ordinary criminal laws are to hang an innocent one.

But all this, to my judgment, furnishes no more excuse for permitting slavery to go on in our own free territory, than it would for reviving the African slave trade by law. The law which forbids the bringing of slaves from Africa, and that which has so long forbidden the taking of them to Nebraska, can hardly be distinguished on any moral principle; and the repeal of the former could find quite as plausible excuses as that of the latter."

I appreciate that Lincoln puts the morality/character of both the North and South on equal ground. He doesn't create divisions but points out how they are all the same. He isn't apt to judge. Lincoln also respects an ideal even though he can't offer a solution of how to get there. Even though Lincoln can't figure out how to reach the ideal or even hope for the ideal, he recognizes what is able to be done in the moment and offers solutions that are immediately viable.

Golden Globes 2011: Commentary

2011-01-16T19:33:00.000-08:00

Anne Hathaway in this stunning, amber toned Giorgio Armani Privé couture gown gets my vote for Best Dressed. Hands down. Before I loved Anne Hathaway, I loved her style. She is unfailingly edgy in her costume choices but with all her risk taking never seems to make a misstep. The slim-lined silhouette with dramatic shoulders is strong and stunning. The color choice is subdued just enough to convey effortless attention. The embellishment of pailettes and Swarovski crystals elevates her above the rhinestones and sequins of the prom dresses around her. Well played, Anne.

Eva Longoria in Zac Posen models a silhouette that never looses. (Did I mention Zac Posen was my first love of fashion designers?) I love the clean details of this dress from the minimal tucks at the center-front bust to the no-fanfare sleeves and the stiff drape of the train. I always appreciate a knock-out dress that has sleeves because I think it's so much more the victory than to create a strapless gown that looks great. Sleeves present a challenge to the designer. (Most Mormon wedding gowns evidence this... I'm over the t-shirt sleeve, ladies.) Although I always love the sweetheart necklines, I will admit that the tension around her bosoms was distracting.

Jennifer Love Hewitt's ice-blue Ramona Keveza gown was... interesting. I think as an illustration on a page where details are dramatized for effect, the design concept is beautiful. But in real life that crumb-catcher bodice was just too big and distracting. I did, however, love the femininity of the petal skirt and I think the color choice and beaded waistband was a home run.

She may be wearing Zuhair Murad with Louboutin shoes and bedazzled in Winston, but Jennifer Lopez reminded me once again that she is just Jenny from the block... the block where the smell of tacos fills the air and the televisions are tuned in to Mexican soaps. Just like I don't understand Japanese fashion, I don't get Latin fashion. The bejeweled, sheer blanket pulled over her head. Wrong. The ponytail. Wrong. The electric-white color palette. Wrong. Right?

I have a sneaked notion that this dress would have been more striking in person. The photos make it out to look like a regular taffeta dress in cotton-candy (reminiscent of my Sweetheart's Dance dress from high school.) It's actually fabricated in silk faille, one of my favorite fabrics. I would have chosen a more salmon toned pink and given Lea Michele a sleek, fashion forward hair style. (For heaven's sakes, it's an Oscar de la Renta. I don't want to see Prom hair.) Altogether, the dress with it's cascading detail is genius. Great dress. Poor styling.

I always pay attention to Megan Fox because she has ugly thumbs like me. No surprise, this dress is a Giorgio Armani Privé and one of my favorites on the red carpet. The color was again, effortlessly striking. The soft, crepe chiffon skirt facilitated an elegant and feminine silhouette while the chic, clean lines of the bodice made for a stunning, fashion forward look. I loved everything about this dress. And the styling was totally fitting. Well done.

The verdict is still out on Michelle William's printed silk chiffon Valentino gown. I am generally a Valentino die-hard. Always so feminine and ethereal. But I can't throw my favor easily toward a dish water colored dress worn by a fake blonde with a pixie hair cut. Part of me wants to applaud but mostly I want to look down the runway for the next dress.

I don't know who designed this dress but Natalie Portman should have picked someone else. Saying nothing of the oddly appliqued rose placed at the center-front bust, I'm grossed out by the color choice. I get that she's pregnant and Grecian draping is a given when you're baring a bump, but I really thought this dress was hideous and I didn't get the styling at all. Not at all.

Olivia Wilde rocked this look by Marchesa! I think it is very difficult for any adult to pull off a full-skirt ball gown silhouette without looking childish or princess-y. But the black tulle embellished with sparkling gold crystals matured the the look and she came off looking elegant and regal.Scarlett Johansson's dress was reminiscent of old Hollywood to me. The nude color palette was a risk but I think she pulled it off. I love the soft tulle understructure and the vintage beading pattern. Of course, I also love that she was able to wear sleeves without looking matronly or dull.

Weekend 'Feel Good'

2011-01-08T16:20:00.000-08:00

This was filmed backward. I think it's pretty creative. Doesn't it make you so happy?! Have a good weekend!

Kiss Me

2011-01-05T20:08:00.000-08:00

"The waiter yawned in the corner but we both ignored him and stayed and talked some more. And by the time I was wishing I'd washed my hair this morning instead of just bathed and was practically doubled over with gratefulness that I'd at least brushed my teeth, out of the blue, he kissed me. Right in the middle of the Robert E. Lee Hotel restaurant, he kissed me so slowly with an open mouth and every single thing in my body- my skin, my collarbone, the hollow backs of my knees, everything inside of me filled up with light." (The Help, page 171.)

On New Year's Eve, after we had all expended ourselves and had diminished to lumps on the floor and sofa, we got to telling stories. And what the stories came around to was everyone telling about their first kiss. This was hilarious. Out-of-your-mind hilarious. The actual events or details were secondary to the perspective the stories were told from. The boys versus the girls perspective. The predator versus the prey. My favorite one was of Shanna's "almost first kiss": basically, her being set up with a known player and him kissing her neck and ears during a movie. Her describing (with GREAT and PERSUASIVE passion) how wonderful it felt but her refusing to turn and let him kiss her in spite of his vocal pleas "turn your head....*smooch smooch* turn your head." I almust pee'd mahself laughin'. Second favorite story: Kristy dropping off her date at home after a stake dance and while in his driveway, she leans her seat back a little while they're talking. Suddenly, he came in to kiss her and in sudden expectation she inhaled deeply.... and then BLACKED OUT...but still woke up to him yet kissing her and just went along with it. To this day, he still doesn't know that Kristy was blacked out for a good portion of that 'make-out.' And can you believe one in the party had never kissed?! Breaks my heart! I love remembering the experience of a first kiss... or just a really good, memorable one. The first time Aaron kissed me, he dove in for it from at least 3 feet away and we knocked foreheads...then just started laughing. With my first boyfriend, Dan the Democrat (as my family referred to him), it was on the steps of the Maeser Building late at night in July. I remember when he pulled away, fireworks literally went off in the sky. (It was the night before Pioneer Day, but I still thought that was a awesome. Dumb Charlotte.) And my first kiss ever? Well, that is to be remembered:

April 20, 2000 (Thursday)
Here it is, the page I've wanted to write about my whole life. Today is the day I gave up my title to VL. And kissing is all the fireworks I've heard it to be. But it wasn't Jordan, not even Matt... Lane Olsen... I guess I'll tell how it happened. Actually, it was supposed to be last night at 10pm before I was officially 17 because I always wanted my first kiss to be when I was 16. I didn't go over because I thought he was kidding. Today in A Capella he swore he waited for me until 10:45pm and he said he was upset I stood him up. So, of course I rescheduled for tonight and when I went over there I didn't know what to expect. Obviously, he was serious. We walked over to Candice's and he asked me how I wanted it and if I had a special spot picked out. I said I was new at this and it was all him. We got all the way up to Candice's doorstep and decided it was just way to weird to kiss there so we backtracked and went off in the corner of her front yard. It took a while because I kept laughing and he said to just count to 10 and not laugh because then he would lose it. So, I said he just had to hurry and kiss me while I wasn't laughing. I laughed and stopped and he came closer and closer to me. Then, all of a sudden I was kissing him and my eyes were closed. I don't remember closing them or even leaning into the kiss. Well, it lasted for about a count of three and when he pulled away I felt somewhere between conscienceness and unawareness... like fireworks. I don't remember anything said at Candice's. I tried so hard to pay attention but I was paralyzed and couldn't think. I'm sure he noticed but he expected it. Candice didn't question me or us either; which was nice. Well, I guess it's done. I have given my Virgin lips away.

(And let me emphasize how completely out of it I was, I don't think an overdose on pain killers could have made me as loopy and incoherent as I was that night. Oh my. It was really something for me.)

=)

A Good Day & A New Year

2011-01-02T20:42:00.000-08:00

I had an excellent Sunday. I slept in way too late, felt exceptionally attractive after getting ready for church, enjoyed church, and spent the whole rest of my day reading a book my mom recommended, The Help. I am guessing it's a problem that when I feel "unpretty" or have "the fat uglies," as Marsha Green used to call them, I am generally sour for the day. I don't socialize and I'm negative. Perhaps God knew this when he blessed me with a reasonably thin body. I don't think I'd do well with a weight problem... which makes me respect those that struggle with fatness. I'm getting off topic. I really enjoyed church today. Nate Justis gave the lesson and I always feel he puts exceptional effort into preparing for his lessons. It's not that he presents a lot of facts or offers thoughts creatively, I think it's simply that he sincerely has a deep desire to have the Holy Ghost present and he puts a lot of effort into making that happen. I appreciate that. I was asked to take a few minutes and share how Christ has brought light into my life. I thought over it a bit and thumbed through my scriptures. When the time came for me to deliver, I stood up and, without feeling the least bit nervous, kind of stumbled over some thoughts and half-baked enlightened realizations. I don't think it made a lick of sense. It's disappointing to me because I used to be a good speaker. I remember when I was younger and even in high school the amount of preparation I put into talks or lessons. Even when I lived in Texas and taught Relief Society, I always felt I did a really good job. I don't know what changed, but I think I'm a horrible speaker now. It is true that I don't prepare like I used to. But I also believe that I feel less motivated and less inspired to do so than I used to. Another example of my failings is this: My niece, Chloe, asked me to speak at her baptism last week. What an honor! Of all the aunts and uncles and grandparents and parents, she picked me! But like a moron, I don't really prepare anything. I think about it while I'm driving through a snowstorm to get down to Orem. After 2 1/2 hours on I-15, I arrive at the church 30 minutes early. Chloe greets me with a hug. I ask her if she has a piece of paper and a pen because I need to write down a talk to give. Anxious to help, she reaches under her chair and from out of her puffy, pink, down coat pulls out a folded up piece of computer paper. Pleased with herself, she informs she brought it in case she got board she'd have something to draw on. Ooooh, that warmed my heart! The foresight! I scribble some notes down and the same scenario happens: It's my turn to deliver and I stumble over a few thoughts and offer up lack-luster verbiage to express my testimony in a shaky voice. I'm a little ashamed of myself.

I think in general conversation, if I admitted that I felt like my testimony was dull or that I didn't feel the fire I used to, I'd be hushed and reassured that it wasn't the case. But here, on the blog, nobody has the opportunity to challenge or quiet me. So, I hereby declare that I'm a little weaker in spirit than I used to be. Which is the perfect segue into my next thought....

Don't you hate resolutions? "The start of a new year is the traditional time for us to take stock of our lives and see where we are going measured against the backdrop of where we have been. However, I don't want to talk to you about New Year's resolutions per se because you only made five of them and you have already broken four. I give that remaining one about another week." (Spoken like a true Elder Holland.) Definitive, concrete, and measurable resolutions are easy. I often watch Biggest Loser and am impressed by the transformation people make by losing weight. Wouldn't it be neat if we could witness such transformations of our soul? My sister refers to her "evil self" as Carnal Katie. So, what if a Carnal Katie could loose X amount of "evil"? What would the exercises entail? How often would she "weigh in"? And at the end of 2011, how could she judge her progress? It kind of seems like a fun idea. Instead of grueling work-outs in the gym, I think we'd have tiring exercises of service... sometimes that almost made you feel bitter because you were sacrificing so much. Anywho, I decided against writing a list of resolutions because the goals I have are already my goals anyway. The only thing I am committing to is taking stock of my heart everyday by meaningfully reviewing "the 20" by Elder Busche I recently posted. I think that if I focus on having the spirit everyday as though it were my soul focus of 2011, that everything else will come easier... the exercising, the ambition, the kindness, etc.

(Just a note, my New Years Eve was so fun, I'm yet sore from dancing so much. Oh my word, I literally danced holes in my socks.)

The Best of 2010

2010-12-30T23:06:00.000-08:00

This is simply a list of some of the best things in my life in 2010. Just some.

1.)Beating this joker in the Fiesta Days 10K... and beating another joker in the Cinco de Mayo 5K. Highlight, indeed, Carlile.

2.) FIDM graduation! and the cute little lady who made it possible. I'll owe Chiki for the rest of my life.3.) Newport Beach Temple and June 18th, 2010.

4.) A shopping spree at Buckle and all the jeans that I bought. They fit from January to June until my thighs wouldn't fit in the pant legs. But I'm almost back to pre-marathon body.

5.) A new job and Liz Burks- one of the funniest people I've ever known... and Tanya Copeland; she's pretty funny, too.

6.) Red hair. I like having red hair.

7.) Friends... where do I start and end? I have great friends.

8.) Olympus Vista, the roof over my head.

9.) BYU Season Tickets. And then a seat in a box suite for the Utah game... even though we lost.

10.) My Subaru and that I own a car. Life would be so much more complicated without one.

11.) Gianna Jessen and her testimony against abortion. That was a memorable part of this year.

12.) Marcel the Shell. He's soooo cute.

13.) Dr. Seamons, the best marriage and family therapist in the world- hands down.

14.) Elder F. Enzio Busche and these inspiring words:

The first time I heard this, I was so impressed with these thoughts, I decided to memorize them. Beginning February 2nd, I memorized one each week. I'd recite them over in my mind while I trained for St. George. They are very powerful to think about and analyze.

15.) My roommate, Jessi Venable, has been practicing her photography and took me out to the salt flats to take pictures of me. It was fun... I didn't really expect it to be. And the pictures turned out pretty nice! See here: http://chineapplepunks.blogspot.com/2010/12/charlotte.html This was a highlight.

16.) So, I had a short relationship with a brawny guy that had curly, longish hair and lived in the mountains. Even though it had a terrible end- that included him calling me a "whited sepulchre"- it was a romantic to be with a legit mountain man that had curly, longish hair.

17.) Indoor Soccer. I miss high school soccer a lot. There is nothing like daily practice, real jerseys, and competitive games. But playing indoor soccer was a lot of fun this summer. I'm always grateful to have athleticism and I count my freedom to participate in sports as one of the greatest blessings about being a woman living in the Unites States of America.

18.) Preparing for a marathon.

19.) Running a marathon.

20.) My family.

What I Don't Want

2010-12-28T21:48:00.000-08:00

What I don't want is an email from my sister that says, "Char, I thought of you when I saw this." And then a link to the following youtube video:

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-22T23:34:00.000-08:00

It's almost Christmas! To get in the spirit, my roommate got tickets to the annual Christmas Carol Service put on by the Choir of the Cathedral of the Madeleine at... The Cathedral of the Madeleine. It was incredible! Beside the beautiful singing of Gregorian chant in a visually astounding building, I really enjoyed the perspective of the program... that being a Catholic perspective. It's neat for me to see other faiths in their own element- running the show, providing the dialogue, creating the atmosphere. And then just to observe and take it in- To notice what they value and how they value it. For example, when someone was closing their remarks, they'd rehearse words that everyone recognized and all would join in unison "Praise be to God" in the same way Mormons say "Amen" together. I loved listening to the Blessing the Bishop left on the congregation. His words were so well put together and concise. I know it is not the practice of Mormons to prepare prayers or rehearse them, but there is something to be said about a premeditated prayer with thoughts that have been developed rather than just a lazy, impulse-of-the-moment prayer. This picture is far better than what we took:

In other news, I replaced my own brake pads tonight. Pretty amazing, right? I have a brother who works for Napa Auto Parts and was able to get the brake pads at wholesale price. Another brother volunteered to supervise and direct me in the undertaking. By the time I was done, my hands were black with grease and my arms were tired. I was delighted by how dirty I got. It's funny how pleased I felt with myself when I finished. I tried to pin point the source of so much self satisfaction. It wasn't that I was proud I had figured something out... because my brother told me what to do. I wasn't relieved the repair was done because it wasn't really weighing on me. I can only explain that I felt like I conquered 'the Man.' I didn't pay a ton of money. And I wasn't dependent on someone else for this repair any longer. I think I felt satisfied because I had become more self sufficient. Self sufficiency is a liberating feeling.
I started running again last week. Everyone I know goes to the gym but I don't have a gym pass and I'm almost determined to keep it that way. I'm sure I would enjoy it. I'm sure I would use it. But I don't think it's necessary. Beside, I'd rather develop a habit of working out that doesn't depend on a gym. I have a decent ab work-out routine and I run. I'm looking forward to spring racing... curious to see what I could get my 5K down to. Sub 20? I think I can do it.

Work is great. I can't say enough how much I'm loving my job. It's such a contrast to the environment I was working in at Kiyonna. I love my responsibilities and independence. But what I love most is the people I work with. Within my working space are six other girls close to my age with similar backgrounds and experience. They all share my sense of humour and it feels like we goof off most the day. I act as goofy around them as I do with my family and feel as open with them as I do with any of my best friends. It's also nice to be around people who appreciate what you appreciate and find interest in what you find interest in. Just yesterday, one of the girls lamented that she was having a hard time finding an inexpensive, black party dress that she liked online. Immediately, there were 6 girls hitting their favorite websites and offering her plenty of options. It just warmed my heart to see that. They are all unfailing interested in my dating life and encourage me on in whatever I'm involved in. I'm really lucky to have such a wonderful group of girls to spend my days with.

Merry Christmas! I love you, ALL!

Harry and Bess

2010-12-03T23:16:00.001-08:00

I've been wanting to post this for months but have been soooo busy. (One thing I'm really looking forward to about married life is a less rigorous social calender... not to say I'm a social butterfly but as a young single adult, I feel obligated to be out meeting and mingling.) Anyway, while I was training for my marathon, I listened to David McCullough's Truman on my ipod. Which is where I found this love letter Harry wrote to Bess in... 1911?

"You know, were I an Italian or a poet I would commence and muse all the luscious language of two continents. I am not either but only a kind of good for nothing American farmer. I've always had a sneaked notion that someday maybe I'd amount to something. I doubt it now, though, like everything. It is a family failing of ours to be poor fin and seers. I am blessed that way. Still, that
doesn't keep me from having always thought that you were all that a girl could be possibly and impossibly. You may not have guessed it but I've been crazy about you ever since we went to Sunday school together. But I never had the nerve to think you'd even look at me. You said you were tired of these kind of stories in books so I'm trying one from real life. I guess it sounds funny to you but you must bare in mind that this is my first experience in this line and
also it is very real to me."

He goes on to propose but a few weeks later she calls and rejects him. He responded with the following letter.

"You know that you turned me down so easy that I am almost happy anyway. I never was fool enough to think that a girl like you could ever care for a fellow like me. But I couldn't help telling you how I felt. I have always wanted you to have some fine, rich looking man. But I know that if ever I got the chance I'd tell you how I felt even if I didn't even get to say another word to you. What makes me feel good is that you are good enough to answer me seriously and not make fun of me anyway. You know when a fellow tells a girl all his heart and she makes a joke of it I suppose it would be the awfullest feeling in the world. You see, I never had any desire to say such things to anyone else. All my girlfriends think I am a cheerful idiot and a confirmed old bach. They really don't know the reason nor ever will. I've been so afraid you were not even going to let me be your good friend. To be even in that class is something. You may think I'll get over it, as all boys do. I guess I am something of a freak myself. I really never had any desire to make love to a girl just for the fun of it and you have always been the reason. I have never met a girl in my life that you are not the first to be compared to her to see wherein she was lacking, and she always was. Please don't think I am talking nonsense or bosh. For if ever I told the truth I am telling it now. And I'll never tell such things to anyone else or bother you with them again. I have always been more idealist than practical anyway, so I never really expected any reward for loving you. I shall always hope though."

I don't think this is the most spectacularly written, flowery love letter I've ever read but the manner in which he puts himself on the line is to be admired. What a compliment to be proffered love out of someone's vulnerability and weakness. I wish we all felt that natural desperation to compliment someone we love by revealing our affection, in spite of how they may or may not feel about us. But as I determined in the post about divorce, we're all far to apt to protect ourselves and our feelings that we scarcely bare ourselves the way Truman did in this letter.

On another note, I am far to attracted to guys with verbal ability. Time and time again I hear Rosie O'Donnell's voice from Sleepless in Seattle loathe, "Verbal ability is highly over-rated in a man and our pathetic need for it is what gets us into so much trouble in the first place." I hope I find an expressive man. That's all I'm saying. I wonder what my chances are.

