Well, it's that time of year again. It is a fun time to be an American. A bit economically challenging, but still fun. Last year's Thanksgiving was fun but a little unconventional. This year was different than I've ever experienced before but it was definately wonderful. I drove down to Boise--an eightish hour trip, if you were wondering, and spent time with my Uncle Scott and Aunt Debbie and their two kids Tucker (age 7) and Scottlyn (age 5). It was so very fun. There is something about being unconditionally adored that you can't get over the age of 10. Their kids are sharp too. Tucker can read anything and even Scottlyn can read pretty well. Both are musical and bright, friendly, and generally get along qutie well. I thouroughly enjoyed myself. I especially enjoyed getting to know Aunt Debbie a little better. They have always lived kind of far away from us in Iowa or Idaho and so besides brief trips I haven't really been able to get to know them. She is an amazing woman, though. Most of the women in my family got married pretty early, so it is nice to talk to someone who did the single scene for a while. She is fun, independent, and happy and she was still able to get quite a catch in my uncle, if I do say so myself. The dinner was very good and they even sent me home with leftovers of my favorite dish--a green bean casserole--that she was kind enough to make for me. All in all, it was a dazzling sucess.
Here is my list this year, again no particular order:
1- My testimony of the restored gospel and the peace and joy it brings to my life
2- the Book of Mormon and the peace I feel when I read it (at least the English copy--the Korean one brings a bit of frustration)
3- my amazing and absolutely wonderful parents--for the way they raised me and the sacrifices they made for me
4- raisenettes--my newly discovered favorite treat
5- getting into EWU's PT program, so far it has been a blast
6- the happiness and joy I feel almost all the time--gifts from God
7- my ward and the lessons I've learned here
8- friends. I've never really had a lot of friends or been able to make them easily but here it is a lot easier.
9- my siblings. Heather, Trevor, Sarah, Paige, and Toria. I can't imagine a much better group of kids to grow up with.
10- the gift I have been blessed with for studying--it actually is something I really enjoy doing especially here in PT school
11- The human body and how astounding it is. God really did an amazing job on that one.
12- Always having enough to get by and not starve and a little extra for fun
13- I went to Korea on my mission. How amazing is that?
14- God is in charge of my life. His plan for me is so much better than mine
15- The piano
16- The guitar
17- my bachelor's degree
18- my early education in high school--it was hard but so worth it
19- chocolate--if it's not in heaven I might not stay ; )
20- fun smelling bath soap
21- a knowledge of my self worth no matter what I look like or how many people like me or if I ever date anyone
22- my feelings of security and independence that allow me to be single without being unhappy
23- an army of people who helped me to be who I am--teachers, leaders, friends, etc.
24- coats. It's cold in Washington
25- Texas
26- my car. She is so conveinent!
27- my health
28- my cute little red and tan room
29- sports with my dad
30- exciting weekends
31- technology that allows me to keep in touch with my family who is thousands of miles away
32- my plane ticket home for Christmas!
33- hot chocolate
34- chocolate chocolate chip cookies--my favorite!
35- writing. It's a good way to let out nasty emotions.
36- institute. What a cool uplifting expeirence in the middle of the week
37- my class. I couldn't have picked a cooler group of people to do this whole grad school thing with
38- my computer
39- sunshine
40- the power of prayer
41- the power of optimism
42- the ability to be alone and not feel lonely
43- the ability to speak and understand some Korean. Not many Americans can say that.
44- my George Washington State University sweatshirt--so so so comforatable!
45- Trevor being on a mission
46- my acne clearing up
47- my highlihgts. I think they are so fun.
48- my electric blanket- what a perfect way to fall asleep.
49- a living prophet
50- the ability to recieve revelation of where I should be going in life and what I should be doing.
Well, there it is. I'm sure it's not a complete list or anything, but I guess it works for me. I really truly have so very much to be grateful for. I feel so happy all the time--it almost makes being grumpy and irratable enjoyable because I know soon I will be out of it and that it is so very bright on the other side. : ) Really, though, it is nice to know that no matter how complicated life gets (and trust me, being single at 24 can make life pretty dang complicated around finals week), I will always be able to choose happiness--aided by the fact that my life is so full of things to be thankful for.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Poetic
For the first time in years I was feeling strangely poetic last night. So while I should have been studying the physiological vascular response to wound regeneration I jotted this little ditty down. Poetry always sounds more intense than the situation really is, but at the time I felt like I really captured my feelings here. Weird but very true. I wish I was a better writer, but I kind of like this one. The mood has to be right, I guess and it felt pretty right last night.
