A little laugh

I have plenty to say about going to Houston, but I will save that for a serious blog post.

Knowing that there are people in my ward who read this blog, I am still going to share this hilarious situation.  If you know who I'm talking about...just be a pal and don't tell!

So at the beginning of February, I went on a date with a guy in my ward.  To say the least it was...pretty awkward (lets just say I got pushed up against a wall in an effort on his part to seduce me.)  Anyways, we never went out again, though a few weeks ago he sat next to me in church, and proceeded to put his arm around me and rub my arm.  It was as if we were dating.  But we weren't.  I believe that was the last time that I really spoke with him.

This morning in ward council he announced that he was engaged.  To a girl.  He has supposedly been dating for three months. I laughed

You do the math. :)

Deep in the heart of....ah who'm I kidding I hate Texas

Sleeping in has been a horrible habit to get into during the week where everything is due.  Unfortunately my body has decided to be terrible lately.  I have no energy...I haven't even run this week! And of course this is the week that all teachers assign things because they think that they are being so clever in assigning things two weeks before the last week of the semester and nobody else is as clever as they are to assign things.  Yeah, thanks,  I have a billion papers now to write because you are 'so clever'.

So this has been the week of big little changes for me.  A few months back I talked about doing my student teaching in D.C.  I was all set up to go, all excited to go...I even had my first day of school outfit picked out.  (A little premature you say? Well...you're probably right but a girl has to get excited about something okay.)  A few days ago I get an email stating that I would not be able to do my TELL (Teaching English Language Learners) practicum (mini student teaching) in D.C. and was I aware of that and would I be doing it in Utah next winter.  Um. No.  That was not my plan.  So I start making phone calls and sending emails and come to find out that, basically, BYU hates me....

Okay they don't hate me but they do not want to budge on this one.  I was pretty upset.  I came home and went to a friend of mine's apartment to vent.  This is about how this went down.

(embrace for a long period of time because he gives good hugs)

ME:I can't go to D.C.

Alex: I'm sorry.  That sucks

ME: I am so mad right now

Roommate 1: Maybe this is God telling you you aren't supposed to go.

ME: You are not helping

Alex: Yeah I think he may be on to something.

Me: You are not helping

Roommate 2: Yeah, look at it this way, you made a decision and Heavenly Father is basically telling you its the wrong one!

ME: You guys suck.  Don't play the God card.  I want to be upset.

Alex: We are just sayin, you have options.

So I have been weighing out my options.  I can go to Houston, do my student teaching and my TELL practicum at the same time no problem.  But Houston just doesn't sound as exciting as D.C.  and it wasn't the plan.  I talked to the coordinators today and they said it wouldn't be a problem to switch to Houston, but I don't know that I really want to go there.  The upside to going there is that there are a lot of jobs for teachers there and they start you at $45,000 a year...which is pretty good for a teacher right out of college.  Student teaching there would be good because it would give me a sense of what Texas was all about without committing me to teaching there for life.

Or I could stay in Utah.  Which I discovered, much to my own shock, is what I consider a cowardly move today.  I said it out loud and realized that that is my big stigma with staying here.  Because me staying here is me having no faith.  Its the part of me that says, 'You can't leave Utah, you aren't married!'  Its the part of me that my parents agree with and the part of me that I hate the most.  Perfectly mormon people get married out of Utah all the time.  I don't need to stay here...do I?

I can't help but think, and shame on me for thinking this, that this would all be so much easier if I had a husband who's life could help scaffold mine.  I know I know, not this again.  But honestly, when you have a teaching degree and no husband going to school or working or whatever, when you graduate you can LITERALLY go almost anywhere.  And if you haven't noticed, the U.S. is kind of gynormous.  

So where do I go??  How do you choose when both options are good and neither are inherently 'wrong'?

"In life ALL must choose at times.  Sometimes, two possibilities are good; neither is evil.  Usually however, one is of greater import than the other.  When in doubt, each must choose that which concerns the good of others-the greater law- rather than that which chiefly benefits ourselves- the lesser law.  The greater must be chosen, whether it be law or thing..." - Elder John A. Widtsoe

I guess I'll make a pros and cons list.

What I learn in the war chapters

I have been trying to be extremely consistent in my scripture reading lately. (I know, didn't I learn that on the mission?  Well the answer is no, I got good at it on the mission, but unfortunately when you get off of a bike, no matter how good at riding it you are, you can't get anywhere on it.)  Ever since my little brother went into the MTC (he leaves today for Indiana...you'd think he'd call but he didn't) I have thought about things I want to be better about and scripture reading and sincere prayer are high on the list.