It's Over

2010-11-06T17:58:00.001-07:00

Well, the illness is over. And what does my doctor think it was caused by? My running. It's sure ironic that I always claim running as my recreational sport of choice because I can afford it. But since training for this marathon and then recovering from it, the cost has been great. I've missed a total of 8 days of work and that is a lot in opportunity cost. Plus the medical bills I've incurred. (My insurance is not effective for two more weeks.) I know that kidney stones are a common ailment, and really aren't a horrible disease, but this experience pressed on me a few things.

On my final drive to the ER, in the worst agony I've ever felt, I remember having the thought, Christ has felt this and more. It seemed impossible that anyone could endure more agony than I was in and for a longer time than I did. I know it's impossible to comprehend Gethsemane, but I have been made more humble and more grateful for Christ because of the suffering- as small as it was- that I felt.

On my way driving to the BYU game today, a man came on the radio inviting everyone to a benefit dinner on behalf of his sister, a single mother of one, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and has been unable to work for three months. My eyes filled up with tears thinking about her. It was completely miserable and stressful not being able to work for just one week, and I only have myself to take care of. I hated calling in and explaining what my status was. I hated depending on people to drive me places because I couldn't while I was on pain killers. I hated trying to figure out what was wrong with me. I hated breaking social engagements because I didn't feel well. I can't imagine living like that. I can't imagine living while waiting to die like that. So, I guess being sick endowed me with greater empathy.

I also was really impressed by my friends and their concern for me. I hid from my roommates a lot because I don't like crying in front of people. But I received so many texts from guys offering to give me a blessing or do anything for me. It reminded me how impressive the guys around me are. I don't think I realize it often enough.

Alright, I'm off to a movie. I think I'm done posting about me and my kidney stones.

Utah vs BYU: A Parent's Dilemma (60 sec.)

2010-11-02T20:26:00.000-07:00

...Flomax for Charlotte!

2010-11-02T19:09:00.000-07:00

I take back everything I said about not needing to go to the ER. Oh, blessed doctors! Oh, blessed hospitals! and CT scanners! and drugs! After blogging yesterday's post, I had another bout of cramping in the lower right quadrant of my abdomen that brought me to tears. It passed after a little over an hour and, feeling a bit courageous, I made plans to go to work the next morning. (My superior is in China visiting our factories this week and I am left to get all my Fall 2011 styles ready for photo shoot in less than two weeks.) This is how last night went:

12:30am - Woke up to severe pain that was sharp and stabbing, not like the cramping I had previously experienced. Determined that this was a cramp and walking it out would help, I paced my floor, though doubled over. I only slightly tried to stifle my moaning realizing that my poor, sleeping roommate might be frightened to hear it. After twenty minutes, the pain subsides and I go back to bed.

3:00am - Woke up from a dream that I was in a street fight and getting stabbed in the stomach with a switch blade. Again, I tried to stand up and walk it out but gave up fairly quickly and opted to writhe in pain on my bed for ten minutes. Labored breathing and gasping.

4:00am - Woke up again to the same stabbing pain and cramping. Walked around my room. Lied down on my floor. Rolled around on my floor holding my stomach and moaning.

6:00am - Woke up to dulled pain. Realized I couldn't go into work and that something really was wrong... not imaginary wrong, like I had previously considered.

7:00am - Drove back to the ER and waited in the parking lot. No pain. I didn't want to check in feeling well, so I went back home and lied down in bed.

11:00am - Woke up to dull pain... that quickly developed into a HELL I have never felt before. I tried to quickly dress myself (which was difficult because I couldn't straighten my body out... or wouldn't, rather.) I got in my car and the pain overcame me. I started sobbing as I pulled out. Then I started shaking... and sweating. Every stop light felt like the worst punishment imaginable. Driving. Sobbing. Screaming. Dry heaving. I didn't think I could make it. I considered pulling over and flagging someone down to drive me the rest of the way. As I eyed places on the curb to stop, I calculated how all I needed to do was pull the door handle and let my weight fall against the door. I would fall onto the pavement and someone was bound to stop and get me to the hospital. But then doing so might increase the time before I got morphine and so I drove on in utter agony. I made it through the last stop light to the hospital and muttering out prayers in between my gasps and screams, I parked the car.

Lucky for me, a life flight was landing just as I approached the doors and attention in the waiting room was diverted from my shameless display of tears. I tried so hard to keep myself together while I checked in but I made it only two or three sentences before breaking into sobs while apologizing profusely for my incoherence.

On and on, they rushed me through the admittance process. The poor little tech who had to get my vitals deserves a metal. "So...what's going on?" "BUHUHUHUHUH... I... I... BUHUHUH..." I was immediately given an IV by my RN. The doctor came in and talked to me, gave me her best guess of what was going on and sent me off to get a CT scan. When the report came back, she was right. I have.....

KIDNEY STONES!

What the what?! On my right is a 5mm stone that has dropped from my kidney (but not passed.) On my left is a 2mm stone that has not dropped from my kidney yet. According to Dr. Anctil, 5mm is the "cut-off size" that may or may not pass. The plan is if I haven't passed it by Thursday morning, they'll take it by surgery/procedure on Friday. For now, I'm on Lortab for pain, an anti-nausea med, and... wait for it... Flomax?! Don't be concerned that Flomax is for men with enlarged prostates. (And, be impressed, I wrote this whole post under the influence of Lortab... I sure hope it makes sense.)

ER for Charlotte?

2010-11-01T13:19:00.000-07:00

October 31st: I spent the night in the ER. I got off the phone with a friend at 11:00pm feeling perfectly fine and went up to my room to get ready for bed. Suddenly, I gripped my stomach... Something hurt! I kind of just stared at the floor for a minute waiting for it to pass but it didn't go away; it got much worse! So bad was the pain, it felt like I was going to throw up. I went into the bathroom and started dry heaving. Then I tried to lay down. The pain was excruciating. Over the next two hours I threw up six times. Wanting to die, I called my mom and asked her what was going on (like she would know.) I should have known she'd freak out. She sent me to the ER against my will. Nothing came of it except some incredible anti-nausea meds that stopped the vomiting and morphine for the pain.... and two full bags of fluid via an IV drip. I was home by 6:00am and I feel like a moron for going to the ER. Last time I was at the ER was my last day in Austin for cellulitits in my foot. I wish I had pictures. My foot swelled up so big I couldn't fit a shoe on it. I had floated the San Marcos river during flood season and gotten bit by a bug. The open skin from the bug bite exposed me to standing water that infected my foot. My foot literally had the consistency and behavior of Jello. It was pretty entertaining. I drove the whole way to California with my foot on the dash.

Barbara Boxer Compares Abortion to Viagra - Video 12/08/09

2010-10-30T15:02:00.000-07:00

Must Post

2010-10-10T00:45:00.000-07:00

St. George Marathon IN WORDS

2010-10-09T17:00:00.000-07:00

THE LONG VERSION:

At the Expo: Pointing out the finish- my mission. =)

The Start Line: Lined with flags and bright lights, it was an exhilarating scene!

Here is the link to the "professional" marathon pictures: http://www.marathonfoto.com/ (Lundell: 5912) Note: The pictures taken by my sweet family are in the previous blog post.

It wasn’t at all as hard as I thought it would be. It wasn’t miserable. It wasn’t defeating. I loved it. I loved the WHOLE experience and I felt great for the entirety of the race.

IN THE BEGINNING:

My sister-in-law's family owns a condo down in St. George and we were lucky enough to have it as the pow-wow location for the weekend. Thursday night, Whitney and Eric headed down from Logan, stopped in Ogden and picked up Tim, stopped in Salt Lake and picked up me, and then we crashed at Mom's house in Spanish Fork. We woke up early Friday morning and headed down to St. George. Katie and Dave left from California around the same time (sort of...well, actually, hours later.) I felt so sick for the bulk of the day. I was as nervous as could be. Tim went down to the expo with me to pick-up my bib and race info. Then we headed to the grocery store so I could make dinner for my little band of support. We ate at 4:30... nice and early. Of course, anyone who has followed my training knows how uncooperative my insides can be when it comes to running. (Abinadi, I'm sorry. It's part of the story. I have to add it.) I tried to go to bed at 10:30 but honestly, I hardly slept all night. I remember looking at my phone at 1:00, then again at 2:00, and I got out of bed at 3:30 to catch the 4:00 bus. (Early riders were put in a drawing for a lot of prizes of which I didn't win one.)

ON THE BUS:

Once I got on the bus, I struggled to force a banana down. I was so nervous! On the way up, I sat by a cute runner who, although didn't look intimidating at all and was 41, ended up finishing the race in 3:18:00 despite her claimed "poor training." She was so excited for me and laughed at how nervous I was as she watched me give up trying to tie my shoes because my hands were shaking too much to perform the simple task. I couldn't to it! I remember in high school lining up on the track line and feeling that serge of nervousness waiting for the gun to go off. This was 100 times worse. But in high school, the nerves were all about the competition. With this, it was more about what I knew I was going to go through physcially, I guess. Perhaps I was a little scared I wouldn't finish but mostly I was just nervous about the physical aspect- what I would endure. I think I waited up at the start line for two hours but it felt like no time at all. I chatted with runners about training and prepared for the race by vasolining up my thighs, arms, etc. I also tried, unsuccessfully, to snack a bit. Happily, I ran into Chris, who was mostly responsible for getting me into this pickle called a marathon. I had texted him in March after my first 2 mile run and reported my progress that whole month. So, it was nice to see him at the start line. I found my roommate Jessi just 15 minutes before the gun. She was a great distraction because from the moment I met up with her, my nervousness left. I'm not sure why, but I was just really comforted to have her with me.

THE RACE:

The gun went off and Jess and I decided to strip off our "warm" clothes. Typically, the temperature is 45 degrees up at the start line but this year was it was the warmest in the history of the race. It couldn't have been less than 55 up at the start and was pushing 80 at the finish line. Jessi and I hugged good-bye and suddenly I was through the chute and running. I had been counseled by veteran runners to hold back for the first 6 miles and after that, feel free to push the pace. Knowing there was a long hill at mile 7, I thought I would take it easy and not try to push a pace until after I survived the formidable hill I had been warned of. It was funny to notice runners around me who were wheezing only 2 miles in. I couldn't believe it. Did they know this was a marathon? I didn't break a sweat or feel any elevated breathing until the hill. I was intensely focused on relaxing and taking it slow because as good as I may feel for 10 miles, when mile 15 comes around, pain and discomfort tend to surface no matter what. Beside that, I had never, in my long runs, ever made it past 15 miles without hitting a wall and pretty much falling apart in hunger, fatigue or pain. So, really, all I could hope for was only 11 miles of pain and discomfort and possibly walking. Knowing that the temperature was predicted to be high, I was diligent about taking fluid at every aid station. Usually, I took both Gatorade and water. Ironically, Jessi and I found ourselves falling into pace with each other by mile 3 or 4. Then came Veyo, that formidable hill. Yes, it was difficult. My thighs felt it and my breathing became labored for the first time. Once past the hill it took my legs about a mile to recover. I was able to push into a good pace by mile 9 and in my mind, the race was just beginning. These next miles were miles of maintaining a slightly uncomfortable pace. I hit the half point and was pleased with how well I felt. Throughout the course of the race I took three gels, even though I HATE them SOOOO much. I think they really helped. I came to mile 16 feeling as good as ever. My eyes searched the patch of spectators in this designated cheering zone for Tim and Dave. Then, immediately to my left came a shout from my brother Eric. To my surprise, Whitney, Eric, Tim, Dave, and Katie had come up to mile 16 to cheer for me! It's so energizing to have someone there yelling for you. Beside that, I couldn't believe how good I felt. (I keep saying that.) I practically became giddy. Once you get to only having 10 miles left, things are not so intimidating. Almost anyone can run 10 miles…. And well, that’s all I had left and the only thing I was feeling was generalized fatigue in my legs (but nothing overwhelming) and some developing aching in my ankles. I felt great! That giddiness carried me though the next four miles. I was upbeat and encouraging those around me. We watched runners start dropping like flies along a hill at mile 18. People were stretching, dry heaving, or walking. Jess and I pushed on all the way to the top of the hill. There was a man that had set up a mister by the side of the road with pvc pipe and his hose. It felt DIVINE! Suddenly, I was at mile 20 and I felt like the “race” hadn’t really started yet… rather, the hard part I was expecting hadn’t started yet… And now, I only had a 10K left! At this point, several steep downhill segments of road were traversed. It’s weird having legs too tired to take advantage of a good downhill stride. I’d take downhill over uphill any day but these hills were really steep and they woke up an ache in my ankles that had been developing since mile 15. (No knee pain, though.) It was kind of tiring putting on the brakes to prevent me from pounding down the hill without any control. At mile 21-22 I saw my family again. There was Tim and Dave hooting and hollering for me. Only 4 miles left. The expectation of a finish line made things begin to feel really drawn out. Yes, I was feeling tired at this point. 3 miles left. I came down a hill and rounded a bend to see St. George below. I couldn’t believe the race was pretty much run. If I walked all the way to the finish line, I would still make decent time. 2.5 miles left. I see my family spread out along SR-18 right as the crowds get thick. There was Whitney in the distance holding up that sign as high as she could with those "go-go-gadget arms." =) Eric ran beside me for 200 yards or so telling me how impressed he was and that I looked strong. My mom called out, "I love you!" ...multiple times. It was and is really sweet to feel so much support from everyone. At this point, Jess starts pushing the pace up. It scares me. The last thing I want to do is push for a mile and have to walk the finish line because of fatigue. I notice my legs are REALLY tired. As I try to push the pace more I discover how tired they actually are. They won’t go faster. Finally, mile marker 25. Only 1.2 to go. Really? I just ran 25 miles? I’m still running? I’m not crying or whimpering? I can actually smile. I’m running through the city center now, my eyes searching for the finish line but I can’t find it. How many turns do I have left? I’m passing runners that are walking and getting passed by runners who have kick left. I have no kick. I’m content to steadily cross the line at my pace. A high school band is situated on the corner. I feel a wave of energy from the loud music and cheering. I smile and pick up my pace, round the corner and see it. Four blocks away is the finish line. There on the left side of the road is my family, again. Screaming and cheering in the “Make It Work” t-shirts Katie made. Katie steps out from the crowd. She’s teary-eyed and telling me how proud she is of me. She strides with me for a few paces as she encourages me on. Just me and the finish line now. I enter the finishing chute. The crowd is very loud. I start clapping and I’m smiling. I didn’t think I’d be smiling. I thought I’d be miserable. I’m near giggling. I hear the announcer call my name. I finish in 4:06:48, a 9:25 mile pace. I’m satisfied. Jess and I walk through the misters. I’m so completely satisfied and my expectations were surpassed one-hundred fold. We are medaled with a finisher’s medal. I was alive and walking. I didn’t collapse. I couldn't believe it! I ran a marathon and I enjoyed myself the whole time! Can't wait to do it again!

St. George Marathon IN PICTURES

2010-10-09T14:52:00.000-07:00

PICTURE STORY:

My cute sister made shirts for everyone bearing the words, "Make it Work." Of course, those are Tim Gunn's words to designers in crunch time. (She actually put Tim Gunn's face on the back of the shirts too!) I was lucky to have so many of my family members there to cheer me on! This was taken at mile 16 (I think) as they stood ready and waiting to cheer me on.

Tim recently bought a nice road bike and takes every opportunity to ride it. Dave and Tim rode to different parts of the race from mile 16 to the end to give me a shout of encouragement.

Where am I? Not there yet...

They almost missed me. Here I am at mile 16 (I think) feeling so good! I couldn't believe how fresh I still felt. I was so grateful that my roommate, Jessi, and I ended up running almost the ENTIRE race together. I don't really know what I'm doing in this picture...

Jessi wanted to leave her gel pack with my family, so here I am tossing it back.

Here are Whitney and Eric holding up the sign Katie made. (Katie has great poster-making skills because she was a cheerleader at SFHS and got lots of practice mass producing little signs like these.) Love the poster! Thanks, Katie!

Here are the happy bikers showing off their very expensive bikes.... I want one.

This picture is great; I'm running with only a few blocks left to go. Katie finds me, and calls out to me, and then runs out to me. When I meet her eyes, I can see she is crying. Oh, Kathryn. Those little pregnancy hormones are really getting the best of you. She ran right out into the street and started running with me for a few strides. ...She tried to hold my hand but I wasn't having it. It's funny how when I passed my mom at mile 24ish, her cheers were sandwiched between, "I love you!" Katie's pep talk was very similar. It was cute. She's so much more nurturing than I am. That's why she's married and pregnant and I'm home alone blogging.

As I passed my family by, I threw my arms up and gave the "Finals Cheer" (only my immediate family knows what that sounds like.) I can't believe I had the energy or frame of mind to do that. I thought I would be feeling so much different emotionally than what I actually ended up feeling.

I had to post this picture of Katie in her custom-made shirt. There's a little baby monkey on her belly with the words, "Go, Aunt Charlotte!" around it.

Since there are already pictures of me in spandex up, I might was well finish up with some close-ups of my no-makeup face. So beautiful.

This is me thinking, "Wow... that was seriously fun!" I really can't believe how much I enjoyed that race. But, I'll get to that later.

Give me your fruit snacks

2010-09-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

The best part of last week: Boyz II Men.

I was excited to go this concert but I didn't know how much screaming, dancing, and, frankly, acting like a teenage girl there would be. We pushed our way to the front and yes, I caught a rose. Yes, Shawn held my hand while singing... was it I'll Make Love To You?! *BUTTERFLIES!* I remember one evening in September 1990, Katie and Christina got to go to the New Kids On The Block concert and I had to stay home because I was "too little," they told me. I remember standing at the bay window watching the van back out of the driveway without me. I was stuck home with the boys. All that pain has finally been repaid. Hahaha! In all honesty, I was blown away with how good they still sound. They even pulled out some sweet dance moves. (I did take pictures but they are on my friends camera. I'll post them as soon as I get them.)

Next topic: 20 Miles

Can you believe I ran 20 miles yesterday? I slept like a rock last night but I have no soreness or stiffness today. That is amazing to me. I was dreading this run all Thursday and Friday. I knew I had to do it though so I could mentally find confidence when I was actually racing that I have covered at least a 20 mile distance. Not willing to try a different route in Salt Lake, I came down to Provo Canyon and went out and back (base to Vivian) twice. My first 12 miles were magic. I felt awesome; no fatigue, no tightness, no problems. But after 12, I started feeling a little tired. By mile 15, I was begging myself not to stop and trying whatever motivational techniques I could to keep going. At mile 17, I hit a wall of unforeseen strength. My legs felt like iron and my back was starting to cramp up. I felt my calves getting tight, like someone was pulling a rope around them. And a new sensation, I was ravishing hungry. So crazy hungry I couldn't believe it! I considered stopping mothers pushing strollers on the trail and demanding fruit snacks or crackers. Honestly, that went through my head as a real solution several times. I ran past campsites and thought about asking for some marshmallows... or a brisket sandwich. Anything!! But it wasn't to be. I basically staggered through the last three miles to the finish. However, the victory is that when I got out of bed this morning, I felt great! I still don't know how I'm going to run 26.2. I feel so under-prepared. I've been going through soooo much transition lately and maintaining my prescribed mileage hasn't happened. I'm grateful my roommate is running the race because it has kept me motivated.

Final words:

Life feels like a flurry of commotion these days. Work is so incredibly busy as we're developing our Fall 2011 collection. Everything is so fast paced! Some days I feel like my head is spinning. Between work, running, and trying to settle into my new place, I'm fairly exhausted. I understand better all the time what Jacob felt when he said, "our lives passed away like as it were a dream unto us." I was lying in bed last night thinking about the stages of my adult life. For me, each chapter has had a definitive beginning and end because I've moved so much. I thought about relationships at BYU and how dramatic those always felt. I remembered vividly my first few weeks in Texas (I was so high on expectation)... and then how it all happened that "the bottom fell out" and I left Texas. I remembered first arriving in California and the first time I met people who came to be very close friends. I recalled my first impressions and compared those impressions against what those people are to me today. And so now, as I begin a new chapter, I'm... "with high hopes and no predictions." I'm just taking in how the chapter is starting and knowing that in a few years, I'll look back and remember everything I'm feeling now. And perhaps, as I do now, I'll feel a little desirous to feel those things I once felt. New starts always feel good... and I've never been starting with so much behind me.