Flinch
I flinch when you touch me—
your desire poking through transparent fingers
gently encircling mine, urging them to wake
to respond
to reciprocate.
My fingers flinch as longing overloads the tendons
to respond
to reciprocate
to flinch away.
The vapor blocks my vision—
the spark in your eyes burns away my reason
so near the fringe there is no space to move
closer to you
to companionship.
My senses blocked by too too many needs.
to be closer to you
for companionship
to maintain control.
Your pain attacks my resolve—
your silent hesitation suffocates it with connotation
it chokes on my words that fight to evoke attraction
attachment
commitment.
Desire and conflict tear at logic’s impossible demands
attachment
commitment
isolation.
I flinch when you touch her—
her charming timidity angers and sustains me
broiling concoctionous consort of necessity
your happiness
your freedom
leaves me alone to flinch at the lingering landscape
your happiness
your freedom
my loss.
I flinch away.
Flinch
I flinch when you touch me—
your desire poking through transparent fingers
gently encircling mine, urging them to wake
to respond
to reciprocate.
My fingers flinch as longing overloads the tendons
to respond
to reciprocate
to flinch away.
The vapor blocks my vision—
the spark in your eyes burns away my reason
so near the fringe there is no space to move
closer to you
to companionship.
My senses blocked by too too many needs.
to be closer to you
for companionship
to maintain control.
Your pain attacks my resolve—
your silent hesitation suffocates it with connotation
it chokes on my words that fight to evoke attraction
attachment
commitment.
Desire and conflict tear at logic’s impossible demands
attachment
commitment
isolation.
I flinch when you touch her—
her charming timidity angers and sustains me
broiling concoctionous consort of necessity
your happiness
your freedom
leaves me alone to flinch at the lingering landscape
your happiness
your freedom
my loss.
I flinch away.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
It's Cold Again
At the risk of repetition I am going to post my first complaint of the year about the cold and try and attach some mystic slightly poetic highly pathetic meaning to it again. Consider yourself warned.
Washington cold is different than Utah cold. It's not as dry, for one thing, which is nice. I mean my skin still dries out and my lips are still chapped a bit but they don't seem to crack and peel as much, which is always nice for a student budget cause that means you don't need lotion. Still though, it's cold. Everyone laughs when I say that and say it's just starting and going to be so much worse and I'm never going to make it--a sentiment I rather resent as I've never quit anything I've been determined to succeed at. Still, I can honestly say I feel cold here. Maybe part of it is living in the basement too. Not that I don't love my little room--I do, I just am not quite use to the temperature of life here.
I've decided that this temperature--just barely above frozen--is an apt description of myself in a lot of ways. Kind of like the ice right after the Zamboni driver gets done. It is glassy and smooth and welcoming but hard to crack and even harder to penetrate. You can see exactly who I am--I don't try to disguise what I'm really like or put up false pretenses but at the same time I don't let others in easily--not really. I am happy to get to know people and form friendships but I avoid allowing myself to be emotionally vunerable at almost all costs. I wonder why that is sometimes. My family has always been extremely supportive, I have always had good friends, no tramatic events, only one breakup that I thought went over rather smoothly, no huge dissapointments, no drastic failed attempts at anything. I have no idea why I am so protective of myself and insistant to avoid emotional events at all costs, but there you are. I am. Just like the weather here--cold and stoic but still crisp and perfectly upfront at the same time. Bundled and covered up it isn't a problem. It's only when you let your guard down that the cold really bothers you. The rest of the time it's almost tolerable. Just keep your guard up. Don't let anything in.