Last night I read Ether 11 which is just a seemingly unspiritual chapter amongst other geneological chapters that don't really teach you really rich deep doctrine that make you believe that the church is true and that your life is so much better having read.  I also read a little in Revelations (which I don't understand at all) and didn't really think to much about what I read because I was more excited to almost be done with the New Testament and excited to start the Old Testament.  I said my prayers after that, got into bed, and promptly fell asleep.

This morning as I was in the shower I randomly started thinking about what I had read last night. (that hardly ever happens, I am not that spiritual...and I rarely wake up early enough to shower before class) I realized that even though I don't participate in wars, I could relate my reading to what is going on in my life right now.  When it talks about 'making war' I could substitute 'gossiping' or 'being offended'.  When it says that 'prophets came' and 'prophesied of the destruction of the people except they should repent and turn unto the Lord and forsake their murders and wickedness' I can think, 'bishops and priesthood leaders came and gave talks about the deterioration of a good life except I should repent and turn to the Lord and forsake my cursing habit and my habit of judging others.'

So even though I have been told my whole life to liken the scriptures unto my own life, I just now figured out exactly what that meant.  Excuse my friend here, she is a little slow.

List of grateful

I don't do this too often, so I thought today being such an important day in my heritage (just kidding I have no idea what St. Patrick's Day celebrates but I'm Irish and Scottish so I pretend it is important) I thought I would write down a few things I am grateful for.  Thanks Lucky Charms.

*My Ipod shuffle- I remember running my first half with my Ipod classic and how the arm band straight rubbed me raw...it hurt.  I am glad in our society we are constantly trying to make things smaller. (I'm leaving this one wide open.)

*The Provo/Jordan River trail- Yesterday I was supposed to run 6 miles.  The thought of running 6 miles on a tredmill made me sick to my stomach.  Thanks to this trail, I didn't have to!

*My Ironman Triathalon watch- I still have to work out the kinks but for the most part, you keep me from whimping out on my runs.  Thanks for measuring my steps.

*The teenage kids who wrote on the trail- I was getting pretty tired on the last mile back to my house, but I was entertained as I ran by nice little notes in chalk on the trail.  They said things like, 'You are fat.' and 'Giving up is for skinny people.'  Genius.

*Honky Tonk Ba Donka Donk- Say what you want about this song, but when you are running, it is a good pump up.  Trust me.  Who wants to be known as the girl with the honky tonk ba donka donk?  Not me.

*A little brother on a mission- I had to throw this one in here because I think about him every day and I am so grateful he is on a mission.  I can't wait till he gets out of the MTC though so that my urge to just walk up there and see him will be unwarrented.  I live a block away.  Its ridiculous.

Happy St. Patty's to you all.

Water Water Everywhere

I have thought a lot lately about things that I need to work on.  One of them is my prayers.  I pray every day, don't get me wrong, but a lot of the time I feel like they become quite monotonous or I feel like I pray for the exact same things and they don't reach beyond the ceiling. (someone important said something about that, but I can't remember who it was.)  On Monday I was sitting in class and we were talking about The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  My mom has always talked about this poem and so I thought I would look it up on line and see what it was all about.  


The story is about a crew of sailors that get lost and head to a place with large ice walls and the follow an albatross who leads them to safety.  Then one of the foolish sailors decides to shoot it down and they whole crew dies from a curse except the sailor who shot down the albatross.  He is then cursed to tell his tale to all.  His moral reads 'He prayeth best, who loveth best; All things both Great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, he made and loveth all.'


Our prayers are a direct reflection of our ability to love, and lately, I have really only been thinking of myself.  I haven't been loving others enough, and so I haven't been able to feel God's love as much in my prayers. (God always loves us the same, but sometimes we put up barriers that make it harder to FEEL His love.)  Elder Bednar gave a series of conference talks related to prayer that I have been reading over since then.  My favorite quote is from his April 2008 talk you can read here.  It goes a little something like this:

“Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other” (Bible Dictionary, “Prayer,” 752–53). Humble, earnest, and persistent prayer enables us to recognize and align ourselves with the will of our Heavenly Father. And in this the Savior provided the perfect example as He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, “saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. … And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly” (Luke 22:42, 44).

The object of our prayers should not be to present a wish list or a series of requests but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is eager to bestow, according to His will and timing. Every sincere prayer is heard and answered by our Heavenly Father, but the answers we receive may not be what we expect or come to us when we want or in the way we anticipate. 