I need your weakness

2010-09-05T19:57:00.000-07:00

The disadvantage of moving from my mom's is that I don't really need to get everything moved at once. I can just kind of move things here and there upon my convenience and need. It has, therefore, become a very long and drawn out process. On Saturday, my mom drove up to Salt Lake with me to take up a load of stuff and as we drove we got talking about politics. I've been inspired by David McCullough's historiography on President Truman with a lot of "deep thoughts" about the state of our nation and how things have changed since Truman's days. Even in my lifetime, I've seen a lot of change as I was politically aware at a very young age. At five years old, I remember sitting at the table listening to my uncles praise Reagan. I remember, at age ten, watching my mom cry when Clinton won the election. And I don't think there was a time I saw my grandpa without hearing at least one or two comments about things in the news. (And ironically, my Grandpa Gray died on the 4th of July, just like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, which I think was a tribute to my Grandpa's love of country.) In any case, I was commenting to my mom about the circumstances that led to the decision to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima in World War II. Basically, that I don't believe it would have happened had FDR not passed away and Truman been sitting in his place. From the moment that Stimson educated Truman on the project, I don't believe Truman ever considered not using it. Understandably, Truman was in a tough spot as people were terrified that the death of FDR meant they would lose the war. In their eyes, Truman was a nobody before he was Vice President, and he certainly wasn't qualified to be the President, especially in a time of war. I think Truman felt incredible pressure and anxiety about the war and when Stimson showed him a sure way out, he wouldn't have not taken it. Would FDR have made the same choice? My mom followed up my thoughts with this really insightful comment:
"Sometimes people are needed for there weaknesses."

In this case, Truman's weakness was his insecurity and desperation where FDR's confidence and support may have prevented him from using the bomb. (Please note, I'm not educated on the options available beside the use of the atomic bomb. I'm not settled that it was entirely necessary. However, I guess that it was.)

I think about Abraham Lincoln. A few years ago, as I was struggling through a bout of depression, my friend, Chris, shared an article with me on Lincoln titled "Lincoln's Great Depression." The message of the article is summarized:

"Abraham Lincoln fought clinical depression all his life, and if he were alive
today, his condition would be treated as a 'character issue'-- that is, as a
political liability. His condition was indeed a character issues: it gave
him the tools to save the nation."

(For the full text, CLICK HERE.) I'm sure there are many great, insightful examples I could follow-up with of people who had great weaknesses but those weaknesses proved to be the cause of their triumph, but it's late and my head is turning off. So, I'll leave it to you to think of examples and share them.

WaHOOooo for Labor Day! I love that I don't have to work tomorrow. And, for those of you who don't know what Labor Day is all about, CLICK HERE.

I'ma Workin' Girl

2010-08-31T21:08:00.000-07:00

I suppose I should say a bit about my new job. I hesitated to give any commentary too soon, wanting to get a feel for things first. I wasn't overly thrilled about taking a job in Utah. It's not that I had preemptively decided against it, I just had never thought of it as an option. I'm working for the only legitimate apparel company in Utah, as I see it, and half our design team is based out of Sydney, Australia. the pickin's here are slim! I'm still adjusting to the idea of being here, in Utah, pursuing fashion design. (I do love it here but I loathe the dating scene. That's another post in and of it's self.)

My first few weeks at work have been good and bad. The only bad part is not being my own, full fledged designer. I LOVE being back in the fashion industry atmosphere. I LOVE wearing dressy clothes to work everyday. I LOVE that I have my own agenda and could go several hours working at my desk before needing to talk to anybody. I'm not anti-social, but anyone who knows anything about my last "fashion industry" job knows I had a hard time with my hovering/controlling manager, though I love her dearly. My new boss-woman is the complete opposite. Not only does she trust me to get things done and trust me to ask questions when I don't understand, she's way funny- all the dry and quick-witted humor I can handle. I find myself shaking with laughter from behind my desk trying not to reveal how funny I actually think she is. As is always the case with fashion industry jobs, I work mainly with women, which I don't mind. I'm the assistant designer to two designers. One works from our Salt Lake office and the other works from her San Francisco home. We're just finishing up our Spring 2011 line and beginning all the preliminary work for Fall 2011. The early stage of design is the most fun. It's at this point where you have creative input and get to see things develop. By the end of the season, which is where we are right now, I'm pretty much Photoshopping my brains out and emailing revisions to our factories in China and our Sydney office. My day, today for example, consisted of Excel spreadsheets. So many spreadsheets. Thankfully, my off-location designer is coming to the office in a couple weeks to start working on mock-ups. Her designs make-up about half the collection consistently. She's really good. I'm excited that I've been assigned her to work with.

Every once in a while I have moments in my life (separated, of course, by long spells of failure) where I feel like I've arrived. One such moment was during my internship at the costume studio in Hollywood during my first year of school. I was working on Giselle's dress for Enchanted and was required to deliver it to a location on Hollywood Boulevard. There I was, driving up Hollywood in my oh-so-glamorous blue Subaru with a huge, white, puffy dress sparkling with glitter and embellishments obstructing the view in my rear view mirror. I was looking earnestly for the address when suddenly before me were those iconic white letters on the hill- "Hollywood." The empowering feeling of being in school and the newness of my life came together at that moment and encouraged me onward like never before. I had a similar feeling at work last week on my way to a fitting. Coming from the studio part of the office, where my desk is located, I rounded the hallway, striding (in my high heels, of course) through a sea of cubicles as I made my way to the designated fitting room carrying just a clipboard under my arm. To my right was a fit model, carrying several dresses she had steamed out and prepared for the fitting. To my left was the factory managers who had arranged the fitting and were waiting on my approval of the fit and design to proceed with production. And all around me were the call center staff who envied me because I worked in the design department... the ultimate department to be in if you're working for a design company. It wasn't me who had to arrange the fitting. I just had to show up. It wasn't me who steamed out the dresses or carried them or did any of the grunt work. I just had to show up. Upon my convenience, it is organized. I walk to the fitting, not carrying a single dress, not having steamed out a single crease. I just carry my notebook and camera and take a seat. When the fitting is over, I don't clean up. I leave. For that small moment, I felt like I had arrived... at one station, at least. Of course, I won't ever be satisfied until I'm the head designer, calling the shots and not spending a minute on an excel spreadsheet or emailing factories incessantly over missed revision points.

Tonight on my run (as my blog posts always digress to- that is, some thought I had while running), I was wondering what has been the worst part about training for this marathon. I discovered immediately that the worst part (aside from trots) has been the fear of injury or inability, that actual runs, though painful, are shorter then the fret about them that happens sometimes the whole 48 hours previous. I haven't had serious injury, but all the time while I'm running I'm mentally focused on any small ache, fearing it may become worse. And still, I worry I may not be able to do it. Then I thought how sad that fear, so unnecessary and unproductive, is the thing that has cankered me.

All through Katie's single, young adult life she told me how old and undatable she is. This started when she was 23. She was always so afraid she would never marry. I'm sure she would agree with me that fear was the worst part of her young, single adult years. I wonder how different life could be if we were strong enough to throw out fear and trust in eventual and "overwhelming" success. In this aspect of gospel living, I see myself as the most faithless person I know. I shamefully admit that I'm a pessimist by nature and am apt to count on my failure than I am on my success. My brother Travis is like that, too. How can someone who just finished his PhD in freaking Neuroscience be bothered by so many feelings of intellectual inadequacy? It must be a family trait. In any case, that was my thought and it opened my eyes to faith, again. Doesn't it feel like you relearn principles time and time again that you had considered to be in the bag? Prayer is that for me. I somehow always forget how powerful prayer can be. But, thankfully, am reminded and retaught over and over again.

And again, I'll leave you with a song I'm crushing on:

Training Update

2010-08-30T20:24:00.001-07:00

Five weeks until the marathon. I can't believe how close it is.... But then I can, when I remember training in snow back in March. And now it's getting cold again, so I guess it's about time I run this bad boy I've been training for.

It feels like the weather changed from summer to fall within hours. I walked outside one evening last week for my routine run and the air was distinctly different. It felt different. It smelled different. I LOVED breathing it in. Is it almost time for me to pull out my spanks, too? I think so! Wooooo!

With only five weeks left of training, I'm ultra sensitive to every little thing that hurts, or may start hurting. I'm taking ibuprofen almost every day (secondary to developing tendonitis in my right foot) and there is almost always something I can think of to ice. It's not that I have any serious injuries. I just have little, slight developments that I fear are going to rear there ugly heads as full blown injuries that may prevent me from running a "comfortable" race. Hahaha! What could be comfortable about 26.2?

I'm thinking I'll finish somewhere between 3:55:00 and 4:20:00. I can't believe I thought I might be able to finish at 3:45:00 back in March. I've really lowered my expectations for myself but I don't feel bad about it at all. I'm already getting excited to see how I'll do on my second marathon. WAIT! Did I just verbalize desires to run another one? I'm such a sucker for punishment. This next time around, I think I'll be roping Emily into it with me. We are going to be doing the Halloween Half together. Training with someone (at least for the long runs) will make all the difference. And when I say "someone," that is strictly limited to girls. I refuse to run with guys. Well, that's not entirely true. I guess when it comes down to it, distance running is a fairly intimate activity. I'm dressed down to almost nothing, sweaty, make-up-less, panting, brought to my extremities, and I'm in no place where I want to think about conversation or what I look like or what I smell like, etc. There are few guys I've ever been willing to go on a long run with... I think I could narrow it down to Chris (because he's a runner and I'm pretty sure all my walls at one time or another have been down before him), Tim (the rock star, running-est brother of mine), Jared (who showed up at my place wearing cut-off jeans for our first run together... I was sooooo annoyed! Hahahaha! What a funny memory!), Aaron (only if he agreed to run ten paces behind me because he is a horrible pacer, ALWAYS coming out way too fast... show-off), and Pete (who I was way close to for obvious reasons). But none of these guys are available to me now, so the rules are GIRLS ONLY!

Alright, this cat has to get to bed. I'm a responsible, working adult these days. To close, I leave you with a song I can't get enough of lately:

And my latest favorite face melt (that must be listened to at a very high volume... did I mention I blew out the second speaker in my car last week? What's my deal with loud music?!):

Dad Life

2010-08-28T20:43:00.000-07:00

Miss Universe 2010

2010-08-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

Evan Lysacek: "In your opinion, what effect is unsupervised Internet use having on today's youth?"
Mexico: "Good evening, Las Vegas! Well, I do believe that Internet is an indispensable, necessary tool at the present time and we must be very careful and watch over what our children watch and see- our teenagers watch and see. And we must be sure to teach them the values we'll learn as a family so that they may use Internet properly. Thank you!"

Niki Taylor: "Legislation banning certain kinds of religious clothing has caused controversy around the world. What role should a government play in determining such a personal preference."
Australia: "One of the greatest things we have is the freedom of choice. And tonight we wore our swimsuits, designed by Tala, and she said that fashion is freedom and I don't think the government should have any say in what we wear because we can all make our own personal choices!"

Tamron Hall: "Some countries still practice the death penalty. Is it acceptable and why?"
Jamaica: "Good evening, Las Vegas! Good evening, judges! I believe that life is a gift, a gift given by only one ultimate creator and I believe that none of us, as humans, have the right to take a life and I believe that we, as mere beings of earth, have no right to control what things that only one person can control and that is God."

Jane Seymour: "Many airports are now using full body scanners. How do you feel about going through a scanner that can actually see through your clothes?"
Ukraine: "I think it's a very important question of security. To avoid the type of catastrophes which we have already seen and we are well aware of them. So if that helps us to save the lives of people, then I am for it."

William Baldwin: "What is one big mistake that you've made in your life and what did you do to make it right?"
Philippines: "Thank you so much, sir, for that wonderful question. Good evening, ladies and gentleman! Good evening, Las Vegas! You know what, sir? In my twenty-two years of existence, I can say that there is nothing major, major- I mean problem-that I have done in my life because I am very confident with my family with the love that they are giving to me so thank you so much that I am here! Thank you, thank you so much!"

My ranking of the Onstage Question:
1- Ukraine
She clearly gave the best response as she was the only contestant who addressed the complication of the issue presented to her and resisted the urge to.... shall I say, opt to stay inside and paint rainbows while storm clouds are gathering outside. Well done, Ukraine. And while I'm on the subject, I've recently taken a liking to Soviet-Union-ites. They're pretty tough. A friend of such heritage recently informed me that of all demographics, people from the Soviet Union have the least incidents of depression/anxiety. Apparently, as she told me, they credit this to that fact that they are so accustomed to hard conditions that few things send them into despair. Hmmm. I don't know if that has any validity, but it makes sense.
2- Mexico
Mexico is number two because everyone did worse. She didn't even answer the question and she's sitting at number two! Had the question been, "What should we do with this over-exposed generation of Internet surfers," she would have been close to target. I guess I give her credit too, because her answer didn't offend me or reveal a gaping hole in her intellect. So, two it is.
3-Jamaica
I had a hard time deciding who did better between Jamaica and Australia. I had to give it up for Jamaica with this reasoning: While I'm entirely aghast by her offensively simplistic take on the death penalty, (not giving the slightest recognition that serial killers and evil, evil men consumed with ill will exist) I understand that for many less-guided, God-fearing people, these are tough waters to navigate. If I were less enlightened, I may be tempted to point to Elder Holland's words as proof that it's 'against my religion to support killing people.

"God's greatest concerns regarding mortality are how one gets into this world and how one gets out of it. These two most important issues in our very personal and carefully supervised progress are the two issues that he as our Creator and Father and Guide wishes most to reserve to himself."

However, I know better. I'll forgive her on the premise of her motivation in taking such a stance.
4-Australia
Again, I can't be inspired by an answer that is so clearly lacking in content. The question is obviously referring to the issue of identity and Australia completely ignored it. So, by saying she does not believe that clothing choice should ever be governed, she is also saying that no matter what harm may come, choice is what matters most. Which is pretty ironic because by defending choice so vehemently, both these girls (Jamaica and Australia) are setting themselves up to lose their agency and choice. Such a leftist philosophy.
5- Philippines
This needs no explanation. Her poor answer was laughable. I'm sure she know it. I'm sure this was the product of nerves and stage fright. You are forgiven, Philippines. But you're still the worst answer.

Antarctic Ice Marathon

2010-08-20T15:33:00.001-07:00

http://www.icemarathon.com/

This is completely crazy. Maybe someday when I have an extra $15,000 lying around, I'll sign myself up and go rub elbows with the most granola people on earth. And for the whole race I'll reflect on how feminine I actually am. I'll feel relieved that I decided to get eyelash extensions before I left. I'll reach up and, finding sparkly earrings hanging from my earlobes, I'll think that the minor irritation is totally worth it. I won't feel embarrassed that I'm wearing a pink, tulle bow around my beanie. I'll love all the things that keep me from being identified as a grossy granola... because surely traveling all the way to the south pole to run a marathon in sub-zero temperatures pushes me closer to granola than I have ever been.

The Doubt

2010-08-19T22:54:00.000-07:00

Ever since I started "training" in March, my pace has slowed little by little as I've increased my weekly mileage. It really started when my long runs got longer than 10 miles. And what happened this week? I have all of a sudden started running faster! Tuesday night I busted out a fairly hard 5 miles and followed that up with a strong 8 the next evening. Tonight my 5 miles (that I perceived to be taking fairly easily) ended up being the fastest I've finished that distance all year. I ran an even faster pace than I raced at just a month ago! This is just the boost of confidence I need with an 18 mile run on the horizon for Saturday and being only 6 weeks away from the marathon.

I had an epiphany tonight on my run. As everyone knows, running is so much more a mental game than it is a physical one. A lot of people are physically capable of enduring miles of running but few, except trained runners, are mentally strong enough to do it. By "mentally strong enough" I mean, able to give no heed to the discomfort or invitations to give up. While I run, I obviously think about a lot. When I have a despairing thought, either related to my ability to finish my run or my ability to do something in life in general, I instantly feel my pace slow. It's like someone pulled the breaks. Until I combat or excuse the thought, running is horrible and I find no motivation to do it. Conversely, I can keep myself sustained through discomfort by actively giving myself positive self-talk like "This doesn't hurt. It feels good. I'm strong. I'm trained. And I'm getting stronger right now." I become so focused creating a positive perspective that I've dulled my perception of the pain and discomfort.

Negative thoughts (i.e. doubt) while running manifest themselves instantaneously in a slowed pace. It is obvious to connect the thought to the resulting effect. In life, it's a little more difficult to draw lines from our thoughts to the behavior resulting from them. But I guess if we compare life to a race of endurance, it makes sense that what I experience running relates to the race of life. I wonder what would change if I maintained the same level of focus and the same deterrence to doubt in my everyday life as I have to do when I run. Take home lesson: Doubting is the precursor to stopping and giving up. And stopping is the worst spot to be in.

Anyone who knows me at all knows my favorite movie in the world, hands down, is Touching the Void. And I just found a clip of my favorite part on youtube! The story follows two young men who set off to climb an icy peak in Peru but suffer an almost fatal setback on their descent. When one of the climbers becomes stuck alone in a crevasse he can't pull himself out of, he makes a difficult choice. I LOVE what he says about choosing as related to surviving. I love how tenderly he describes his fears and imagining what an experience like that would feel like. I think about hard choices I've had to make in life and how figuratively, I felt like I was lowering myself into an endless crevasse, just like he did. And doesn't it seem like we're called to do that in life? To say, "I don't see how this is going to help anything but it's the only real option so here goes." Anyway, I'm sharing it. Be warned, the language is a bit rough...

Quiet Guidance

2010-08-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

(View from the top of Mount Watson looking east. The biggest lake is Wall Lake, where we set up camp. Looking toward the West, we could see the back of Timpanogos)

Tomorrow I start my new job! Exciting, huh? I should be going to bed but since I know I'll just lie there wide awake, I'm going to blog.

Friday morning I had planned to run 17 miles in Hobble Creek canyon. However, I never fell asleep Thursday night. My mind... well, mostly my heart... was teeming with feelings and thoughts. I couldn't quiet myself. I gave up trying to sleep at five and rolled out of bed to put on my running gear and stretch. By the time I made it to the canyon, it was raining and the wind was a torrent. Couple that with my severe fatigue- compliments of a sleepless night- and the up-hilledness of the route and you have the perfect poison to kill my will to run. I quit just four miles in. Not ready to return home, I got in my car and just drove. Where I was going, I didn't know but the scenery was magnificent as the sun began to light up the canyon. I looked up at the mountains in complete rapture of their beauty. I noticed a peace settle in me. It was very distinct and perceptible. I continued driving and eventually found myself on a dirt road above Diamond Fork and figured I'd eventually be exiting through Spanish Fork canyon. Somewhere along the way I found a dog. There in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the road was a tall, red dog with a bright blue collar on. He looked very skinny. I rolled my window down to survey the scene and he gave me a big, sad-eyed stare. My tender heart overcame me and I opened my door and let the dog in, figuring he had to be lost and someone, somewhere was missing him. As soon as I had reception, I called the number on his blue collar and found a very appreciative and relieved owner. Apparently, the owner had taken his dog out with him on a horse ride and the dog had wandered off. Not being able to find him, the man was forced to quit looking and return home. Was it a coincidence that I was driving through the back country at the exact moment the dog was crossing the road? I know it was no coincidence. I know that God was being merciful to the man who had lost his dog and led me to him knowing I would stop and take the dog in. I was being guided without knowing I was being guided. That's a comforting realization.

Another thought provoking event occurred as I was heading home from a weekend of backpacking in the Uintas. Shortly after heading down Highway 150 toward Kamas, traffic came to a dead stop. We looked down the road and noticed that as far as the eye could see, cars were stopped. I don't know what came over me, but I quickly decided I was going to run down the road and see how far the traffic was stopped and why. I set my stopwatch and took off figuring I'd base the distance on an 8 minute per mile pace. About a mile and a half down the road, I found the cause of delay. I could see a motorcycle down, a white trailblazer diagonally peeled out into the wrong direction of traffic, and a couple other beat up cars. There was only one police car at the scene and as I reset my watch to head back up the road, an ambulance was arriving. Because this accident involved a motorcycle, I instinctively knew there was at least one fatality. I felt guilty to be jogging away knowing that for at least one family out there, the world had turned upside down and I was so unscathed. As I jogged past restless drivers, I was showered with questions, "Hey, what's going on? How long will we have to wait? How far down is traffic stopped?" I was shocked that after educating people that the ambulance had arrived and a motorcyclist was involved the response was not one of sympathy or grief but rather, "I have a plane to catch!" Ouch. I'm sorry someone died and now you're all behind on your schedule. When I made it back to the car, we were all kind of somber. Mike, the driver, remembered how just before we left camp we stopped and helped two mothers who were looking for their lost children, and what if we hadn't stopped? Would we have been involved? Who knows? But as I'm always reassured, God is always directing us and the events that happen in our lives. Again, I had the feeling of being guided though unaware at the time that I was.

Given the events of the weekend- they were simple enough- it has made me ponder how the Holy Ghost works. Like the episodes of calm that come over me and feel as real as wiping a storm out of the sky. I know it could only be the Holy Ghost that brings this feeling to me. But I have to ask why? Why then? Why anytime and not other times? I guess I'm trying to trace my control in the matter. Was it something I did that qualified me for a moment of sanctuary? Or was it just God's mysterious timing?