Also, I learned you have to be careful what you ask for. Again. Why is it that I seem to always need the same cosmic lessons over and over again? You would think I would get the hint and start on some new mistakes, but alas, this is not so. So I say again--make sure what you think you want is really what you want before you think you want it. Otherwise you just might get it and realize how much happier you were before. Of course, I suppose it is that way always. Even things you really do want often seem to have at least some negative consequences when you finally get them. The new haircut may be easier to fix but now all those styles you're use to don't work and you have to start over again. Being newly weds is amazing but it's still hard to get use to his socks all over the place. The appartment is perfect--everything you ever wanted, except for the extra seventy bucks a month. Washington is fun and beautiful and the school is great but the weather is stinking freezing! You get the idea.
Anywho. It's cold. I guess that means I get to bundle up in my favorite sweatshirt ever--an oversized George Washington University one I recieved at a sweatshirt exchange that I never take home for fear my mom will sneakily throw it out in an effort to cutify my wardrobe. I wear it probably every day. Gross? Maybe but I only wear it when I'm sitting in my room alone doing homework, so I'm the only one around to smell me. This is a lovely way for me to get warmth when I know I want it and I don't even mind the smelly consequences. Good. Maybe I'm learning something after all.
Washington cold is different than Utah cold. It's not as dry, for one thing, which is nice. I mean my skin still dries out and my lips are still chapped a bit but they don't seem to crack and peel as much, which is always nice for a student budget cause that means you don't need lotion. Still though, it's cold. Everyone laughs when I say that and say it's just starting and going to be so much worse and I'm never going to make it--a sentiment I rather resent as I've never quit anything I've been determined to succeed at. Still, I can honestly say I feel cold here. Maybe part of it is living in the basement too. Not that I don't love my little room--I do, I just am not quite use to the temperature of life here.
I've decided that this temperature--just barely above frozen--is an apt description of myself in a lot of ways. Kind of like the ice right after the Zamboni driver gets done. It is glassy and smooth and welcoming but hard to crack and even harder to penetrate. You can see exactly who I am--I don't try to disguise what I'm really like or put up false pretenses but at the same time I don't let others in easily--not really. I am happy to get to know people and form friendships but I avoid allowing myself to be emotionally vunerable at almost all costs. I wonder why that is sometimes. My family has always been extremely supportive, I have always had good friends, no tramatic events, only one breakup that I thought went over rather smoothly, no huge dissapointments, no drastic failed attempts at anything. I have no idea why I am so protective of myself and insistant to avoid emotional events at all costs, but there you are. I am. Just like the weather here--cold and stoic but still crisp and perfectly upfront at the same time. Bundled and covered up it isn't a problem. It's only when you let your guard down that the cold really bothers you. The rest of the time it's almost tolerable. Just keep your guard up. Don't let anything in.
Also, I learned you have to be careful what you ask for. Again. Why is it that I seem to always need the same cosmic lessons over and over again? You would think I would get the hint and start on some new mistakes, but alas, this is not so. So I say again--make sure what you think you want is really what you want before you think you want it. Otherwise you just might get it and realize how much happier you were before. Of course, I suppose it is that way always. Even things you really do want often seem to have at least some negative consequences when you finally get them. The new haircut may be easier to fix but now all those styles you're use to don't work and you have to start over again. Being newly weds is amazing but it's still hard to get use to his socks all over the place. The appartment is perfect--everything you ever wanted, except for the extra seventy bucks a month. Washington is fun and beautiful and the school is great but the weather is stinking freezing! You get the idea.
Anywho. It's cold. I guess that means I get to bundle up in my favorite sweatshirt ever--an oversized George Washington University one I recieved at a sweatshirt exchange that I never take home for fear my mom will sneakily throw it out in an effort to cutify my wardrobe. I wear it probably every day. Gross? Maybe but I only wear it when I'm sitting in my room alone doing homework, so I'm the only one around to smell me. This is a lovely way for me to get warmth when I know I want it and I don't even mind the smelly consequences. Good. Maybe I'm learning something after all.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Woman Pains
At the risk of embarking on a painfully awkward subject, I have heavily weight the pros and cons of sharing my rather shocking findings of feminine internal behavior and have decided that the information needs to come forth.
