Chapters

What exactly do we mean when we say "chapters of our lives"? I was told recently that the Spokane "chapter" of my life is now over and it's time to move on to the Arizona "chapter". Eventually, barring the possibility of failure and death, the schooling "chapter" will wrap up as well leading me into what some call the "career chapter".

What does that mean, though? What exactly are they talking about? I find the idea of closing and opening sections of my life as easily as you might close and open sections of a book ignorant at best and insulting if I'm feeling grumpy or hormonal. Rather than stay obediently in strictly defined parameters each supposed bite-sized chunk of life oozes and spits to muddle the previous ones and color the upcoming ones to the point that the whole thing resembles a watercolor illustration left out in the rain than a carefully compartmentalized book with sections.

How, for example, can I be beginning my "Arizona chapter" when I lived here for all of my pre-teen years? How can I hope to open a brand new chapter when every time I pass the exit for Val Vista Drive I see the ugly stucco house with 2 and a half levels where two of my sisters were born and where I use to practice the piano at 5 am on school days? Or an even better question is how do I neatly close the "Washington chapter" when so much of who I am is a direct result of what I learned there and the individuals I met and interacted with and the effect their friendship had on me? How would shutting that section even be helpful when I spend so much time sneaking backwards to re-read my favorite parts of that chapter, to remind myself what I did right and warn myself of the mistakes I made so I don't make them again. Does looking forward mean I need to turn my gaze eternally from the direction I came from? Never before have I felt so much sympathy for Lot's wife and her brackish demise.

I think a better metaphor for my life would be to call each section a movement in a symphony. My life, after all, is composed by the greatest Master there is, even if my ability to play the suggested notes leaves me dreadfully dissonant at times. All the same, I think at least for me the way things actually work is not so much a chapter that closes up nicely to prepare for the next adventure but a confusing but exciting set of melodies and rhythms that pop up again and again in each section of varying length, tempo, and style. Each section builds on the last creating a complicated cohesiveness with indistinct overtones of familiarity and promise for the future. The Spokane movement may have met its double bar line, but the chords and cadences created therein were too beautiful to disappear forever and are sure to be found interwoven in the next melody created for Arizona--one that is already riddled with echos and phrases I remember from my childhood. I am excited to see how the harmonies weave together this time.

Rejuvenated

I don't usually do churchy posts, but this one kinda busted out of me. Plus I think all two people who might possibly read this are pro-church anyway. : ) Either way, you will get no apology from me. I speak the truth and it makes me happy. That's it.

I love the gospel! I have a tradition of reading the Book of Mormon every summer and I finished it yesterday. What an amazing message of hope in the face of tragedy that is. We learn from the Brother of Jared and his barges that no matter what, God won’t leave us to Saten if we are doing our best. Abinidi, Amulek, and 3rd Nephi show that no matter what the world does to us, Christ will stay beside us (to the bitter end if needs be) as long as we allow Him to do so. King Benjamin teaches us that love and obedience really are the most important investments we can make with our time. Moroni is proof that no matter how lonely we feel, there is one who will not leave us to ourselves. Both Almas teach that no matter how far we think we have fallen, there is always one who thinks we are worth the work to retrieve us. What peace that is! What an amazing message! This time that seems to us so long is but a passing dream to Him—one that we were eager to take on even knowing the risks, because we knew it would be worth it. We can do this! He will make the impossible possible if we do what we can, no matter how small that offering may be. His word truly is living water! His message is a fresh breeze on a hot stuffy day. Truly, sweet is the peace the gospel brings!

Hormones

I am sorry to write one of these, but I feel like both genders should be warned about the evil inside of almost every female. Granted, for the most part these are annoying signals we can override when we are well fed and happy, but if we are overly stressed, especially sleep-deprived, in an unstable physical or emotional state, or otherwise off-kilter or skawampus in any way suppressing the internal messages yelling “Be Crazy! Be Craaazzzyyy!!!” once each month becomes more difficult to ignore than it should be. Please don’t misunderstand—I am excessively annoyed by myself and anyone who tries to blame lingering grumpiness, inconsideration, or persistent griping on their estrogen cycle. All I mean is that occasionally, I am reminded that I am indeed a female with unfortunate mood swings that, in humiliating moments of weakness, hijack my better judgment.