I also realize that the Holy Ghost guides us more often than we ever realize. But when we are able to recognize it, it is a blessing to us. I don't remember the reference, but somewhere around the time Nephi builds the boat, God blesses him that (number one) he will be led and (number two) he will know that it is by God that he is led. They are two separate blessings. We may have the first and not the second. Without the second, it's hard to imagine that we could be adequately grateful or that we could benefit in testimony as much.

So, my weekend can be summed up in a lost dog, a mountain, and tragic accident. Sounds kind of odd when I put it all together like that. I wonder what the coming week will bring. On the agenda tomorrow: Start new job and try for 17... again.

Kat, Kat, Kaaaatt disapproving head shake

2010-07-22T13:50:00.000-07:00

What was she thinking? Who let her on stage like this?! I honestly, honestly burst out laughing when she walked on stage last night for SYTYCD. I was suddenly warped back to draping class at FIDM: It's ten minutes before class starts and my hungover classmate doesn't have a garment to present. In record time, he has pinned cheap fabric onto a dress form-making it look almost like a dress and almost like a comprehensible design- and is wheeling it up to the front of the class like we should be impressed. Seriously, was this a favor for a kindergarten age niece who aspires to be a designer one day? Lucky for Kat, she has incredible legs and, let's face it, as long as you're showing off her legs, you can't go completely wrong with anything you put on her... a cinched paper bag would be great.

Just for fun, this is commentary I found online today while not doing my job:

"I can't focus on the judges one bit because I'm so distracted Cat Deeley's dress. It looks like she lost a battle with her drapes before stepping out on stage." -Reality TV Magazine

Usually I love Cat’s sartorial flights of fancy, but this one looked like a big red garbage bag on top of an unattractive flesh-colored slip. -LA Times

"My pearl" or "Goddess Divine" ...Take your pick.

2010-07-21T13:09:00.001-07:00

I know I've been MIA for over a month and I don't have a good excuse. I just haven't felt like blogging. I've had ample time and plenty of momentous events, just no interest. Why? I usually love blogging!

I watched "When In Rome" with my sister the other day and although it's a total chick-flick, I gleaned a little insight from it. The main character, Kristen Bell, gets totally drunk while attending her sister's wedding in Rome, feeling deep despair over her love life. Thoughtlessly, she takes coins out of the famed Fountain of Love which- as legend says- if you take a coin out of the person who threw it in will fall in love with you. When she returns home to a band of men who obsessively dote over her, she couldn't be more confused. At the end of the movie she one by one dismisses each guy explaining that they aren't really in love with her, they're just under a spell. As she returns their coins to them, the spell is broken and you see their character change. The men remember what they were like and what challenges they faced before they were in love. Being in love enabled a wannabe artist to paint great, giant murals (of Kristen Bell, of course) or in John Heder's case as a magician, to finally do magic tricks in public. Each of them was something dramatic and fantastic while they were in love. She gives comfort to them by reassuring, "you will find your muse" and be inspired again.

And that was a lot of background for me to say, I've lost my muse... well, what's the masculine form of muse? I have not a love interest in the world and while it's nice not obsessively wondering about anyone or wishing for anyone to call, I suddenly realize how uninspired I've felt lately. That's why I haven't been blogging. I need a "muse." Or I need to be somebody's muse, "goddess divine." I need someone to refer to me as, "my pearl."

I remember falling in love with a guy over a year ago and how lit up I was in every aspect. I suddenly found deep meaning in and connected to every love song I heard! I was dreaming big dreams with full expectations. I could have written a book of poetry in one night! I could have crossed the Sahara willingly without a drop of water and smiling, just thinking of him and how perfect everything was- how beyond expectation and hope everything was. Everything was in my reach. But funny how when that love is snuffed out, all the enlightenment and inspiration goes with it too and life is just a monotonous cacophony of all that is irritable and barely tolerable. (Barely tolerable? My word choice is sounding so Elizabeth Bennett today.) There can be good things happening but without a love, they mean nothing. I hesitate to recognize this, being all single and 27 as I am, but everything we do in life is empty without relationships. And I'm not referring to romantic relationships only. As humans we depend on making emotional connections and being nurtured by them. The best job in the world could never spark the slightest satisfaction without another human to share joy with. No possession would yield joy without an emotional connection. So I shouldn't think it strange how turned off I am lately to all things requiring inspiration. As a designer, I may have chosen the wrong field. Hopefully, something handsome comes around the corner before August 9th, my first day of work as a bona fide fashion designer.

I've had great things happen the last month that I have been looking forward to for years! And I love that. I have high hopes for what the next few months will bring. And yet, I quietly grieve to be so alone. I've been living at home in a huge house with not a soul (except Bucky, the beagle) to talk to for over a month now. Maybe that's making me so aware of my uninspired state. It's kind of interesting that it doesn't really matter what other people feel for you, if you don't feel for someone else, it does nothing for you.

New Spice | Study like a scholar, scholar

2010-07-19T07:50:00.000-07:00

Unblogable Me

2010-07-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

It just so happens that most of what's been going on in life I don't feel inclined to blog about. (I wonder if I'm crossing over and out of the blogging world.) But I am still alive and still running. The ominous 26.2 feels yet out of reach but I haven't given up... completely. Since the weather has heated up, I'm now running before work early in the morning. Of course this has been a difficult habit to claim and I'm not a fan of the resulting fatigue I feel early in the evening but it's great to get done with work and not have a hot, miserable run looming on my agenda. I'm at a point where I really crave someone to run with which is uncharacteristic of me. It's just getting so boring... Yes, very boring. Although I've never been much of a social butterfly, it's funny how when I decide to be, there is a never ending supply of social engagement. I've been reconnecting with old friends a lot lately and it's inspired memories and feelings I've completely forgotten about. Where ever I go, I seem to be running into someone I know from the glory days of high school. I love the endless reminiscing! Be it recalling calculus class and the nick name I was affectionately given by Mr. Bingham, "Clueless," or a horrible date, or when so and so did this, or... it goes on and on. Just talking about and remembering old friends and faces is a joy in and of itself. Some socialities I hardly remember at all until I'm reminded of something and it sparks vivid memories and feelings. I can't help but wonder how the experience I'm having now reaquainting myself with my Spanish Fork life will compare when I die and reconnect with friends from pre-earth life. Per Doctrine and Covenants 130:2, "that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy."

Task #1: Completed

2010-06-15T13:35:00.000-07:00

In July of '06 I picked up and moved to Texas having just finished at BYU. Just south of Austin is the small town of Kyle. This is where I was kindly put up by my best friend's parents, Larry and Cheryl Kruzie, in their double wide trailer sitting on a giant, 400-acre chunk of land affectionately referred to by friends of the family as "the Kruzie compound." Michelle (my best friend) and her small family were living in a shed (literally a tattered, wooden SHED) across the field from the double wide. Without a job or care in the world, I spent all my time with Michelle that first month I was there. I could shuffle across the field for breakfast in my pajamas, my hair all disheveled, or stroll over in the middle of the night to chat. I was around her more than I had been as roommates sharing the same room... and I learned something about Michelle. I always knew Michelle was crazy about getting things done right away, but in a setting where she had responsibilities as a wife and mother, this quality seemed chronically exacerbated. I can't find a word for this specific attribute, but it is the dramatic opposite of procrastination.

Examples:

1.) Michelle reads in a parenting book that kids can be potty trained beginning at 18 months old. The day little Riley hit 18 months, Michelle had Riley in regular cotton underwear.

2.) Michelle and I start conjuring up ideas for Riley's Halloween costumes one day while loafing around watching TV. She thinks Ursula would be "so cute," imagining vinyl fabric for shiny tentacles. The very next day she shows up with a bag of fabric and camps out on my bed with a book, looking quite expectant. I look at her quizzically and she responds, "Well, don't you have time to do it right now? What else do you have going on today?" I wasn't prepared with an answer and so I started sewing.

3.) I come home late at night after a really good date with a guy I had known at BYU who, unbeknown to me, happened to move to Austin just months before I got there. After asking me a lot of questions about how I feel, she is sure that I need to tell him and that I need to tell him immediately. "Michelle, it's raining. He lives an hour away. And it's the middle of the night." "I don't care. You'd want to know, right? Where is your phone? I'll text him." Minutes pass. "Oh, good," she announces as she's reading a newly received text message from my phone. "K, he's going to meet you off the exit by Chili's past William Cannon. Hurry and get ready so you can go!" (To her credit, "the boy" and I had our first kiss that night and were inseparable from that time forward... until we weren't. And ironically, shortly after our break-up, that Chili's burnt down.)

You get the picture. She's insane. She is soooo motivated by task "completion" and checking off her "to do" list that that alone serves as it's own reward. But it's not a feeling I can't say I don't relate to and seek out. What feels better than striking through a task documented in my planner? (Okay, a lot of things. But for rhetoric's sake, let's leave it at that.) I have a fetish for planning, making lists, scheduling, etc. There is a driving need to feel assured that progress is happening. General, non-specific gains are less encouraging than tangible tokens of forward motion focused in a specific direction. When we feel ourselves slacking, we can point to the "completed" and be reassured. But with me, I don't have a finishing spirit like Michelle. I'm content that something is on the agenda. She's not content until it's off. I'd love to change this about myself and become a finisher.

Even though I love planning, it too often ends there. I remember in my days at BYU getting weeks into the semester and feeling like there was no way I would be able to get through all the reading. I would then figure out how many total pages I had to read and divide that by days left in the semester. It seemed doable! Comforted that catastrophe was averted, I took off to hang with friends and would then fall further behind. I'd be better off just jumping in and doing all I can, not stopping to figure out the logistics of how.

One problem is that I plan too big. My marathon training is a great example of this. I started running in March and felt totally justified in putting myself on a more intense regiment by May. Big mistake. I ignored the warnings of friends and kept pushing. It led to injury one week and burn out a few weeks later. I finally surrendered to a "novice" running schedule and am now only hoping to finish the race. (I'm slower and feel more fatigued than ever these days but I hope the lighter running schedule will solve that... and maybe keep my appetite at bay.)

Aside from running and chores/tasks, progress is hard to measure. I'm reminded of Elder Bednar's conference talk about brush strokes on a painting. He compared life to a painting and that each day we add a few brush strokes. They don't seem to add up to much but when we come to die and are able to step back and look at our painting, we'll see what our life work was really all about.

A side note: Larry and Cheryl Kruzie finally built a home on their property after a season of poverty as they worked to get a family business off the ground. They are now the successful owners of Texas Old Town.

I Love the Lord

2010-06-07T21:15:00.000-07:00

Two of my favorites:

2010-06-05T19:14:00.001-07:00

For the first time this season, soccer felt good (except for physically- I yet wheeze in pain.) When the ref blew the whistle at the opening of the game and we had only four people on the field, I was mentally preparing myself for a rough game. We had a man playing keep and then three of us working the ball. Surprisingly, we took control immediately. We were forced to be careful and deliberate in passing and patient with working the ball up field. Starting short obviously put us into a defensive mode which I think served us well for the rest of the game.

We didn't play short for long and soon had enough to keep a full team (of six) on the field and one sub.

This game felt so good not because we won but the chemistry on the field was the best I've felt it. Two of the guys there I had never played with before but it was amazing how we were all able to read each other and position ourselves to play great defense and win some goals. Different in this game is that there were consistently two or three of us that held back to catch the garbage on the attack and feed it back in. Our drop pass made the game. I feel like every game before tonight was somewhere close to kindergarten ball where everyone is running toward the ball but nobody is cutting off passes or creating them. Two things I did well with tonight: using the wall on the attack and gently flicking the ball over the head of the defenders when I was on the run.

Things that were annoying tonight:

THE REF. He was completely whistle happy. He called a hand ball on a trap I made between my stomach and thighs. "Where did the ball touch my arm?" I asked. He tapped his elbow. I'm glad he could see that standing behind me. Bother.

DIRTY PLAY. I find it soooo funny when these grown men playing in the bottom division get so worked up about nothing. Honestly, there was a guy that would link arms with me when we were playing up on each other and hold me until the ball was out of our play. Really? I'm 5'5" and barely pushing 120. Am I such a threat? Weeny.

YELLING. A sub on their team kept yelling from the side "If you're tired, get off the field!!!" "You guys look pathetic!" "No one's there!" And, again, his favorite, "If you're tired, get off the field!!!" The aura of this team was quite sad. They'd try to argue with ref, they played dirty, and they had a guy on there team criticizing them the whole game. It made me proud of the team I was on. We are always so positive with each other and treat the other team kindly. We have a few girls and guys that have never played and I love how we're so inviting and supportive of that. It just feels good to help other people have positive experiences and learn something new.

CHARLOTTE NOT RUNNING THE SECOND HALF. This must have been annoying to the rest of my team. I was so spent and lethargic.

We happen to be in last place in the lowest division: Follow the STANDINGS here.

The funny thing is I didn't want to play tonight at all but I knew we would be thin on numbers so I went, figuring a body on the field moving slowly is better than nobody at all. And I'm glad that I did. I was planning on running 12 this morning but only made it 7 because my body just hasn't recovered from the week, I guess. Today, 26.2 miles feels unreachable. My first two months of running were exciting and I was always noticing improvement. Now I'm noticing the opposite. I'll have a few strong runs here and there but in all I feel like what is required is more than I can do. My pace seems to be falling in response to the increase of mileage. It's demoralizing. There is always something that kind of aches and something that feels noticeably tight. I feel like I'm walking a tight rope and at any moment I could fall to injury. I can't eat before runs or I get sick and that has been inconvenient.

So, today was a hard run but a great game. I'm relieved it ended on a high note.

Moab for Memorial Day

2010-06-01T00:07:00.000-07:00

I went down to Moab this last weekend with a group of 20 people and had a fantastic adventure! Not arriving to camp until late Friday night, I didn't do much more than set up camp (actually, I just held the flashlight) and meet a few people. Saturday morning I woke up and went for my long run. Because we camped along the route of the Moab Half Marathon that I've run several times, I got to relive my glorious race.

Tim caught up to me four miles in on his bike and snapped some pictures:

Isn't it beautiful?

I know my hat is screaming "NERD ALERT!" but I have to run with a it... it's just one of those things.

This movie may likely make you very motion sick... Tim did his best.

I finished my run around eight and breakfast was waiting for me (thanks to the amazing event planner, Steve Read!) The first priority of the day was to take out our bikes and hit up the red rocks. (I don't remember the name of the trail we took.) This was the first time I went biking in Moab and I LOVED IT!!!

Here are some random shots of us playing on the rocks. (It took me a few hours to warm up to the point I would try to jump up rocks and off of them... once I did, I was dangerous.)

Sunday I played it totally Molly and went to all three meetings of church and hung out at the camp while everyone went hiking in Arches. =( I figure I'm already on thin ice and I can't afford those kind of shenanigans. I felt kind of awkward though when everyone got back in the evening and asked me what I did all day and why...

Moving on to Monday, we went to Arches and hiked around. This is me narrowly avoiding death (Can you believe I fell 50 feet and was able to catch myself?!):

And that covers my Memorial Day weekend adventures. Memorial Day was recognized by singing "My Country 'tis of Thee" in a round while walking the Arches trails and also my singing other anthems of patriotism. God Bless America!

Fatigue. Progression. Timing. Disappointment.

2010-05-25T11:47:00.000-07:00

Fatigue. I slept from 7:15 last night until 7:15 this morning. That is twelve full hours of sleep! Glorious! To underscore the nature of my fatigue, I share this: I had grabbed a hand-full of chocolate chips on my way upstairs and set them on my night stand to nibble on while I did my pre-bedtime reading. I woke up and they were still there; I was too tired to eat chocolate.

Progression. I have some really exciting things going on this week that mark a new chapter in my life. I love new beginnings. (I get a high off beginning a new journal just for the novelty of starting something fresh.) And I feel anxious to share my serendipity. It's funny how there are some people that you just feel apt to share with. The presence or absence of this is a great measuring stick in relationships. I know it's good when I want to call and share almost everything with a person. It's a red flag when I feel protective and uncomfortable (or just don't care) to share things close to my heart with someone. Unfortunately, the usual people I go to with news in this vein are no longer available to me and I guess that's what I get for making closest friends with guys who must eventually move on to forming a closer relationship with some other girl and close the door to me. In the last four months, I've had a significant turn over in associates. But I know with this the door is opened for me to form closer associations that will yield the kind of relationship I need. And actually, I'm really impressed with myself for so successfully closing these doors (or allowing them to close.) When I spend time with other single adults and watch behaviors that I loathe, I'm even more grateful for my own maturity in this respect. I've thought about dedicating a post specifically to this: The Seven Sins of Single-Adulthood. But I digress...

Timing. Sometimes I imagine myself as a silent witness to the daily motions and events of my life. The timing. Timing. Timing. Timing. It's so amazing. I love to be aware of God's hand in my life by witnessing the timing cues he gives to significant (and even insignificant) happenings. Not too soon. Not too late. Just on time. It's like watching a high flying acrobatic show: 'Who will be there to catch her... Oh, there. He will. Wait! Where will he land... Oh, there's a spot.' Everything is provided for in the instant it is needed when at times it looks like catastrophe is seconds away.

Disappointment. I've developed a magnificent response to disappointment. There was a time that I let disappointments throw me into fits of insecurity, fear, and hopelessness. But I feel like I swallow disappointment with unerring calm these days. I'll feel the sting and keep breathing; Just wait. I remind myself of the most important things I know and turn away thoughts that would harm the inner calm. In almost no time, I feel peace settle in and then the peace develops into lively hope and excitement. Which, obviously, is a gift of the Spirit. Just thought I'd let everyone know I'm healthy. Hahahaha... oookay, that's enough for now.

I can tell we're going to be friends.

2010-05-22T21:29:00.000-07:00

Waking up to soggy shoes thoughtlessly left in the rain gave me few options. I wasn't going to miss my run, that was certain. All diligence and discipline previously employed to get me out on the road in those early stages of training have since morphed into an obsessive addiction. I'm restless without my run and endure achey, fidgety legs when denied it. I even imagine myself emotionally tense and prone to negativity when I'm kept from it. I would buy a new pair of runners. Just like that, it was decided.

Hesitant to drop the big money running shoes usually cost, and remembering my poverty, I proceeded to mentally justify this pricey purchase as I headed to Prorem for shopping: Sure, I don't really have the money. Yes, I am behind on my bills. But there are bigger things going on here that take precedence over financial discipline. (Warning: This is Helen Keller describing the sound of music and the Mona Lisa. I'm a financial disaster. Resist the urge to glean any enlightenment from my fiscal philosophies.) I'm not engaging in a recreational activity merely for "the fun of it" or the physical fitness I win. Training for this marathon feels so much bigger than pursuing that end. It is a work of character and development of the mind as much as it is the body. I don't just conquer miles as I stride; I submit to something hard to endure. I commit to discomfort. I rely on patience to see the fruit of my efforts. In determination, I press forward when there is a lag in progress. The "conquering" makes me emotional because I begin to connect my running life with my life in general. Being able to tie down those attributes in training gives me confidence I can grasp them in the other areas of life. At this point, I'm emotionally and mentally nourished by my running and it has become an integral facet of my identity. I have a relationship with running and we aren't braking up because I'm low on funds.

I made it to 26.2, a fairly new running store in the Provo area, on a mission. I had been needing a new pair of shoes for a long time and this was a great impetus to finally take the plunge and buy some. The purchase of running shoes feels much like the routine Harry Potter goes through to find his wand. You'll try many out, but ultimately the shoes pick you. There exists an unspoken companionship between you and your shoes. Where you run they will carry you. They're motionless and useless without you and you're heavily dependant on them. Together you do great things. The shoes you wear are no small matter. That being said, I know what I need and what I like in a shoe. A Brooks or Mizuno is always a homerun. I'm a neutral, lightweight runner and so I don't need special support or form to keep me from injuries. Although I have a history of weak arches, it's been seven or eight years since they've bothered me, so I don't think I need to consider that at all when I shop now. I reported all these specifications to the sales associate but she still wanted to watch me run and check my form. Sure enough, all I had told her was confirmed. She brought me out a small sampling of shoes: Nikes (yuck,) Sauconys (maybe if I like injuries,) Mizunos, and Asics (aren't those for aerobics?) Blah. The Mizuno Creation almost had me but they didn't have my size. I gave up and went to Runner's Corner. Although I wasn't fond of the girl helping me, she forced me to try a plethora of shoes, even making me go outside and run around in them and then report back. Ten or fifteen shoes in, she opened a box. They were ugly, neon green and loud. And in a Cinderella moment, she slipped the shoe on and I discovered something so right- everything I had ever wanted but didn't realize. It was really light but felt like it had adequate support. When I hit the pavement it was pure synergy. My motion felt like the shoe was a part of me. I knew it had to be mine. The shoe had picked me.

Driving home, I set the shoes on the passenger seat and eyed them as I cruised down State pondering what we would go through together. We connected. The colors and exterior that initially gave me reservations about this shoe were now endearing and I was beginning to identify myself by them. In the next nineteen weeks, we will cover somewhere around 500 miles together. And... I can tell we're going to be friends.