I think that on a physiological level, the female uterus purposefully makes life more miserable for poor victims like myself before children are born. Having never undergone said activity I naturally cannot be sure, but that is my belief. Take the pumpkin patch for example--our PT class, which is constantly having social activities, recently went to a local pumpkin patch. Those with kids brought them along and we had a blast. On that tangent, this particular patch had a cannon from which they launched pumpkins--one every hour--at a speed of 900 feet per second into the air, across two fields or so, and in the direction of the evergreen groves. I wonder if the pumpkin seeds affect their Christmas tree crop. So anywho, it was a blast on several levels to play with everyone's kids. As we were going back to the car, one of my fellow single babyless classmates looked over at me and said, "this almost makes your uterus ache, doesn't it." I found the comment strange, but as we helped the little two year old up the path, holding his hand and listening bemusedly to his happy chatter about all kinds of things I'm pretty sure his mom didn't want us to know, I had to agree. A painful, twisting, almost bitter sensation came from inside. Creepy, right? Creepy but true. My own body turning on me. How horribly rude and inconvenient. Maybe that's all part of menopause too. Your body is trying to reward you for doing your job and allowing it the opportunity to carry a child. That would be a lovely theory if only those who actually had bourne children went through it. Now that I think about it, that is not the case. Hmm... I dunno...
I am blond now--officially. The girl at the salon put way too much color in my highlights. I guess that's what you get when you always shoot for the cheapest option. Bet guys don't get that problem too much. Guys get a bad haircut and can get it fixed up in about a month. Girls, we have to wait years or shovel out enough money for another treatment. Me, I'll take the waiting. Anyway, maybe this way the teachers will be nicer to me. No one seems to expect as much out of a blondie who obviously paid someone else to alter my body to force it to become blond. Not nice, when said that way.
And now I fall asleep as I write. That's my excuse for the convoluted excuse for a paragraph above. Goodnight!
I think that on a physiological level, the female uterus purposefully makes life more miserable for poor victims like myself before children are born. Having never undergone said activity I naturally cannot be sure, but that is my belief. Take the pumpkin patch for example--our PT class, which is constantly having social activities, recently went to a local pumpkin patch. Those with kids brought them along and we had a blast. On that tangent, this particular patch had a cannon from which they launched pumpkins--one every hour--at a speed of 900 feet per second into the air, across two fields or so, and in the direction of the evergreen groves. I wonder if the pumpkin seeds affect their Christmas tree crop. So anywho, it was a blast on several levels to play with everyone's kids. As we were going back to the car, one of my fellow single babyless classmates looked over at me and said, "this almost makes your uterus ache, doesn't it." I found the comment strange, but as we helped the little two year old up the path, holding his hand and listening bemusedly to his happy chatter about all kinds of things I'm pretty sure his mom didn't want us to know, I had to agree. A painful, twisting, almost bitter sensation came from inside. Creepy, right? Creepy but true. My own body turning on me. How horribly rude and inconvenient. Maybe that's all part of menopause too. Your body is trying to reward you for doing your job and allowing it the opportunity to carry a child. That would be a lovely theory if only those who actually had bourne children went through it. Now that I think about it, that is not the case. Hmm... I dunno...
I am blond now--officially. The girl at the salon put way too much color in my highlights. I guess that's what you get when you always shoot for the cheapest option. Bet guys don't get that problem too much. Guys get a bad haircut and can get it fixed up in about a month. Girls, we have to wait years or shovel out enough money for another treatment. Me, I'll take the waiting. Anyway, maybe this way the teachers will be nicer to me. No one seems to expect as much out of a blondie who obviously paid someone else to alter my body to force it to become blond. Not nice, when said that way.
And now I fall asleep as I write. That's my excuse for the convoluted excuse for a paragraph above. Goodnight!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Everyday Victories and Disasters
Well, it has been awhile hasn't it? I guess this whole grad school thing is really quite busy in the end. Wild. I'm sure I had a lot to report if I had described the conglomeration of emotions I began this journey with, but three weeks in it feels as if I have grown accustomed to the road and besides the small pebbles beneath my feet there is little to upset or amaze me anymore. Suffice it to say it has been delightfully overwhelming. The most exciting, intense, and natural thing I have ever embarked upon. I am so grateful for the opportunity and still cheerfully confused as to how I ended up in this frozen corner of the country studying physical therapy of all things. In the few times I take to actually think about where I am I get all giggly and puzzled. What a tangled thing life ends up to be.