Today for example, I’m not even sure what set me off. I was sitting in Relief Society listening to a well-prepared lesson and all of the sudden I found myself hunched against a wall in the excruciating Texas heat crying all my makeup off. After about four noisy minutes of soggy saltiness I shook myself off, stood up, and walked back into the building, my moment of insanity over almost as soon as it had come. Weird. Sometimes being a girl definitely has its drawbacks.

Pulling away from the havoc my endocrine system wracks on my self-control, life is wonderful. I passed my test! I am almost ready to start out on my internships and prepare to enter the real world. Being home is amazing—my sisters are my best friends ever (which is lucky cause hopefully I get to keep them forever) and my parents are as supportive and wonderful as they always have been. As always, there are moments of unexpected disquietude but in general being home is as wonderful as I dreamt it would be, and between you and me my imagination is colorful enough to make that quite a feat indeed.

Halfway to Crazy!

This is what my brains look like right now. I will survive this test, right?

I hate hating... and lots of other things

Feelings suck. I am a creature of logic and decisions—a scientist who thrives on facts, reason, and consistency. Emotion, by its very nature, is opposite of everything I function best on. Unstable, unpredictable, frustrating, and volatile—emotion is something I can’t control, and therefore it is something that frightens me. I think my biggest complaint with feelings and emotion is that they complicate decisions after I have carefully made them. Decisions are something I take very seriously, I make them after lots of thought, time, and preparation and I almost never go back on a decision after I finally make it. Emotions, on the other hand, jump in and try to bamboozle every logical thought I can come up with. It is extremely frustrating.

Fear, for example, usually results in one of two reactions—either I go into a frenzy of uncontrolled activity or I am virtually paralyzed into inactivity even when my path is set before me. It tangles my thoughts and blows up any challenges until that is all I can see. Fear is not something I can control. I know logically that fear is a vice—a burden even; but still I can’t seem to dump it when it enters my head. Like a parasite, it eats away at my determination and composure while tainting the world around me into something I cannot face with poise. I am a happy kid, but I am scared to death of a year of internships. I think it’s the huge unknown and the idea of leaving everyone and everything I have come to love about Spokane behind forever. This smallish fear soon mushrooms into something I don’t know how to handle. It opens an endless pit of what-ifs and why-nots and by the end I am a homeless old maid of eighty seven with no friends, no skills, and an unexplained fungal infection all over my left cheekbone. Bottom line—I hate being afraid.

Fear, however, isn’t the only emotion that drives me crazy, though I think it is certainly one of the worst. Guilt is another one that drives me a more than a little bit batty. Guilt is admittedly a good motivator, but it is also a festering acid that distorts my own view of myself. I think the worst part of guilt is that I sometimes have a nasty habit of imposing its cankerous presence without appropriate stimulus. I invite guilt when I haven’t done anything wrong which is stupid (yet another emotion I am far too familiar and disgusted with). This is especially true when others are involved. Even if I do my best to do everything logically and in the best way I know how I find myself full of guilt when those I care about are hurt, whether or not it is my fault. Again, I can often recognize that guilt is yet another unnecessary, unhelpful, and unwanted emotion, but I am yet to master the art of purging said emotion from my system. I can distract myself with music, scriptures, or homework, but guilt ekes back in like a toxin until I find some way to deal with it. Again, some guilt is both necessary and essential in helping me to be more of the person I hope to be someday, but all the same, I wish it was an emotion I can control and harness better to work for me instead of against me so stinking often.

Unfortunately, the list doesn’t end with fear and guilt. Sadness, homesickness, anger, frustration, inadequacy, and exhaustion are all emotions that get in my way and try to warble my reason. If I am being completely honest with myself I am a little nervous about attraction as well. Attraction, it may be argued, is not actually an emotion, but it is certainly a nasty force that usurps control in my otherwise carefully controlled mental system. Excitement and anxiety too, can alter my thought process, causing me to make decisions like writing on my blog instead of studying for my test or playing the piano like I had scheduled to do. Haha and that makes me feel shame—yet another abhorrent emotion.