My new shoes.

Report:

2010-05-22T16:47:00.000-07:00

11 miles? No problem.

I was only supposed to do 10 today but I got turned around on a trail I've never been on and had to back track for a while. I ran for 1:40:00 and my pace was gentle so I'm guessing a 9:00 pace. I decided not to eat at all before long runs and that seems to do the trick. I didn't head out until 1:00pm today but not eating all morning didn't seem to leave me feeling fatigued during my run.

Not again!

2010-05-20T11:09:00.000-07:00

It was an innocent 6 miles I took with merciful ease. Just rebounding from a week down with a strained glute and shin splits, I even stopped halfway through to stretch. "It's better to under train than overtrain," I consistently remind myself. But with mile five came the Woeful Wall of Trots. The symptoms tease for a few miles and you think they'll subside. But then they become nothing doubting and fear sets in coupled with peristaltic waves of agony. I kept thinking about seeing my sister in labor yesterday (Oh yeah, Christina had a baby! I'll get to that later.) and I wondered, "Does labor feel like this? ...I can't have kids. Not ever! This horrible! *whimpering*" I made it home. I made it to the bathroom even. But I was sick as a dog the rest of the night. This may also be related to the fact that I became "girl sick" yesterday.

In other training news, I've altered my diet and it's been hard to keep up with the eating and meal preparing, but I'm doing it. This race is taking a lot of work but I'm glad to do it. This is a rare time in life where I have the luxury of putting this amount of time and focus into something. It's funny how my hoped-for finishing time changes from day to day. I started out in March telling myself "anything below 4 hours" and then training really picked up and I was making unexpected gains and imagining I could sustain an 8:00 pace for 26 miles the way things were looking and feeling. Then when I come back down to earth I think, "I'll finish in 3:50." But yesterday I was wondering how I will ever survive the training. I have four months yet to put in and need to avoid injury that whole time yet satisfy the miles required. I'll have to keep myself well rested and make sure I'm giving myself adequate recovery time, not to mention all the effort it takes to eat healthy and eat enough. When I went down to Moab in March to watch the half marathon, I couldn't help but think about the hours of preparation each participant represented, especially the early finishers. The reason I promised myself (way back in 2003) not to do a Marathon is this HUGE gap in commitment it takes to do it. Training for a half marathon is kinderspiele compared against a marathon. I can't imagine making a lifestyle out of it.

Additionally I've joined an indoor soccer team. This was probably a bad call (especially considering games fall on Saturday's, my long run day.) But given I've been wanting to play again for three years, I'm letting it happen. I played one game and felt tight through my hamstrings and quads for over a week. Stupidly, I thought since I've been training, I'd be able to play without a problem (imagining I'd out run everyone.) Nope. Indoor soccer is a whole different animal and shortly into the first half, I was dry heaving. Awesome.

I wish I could say that after all this exercise I'm realizing a great beach body, but that isn't the case either. I've gained 12 pounds and my pants are fitting tight through the legs. Why am I doing this, again? ;)

David Horowitz at UCSD 5/10/2010. Hosted by Young Americans for Freedom...

2010-05-16T15:21:00.000-07:00

Runnin'

2010-05-06T08:30:00.000-07:00

WOOoooo! 1st place! (I think most of the females in my division were pushing strollers, but I still smoked them.)

I ran the Cinco de Mayo 5k Wednesday and was hoping to finish with a pace that was between 7:30 and 8:00 minutes per mile; I ran a 7:27 pace finishing in 23:10! Of the 240 participants, I came in 25th overall and 8th among the female competitors. It was the perfect ego boosting race because it was obscure enough not to attract the runningest demographic (participated in mostly by people connected to the benefit it was profiting.) Of course, I did notice a few hard core running junkies who destroyed all of us. The first place finisher's time was 14:46... that blows my mind. That translates to a 4:45 minute/mile pace. I don't know if ever in my life I will run a single mile that fast!

Overall Finish Times

By Age Group

The best part of the evening was sitting in the auditorium during the awards. I didn't run with my watch and didn't see what my time was when I finished. I felt I had kept a strong pace but never expected to get a little token medal. They awarded a medal to the first place finishers in each division. I wasn't listening when they called my name so my ears didn't perk up until I heard "...Lundell of Spanish Fork!" I kind of looked around to make sure I wasn't giving myself airs before I headed up to accept it. When I sat back down, a young man sitting next to me leaned over and asked if I had a brother in the MTC. Low and behold, I had been identified by Ryan's MTC (language) teacher based on my last name, home town, and hair color. I was happy to hear from a primary source how Ryan was doing: "He had a really hard time at first and I was a little worried about him. But he's caught on and is right along with the other missionaries. He has a really hard time concentrating sometimes... like when it snows. He makes little snowboards out of tape and sits at his desk and creates little jumps." That's when I knew he was truly talking about my little brother. It was soooo good to have this little interaction. I had forgotten about the race and was feeling warm and comforted to have this short, indirect contact with Ryan. He flies out to Japan on Monday. Little Ry-guy. Good luck, Best Bud.

In other news, I got in the ST. GEORGE MARATHON!!!! 7,400 were picked out of 11,000! I've been waiting with bated breath for today, looking forward to it all week. I even commented to the girls in the office how the week feels like it's going by soooo slowly because of the anticipation. Amber (who has a wedding date for next Friday) tried to convince me that she knew what I was feeling. =) Hahaha!

False Insecurity

2010-04-26T19:06:00.001-07:00

"Now may I speak, not to the slackers in the Kingdom, but to those who carry their own load and more; not to those lulled into false security, but to those buffeted by false insecurity, who, though laboring devotedly in the Kingdom, have recurring feelings of falling forever short... There is a difference, therefore, between being 'anxiously engaged' and being over-anxious and thus under engaged... We can distinguish more clearly between divine discontent and the devil's dissonance, between dissatisfaction with self and disdain for self. We need the first and must shun the second, remembering that when conscience calls to us from the next ridge, it is not solely to scold but also to beckon." (Neal A. Maxwell, "Notwithstanding My Weakness," Ensign, Nov. 1976, 12-14.)

I came across this quote in my journal; I had glued it in many months ago. The timing of finding it today is ironic because just last night I was talking to a friend about the modern epidemic of never feeling good enough. I certainly see it in myself and from what I can judge, notice that it doesn't end with just me. Where does it come from and how are we all so susceptible to it?

I think most Latter-day Saints suffer under a false idea about what degree of perfection they must attain before enjoying blessings of the atonement (i.e. feeling accepted, loved, valued, empowered, etc.) It's been said before but Mormons tend to feel more comfortable over emphasizing the justice of God before they do His mercy. This is an excerpt from my journal in '09 I find illuminating: "I've been pondering revelation lately, particularly personal revelation. This, induced by a comment made by Becky at work about a man living in sin claiming to receive (after much prayer about it) a long awaited confirmation from God to go ahead and live a homosexual lifestyle. She commented almost arrogantly, 'Uh, you're not getting any revelation from God, buddy! Not 'til your sins are confessed, taken care of, and squared away.' This immediately hit quite abrasively on my feelings for more reasons than those I'll discuss. While I understand practicing homosexuality is wrong (and that it is contrary to the nature of God to confirm that it is correct to someone), I found her qualifications for receiving revelation to be cold and merciless. After all, we are all sinners, none of us are perfect and neither do we need to be to claim blessings from the atonement. At what point do my weaknesses feel 'squared away.' I'm regretfully a work in progress, not a completed project. That is exactly why I need revelation. Joseph Smith said, 'The Holy Ghost is a revelator... no man can receive the Holy Ghost without receiving revelations.'"

I worry that in times when I most desperately need to open myself to the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, I hang my head and count the reasons why I'm probably not worthy of it. 'I'm too this and not enough that and I'm not feeling like I'm on a spiritual high right now so I'm doing something wrong!' It's this cognitive habit that puts me at risk of dealing with the chronic illness of feeling to fall forever short.

Another note, somewhat related: I hated sitting through Relief Society yesterday, which is uncharacteristic of me. I longed to stand up and walk out. The lesson was based off the conference address, "Moral Discipline." I had read the talk last Sunday in anticipation of this lesson and looked forward to discussing it. However, it wasn't so enjoyable. One of the frustrations that come along with attending a family ward is that commentary during lessons (and even the lesson material itself) seems to forever revolve around the "how-to's" of raising children; less on understanding principles and more on teaching principles to your children. As the subject turned to discussing "the wicked world" that we live in, the question was raised, "How should parents explain to their children the poor behavior of close family or friends that is in opposition to church standards." Here's the comment that killed me, "I don't like the saying, 'They're good people, they just do bad things.' I tell my kids, 'No! They're bad people that do bad things. They're just plain evil.' Let's call a spade a spade." I suddenly felt in a fighting mood. Excuse me? So, tell me, if I am pursuing an education, holding a steady job, and am a friendly neighbor who happens to be a Mormon who smokes, am I evil? Or what if I'm as outgoing as can be but you notice strange friends I keep company with, am I evil? At what point do the outwardly apparent weaknesses cancel out my worth and dump me into the category of being "evil"? I was really surprised by this attitude. Maybe I'm different because I escaped the bubble for three plus years and relearned a perspective. Maybe it's just semantics and there is a disconnect in communication. Whatever the case, I notice this attitude of perceived self-piety and condemnation that really puts me in a contentious mood. I don't really have anything else to say about this. I've been blogging too long. I'll end on this note:

I am sooooo grateful for my time, not just living in California, but attending probably one of the most liberal schools in the United States with one of the most diverse demographics both ethnically and morally. I enjoyed a camaraderie with a most unexpected cross-section of people. I loved them and they loved me in spite of the almost blasphemous differences between us. And I truly saw great things in them with all the roughness and irreverence of their exterior. It's hard for me to believe that people can survive a purely Utah existence.

Very Funny Post

2010-04-25T17:42:00.001-07:00

Please don't read this if you don't honestly "love" me. These are the only people that will survive this post without ~~loosing~~ losing all respect for me. Whew. Here it goes:

I'm finishing up my second month of training (i.e. running), totally encouraged that I have been able to maintain the habit without yet succumbing to injury, fatigue or boredom. However, I'm afraid I became a little prematurely confident this weekend after having tackled a seven-mile run on Wednesday with a surprisingly quick pace. I came upon Saturday (the appointed long-run day) knowing deep down I should back off and settle on a four-miler, but quickly talked myself into an eight mile run. I had a route mapped out, the weather was mild, and generally speaking, the conditions were perfect... almost perfect. Aside from the fact that I had gotten little sleep this last week and felt worn out, the diet of the day was not conducive to a successful long run. That morning, I had brunch at a bridal shower with a bountiful spread. Shortly after the shower, I made my way to a BBQ. At least three hours passed until I set out to run my eight. In my head I thought, "I hope I don't get sick.... I'll be fine." Fine I was not.

Runner's Trots. Have you ever heard of this? I'll spare myself the pain of typing it out. Read here: INFORMATION

As I was saying, fine I was not. I became excessively fatigued at mile four and by the time I hit mile five I could not deny that something was wrong and waiting it out would not be sufficient. The pain was unbearable, my desperation acute. I was yet 2 to 3 miles out from home and in the Spanish Fork wilderness. Frantically, my mind went through the options: A.) Hurry home. But I knew I'd never make it. B.) Pretend like I'm camping and find a secluded "spot." No! No! No! Not today. I needed my humanity today. C.) ....There were no more options!!! And so that left me with only one real option. And so it was done. And I'll leave the account ending there.

I don't know a long distance runner that hasn't suffered through at least a few of these episodes. And if you're close enough to talk about it, it yields the funniest conversations. Here, my friend Chris shares his experience (I reeled with laughter relating to it.):

"The worst part about the semi-long run was the fact that I had major bowel problems. At first I thought I was just having a hard time with the climb up and around the temple. When I got to the top, I actually stopped. I never do that. Maybe I'll slow to a walk, but I never even do that for more than a minute or two, even on the long runs. When I began my descent, that's when I noticed it.

I had to have a bowel movement. This baby was coming and I think I was dilated about 10 cm. I was battling with a couple of things when I realized what I was feeling, A) I felt like I had to finish this run no matter what because I had already missed last week's long run, B) I had already pushed this one all the way back to Thursday as it was so I was already cutting it close, C) I've been cutting out too much mileage overall the last 2-3 weeks so I thought this would seriously hurt my training efforts, and D) I was going to poop my pants. There was just no way around that one.

So I started to think of my options as I ran in between the persistaltic waves of agony. My place was easily the farthest of anyone's that I knew. I could run straight to Mike's and unload there - but it was too far. I would have never made it. Run straight onto campus and find the nearest open building with an available bathroom - still too far. I know. Not even a half mile at the most, but I just wasn't going to be able to make it. Go to some stranger's house and beg for entry - which probably would have worked since I'm in Provo and people here are so darned nice, but I was too embarrassed to beseech someone the use of their bathroom room facilities to take a crap when I've also got about 4.5 miles of sweat caked on me. Final option - run down the hill and silently pray that there would be an open chapel, or some public restroom that I might be able to find. Also complicating things, it was already about 7pm when this was going on, so some places were already closing up shop. I even considered running to the MTC, but decided against.

As I was running in some of the most intensely painful strides I had ever made down any street in my entire life, I had the most fervent and desperate prayer in my heart. Hallelujah! I found a chapel!

It was darkened and all locked up. Now the waves were coming with more force and greater frequency. I wasn't going to make it. At this point I was just absolutely sure that I was going to poo my pants. I even resigned myself to this inevitability, thinking that I, too, like Greg would also be able to claim that I had pooped my pants as an adult while living in the United States (because for foreign serving missionaries, this is not all that uncommon).

And then that's when I finally saw it. A porta-potty (porto?) in the parking lot across the street from the stadium where the Olympic torch ended up the night it settled into Provo in 2002.

Brothers and Sisters...I know that God answers prayers. Seriously. It may sound like I'm blaspheming, but in my most serious tone I can testify to you that that porta-potty had no business being in that parking lot. There was no nearby construction. There was a small building that stood nearby, but everything appeared completely vacant. For quite some time, too.

In events that were set in motion probably months, maybe even year(s) ago, that porta-potty was placed there in anticipation to the most tormented and silent of cries I have ever uttered. If it had been placed even 50 feet farther from the spot that it had been divinely placed, it wouldn't have been near enough to answer my desperate pleading. I kid you not. I was going to die. Or be a terrible, smelly mess. Once I got that out of the way, my pace was great!"

I just can't add to that. I remember the first time Runner's Trots happened to me. It was an 11 mile run on a Saturday night the week before I was to run my first half marathon in March 2003. Luckily, I was only a mile away from the end of my run and able to battle my way home (though scoping out large bushes to dive into the entire time.) For those of you who lack these experiences but desire the ability to empathize, next time you have the flu, prevent yourself from relief... then start running. That's how it feels.

Now I'll go crawl in hole. I can't believe I just blogged about this.

Is it the weather?

2010-04-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

I've felt a little gloomy this past week. As is usually the case, it must be a combination of things. Top among those things are loneliness. Yes, I'm lonesome for the relief of companionship. I even miss just being hugged or snuggling next to someone. I'm not satisfied to stave off these feelings with empty relationships either. I've come to the decision that I'm holding out for the authentic from here forward. I've had it once.

Katie (the sis) and I were talking about the evolution of dating culture as you migrate to an older singles scene. She suggested that men in this older stage of dating fall into two groups: those who are unjustifiably lax with kissing and give themselves far too much liberty with what is and is not appropriate because they've "been around the block" before and really aren't anxious for commitment; and then those who are disappointingly stiff about signs of affection (such as hand holding and kisses) and feel they have to be totally into the relationship to have any give, plus they're usually kind of boring guys and not playful at all. I don't really think that a guy will fall into either of these categories but it does highlight the extremes of a spectrum.

I seem to most often find my-dating-self with the likes of the former category. I'm attracted because they are fun and unconditionally accepting (as self-conscious as I tend to be, this is very relieving for me to find.) But I excuse them ultimately because they really aren't as straight (i.e. obedient?) as my heart seems to demand they be. Where are the ~~good~~ exceptional guys? I'm half tempted to throw my hands in the air and exclaim, "There aren't any!" But I know this isn't the case. Truth be told, I'm wrongly too afraid of the "straight-laced guys"... and I can't really say why. Maybe I'm afraid of being bored or rejected for not being good enough. So I'm stuck denying one type for not meeting up to standards and avoiding the other group because it's uncomfortable to me for reasons I don't quite understand.

Today I concluded that I'm a doubtful person. I second guess myself far too often. When I'm around someone in a bad mood my primary response is inward, "What did I do?" I assume I'm being annoying before I assume someone is being irritable. When someone says something negative about another person I start thinking, am I like that? What sad thought processes. I hope I can change it. I don't know what's worse, this or having an insanely big ego and impervious to lessons of humility.

I guess what I'm getting at is I'm not really as secure as I think I am. I can be too sensitive and avoid dating because I'm afraid of dating situations (i.e. afraid of feeling uncomfortable.) I guess feelings of security ebb and flow. And you can't ever really capture it and put it in your pocket hoping to maintain it that way forever. But obtaining that security is uber important. It goes back to what I said about being unselfish. If we rely on other people to provide our security by being in a good mood all the time, never saying anything that will make you feel insecure, etc, we're not really able to respond unselfishly in events because our need for security has to be met.

And the next question is how to foster security in spite of negative environment. It has to come from inside and dependent on a source that is constant. I do better when I read my patriarchal blessing consistently, when I'm praying sincerely, and when I'm making positive, disciplined choices in my life, focusing on who's opinion I really care about.

The other option that could explain my general gloom and negativity is the health of my grandma. Uhhhg. It's so hard to watch her be so sick. I empathize way too deeply. I think part of it has to be me feeling lonely coupled with imagining her loneliness right now, sitting alone in a hospital bed for hours without company and twenty-one years a widow, feeling afraid of impending pain and even death, wondering how everything is all going to go down. And maybe these are all very appropriate thoughts for this Easter season because I'm reminded of the miracle of what Christ endured in the Garden of Gethsemane. I can't comprehend baring even the pain of two people. I can scarcely navigate through my own heartaches. *Sigh*

I'm way too deep in my head right now. I need some wildly engaging social interaction. Whew. How 'bout a party next Saturday for my birthday? Maybe that would be a good idea.

Buckle-holic?

2010-03-25T15:14:00.000-07:00

With only one shift left at Buckle, and one more shot to use my 40% discount, I have a choice to make: To charge or not to charge? Without any money, that is the question! (Incredibly, it's been about two years since I've used my credit cards! Is this discipline due for reward?)

I'm torn. Oddly enough, I am. I would imagine many of you see this as an easy answer: Fore go the clothing, right? I'm already laden with debt. But debt it so much easier to bare when you look good working it off! I don't really feel wrong to take advantage of my temporary purchasing power at Buckle at the expense of some debt. But I'm not really hurting for clothes right now... Ooooh but I love having new clothes!

A favorite movie of mine (no wonder, why) is Confessions of a Shopaholic:

In my defense, I bought almost nothing the whole two years I was in school and lately I've been playing the Replenish-My-Wardrobe game. Believe it or not, acquiring a new wardrobe was one of my goals for my time here in Utah. But then I have to remind myself cute things available for purchase today doesn't mean cute things won't be available for purchase tomorrow. "The pain of sacrifice lasts only one moment. It is the fear of the pain of sacrifice that makes you hesitate to do it."

Hey! Guess what was featured on www.lds.org today. Done guessing? This:

I have about $1,000.00 of merchandise on hold. Don't judge me. =)

...Ooookay! I know already I'm not going to get it all. *Sigh* What is reasonable?

The Circling Drain Effect

2010-03-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

*Btw, I didn't ask the girls (Malia and Kate) to pose for a picture; this is just what happens when they see you pull a camera out.)

Yesterday, while Christina and I were sewing skirts for a stake event, Malia dramatically announced, "I'm going to die!" When I nonchalantly agreed, "Yes, eventually you will," she was taken back. "I'm not really going to die, Sarlot. I was sus kinning." I thought I better not argue with her.

*Pictured above is Grandma Gray on the left and Aunt Edna on the right at grandma's house in Mapleton the Christmas of 2006.

It seems like I've spent a lot of time at hospitals the last 18 months and there have been many people passing away in my life. Thankfully, none have been young but ripe with age. I had a cousin in California, Linda, who hung on to life for months as her trips to the hospital became more frequent and longer in duration. Eventually, she needed a respirator to keep on. The time I spent at the hospital during that period, I was usually just stroking her hair and singing to her or telling her stories. (For those of you who know Linda, this was quite unusual to be around her and be the one telling the stories. She's always been that relative who can corner you and talk you queasy.) It was interesting to watch her slip away over those weeks. At first she seemed panicked. Then she seemed tired. Fatigue progressed to a calm acceptance and then she went into a deep sleep (aided by medication) for several days and was gone. At age 91, my Aunt Edna passed away just months ago after the same laundry list of ailments the old go through before they die: swollen legs, congested heart, digestion problems, etc. (Aunt Edna was more like a grandma because she never married and stayed living in the same home my grandmother was raised in. Their mother passed away when grandma was just thirteen and Edna practically raised grandma and became our grandma too.)