I opened the pickle jar myself this week. This may seem little more than slight elbow flexion and internal rotation and abduction of the shoulder joint (haha I crack myself up) but really this was a symbolic victory of sorts. High on the list of reasons single women need a man is to open jars. I ask myself, what does this mean? Have the women of the country become so independent that we have revolutionized the manufacturing of pickle jars everywhere in order to accommodate the growing single woman population? Perhaps I was naturally drawn to the jar that was easier to open through a complicated mixture of Pavlov, genetic selection, and feminine intuition. (Really, it was the cheapest jar, but maybe this plays into the psyche of singledom as well?) Maybe the ability to open it means that I have accepted my current single status with grace. Or would it be strength and dexterity? I certainly wasn't graceful in my attempt. Come to mention it, it certainly wasn't an especially impressive display of strength either. I said I opened it, I didn't say it was easy or pretty. Anyway. Eating pickles has never been so complicated.
As for other interesting developments... there isn't too much to be honest. Life is good. Simple, predictable, and all around blissful. Except today in the cadaver lab I totally swallowed dead people juice when the cadaver leg was suddenly dropped in my general direction. Gross gross gross!!! The general response was far from encouraging. First everyone laughed then they all asked how it tasted. If people really wanted to know, they should drink it themselves then I can laugh at them! Oh well. For the record, it was not delicious, salty, or anything I want to focus on too much.
The Colts are winning agin. Leading the AFC, infact. 5 and 0. What can I say, I sure can pick em, huh? and to squash any rumors I was a huge Colts fan almost since I started watching football over 10 years ago. A colt is a delight to any thirteen year old girl plus I liked their colors. Now they are still my team and I honestly count their first superbowl win as partially payoff for years of fruitless cheering combined with the sacrifice of missionary service. Excuse me while doge the lightning bolt. I am an acknowledged Peyton lover, but this year Austin Collie, a BYU graduate, is a rookie on the team who actually caught a touchdown a few weeks ago. So see, I am a real live fan. And they are winning. And I like that.
Speaking of sports, it ends up the rest of the world are Texas sport haters. Who knew? If you ask me, I am a slight female (although I can open pickle jars... hmm...) who is far away from home all on her little lonesome so people should be nice to me and my state. But they aren't! I can understand Cowboy bashing--everyone does that, especially with stinking Tony Romo in the lead. But Longhorn bashing? Stars? Rangers? Even the Mavericks! I defy you to find another man in professional sports who is more down to earth than Dirk Nawitzki except for, of course, Peyton Manning. Grr. I know it's just jealousy and severe inferiority complexity, but still. I wish people would back off if they don't have the backbone to recognize real true talent. Hmph.
Anyway. To quote one of my favorite movies, "life is a quick succession of busy nothings." I had better go to bed. Or maybe I will eat a pickle... its flavor strangely reminded me of the cadaver juice... maybe they were a little similar? Oh on...
I opened the pickle jar myself this week. This may seem little more than slight elbow flexion and internal rotation and abduction of the shoulder joint (haha I crack myself up) but really this was a symbolic victory of sorts. High on the list of reasons single women need a man is to open jars. I ask myself, what does this mean? Have the women of the country become so independent that we have revolutionized the manufacturing of pickle jars everywhere in order to accommodate the growing single woman population? Perhaps I was naturally drawn to the jar that was easier to open through a complicated mixture of Pavlov, genetic selection, and feminine intuition. (Really, it was the cheapest jar, but maybe this plays into the psyche of singledom as well?) Maybe the ability to open it means that I have accepted my current single status with grace. Or would it be strength and dexterity? I certainly wasn't graceful in my attempt. Come to mention it, it certainly wasn't an especially impressive display of strength either. I said I opened it, I didn't say it was easy or pretty. Anyway. Eating pickles has never been so complicated.
As for other interesting developments... there isn't too much to be honest. Life is good. Simple, predictable, and all around blissful. Except today in the cadaver lab I totally swallowed dead people juice when the cadaver leg was suddenly dropped in my general direction. Gross gross gross!!! The general response was far from encouraging. First everyone laughed then they all asked how it tasted. If people really wanted to know, they should drink it themselves then I can laugh at them! Oh well. For the record, it was not delicious, salty, or anything I want to focus on too much.