I guess my point is that while I know logically emotions are a wonderful necessary part of the human experience, they are also annoying and I wish I had better control over them.

Independence Day!

Wow. What an amazing country we live in! I know I take for granted the huge blessings in my life, so it is nice every now and then to sit down and contemplate just how blessed I am. I, a woman with no outstanding talent or aptitude, am allowed to be educated, trained, and then practice in the field of my choice. I am able to live where I want, move when I want, dress how I want, and vote as I see fit. Best of all, I am able to believe whatever I want--I am encouraged to put my trust in God and seek the truth. It is a beautiful thing. Yesterday as I watched the fireworks explode across the sky in brilliant fires of purples, reds, and greens I was reminded again that this priceless gift, like so many others in my life, came at a great cost to men, women, and families I will never know. It came because good men did good things in hard situations. Because people stood by their principles when it was neither convenient nor logical to do so. It came because God needed this land to restore His gospel and He made the impossible happen so that could take place. It is true that we have our problems. Hungry men with cardboard signs, a national debt so big I can't even begin to conceptualize it, and lingering racism and hatred all testify of that. Still, I cannot think of any place I would rather live. This is, after all, the promised land.

Fireworks

The fire burning in the sky
that glitters in the smoky dusk
and blinks and cracks and fades away
calls out earnestly to us.

For once the fire, whistles, and booms
were not for entertainment plied
but snarling after men and boys
fields painted red and thousands died.

“And now,” they boom, “your turn has come
Freedom’s banner is yours to wave
that the world may know forevermore
here is still the home of the brave.”

“But how can I?” is my return,
“For I am raw and young and weak
what can I ever do for you?
Surely it isn’t me you seek!”

But loud and clear peals the report,
and deep down in my heart I hear
to fight for liberty and love
Is duty for all who now live here.

So in my struggling sapling state
I make a promise to the sky
I’m not brave like my fathers were,
but I too will fight till I die.

And when the blaze fades in the night
the cheering crowd is rained in dust
I smile at the sudden dark
and whisper, “in God will I trust.”

How to Hawk a Loogie

First of all, yes, I am suppose to be studying. That, of course is not new so no worries. In other news, I have decided today that there is far too much information available to the world at large. For example, while running down a busy street on mile five I was reminded that among the many skills I lack, I do not have the knowledge nor the ability to remove the phlegm that works its way from my sinus cavities, down the back of my throat and sticks like peanut butter over the little hole that is ideally reserved for transferring air to the suffering lungs of said masochistic runner. Instead of turning my head and sending the projectile into the grass like a cool looking runner I stand on the sidewalk like an idiot doing my best to scrape the goop off my tongue as it dribbles down my chin and the cars and people passing by speculate who the sad spectacle might be.

Like the savvy student (if not the sophisticated spitter) that I am I determined to do my research to delve deeper into the subject. Urbandictionary.com describes this action this way: hawk a loogie--to suck in nasal material into the throat and then push into the mouth to make it material available to spit out. A more medical definition also available online includes the following, this time spelled "how to hock a loogie": The combined sound of snorting hard a paranasal tubercular sinus oyster from nose to back of throat then adjusting position by teasing it around the soft palate prior to firing forcefully from mouth. Upon further investigation I found fifteen videos on youtube, almost three thousand step by step directions on google, and even discovered that there is a South Park character named Loogie. The point, however, is that I can now gain enough information on any given subject (say, how to hawk a loogie) that without any skill or ability whatsoever I can be educated to way beyond any sensible level--almost enough to be called an expert without any real life experience. Isn't that ridiculous? Well, rather than harp on or educate myself further in useless subjects I think I will try and get some real-life experience with forcefully expectorating excess mucus and phlegm before it succeeds in cutting off my oxygen supply.