Dr. Myers talks about a "Circling Drain Effect" as people start to loose their health in their age. I imagine one of those big coin funnels at the mall that are so fun to launch pennies down. The coins will sweep around the top slowly for a long time and then build speed as they drop lower into the bowl. They're just a blur as they race around the bottom of the funnel before they *ker-plunk!* through the hole. With cells that don't rebuild as a youthful body's would, the aged take a lot of time to heal and while one thing is healing another thing is braking down. Eventually, it seems they are doing more braking down than healing because their body can't keep up.

*Me and Grandma Lundell, Benjamin, UT, 2006

When my Grandma Lundell was admitted to the hospital last night with swollen legs, internal bleeding and severe chest congestion, I didn't feel afraid she was going to die but I grieved to realize she was circling the drain. I get that this is the beginning of the end. I'm reminded that she is 83 and failing and circling the drain. Sad. Last night I was counting all the reasons she needs to stay but realized she doesn't need to but I need her to. She doesn't need more time with me or need me to come do chores at the house; I need more time with her and I need the "blessing of serving" her. And then there is always the chicken coop I'm building and all the knowledge she has yet to endow me with on raising chickens. I respectfully submit my request to keep grandma around a period of time longer. Please.

I just got a new job and things have been clicking well these last few weeks. You know the weeks where you feel like things couldn't go more inconveniently worse? Well, mine have been the exact opposite. I'm having a moment where you see the purpose in everything and feel like you're where you are for specific reasons and that feels good. I'm sooooo excited for this summer and all the great things I'm becoming engaged in. I'm so happy to be home to spend time with my grandmothers and return to where we left off when they used to babysit me while my mom was at work. I wonder if Eric and I will still fight over who gets what place mat at lunch time. Hahahaha! (Eric, you remember? I still claim the Muppets one!) On top of it all, I have my mom for a roommate and it's not really too bad at all! (I'd obviously prefer to be married and sharing a house with my husband but I can be patient! =) I'm going to love this summer, no matter what, because I'm here and that is awesome!

Sexy Stache

2010-03-20T21:53:00.000-07:00

This makes me laugh every time!

Divorce?

2010-03-19T23:42:00.001-07:00

Oh, Divorce! You touch me with pain from both your presence and your absence.

I learned very sad, heartbreaking news that my friend is going through a divorce. He couldn't even say the word. He just stumbled over "it's not going to... it's not going so... it's going that way" and he had to look away and stop talking between words to fight back the emotion. I wanted more than anything to throw my arms around him in some pathetically insufficient form of comfort and I felt to sob and beg for him not to give up. Of course, I know nothing of the circumstances. I know none of the whys or the reasons. But it seems too early... rather, they both seem too good to let it go now. Within this circle of friends, three others have gone through a divorce (two, now married to someone else).

Why the divorces? Having recently "dated" (applying the term "dated" very loosely) a guy who has been divorced and hearing his commentary on the ordeal, I wonder what really went wrong. In this case, there were no easily understandable factors such as: She cheated. She walked out. She was physically abusive. It was more of a laundry list of annoyances and inconveniences and misunderstandings. He regrets the divorce but claims he couldn't have stopped it once the ball was rolling. Now he suffers through the pain of it almost by proxy as he watches a sibling start turning down that road of divorce as well as a close friend. And all for the the same reasons: "She's mean." "She's cold." "She's impatient."

I'm not so naive to think that divorce isn't positive and necessary in some cases. And "being married" doesn't really mean much without heart- a small word that I hope conveys a lot. Heart-commitment, heart-devotion, heart-loyalty, etc. My own parents seem to avoid and head off divorce like not going through with the legality of it is some sort of achievement in spite of the fact that their relationship has almost no resemblance of a marital one. Certainly not externally viewed and from what I can judge of the internal aspects, not that either. (Of course, this is only my perspective and I can't really be a judge of what is right or wrong for someone else).

What enabled Sullivan Ballou such great capacity to love his wife Sarah as he so "deathlessly" did? It can't be just who she was. It also has to do with who he is. What enabled Joseph of Egypt the capacity to love his brothers as he so passionately did? It OBVIOUSLY had more to do with who Joseph was then what his brothers did to earn it. *Sigh*

I look at my ex-boyfriend and his almost childlike capacity to love without conditions. He loved me aside from how I treated him or how mean or cold I could be. He had a firm grip on who he was and whose he was and what he had to offer. Nothing I did would shake him from this security. Love survives someone's tantrums and even hurtful words.

I think divorce is happening so much now because people are dependant on their partner for that validation and security and when the other person gets ugly, they are on their heels in self-protection using all the flaws of the other to justify the turning off of their own heart.

MY SOAPBOX SOLILOQUY: Our ability to love increases as we become unselfish. NOT unselfish in the way of 'with grit and determination being self denying.' But unselfish in the way of 'having no need to seek your own needs (be they the need to feel loved, validated, respected or anything else) because they are already provided for,' Provided by an omnipotent God and Father, the fruits of a nurtured relationship with him. Selfishness isn't even useful.

Ahem. And now I have song. The lyrics I love most are written below. I especially love, "You love until you don't." Because that is just it: You don't love until someone ruins it for you. You are the one who stops loving. And the reasons you stop loving are sometimes self-serving.

This is how it works:
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe until their dying breath

This is how it works
You peer inside yourself
You take the things you like
And try to love the things you took
And then you take that love you made
And stick it into someone else's heart
Pumpin' someone else's blood
And walkin' arm in arm
You hope it don't get harmed
But even if it does
You'll just do it all again

Disclaimer: I feel like I just said a lot about something I have very little experience with and know very little about. They're just thoughts and I'm sure there is much that could have been said better and there is probably a lot of missing perspective. That's all.

Sullivan Ballou

2010-03-18T23:28:00.000-07:00

While on the topic of a person's capacity to love as an indication of a brilliant spirit and character, I came across this letter written by Sullivan Ballou, a Major in the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry of the Union Army.

(This is the PBS recording of it from the series The CIVIL WAR by Ken Burns.)

July 14,1861
Camp Clark, Washington DC

Dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. And lest I should not be able to write you again I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield. The memory of all the blissful moments I have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and see our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us.

If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been!

But, 0 Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you, in the brightest day and in the darkest night... always, always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again...

What a stark contrast his character is against the backdrop of the Obamacare debate painted across the television all this week! It's enough to make me want to curl up in a ball at the gravesides of my veteran grandfathers and weep. Weep for what has been lost and so much of it lost because of the little regard history is given. I can't imagine seeing Obamacare pass and the gradual socialization of these United States if we all had a grasp on history, things as they really are. Thinking about it, I get all passionate about my major and remember all over how I felt when I chose it.

I had the opportunity to attend the Christmas Devotional with The Mormon Tabernacle Choir and special guests Natalie Cole and David McCullough. After it was over and the cameras were turned off, President Monson presented these special guests with their genealogy and expressed to them, "We're proud of you!" They both were given the opportunity to say a little something and (as is usually the case when someone experiences the love, generosity, graciousness and spirit of the Mormon people for the first time) were quite emotional in relating their experience being here in Utah to do the devotional. David McCullough talked about... well, pretty much the clip I posted below. His experience being here invigorated him with overwhelming hope for his country- something he rarely feels- because he sees a people with ambition to be excellent. He more articulately says it here:

Butter and Joseph

2010-03-18T07:55:00.001-07:00

Two thoughts this morning: Butter and Joseph

Butter: I aspire to become a dedicated runner through the summer and fall. My three races in sight are: Speedy Spaniard 10K, (July 24th); Hobble Creek Half Marathon, (August 21st); and finally, St. George Marathon, (October 2nd). My eating habits aren't terrible but they could definitely use special attention. Not wanting to kill joy immediately, I've decided to taper off the bad stuff gradually by picking one thing a week to give up. This week it's butter. Of course I'm not going to refuse food prepared with butter but I won't be adding it to my oatmeal, toast, eggs, etc. So, here goes!

Joseph: Entirely unrelated to butter, I've been thinking about Joseph of Egypt. Particularly, his response to his brothers upon being reunited with them (Genesis 45) and at the time of his father's death (Genesis 50).

When we dropped Ryan off at the MTC I thought about how emotional Joseph was when he saw his brothers again after being separated from them for years. I love how strong he tries to be and then, not being able to hold it in anymore, he excuses himself to weep like a baby. After a good cry session, he puts on his game face, and meets his brothers again. But the emotion keeps creeping back and he again excuses himself to cry. After repeating this cycle several times, he breaks down in front of his brothers. Joseph's heart has a HUGE capacity to love. I imagine I might possibly be stone cold to my siblings after years of remembering their cruelty to me. But it's just so touching how difficult it is for Joseph to contain the floodgate of emotion he's held back for so long.

And then after Jacob dies and the house of Israel fear that Joseph will finally return punishment for their cruelty in separating him from his family, Joseph most anxiously sets their fears aside saying, "No! Of course not! How can I be mad? Don't you see God brought me here to save you?" He was practically thanking them! And the scripture I think of is Alma 29. I've been reading that chapter over and over and I'm beginning to see it in whole new light. This phrase:

But behold, I am a man, and do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with that which the Lord hath allotted unto me.

I used to imagine this chapter to be saying 'Just get over your big, crazy desires and be grateful for what you have! You have enough! You selfish girl!' But now I see it as 'What you have been given is perfect for the work you have to do, the calling you are called to fulfill, and the way you need to grow. God has the power to bless his children's lives and he'll do that as you glory in that which has been allotted to you and know that God is working through you however little you may be aware.' Joseph is a great face for this principle, I think.

Now, seeing that I know these things, why should I desire more than to perform the work to which I have been called? ...For behold, the Lord doth grant unto all nations, of their own nation and tongue, to teach his word, yea in wisdom, all that he seeeth fit that they should have; therefore we see that the Lord doth counsel in wisdom...

My take-home message: The circumstances I find myself in, of which I commonly grumble about, are what God has allotted to me right now. And more than just "keep quiet and try to be
grateful for it" I can be excited by them and know that it's all in God's wisdom and all part of a great work.

Soooo, butter and Joseph. That's all.

A "make it work" moment

2010-03-16T22:23:00.000-07:00

If you have caught only one episode of Project Runway, you've heard Tim Gunn encourage distressed, panicked, or woefully behind designers with these words, "Make it work!"

My "make it work" moment came yesterday.

I knew putting an invisible zipper in a wedding dress was a risk. They're made out of fine plastic coiling and unforgivably delicate. But I loathed to think of a lapped zipper on by beautiful, designer bodice and the top stitching it would entail. So, I took the risk for the sake of a smooth, sleek back that matched the elegance of the dress.

I delivered the gown to the bride not even an hour before her appointment to have her bridals taken. Insisting on helping her get into the dress (so that I could coach her on how to coax and finesse the delicate zipper), we made our way into the house.

There we were, standing in front of the bathroom mirror; the bride nervously cinching in her stomach with her hands as I pulled the corset tight and reached for the zipper pull. At that moment, the bride's sister walks in. Noticing that the small tug I gave on the zipper produced minimal results, she bumped me aside and said, "Here I'll get it!" Everything happened so fast. I think I was beginning to mutter "No, I'll do it," when I started fighting for the gentle words to say "STOP NOW!" "Sister" gave a good, hard jerk. I wanted to scream to stop it but it was too late. She ripped the zipper pull right off track in one swing. "Ooooh... sorry," said she. I immediately began fumbling to force the zipper back together. No results. Then I announced to the bride that I would have to sew her into the dress. I was offered metallic thread and a bent needle to do the job (from "sister").

It didn't take five minutes for the bride to realize that this would take me at least twenty minutes and so she got on the phone with her photographer who offered a one hour extension for their appointment. It was then decided I would run to JoAnne's for a new zipper (and seam ripper, and pins, and thread) and replace the broken zipper on "sister's" $50, Walmart sewing machine.

So it was done. Though the top stitching made me feel deflated and the sewing machine sounded like it was choking on bolts and screws, I suppose I've learned my lesson: ~~Don't use invisible zippers in wedding dresses.~~ Don't hesitate to yell. =)

Sixteen candles...no, seventeen can...no, twenty sssseeeWHAT?!

2010-03-15T23:58:00.000-07:00

I don't know what to blog about right now, but I know I want to blog.

I know, I'm turning 27 in a month and it's got me feeling quasi panicked. 27! I'm so old and soooo unmarried. Boo. And I'm the only person to blame for it. I wonder if it's more comforting to be able to shrug your shoulders at this point and say, "No one has ever wanted me. I did not choose this." Rather than have a history of one or two broken engagements or what not. Hard to say, I guess.

Additionally, I had a very vivid dream yesterday while taking my Sunday nap that I was pregnant and had a baby. It wasn't until after I had the baby and was holding her in my arms that I started to wonder, "Hey, who is the father of this?!" I knew that if I had a baby that meant I had... well, not behaved. But I had no memory of it. So, I took a long look at the baby and tried to decide which of the guys I've dated it looked the most like. Hahaha! She was beautiful! And ever since that dream I've felt a greater measure of loneliness.

Part of this panic stems from a glimpse of an email I saw in my brother, Tim's, inbox. It was an invitation to an activity for "Mid-Singles; ages 27 to 40." I was horrified that I'm now going to be in the bracket with 40 year olds, that 40 year olds are who my church leaders are now directing me toward to date. Where went my youth? Living with my mom and working part-time at the mall exasperates this blow.

It wasn't post to be this way. Shoulda been my haybail.

Hey Ryan

2010-03-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

February 24th, on the way to the MTC... To drop the one on the left (Ryan) off...

To prepare to serve in the Japan Sendai mission (the green area). So far, he says he eats a lot, is super busy, misses this:

I miss him, too... but mostly I'm entirely jealous of him!

Lindy Bomb!!! WOOoooooo!

2010-03-04T02:55:00.000-08:00

Long time, no post. I'm too busy sewing! But for fun, I'm posting video of Aaron and me lindy bombing the Utah state capital. I miss swing dancing in California like crazy.... =( Well, my Bernina beckons. I'll update soon.

Miss Spanish Fork

2010-02-07T21:16:00.001-08:00

Upon digging through a box of my books long ago packed away in the basement, I stumbled across my video recording of the 2001 Miss Spanish Fork Scholarship Competition. Aw shucks, I had to watch it! ...But it didn't end at just pressing play. I rememered I had my pageant gowns packed away and was curious how they would fit. Ooookay, I tried those on too while I watched it. Hahaha! (Girls will be girls.)

Here I am strutting the runway and "waving" as they introduced each contestant after our introductory dance number:

Here I am during the "evening gown" portion of the competition (it's a little fuzzy):

Yup, still fits... loose even! YAY!

Proof that I can get a tan when a lot of lightbulbs get involved. (Katie took this picture the night before... I was laughing too hard to stand up straight. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the swimsuit portion of the competition... well, maybe that's a fortunate thing.

But here I am getting prepped for the swimsuit competition. An awkward picture, I know. Jessica Tuckett is gluing my swimsuit in place so it doesn't ride up while I'm walking the runway. My butt used to be SO MUCH BIGGER!!! I hardly recognize it.

This is the dress I wore for the talent portion of the competition. I sang Fats Waller's Keepin' Out of Mischief (popularized by the broadway musical, Ain't Misbehavin'). Watching the competition now, I'm actually impressed with my performance. I don't think I can sing like I used to. Probably due to being out of practice and out of training.

And that is my pageant experience in review. The results were, I won first attendant (2nd place) which entitled me to scholarship money that paid my second year of tuition and a summer of fun riding floats and waving. Too bad I'm too old to do pageant now. I'm suddenly interested again. ...not really!

My Personal Stylist

2010-02-06T11:56:00.000-08:00

Usually Chloe picks out my outfits (when I can't avoid it) but since she was at school, Malia quickly offered her help. After searching through my closet for anything with a sparkle or embellishment, she pointed to what I was to wear and left my room, closing the door behind her. When I came out of my room dressed for the day she, wide-eyed, exclaimed, "You look gorgeous!" Then kneeling down, she examined my shoes and asked, "Are those heels?" I explained that they were flats. At which point she stood up to analyze my outfit again. Then resting her chin on her fist she softly shook her head and quietly gasped, "...just fablulous!"

As you can see, she did some dressing of her own. The heap of ~~shoes~~ high heels in my closet always tip me off that my nieces were near by. I love it!

Los Angeles

2010-02-03T17:29:00.000-08:00

My Saturday in California was spent in LA doing that thing I do when I'm there. It was kind of nostalgic crawling through traffic on the 5. My first task was to find fabric for a wedding dress I'm working on. Ooooohhh, the bounty of fabric in the fashion district and at unbeatable prices, too! Within the fashion district of LA are several blocks lined with fabric vendors usually offering the leftovers from nearby fashion houses and mills. (I don't mind leftovers!)
This isn't the best photo representation of the fabric shops in the fashion district. It's a bit more disheveled than the norm. This happens to be Journal Fabrics, where I bought the silk dupioni for the wedding dress I'm making. ($8.00/yard straight from the mill and not even shed from it's plastic yet!)

As much as I love the wedding silk, satin, and crinoline I bought. The treasure of my hunt was this:

And a close up (because I know you want to see a close up):

I've decided that every fabric venture in Los Angeles should be remembered with a yard of delicious fabric. So here I go, beginning my fabric collection. At FIDM, we have a room with a wall full of this kind of stuff. (Infact, I was standing in that room when I experienced my first California earthquake. Seeing the fabric sway tipped me off that I wasn't just feeling dizzy.) I already have a few yards of some really cool, hand-woven, ethnic fabric from Guatemala that Aaron brought back for me last year.

After several hours of haggling and bargaining, I hit up FIDM for a few hours of draping in the studio.

I snapped a shot of the studio I was working in with my cell phone for the record's sake. I'm not sure why the student I caught in this picture looks so angry... maybe she's just thinking. While I was working away and overhearing the conversations of students around me, I couldn't help feel like gloating about the fact that I had no assignments due or stressful deadlines. As I observed the frantic students around me I was glad I didn't have a deadline but recognized I missed the environment. And then I had a wonderful realization: I wouldn't go back. I'm so happy to be moving forward and free to pursue whatever path I choose. (I think I mention this in every blog post... Guess it must be true.) But I think it's a good sign when you don't long for yesteryear. So that was reassuring to me.

Oh, and finding an overlock didn't happen. I simply don't have the money to invest in that yet. And I didn't have room in the car to fit it (along with everything I own that I shoved in).

Give Me a Juki

2010-01-28T00:43:00.000-08:00

I went up north (to Murray) today shopping around for this:

Yes, it's getting close to that time when... Charlotte buys her first industrial overlock machine! 5-thread with differential feed, even! As I asked questions and picked the brain of the salesman, this thought went through my head:

"Hmmm, $1,700 for an overlock... Wow, and a coverstitch for $2,200... They have a blind hemmer for under $1,000! If I sold my car, I could get all of these machines at once. Hmmmm. I need a car. I could sell my car, use the money for the machines, buy a new car with a loan, and... AND, have everything I've ever wanted just like that!"

How right Mr. Darcy was when he observed, "A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment." And this applies to sewing machine shopping. Luckily, I'll be in LA this weekend where industrial machines sale for about 60% the cost of those available to me here... and you have to pay cash for them.

I also discovered a new store while I was in the Salt Lake area. Modern Display! Being misinformed that they sold dress forms for $200 (Did you just gasp? How could I have believed that true when all I've been able to find have been at least $1,200), I moseyed my way into the shop. Although disappointed to find the dress forms were actually "display" mannequins, I fell in love with the furniture. Have you ever seen something so beautiful your breathing becomes shortened and your stomach gets butterflies and then you feel like you could cry? Yeah, that's what happened as I looked around at the furniture. And I was thinking about my own home and remembering how badly I want a home to decorate and nest in. *sigh* And while looking around at all the store fixtures I imagined what I would need when I opened my own boutique showroom for buyers. Uhhh! Did you just hear me? I keep making plans and going in the direction of doing my own business. No matter what I say to people or logically walk myself through in my head about how "I don't want the stress of my own business" and "maybe when I'm older," I find myself moving in that direction anyway. It's as though I have no power to do otherwise. Apparently, it is what I really want. BOTHER! I do want my own business!

After modern display, I went to Anthropologie. Oh, how I've been craving that ethereal edifice. Again, I almost started crying when I walked in. The clothes are sooooo beautiful. Really, the whole store is nothing short of art. Philadelphia may not be such a bad place to relocate to. Hmmm, design for Anthropologie or start my own boutique line? Bothsies?