The Colts are winning agin. Leading the AFC, infact. 5 and 0. What can I say, I sure can pick em, huh? and to squash any rumors I was a huge Colts fan almost since I started watching football over 10 years ago. A colt is a delight to any thirteen year old girl plus I liked their colors. Now they are still my team and I honestly count their first superbowl win as partially payoff for years of fruitless cheering combined with the sacrifice of missionary service. Excuse me while doge the lightning bolt. I am an acknowledged Peyton lover, but this year Austin Collie, a BYU graduate, is a rookie on the team who actually caught a touchdown a few weeks ago. So see, I am a real live fan. And they are winning. And I like that.
Speaking of sports, it ends up the rest of the world are Texas sport haters. Who knew? If you ask me, I am a slight female (although I can open pickle jars... hmm...) who is far away from home all on her little lonesome so people should be nice to me and my state. But they aren't! I can understand Cowboy bashing--everyone does that, especially with stinking Tony Romo in the lead. But Longhorn bashing? Stars? Rangers? Even the Mavericks! I defy you to find another man in professional sports who is more down to earth than Dirk Nawitzki except for, of course, Peyton Manning. Grr. I know it's just jealousy and severe inferiority complexity, but still. I wish people would back off if they don't have the backbone to recognize real true talent. Hmph.
Anyway. To quote one of my favorite movies, "life is a quick succession of busy nothings." I had better go to bed. Or maybe I will eat a pickle... its flavor strangely reminded me of the cadaver juice... maybe they were a little similar? Oh on...
Monday, September 21, 2009
Dodgeball Delight
I should be going to bed now as orientation starts tomorrow and I need to be awake and alert. Also I should be punished and sent straight to bed after the pathetic title I gave. Still, I need to toot my own horn a little bit before I forget.
Tonight for FHE the ward played dodge ball. I, of course, am dismal. I played virtually no role whatsoever in any of the first four games but still enjoyed myself and met some kind people. Anyway, so I was horrible. Perhaps my completely nonthreatening and timid playing style was the reason that the last game--the tiebreaker-- found me as the last member of my team still able to play against two stocky boys on the other team. Naturally, as I'm female, smallish, and new they didn't want to release everything they had but things still weren't looking good. Most of the balls were on our side of the gym and they only had 3 between them. They threw two at me at once and somehow I was able to dodge both (a miracle, I'm sure). In an effort to stop one from crossing back over I slid and grabbed it from just over the line. I barely got it but was kneeling at their mercy when they threw the last ball at me. Again some miracle helped me block it with the one I had just got. Everyone (including me) was duly surprised and impressed. Then--my true moment of triumph--one of they boys threw the ball back at me (it had bounced back into their side) and I caught it! It was amazing! That boy was out, it brought in one of our own boys and we won the tiebreaker!
As it was church dodge ball there really wasn't that much competition or anything, but it was a satisfying surprise that I didn't totally embarrass myself. Weird.
Tonight for FHE the ward played dodge ball. I, of course, am dismal. I played virtually no role whatsoever in any of the first four games but still enjoyed myself and met some kind people. Anyway, so I was horrible. Perhaps my completely nonthreatening and timid playing style was the reason that the last game--the tiebreaker-- found me as the last member of my team still able to play against two stocky boys on the other team. Naturally, as I'm female, smallish, and new they didn't want to release everything they had but things still weren't looking good. Most of the balls were on our side of the gym and they only had 3 between them. They threw two at me at once and somehow I was able to dodge both (a miracle, I'm sure). In an effort to stop one from crossing back over I slid and grabbed it from just over the line. I barely got it but was kneeling at their mercy when they threw the last ball at me. Again some miracle helped me block it with the one I had just got. Everyone (including me) was duly surprised and impressed. Then--my true moment of triumph--one of they boys threw the ball back at me (it had bounced back into their side) and I caught it! It was amazing! That boy was out, it brought in one of our own boys and we won the tiebreaker!
As it was church dodge ball there really wasn't that much competition or anything, but it was a satisfying surprise that I didn't totally embarrass myself. Weird.
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