Prayer is a privilege and the soul’s sincere desire. We can move beyond routine and “checklist” prayers and engage in meaningful prayer as we appropriately ask in faith and act, as we patiently persevere through the trial of our faith, and as we humbly acknowledge and accept “not my will, but Thine, be done.”

I think of the pain the Savior was in as he knelt to plead for strength to endure the trials of the world - MY TRIALS.  How then can I think only of myself as I pray each night?  In my day to day life, how can I not show the love that the Savior would have me show and then expect to be able to get more out of my prayers, to feel more, find more answers?  The answer is that I can't. (duh.) And so I am trying to be better.  Like I said, it is a work in progress, but in the end, as long as I am doing my best, He will know and make up for what I can't do.

A giggle to start your morning

I typed this up for a friend so that she could use it for another blog that she writes, but I wanted to share it with you too.  Last weekend, I went on the worst date ever...

I had been out with The Divorcee three times before the worst date ever. He seemed like a good guy, but I wasn’t really sure about him. Little did I know that THIS date was going to decide it all for me.

The night started out pretty standard. We were supposed to make dinner at his parent’s house where he lives. I showed up at his house but he hadn’t bought the ingredients so we had to head to the store. I found that a little odd since he knew for a week that we were going to be making dinner and he even told me what we were having, so he should have already had the ingredients...right?

TD is one of those guys that not only opens the door for you to get in but also he expects you to WAIT for him to walk around the car to open the door for you to get out. I don’t find this chivalrous, just awkward. When we got to the store, I obediently waited for him to open the door.  Then he said, 'I have trained you well!' and grabbed my hand to hold as we walked in.  Now I find things like this so terribly uncomfortable because the first hand hold should always be something that you both agree to...I obviously didn't agree to that, but I had no choice.  

We made it back to the house where we proceeded to make dinner together and then eat it.  The conversation was pretty standard, with a few uncomfortable lulls, until TD started talking about his divorce…again. Every time we have been out he had somehow managed to talk about his ex-wife. On our second date he told me the WHOLE story. This time he used it as an opportunity to tell me how different I am from her and how I’m just what he’s looking for. TD also used the word individual at least 20 times during that conversation referring either to me or other girls he wanted to date. I stopped counting after 20.

When we got done with dinner, he happily exclaimed, “I thought we would face paint tonight!” I laughed nervously, thinking “I can handle a little paint on my cheek.”  Then he showed me a Website he had looked up with FULL FACE PAINTING DESIGNS. I asked him why we couldn’t just do small things but TD didn’t think it would be “as fun.” I reluctantly let him paint my face, my ENTIRE face and had my eyes closed per TD’s request.  When I attempted to open my eyes after a half hour of having my face painted, I could hardly get them open. They were painted shut, definitely a first for me. I now know how a window pane feels like.  After great effort I managed to peel my eyelids apart and I saw his great master piece…Darth Maul from Star Wars.

TD thought it was awesome. I wanted to scream.  I quickly painted his face to look like a Maori Warrior because I thought it would be quick and easy and then we proceeded to wash our faces.  For him, not that big of a deal. For me, it was. I am not a high maintenance type of girl, but when I am forced to take off all of my make up in the middle of a date I get a little upset.

Just so you know how excited I was...

As we got settled in for a movie (unfortunately the date wasn’t over yet), TD put his arm around me. By this time I was sure that I was never going to go out with him again but couldn’t think of an inoffensive way to get out of his arm so I just let it happen. Through the first 20 minutes of the movie, he kept asking me questions by turning his head so that his lips were on my cheek as he talked. I am sure he was expecting me to turn my head, but I just stared straight ahead and answered his questions with as few words as possible. When that didn’t work, he started playing with my hair. Still no response. As a last ditch effort, TD started touching my eyebrows. I asked what he was doing and his first response was, I think you still have paint on your face.” When he continued and I asked again, he responded, “I like eyebrows!”

TD continued to touch my eyebrows then started to run his fingertips all over my face, on my eyelids, up through my hair…which was quite inconvenient since I was trying to watch a movie with his fingers in my eyeballs.  About 40 mintues into the movie, I couldn't take it anymore.  I proclaimed my tiredness and said I had to leave.  As he walked me out he thanked me for “such a fun evening.”

A few days later he posted a picture he had taken of my face after he painted it on my Facebook page, declaring that “next time we should stick to small face painting.” Sorry buddy, there won’t BE a next time!