Anthropologie Necklace... that takes my breath away

But then we come to Buckle. Where does Buckle fit in with all of this? I recently had my 30-day review (which lasted OVER an HOUR!) with my manager and the manager in training. It was nice to get feedback on my performance and be challenged in ways that I could improve... rather, given a vision of the next step up. I really am so impressed with the Buckle and have enjoyed my experience working there a hundred fold greater than I expected. Today, corporate managers came to our store and I was approached about training to manage a Buckle in Temecula or Irvine. I would probably train for four months in Orem, then do four or five more months in another state. At that point, I would interview with the CEO and discuss locations that would be a good fit for me. Ultimately, they decide where they'll send you. So, that is a career path I could venture down, too.

I can't emphasize enough how good it feels to have the school period of my life over. I love this new stage of "the pursuit of happiness."

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning"

2010-01-24T16:06:00.001-08:00

I went to church alone today (Mom and Ryan were at a "farewell") and chose the empty second row to sit in. After the sacrament had been passed, a little freckled face girl showed up by my side and quietly whispered, "Can I sit by you?" (Undoubtedly, her mother sent her my way.) Of course I was tickled to have the company of such a sweet little thang. Moving my scriptures aside and pulling her up on the bench, I leaned down and asked her her name. Either annoyed I didn't know or disbelieving I didn't know, she answered back in exasperation, "Morgan! *duh*" She immediately offered for inspection a telescope she had made out of the program, rolled up and clenched in her little fingers. It was a mighty fine telescope. Eventually she found interest in my journal and colored pencils... and the rest of the meeting consisted of little Morgan telling me all about the people she was drawing in my journal:

(Of course, I'm not hard to pick out. I'm the one with the orange hair. Morgan is the purple-haired one next to me.)

The topic of the meeting was eternal families. And having a little bopper sitting next to me coloring I think was responsible for how emotional I started feeling listening to the speakers.

I'm very content and happy. Yet I occasionally weep at the end of the day as I'm finishing scriptures and prayer, getting into bed... I just start weeping. Even though I've spent the whole day feeling happy and joyful. But the weeping feels good. And I don't try to stop it or talk myself out of it. I just let it out.

Isn't this true: No matter what, EVERYONE has something to weep for. And if I remember correctly, the ability to weep is a gift of the spirit. Morrie Schwartz allotted himself a set amount of time to cry every morning as he gradually succumbed to Lou Gehrig's Disease. When the crying was over he moved on with the rest of his day. Our lives have tragedies. Pains that can't be explained away. They just are. And with perspective we learn how to be accepting of them.

I had this weird thought during the gospel doctrine lesson today: Imagine Adam and Eve in their confrontation with God after partaking of the fruit. Their heads are hung low in a somber spirit as God explains to them what's going to happen now that they have been disobedient and what they're going to feel and go through. And then Adam and Eve make a covenant with God in response to their desire to be obedient and return to him, feeling willing to do anything. With that, they turn and walk out of the garden. Just outside of the garden, Adam steps on a sharp thorn and grabs his foot, whooping aloud as he feels physical pain for the first time... the sharp kind of pain that takes your breath away. Can you imagine that? What were the stream of thoughts that came after that? Was it frightening to have a glimpse into what pain was? Did he begin to despise himself for his weakness in partaking of the fruit? Did the full force of what had just transpired in the garden suddenly bludgeon him? Did the covenant he made to be obedient seem a little more out of reach? Or did he feel any less willing to keep that covenant? Whatever his thoughts, we know he pushed through them and was obedient to God.

This thought reminded me of repentance. How I'm like Adam and Eve. Mess up. Feel bad. Commit to be better. And then feel scalped naked with the truth of how difficult it is to be obedient and exactly how difficult it is to wade through pain, if not physical, spiritual.

Our teacher asked why it is important to teach about the atonement when we teach about the fall. But I felt the answers he and the class came up with didn't cut it. That it was just words without feeling.

"And the Lord spake unto Adam, saying: Inasmuch as thy children are conceived in sin, even so when they begin to grow up, sin conceiveth in their hearts, and they taste the bitter, that they may know to prize the good."

To me, the answer is this: The fall shows us that we do not need to despise ourselves when we FALL; that weaknesses and failings are all part of the plan and the atonement is there to finish out the equation. The answer is joy. What equals joy? Fall+Atonement=Joy

For by the water ye keep the commandment; by the Spirit ye are justified, and by the blood ye are sanctified;

Therefore it is given to abide in you; the record of heaven; the Comforter; the peaceable things of immortal glory; the truth of all things; that which quickeneth all things, which maketh alive all things; that which knoweth all things, and hath all power according to wisdom, mercy, truth, justice, and judgement.

And now, behold, I say unto you: This is the plan of salvation unto all men, through the blood of mind Only Begotten, who shall come in the meridian of time.

So during sacrament meeting I fought back tears. Thinking about family and having Morgan next to me. Understanding things I've wanted to understand and knowing messages were prepared for me. I so desperately want my family. And I mourn for my weaknesses that may or may not keep me from having them. But I am so blessed by God's tender mercies and the changes I see in me. Life really is throwing us curve balls consistently, is it not?

"...weeping: they shall go, and seek the Lord their God." Jeremiah 50:4

"Therefore also now, saith the Lord, turn ye even to me with all your heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning.
And rend your heart, and not your garments, and repent, and turn unto the Lord your God; for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and he will turn away the evil from you." Joel 2:12-13

The Master

2010-01-21T01:35:00.000-08:00

He fumbles at your spirit

As players at the keys

Before they drop full music on

He stuns you by degrees

Prepares your brittle substance

For the ethereal blow

By fainter hammers, further heard

Then nearer, then so slow

Your breath has time to straighten

Your brain to bubble cool

Deals one imperial thunderbolt

That scalps your naked soul

*The winds take forests in their paws

The universe is still

I have loved this poem since high school and recalled it many times since. Sometimes I love poems because they resonate with truth and other times because they resonate with perceptions that are false but feel so real (like a depressing break-up song). I think this one is a hybrid of the two. In any case, I think to Emily, this poem captured the character/nature of God and her experience with Him- reflective of Christian views of God held in her day. (Although it is interesting to think that her contemporaries include the prophet Joseph Smith. She was a teenager when he died.)

Soul Scalping
Violent imagery, eh? What is it to have your soul scalped? In 7th grade I might have said not having someone to eat lunch with. But years down the road I would have described it as being too fat or ugly to attract the attention of boys. Still later, I would have said loosing the greatest opportunity of my life and the the doors for things I've dreamed of being closed to me. Is it now relationships gone wrong or conflict with close ones? And if I were to be asked this question when I'm 80, would I answer loosing the love of my life and feeling alone for 15 years while battling failing health and watching my children struggle to raise their families? The point is, the things that makes us feel frantic, humiliated, insecure (i.e. things that make us feel like God has 'scalped our naked soul') change. We toughen up and are always gaining perspective. Perspective. It is what allows us to thrive.

When I'm frantic, mom says, "Remain calm." That's what I can do. Things that would have frazzled me and sent me into hysterics now only receive their due recognition and I move forward. I can't apply this across the board to all-things-upsetting, but my ability to be chill has been astounding lately. And this leads me to believe that I am progressing. The fail-a-million-times-and-still-trying spirit is dealing me wins. Though I may not be progressing in the thing I most desire to have progress in, the act of trying again is what is giving me other blessings. And this is satisfying to me. My stubborn weakness is refining me in unexpected ways.

"In the churn of crises and the sinister swirl of global events, true disciples will maintain faith in a revealing, loving God and in his plan for redeeming his children, which plan is the why of all that God does.

"Jesus already is victorious in the greatest battle anyway.... The atonement was accomplished, bringing a universal resurrection of billions and billions, lifting all from the grave....

"The restored gospel is buoyant, wide and deep, beyond our comprehension. It edifies, concerning divine design in the universe or stressing the importance of personal chastity and fidelity. Only meek disciples can safely handle such a bold theology.

"Whether in tranquil or turbulent times, our best source of comfort is the Comforter.... We may shrink from some things in the current human scene, but Jesus did not shrink in Gethsemane nor on Calvary....

"Regarding trials, including of our faith and patience, there are no exemptions, only variations... the faithful will not be totally immune from the events on this planet. We can be troubled on every side, but nothing can really separate us from the love of Christ; worldly anxieties are not a part of being 'anxiously engaged....'

"Just as the Lord knows all of his vast creation, he also knows and loves each in any crowd, indeed, each and all of mankind.... though living in a time of commotion, we can stand in holy places and not be moved."

-My Maxwell

Sleepless

2010-01-15T04:22:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep. Was the season premiere of Project Runway too thrilling, I can't calm down? Am I too excited about my new heels? (I did wear them with my pajamas all around the house tonight.) Is the thrill of designing a wedding dress keeping my thoughts too astir? Or is my work life beginning to get complicated and I don't know what to make of it? Nah.

I occasionally have sleepless nights these days... anxiety meets up with me in bed even though I consciously quiet all my thoughts. Surely, teeming just below my consciousness are thoughts I don't know how to quiet. Am I making fast enough progress in my life to yield adequate satisfaction? Are the patterns I'm noticing in my decision-making reason to scream out for help or just something to observe as part of my personality? Am I spending too much money on clothes? ('No', would always be the answer to that one.) Am I too content with my station in life? (It's odd that when the discontent progresses to contentment, I become discontent about my contentedness.) Such are the concerns I suspect to be keeping me wired right now.

I asked off at work for the weekend of the 30th to drive back to California with my mom and move all my belongings here to Utah. Honestly, I think it will be an emotional weekend. When I left California, I didn't expect to be gone longer than a month. Here I am, almost four months later. When I leave this time, I'll have no ties bringing me back there. No inviting bedroom with all my familiar belongings; no school credits to complete; no job waiting for me to come back. I'll have to create the opportunities if I want to go back. School is over and now I'm to the part of my life that supposedly I've put years of preparation in to live. And that does feel good. It feels good that I can flutter and flit to whatever landscape suits me; linger there if I want or fly onto something else. I'm so unattached. But I don't want to get stuck here in Utah because I don't imagine this place yielding all the opportunities that I want. And maybe that's why I'm awake right now.

Work is warmth to my soul

2010-01-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged for so long! Last blog I was up to 37 push-ups and I am now at 50. But I've really backed off the "hardcore" exercise routines. Probably because I got a job. THAT'S RIGHT, I've been working for a month now! And I've shrunken to almost nothing from the speed walking I do for 8 hours straight. Honestly. I don't think I've been this small since I was fifteen. And having no appetite since I've been sick, I look a little gaunt. I was discussing with a friend just the other night about how I'll never be the soft, big bosomed grandma that is so warm and welcoming and fun to hug. I'll be the little bag of bones that has a sarcastic comment for everything. Hahahaha! Oh well.

Back to me working: It feels sooooooo good to work! I decided that I didn't care what kind of job I got, I just needed to get some kind of income flowing my way. So, I landed a job at Buckle for the holidays and I'm really happy working there. They've extended my employment to full-time and are now training me as a Lead (meaning I manage the store when the manager isn't there). Obviously, I won't be there forever but it's perfect for right now. Here are somethings I love about working at Buckle:

1.) Varying schedule. No 9 to 5 business. I really like having my mornings to myself and an occasional weekday off.
2.) The Mormons. I've forgotten what it's like to work with Mormons. I kind of LOVE IT! At close the other night I blurted out "dammit" about something and all of my teammates turned and looked at me wide-eyed. I burst out laughing at the realization I've gone from being "that sweet innocent Mormon girl" in the work place to being "the girl that says hell and damn to be funny and... we can't figure out how active she is." I never hear swearing. Everyone is soooo nice and well intentioned. It's wonderful.
3.) Having a reason to get up in the morning. Someone is counting on me to be somewhere at a certain time.
4.) Being part of a team and all the goal-setting and collaborating that goes along with it
5.) Meeting so many new people all the time and aquiring new friends
6.) Running into faces from the past that aren't even my facebook friends and exchanging hugs and giving updates. It's so nice to remember all the people I've known over the years.
7.) I love helping people put together outfits! I love when a guest comes in looking for "just a shirt" and walks out with new jeans, several great tops to mix and match, and accessories to boot. My favorite guest so far is Brenda, a fifty-year-old Latin woman who freaked out at the wardrobe I put together for her totaling almost one grand. She's been back twice to thank me.
8.) The clothes!!! AHHHHH! I remember when I was little I made a list of criteria for the job I would have someday and it included it had to require me to dress really cute everyday. Well, my wish has come true. I am now obligated to SHOP! I do my hair and make-up everyday. I really love building my wardrobe.
9.) A paycheck, though small it might be. Having buying power has been such a relief to me.
10.) Keeping so busy I forget all the problems I used to dwell on.

Walking out of the mall with the bag holding my newly purchased boots swinging at my side and sampling a savory piece of tofffee from a candy vendor at a nearby kiosk, I feel on top of the world. = ) Hahahaha! I'm such a girl. www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0c2W7eOOI0

The Cave Sepulchre

2009-11-30T22:07:00.000-08:00

ksl.com - Man dies after being trapped in cave nearly 28 hours

As with many, the story of John Jones and his tragic death has impacted me acutely and also- I might add- quite unexpectedly. I didn't know this man or his family or anyone who knew him. But from the moment I heard that someone was "stuck in the Nutty Putty cave" on Wednesday night, I was engaged in following the rescue. Perhaps this is because I've turned down multiple invitations from fellow adventurous friends to explore the cave feeling that the worry of surviving the experience would cancel out the thrill of enjoying it. In any case, I woke up Thanksgiving morning to the terrible news that John Jones had passed away and immediately felt markedly hollow and profoundly somber. Naturally, I put myself in the shoes of the victim as well as his family and imagined different angles of grief and anguish. When I got in the shower, I just started sobbing and it took concentration not to let the grief continue through the day. While comforted by the realization of my ability to empathize, I've been a little confused why this tragedy should consume my thoughts as it has. I lie awake thinking about it, about what his wife is feeling, what his mother is thinking, how his daughter will do... just a million things. The tragedy of this death has been multiplied by the revelation that the man's body would not be recovered due to the danger of the rescuers and the altered state of Jone's body. This came as a double whammy to an already grieving family. But during my scripture study today, I had a beautiful thought that I want to share.

I set out to read the Bible for the first time in my life from beginning to end on Sunday and today finished through Genesis chapter 26. The story of Sarah's death caught my special attention:

"And Sarah died... and Abraham came to mourn for Sarah, and to weep for her."

Abraham asks the sons of Heth for a possession of land to serve as a burying place for his beloved. Since he is "a stranger" in the land, he wants to secure something that can be kept sacred for her. The sons of Heth call him a mighty prince among them and tell him he may have his choice of Sepulchres and that none will be denied him. Abraham then asks,

"Hear me, and entreat for me to Ephron the son of Zohar, that he may give me the cave of Machpelah, which he hath, which is in the end of his field; for as much money as it is worth he shall give it me for a possession of a burying place amongst you."

Ephron's response speaks of the high respect Abraham's neighbors had for him: To paraphrase, he says: 'No- listen to me- I'll give it to you. What's money between friends?' He then proffers Abraham to freely take the land and cave. But Abraham insists on giving Ephron money for it and weighs out 400 shekels of silver in front of all the sons of Heth to make sure that his possession of the land is never disputed. (A shekel was a unit of weight, equal to 22.8 grams or 0.8 ounces. A silver shekel was therefore a little smaller than a silver dollar, and worth around $1.00. Abraham therefore paid 20 pounds of silver, or about $400 for the cave. Considering land values at the time, this was highly excessive. Thus, for example, King Omri paid only 6000 shekels for the entire territory of Samaria (1 Kings 16:25), and Jeremiah paid only 17 shekels for a property that was at least as large as Makhpelah Field (Jeremiah 32:9). For comparison, according to the Hammurabi Code of that time, a year's wage for a working man was between six and eight shekels.)

After this, Abraham buries Sarah, his wife, in the cave of the field of Machpelah.

"And the field, and the cave that is therein, were made sure unto Abraham for a possession of a burying place by the sons of Heth...
"The field which Abraham purchased of the sons of Heth: there was Abraham buried, and Sarah his wife."

I know there was much controversy in opinion concerning the decision to seal off the Nutty Putty Cave. As an outdoors enthusiast, I'm not surprised. But I'm comforted that the decision stood and that the cave can remain sacred and separate. I know I can't perfectly imagine the grief of the family or assume to know their desires concerning the cave, but I know I would want to be with him or be close to him in death. That would bring peace to me. Wouldn't it be neat to see the cave turned into a sepulchre for the Jones Family?

www.johnjonesmemorial.com

Thirty-Seven

2009-11-24T13:42:00.000-08:00

This is how many push-ups I could do as of 11/13/09. (And I held plank for 2:30- a PR.) This is for the record so in four months when I don't have a job but I can do 100 push-ups, I'll watch this video and put down the noose and remember, "I HAVE made progress in at least one area of my life." Hahaha. Just kidding. I'm not really so sad. Concerned, yes. But depressed, very little. A side note, I braved the cold to go running Monday and I felt like I had spandex wrapped tightly around my chest and stomach. I inhaled with much effort. Is that because of the cold? Or am I developing asthma?

STATUS UPDATE...

2009-11-20T13:49:00.000-08:00

STATUS UPDATE: I'm still in Utah and still unemployed. This fashion school graduate can't even get a job at the mall for the holidays... who'd have thought? I took the day off from job hunting. (How many hours in a week can I research job opportunities, refocus my resume, and write cover letters.) I'm feeling discouraged today- and I might as well admit- a little embarrassed that I can't get a job. Fortunately, I've been super disciplined with diet and exercise lately so that is one accomplishment I can hang my hat on. I made a long list of all the things I could accomplish within the next six months. Included in that list is to do 100 push-ups (consecutively, of course), hold plank for five minutes, and run a sub-6:00 mile. I have also stopped sleeping in and have a much better sleep schedule. Another great thing about being unemployed is my beautiful nails. Honestly, they are perfect and it's because I don't do anything. No chips; they're thick and longe; the paint stays on for a week.

Bucky and I have been spending lots of quality time together. I watched Marley and Me with Tim last weekend and ever since I've been so soft on Bucky. He even took a nap with me yesterday, all curled up next to me. When I'm reading in the morning in the big, soft armchair in the living room he jumps up and scootches inbetween the arm of the chair and myself and rests his head across my book so that I can't see. It's so endearing. When I first moved here, I took Bucky running with me almost every morning. It got to be really annoying because he loves to smell EVERYTHING and it's hard to keep him running! But now that it's cold, I've been working out down in the basement on the NordicTrack. Still, when I come downstairs in my workout clothes Bucky gets really excited and runs to the front door expectantly wagging his tail. He'll walk to me and then to the front door just waiting to go for a run. I don't know how he knows I'm about to workout. Does he recognize my change of clothes or is it the smell of spandex? He's a very smart dog (except I can't seem to teach him to fetch).

Life in the family ward is great and I continue to feel satisfied with my decision not to attend the Spanish Fork Singles Ward. However, I could do without moms in the ward stopping me to ask, "Are you single? ...I have this cousin ...I have a brother-in-law ...they're old and not married too." Isn't it amazing that knowing almost NOTHING about me people feel so confident that they have found a match for me? It really is strange but even my closest friends are guilty of setting me up with guys with whom I share NO commonalities. Michelle set me up with a guy in Texas (this was three years ago) and I remember before I moved down there she would go on and on about how perfect we would be together and he was such a great guy. Our first date was nothing short of torture and all Michelle could do was scratch her head. In any case, I appreciate everyone's honest concern for me. Michelle kindly texted me last night, "If you never get married, I'll still love you." That brought much relief because I was worried she was going to stop. Haha! Oh, the life of an older young single adult.

I can't wait 'til all of the struggle will be worth it. I can't wait 'til I find myself in a stable job that I love, pursuing what I've wanted my whole life. I can't wait until I'm kneeling across the alter dressed in white. I can't wait to hold my first baby. I can't wait to make cookies with my very own toddler. I can't wait to own a home someday. I'm just very much looking forward to this stage of my life to be over. But I'll enjoy it as much as I can while I'm here.

Ryan's Mission Call

2009-11-12T22:51:00.000-08:00

Afghanistan

2009-11-12T00:21:00.000-08:00

While watching my favorite Fox News program, Glenn Beck, I became very agitated. (This usually happens while I watch this show but it's an agitation that I like... being stirred to passion, better stated.) I'm not going to post about my disdain toward President Obama and his lack of "American-ness" that sickens me every time it is reconfirmed. No, I want to sound off about Afghanistan.

Having just celebrated Veteran's Day, fresh on my mind are incredible battle victories and valiant men who gave their life to protect something bigger than themselves. Freedom. Something that isn't understood by the upper echelon of politicians- because surely if they understood it, they would do more to allow it to thrive. I'm not too astute about the goings on of government and so forth. I catch things in the news and form opinions on a limited amount of information. Here is what I know about Afghanistan:

-We have troops there.
-We're suffering an increased and alarming number of casualties
-The most important military commander asked President Obama for more troops
-President Obama has taken a long time to get back with "important military commander" about dire request (meeting six times with staff to discuss it) and still has given no answer

My reaction: Alarm. Get the men and woman of our country out of there if you're not going to commit to fighting this war.

Why doesn't President Obama feel the same urgency and passion for protecting our SERVICEmen as he does for protecting lazy Americans, living in a world of endless entitlement?

Moreover, I just finished Alma and as I read Moroni's letter to Pahoran, I thought about the servicemen in Afghanistan and wonder why we're not responding to their call for aid 40,000 troops strong. And I fear this may not be (though as frightful as this thought is) the case of a waffling Commander-in-Chief, who merely lacks the ability to be decisive. I fear this is the case of a President who doesn't really feel passion for our troops and the cause they are fighting. Could it be that his head is so lost in reforming this greatest nation on earth into a communist/socialist, big government state that he's not stirred up by the losses we are suffering over seas? Is he thinking about the financial cost of investing in the war and how that might hurt his own agenda? Because if he is, I'm.... I'm.... I'm just very disappointed and wonder how we, as a people, can throw the bum out of office.

Now I need to go figure out why we are in Afghanistan. Like I said, not very astute.

Rush Limbaugh sounding off... <3
"Obama wants revised Afghanistan war options"

Dear Amanda...

2009-10-24T18:35:00.000-07:00

As you know, I'm a recent graduate of fashion school living in Utah Valley. Though I haven't posted about this, I have been working. I committed to some temporary help at a company (calling it a company gives it way too much credit, but legally, they are registered as a company) called Cinderella's Closet. I'm afraid if I started to offer up my commentary on this company, I might explode. (Expressing these feelings with the BYU/ TCU game on right now is not helping me feel calm.) For one thing, there are a couple of BYU interns (ages 19 and 20, both having grown up in Utah) that I interact with. And what can I say about the owner? I'm not skilled with words enough to describe her. Maybe a letter format will make this easier.

Dear ~~Utah~~ Anal Mormons:

Please stop referring to garments without sleeves as "immodest." *sigh* That's all.

P.S. I'd rather be a janitor my whole life than work for a company called "Mollyme Clothing." The title of this store makes me.... crazy. I just makes me crazy.

Oquirrh Mountain Camping

2009-10-19T23:56:00.000-07:00

A foreword: I went camping with my brothers: Tim, Scott, Eric and Ryan. I expected Eric's wife, Whitney, to come but inspite of all my pleadings, she didn't. Only when I arrived at the cabin did I suddenly empathize with Whitney's disdain for camping. We found the cabin floor covered thick in Box Elder Bugs. Sweeping was a never-ending job. I brought a tent and was half-tempted to set it up inside the cabin to escape the pestilence. Since I've been home, I've found three of these little guys in my car, aimlessly crawling around. Ewwww.

And now, the picture story of our little weekend adventure.

Mom took this picture. Of course, I am thrilled to be taking my Ru on muddy, dirt roads again with gear tied on top. This is what I imagined when I bought it. Indeed, the Blue Ox is fulfilling the measure of her... purchase.

Ever dutiful in supplying grub, Tim prepared a hearty stew with biscuits that was followed by a very delicious peach cobbler (and regrettably, an army of barking spiders during card games later that night... guys are gross).Setting up camp, Scott split wood. (He was careful not to repeat Fred Wooley's "knock-out" mistake from our first camping adventure together. Hahahaha! I still laugh picturing that flying board knock Fred to the ground. This was on Scott and Christina's second date when I still thought Scott was weird-he wore a purple, leather jacket with an 8-ball on the back!?)

Nice sweater, Eric, but terrible beanie.

Ryan fried bacon on the stove for breakfast. Of course, breakfast didn't come until later in the morning. As soon as the boys crawled out of their sleeping bags, they were outside trying Tim's newly purchased 357 hand gun. Eventually, I did go out and shoot a few rounds myself.

Sausage, hash browns, bacon, pancakes... uhhhh, so much food.

Clint, Eric's father-in-law, brought up a four-wheeler for us to play around on.

This was the view from the back of the four-wheeler. Ryan was driving.

We stopped for a photo shoot.

The remainder of the day was spent shooting clay birds with my dad's 30-year-old shotgun. How nostalgic! My shoulder was quite sore the next day from the kick of the shotgun. I always forget about that part.

Ryan

Eric

Tim

Scott

We couldn't have asked for better weather. It was a beautiful weekend. We returned home taking a route that went along the west-side of Utah Lake. I have never driven it before and couldn't believe what I had been missing out on! I can't wait for my next outdoors adventure. I love Utah!

Utah Dreamin'

2009-10-05T21:53:00.000-07:00

I left to Utah on Friday at 11am. I didn't leave early because I didn't start packing until that morning. Thursday was spent hangin' out with Aaron and Dave n' Katie. I surprisingly wasn't sad to leave California. I don't think it hit me that I was leaving. I remember when I left Utah on my way to Texas I thought I would cry the whole way there; but I was just fine. Once in Utah, feeling the 50 degree air, I got very giddy. I think I even whooped and hollered in my car... yeah, I'm pretty sure I did.

It's so scenic.

I wasn't in the mood for any of the cd's I had out for the road and I finally gave up and used my ipod. Apparently one can be ticketed for this but I was confident my long hair was a great cover.

My mom was jumping up and down when I came through the door. She missed me. =) The last time I lived under my mom's roof was for one semester in 2003 and before that, high school. So, it was weird to move my clothes into a dresser I had as a little girl. I'm even sleeping in the same bed I did when I was a little kid.

But I have loved every second of being here. Usually coming back home to Utah gives me anxiety but I've felt peaceful and calm since I've been here. OH, HOW I LOVE IT! I have determined that being laid off was a huge blessing because I would have never made the decision to quit my job and come home otherwise, especially considering the circumstances. I love being around my nieces, siblings, and mom. Saturday night we went to "Wee Witches Weekend" at Gardener Village in West Jordan.

From Left to Right: Mom, Malia (niece), Me,

Whitney (sister-in-law), Chloe (niece), and Christina (sister)

Wee Witch Chloe

Wee Witch Malia

They had a dance stage for the little tikes. Malia went crazy!!!

Sunday we enjoyed conference and a delicious dinner followed by apple crunch. Then the Barricks came and engaged us in a rousing game of Clue afterward. It was Mr. Green, in the Lounge, with Wrench. I didn't figure it out. Tim did.

This afternoon I took Bucky (Ryan's beagle) to hike the Y. I love that hike. Of course I was quite breathless the whole way. I can't believe I used to run this mountain. It won't be long and I'll be back down to 18 minutes up.

I took a picture of Bucky at the top.

Then he took a picture of me. (I had to help him, of course.)

And this is the group shot.

(He wouldn't look at the camera, too impressed by Provo below)

And the best thing about being home, is FHE with my family (and not at a YSA branch). Ryan taught the lesson tonight. And for the activity, I taught him how to patch his pants.

He was very excited to learn.

No surprise, he caught on VERY quickly.

Turns out we have more in common than just ugly thumbs.

She spewed me out

2009-09-30T19:21:00.000-07:00

At least she let me stay long enough to finish school. But most certainly, California is done with me and I will be returning to the Beehive State this weekend. I don't know for how long or where I will go after that. But my plan is to get an easy, 9-5, temp job to stave off the creditors until I figure out my long term placement and find a job that will pay well. My bank account was emptied by a run in with "Quality Towing" ... and the State of California DMV. But that's over now. The important thing is school is over and the Ru seems able to get me at least to Spanish Fork. So, here comes me. ...yay

Macy's Passport 2009

2009-09-21T23:36:00.000-07:00

I scored some pricey tickets to Macy's Passport 2009 fashion show and I'm pretty excited (considering it's been over a year since the last fashion show I attended). I just need to find a great cocktail dress to wear. YAY!!! That will be tomorrow's item of business. However, I'm a little skeptical about the company I'm bringing. Aaron's coming with me. He assures me he will enjoy it... I'm sure I'll blog about it later. What should I have him wear? Oh dear. Hahaha!

Goodbye Kiyonna

2009-09-21T18:24:00.001-07:00

Clara, Michelle, Vannessa, Invited-guest-I-do-not-know, and Angela

Maria, Clara, Desiree, and Me

Christy (upon arriving home from work at 3:00): "What are you doing!"

Me: "Cleaning."

Christy: "But WHY?! Didn't you have work today?"
Me: *uncertain pause* "Uh, yeah. I got laid off.
Christy: *hysterical laughter and knee slapping... unable to comment secondary to laughing so hard*
Me: ....?

The apparel industry is taking a hard hit economically and I was laid off today. Yup. Not a week after graduating, either. How do I feel? Just fine. I was ready to move on anyhow and this is a great impetus for doing so. Kim (Owner and CEO) called me up to her office not five minutes after I arrived this morning to administer the blow, informing me that others in our small office would be laid off today as well. I didn't cry and was actually very apologetic to Kim for the downturn of things and wished her well. However, saying goodbye to my girls in production was a little more difficult. I broke the news to Merrilees (my trainee) first and she, in shock, just stared at me with an open mouth. Then I went and told Desiree (my desk buddy) and she leaped out of her chair and came and hugged me. Of course that made me start crying. Kimmy, our 50-year-old, Vietnamese, sample sewer who might weigh 70 pounds on a good day, noticed the kerfuffle and came over to offer another long hug, which was hard. (To my relief, Angela, the Production Manager, wasn't there and I didn't have to endure that hug goodbye.) I packed up and headed out. I really am not all that upset by the financial hardship this will bring as much as the associations I'll miss out on. But, I'm so excited for what is waiting for me around the corner. When Christy regained her composure after laughing at my job loss, she explained the humor as: "It's just sooo typical! You just finish school and then you loose your job! Oh, man! How typical is that?! I think God allowed you to have that job long enough to finish school without stressing out and now he's giving you a fresh start to begin something new and wonderful. You'll be alright." I tend to agree.

In benediction of my employment at Kiyonna, I offer the top ten things I will miss (in no particular order):

10.) Long hours at our sewing contractor's non-air conditioned shops doing quality control and specifications... Okay, I won't miss this but I'll always remember it!
9.) Manhandling heavy rolls of fabric into the Ru and to our cutting service. There is something very satisfying about being able to shot put a 40-pound roll of fabric.
8.) Cockroaches and the humorous memory they've afforded me of the night Angela and I got really ambitious and decided to rearrange the production space. There was lifting, pushing, sweeping, and... SCREAMING. We're all such GIRLS when it comes to bugs. These are the days we mourn our all-female office.
7.) Vanessa Vasquez's perfect outfits every day. Who needs Vogue with Vanessa setting the trends around here?
6.) Julie. She's sooo nice at all times. How could anyone not miss her?
5.) Detailed e-mail's from Angela. What was once so annoying and neurotic to me, will be missed! Hahaha! (You know I appreciate you, Angela!)
4.) In sync head bobbing to the radio with Desiree as we pick away at our keyboards.
3.) The aromatic Vo. This is more just funny/good-story-telling material than it is something to be missed.
2.) Giving uninvited direction and suggestions during fittings as well as during Desiree's fabric meetings with Kim and Evania (I'm a designer at heart above all other things!)
1.) Evania's mysterious snacks... Who eats avocados mashed with bananas in soy milk? Evania does.

Good Sunday

2009-09-20T23:14:00.000-07:00

F. I. D. M.

I haven't done my climactic blog post about how wonderful it is to be finished with school, yet. So, here I go.

Tim (my older brother) text messaged me last week asking: "Do you feel relieved?" My response was, "Yeah. I like getting up in the morning now." My feelings didn't unfold the way I thought they would, though. I love that the pressure is off but the ecstatic moment of "I'm done!!!" never really happened. I remember vividly feeling that when I finished at BYU. So where did it go? Walking out of class Tuesday night was a strange mix of emotions. I was somewhere between crying and wanting to stare into space for hours. Weird, right? I had just completed a life goal and I was expressionless. My explanation for this: FIDM was borderline traumatic for me. Yes, I've explained before, the coursework was tedious and absorbed exorbitant amounts of time. But the trauma was just as much about events and trials surrounding the whole experience that added to the emotion. My feelings and perspectives were laden with a new degree of complication then they had been at BYU; something, I figure, that comes naturally with time, age, and life experience. Complicated frustrations. Complicated inadequacies. Complicated weaknesses. Etc. Etc. Living with Christy, or rather not living with a young group of girlfriends bore it's own social pangs. Staying alive (I'm not kidding) was also difficult. Relationships were hard. I struggled through a couple several month long bouts of moderate depression and overcame anxiety issues. And I remember three or four quarters back seriously wondering how I would make it to graduation... not just get through the classes but last mentally. So, when I stepped out of class on Tuesday, fresh on my mind was remembering choosing FIDM as a sophomore in high school and dreaming about it; remembering writing a paper in 7th grade about how I wanted to do this; remembering sitting in my room as a little girl with scraps of fabric and a needle and thread putting together doll clothes, pillows, and purses and necklaces for my mom. And viewing my expectations developed throughout my life against the actual play out of getting to this point- the point where I check the "completed" box, having nothing left to give- was very emotional for me. I felt joyful to leave and hesitant to leave at the same time. Joyful to leave the pain. Hesitant to move on from the triumph. So all the ecstasy I was expecting was swallowed up in the sacredness and tenderness of my feelings. Am I being melodramatic? (I have been in the LA world for two years, so forgive me.) But these were my honest, walk-away feelings.

The drive home was not gleeful. I felt my body start shutting down one exit sign at a time. Aaron called me when I was maybe 15 minutes from home and I was on the brink of falling asleep. I could hardly carry a conversation with him. And he was shocked I wasn't bursting with excitement. I thought I would go straight to bed but I got hooked catching up with Amy on gchat and then I had a surprise visit from my two dear friends, Mitra and Vilate. They brought cupcakes and OLIVER (Mitra's adorable jack russell terrier who served as a good companion to me through the drama of the previous weekend). Most importantly, they brought some much needed laughter and company. How I love them both!

The days following consisted of sleeping, lots of sleeping, swing dancing, and sleeping... and a wonderful dinner of trout and crab bisque at the Rusty Pelican in Newport with Aaron. (Thank you, Aaron! That was sooo good!) My mom's advice for recovery was to allow myself a week of not making plans and figuring out the next step. That was great advice! My mom asked me repeatedly how I felt and all I could muster was, "...that was hard. ...that was really hard." I sound like such a wimp! But I'm perking right back up. I've already been running three times, swimming at the beach, dancing twice, and will be 'spa'ing tomorrow... I'm in celebration mode! YAY!

And for all those near, there will be a party soon... at Jimmy's pool, I think? (Yeah, Jimmy?) Hahahaha! Thanks to everyone for the support I've received from you. Whether in phone calls, text messages, food, priesthood blessings, counsel, gifts, a roof over my head, jokes, friendship, using your computer for two months on end without giving it back to you, I say THANK YOU SO MUCH! I've prayed and prayed in gratitude for you and I know most certainly I could have never ever ever made it without you. I understand better how Neal A. Maxwell explained that God brings about the beautiful "intertwinings of our lives." He would say, 'one of the reasons we love each other in the kingdom is that our friendships are not friendships of initiation at all but are, instead, friendships of resumption!' I, too, am so grateful for these intertwinings of our lives and echo Elder Maxwell in saying "the manner in which our lives have intersected has been such a great blessing to me." I love my family and friends dearly!

The YSA Mormon Dance Party

2009-09-20T01:58:00.000-07:00

Oh, bother. I did it again. I went to a "YSA Mormon Dance Party" with expectations. Do these parties only attract the dregs of this YSA Mormon demographic? Creepidy, creepo boys who are so aggressive as to ask if you want to "make-out" shortly after meeting you on the dance floor? Whaaaaat? I am Mormon and so are you! Do you know what that means?

I have NO TOLERANCE for vulgar dancing among Latter-day Saints. I am entirely impatient with that common attitude of "let's be raunchy and dance like common riff raff and then laugh it away because we all know we aren't really supposed to dance like that and I obviously wouldn't dance that way seriously. " The laugh at the end of the griding sequence supposedly washes people from the guilt of the immoral action. It seems like my sensitivity and embarrassment in these situations increases as time progresses and I mature. I don't understand it at all. Who are we?

The "For the Strength of Youth" pamphlet says:

"Music is an important and powerful part of life. It can be an influence for good that helps you draw closer to Heavenly Father. However, it can also be used for wicked purposes. Unworthy music may seem harmless, but it can have evil effects on your mind and spirit.
Choose carefully the music you listen to. Pay attention to how you feel when you are listening. Don’t listen to music that drives away the Spirit, encourages mmorality, glorifies violence, uses foul or offensive language, or promotes Satanism or other evil practices.
Dancing can be fun and can provide an opportunity to meet new people. However, it too can be misused. When dancing, avoid full body contact with your partner. Do not use positions or moves that are suggestive of sexual behavior. Plan and attend dances where dress, grooming, lighting, lyrics, and music contribute to a wholesome atmosphere where the Spirit of the Lord may be present."

It seems like it should be easy to keep these standards when we are meeting together as associations through the church (whereas it would be understandably more difficult to keep these standards when among less enlightened people.)

I was so irritated tonight by one young man who, though good looking, couldn't have been less attractive to me. He kept trying to pull me into him and when he understood I would have none of it, he moved on to my friends around me, who humored and indulged him much more than I was willing. He buzzed around us the rest of the night like an irritating gnat, intent on demonstrating his sexual prowess. When the dance came to an end (after an exceptionally raunchy closing song punctuated by a young woman showcasing dancing that was exceptionally inappropriate to the hoots and hollers of many guys I knew had served missions and were active members) this gnat of a boy yelled out "CLOSING PRAYER!" Everyone laughed. That was funny because a prayer after that dance would have been sooo inconsistant with the spirit of the party. Sad.

I'm 26. I understand that things that used to be fun to me aren't anymore. But this trend is more than that. It reveals an attitude the horrifies me. And what comes to mind is the scene from Kate and Leopold when Hugh Jackman (playing, Leopold, a proper Englishman who had been time warped into modern day) is disgusted by the advances of Kate's dinner date. He warns Kate (played by Meg Ryan) in advance that "His (her date's) intentions are obvious (and dishonorable)" and that she will "require a chaperon." Kate forbears. Leopold, however, follows Kate to dinner anyway and joins them at their table. After tolerating the roguish conversation and attitude of Kate's date J.J., Leopold can take no more and to J.J. says, "Some feel that to court a woman in one's employ is nothing more than a serpentine effort to transform a lady to a whore (calling J.J. a serpent)... No, not a serpent. That's too grand a word. Simply a braggart and a cad." Ain't it the truth! This punk at the dance who so obviously was intent on "hooking up" with someone was actually intent on transforming a seemingly virtuous lady into a whore. What kind of man would do this? What kind of man doesn't work to protect the virtue of a woman? What kind of man?! And then comes to mind Margaret D. Nadauld's oft quoted talk from "The Joy of Womanhood":

Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women
who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are
coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity.

I've been teaching the gospel to a friend of mine and she is really taking to it. It's wonderful to share something with a person I admire and see them respond so positively and with such excitement. Recently she shared a concern with me about "Mormon guys" she has met. She said, "They seem just a little bit more feminine than guys in general." I have never heard this before. And after digging a little deeper, I learned that she was defining feminine as someone who isn't vulgar toward women/someone who doesn't openly talk about sexual subjects. I explained to her why a Mormon man wouldn't have those attributes and that just because he doesn't speak openly about sexual desires, he definitely has them. He just reverences them enough not to make light of them. After thinking about it later, I was saddened by her definition of these guys as "feminine" because the "new masculine" includes attitudes and behaviors I see as irreverent and vulgar. Imagine one of these upright Mormon guys my friend has met on a reality T.V. show. I wonder if the world would attach the word "feminine" to them also. This new masculine concerns me because it isn't masculine at all. It is the opposite. And I wonder if these guys I get so disgusted with at dances are falling into the worlds perspective of what defines masculinity.

In talking with a friend about "the break-in" last week, I explained that I've demoted the experience to a severe and extraordinary anxiety-attack. Her response enlightened me and was somewhere along these lines: Fear is gift to protect you from horrible situations. We're inclined to talk ourselves out of fear that really should be responded to instead of quieted. You did the right thing by responding to the information that you had. You don't know what may have happened if you stayed in the house or didn't scream, etc.

Where I was going with this story is that it's easy to talk ourselves out of proper and beneficial emotional and spiritual responses to things. For example, when I'm at a dance party and the music is raunchy I explain to myself that I'm young and out meeting people and we all turn a blind-eye to the inappropriate parts of this atmosphere because this is what cool people do and this is where I'll meet cool people. The first gut reaction was the right reaction: Something is definitely wrong.

That being said, I pledge to never return to one of these dances again and to forever let go of all inappropriate dance moves. I love swing dancing and it is appropriate and accompanied by appropriate music 99.9% of the time. So, that's all the dancing I need. That's all. I'm done venting.