This is the end.

This is it, my last day at home. Tomorrow I hit the road. The popping of fireworks still disrupts the air like a celebration of my farewell and I love it.

I've been set apart. And it was magical. A peace has settled deep in my soul.

I'm happy. Happy and excited and ready and....peaceful.

I have had things promised to me that seem....magical. I have things that I now want, want with my heart and soul, want almost as much as I want to teach Indians. I'm obviously still greedy.

So, this is my goodbye.

It's been fun. It's been crazy. It's been unexpected. And man am I glad it's finally here.

I love you my blogger readers.

I just have to take a moment and say: Laura, you are amazing. Very amazing. Super amazing. Your comments make me laugh and giggle and shy and happy all at the same time. I can't wait to come back and amuse you some more. And thank you for coming to my farewell, that was magical as well. Seeing your smiling face, so unexpected, my heart burst with joy that I probably didn't convey very well given how crazy anxious I was about talking. I thank you for that parting gift, it was one of my favorites.

I hope everyones heart is full this Fourth of July. I hope you stay safe and appreciate all that is around you while those beautiful explosions fill the air.

If you would like to write me, or want me to write you, my MTC address is as follows:
Sister Kayla Obriann Hanshew
MTC Mailbox # 193
OK-TUL 0727
2005 N 900 E
Provo, UT 84604-1793

Yeah I know, it's long, but worth it. Have a wonderful life for the next eighteen months, and know, you will be missed! BYE! :) I'm off to do great things.

I wished I lived in Sky City-But instead of I'm going to Oklahoma

I've been waiting to write this amazing post, something that was creative and lyrical and beautiful, and nothing has been coming. I leave in a day and a half and I have nothing to say except this:

I'm so freaking excited I can't hardly see straight.

And the best part: I didn't feel like that a few days ago.

A few days ago I was moping, sad, heart broken, clutching at everything and everyone to make sense of a situation I had no control over. I want to vent, heck I did write a vent, a mean and nasty vent with words that would hurt. But I'm not going to post it. And that is why I haven't been able to blog. I've been too tied up in my emotions. Normally I'm very hard and fast, mad or not, mad and very quickly going to get over it, or not mad at all, never mad, don't know who said I was mad but I ain't. But not this time. This time I was....hurt.

And because my friend never talked to me, never asked me about the situation, never gave me the time to try and explain all I can do is say: I'm sorry.

That's it. That's all.

I'm sorry. What I said was...dumb. While it may have been true, I shouldn't have said it.

There it is. The five day accumulation. I went through all the motions, confused, angry, sad, distraught, more angry, super duper angry, never ever going to apologize angry, and now I'm just.....done. I admit my fault in it. I apologize. 

And now to the important stuff:  Me leaving!!!! Ahhhhhhh.

Crazy!! But the best part: I'm so excited. Insanely excited. All my fear is gone and I'm going to kick butt excited. I want to teach. Man do I want to teach. I want to befriend and help and hope and pray and ponder and wonder and awe. I want to feel the Savior so close to me that I wonder if I look behind me quick enough if I will see him. Standing there, a small smile on his face, pride and hope in his eyes, his hands scarred and withered, ushering me forward, telling me I'm doing okay.

I want it all.

I want to teach Native Americans. INDIANS!!! Yes. I want to teach them. Of course when I say that I picture myself reenacting the first Thanksgiving simply with less anger and a BOM under each arm.

I want to see a tornado. TORNADO. And yes, my chances are pretty good.

I want to see double lightening, yeah, that happens out there. I'm cool, I know.

I want to wear the name tag that gives me the power to share this Gospel like no other.

Call me greedy but I want it all. I want to be worthy of it all. I want to work so hard that I can't keep my head up at night. I want to pray so hard my hands hurt. I want to work so closely with my Father in Heaven that I'll know he's my Father in Heaven, that I'll feel he's my Father in Heaven, that I'll willingly sacrifice cause he's my Father in Heaven, without thought.

I want it all. And I especially want those Indians.

The Art of Dying

These are my last days.
These are my last moments.
These are the last pictures these eyes will see.
This is my last smile, to the last boy I will talk to.
The sun is brighter through my window, knowing it will die when I go.
And for this moment, this last fleeting moment, the world seems so perfect to me. So wonderful in all it's simple plainness I wonder why I wanted to leave it.
The pool I found boring, the pink sun kissed skin, splashes, all better than before.
The air is crisper, the time faster.
I love the art of dying.
But I love the art of living even more.


I, am happy.

My farewell talk

I give my farewell talk in church next Sunday, scary, and my Bishop still hasn't given me a topic to speak on. So I'm pretty much using my authority as an indpendent woman, that's really in the Singles Ward, and telling my home ward Bishop what I want to do my talk on The Holy Ghost.

It's going to be awesome. And scary. You should come.

I'll even try and be funny, no promises though.

Kayla out.

Oh the hypocrisy

I haven't posted since I quit my job, now that I have all this time I'm obviously too busy to get on and post, rude.

Anyway, sad day: I had to take back my ipod touch. And because I was so mad at it, it freakin gave me problems from day ONE, I told the lady I didn't want a new ipod touch, I wanted just a simple IPod. So I took it back and got an IPod classic, 160 GB ftw, and saved fifty bucks, but now I miss my IPod touch. IT HAD FACEBOOK ON IT, I pretty much forgot what a computer was because it had so many freaking amazing apps on it.

Well I'm just going to have to man up because I couldn't take the IPod touch with me into the mission field anyways. But I can take this new, less cool, IPod though. Whatevs. I'm turning my life over to the Lord and all that jazz. Just kidding I'm totally serious about being spiritual and stuff. Anyway, have a great week!

Appreciate your location in life

Funniest thing? I just got to end my job, my (mostly, always) boring job that was super stressful and that I was absolutely horrible at, and as I sit in my house I look around me and think "What the heck am I going to do?" I always appreciated my job, knew that it made me money, and that I could NOT have a job and how much that was going to suck. And even as I was preparing myself to quit I kind of paded my goodbye, I psyched myself up, telling myself I WAS going to miss things but that I would be okay, that I might very well find moments where I wish I hadn't quit it so early because I could and would and will get bored.

But as I sat in my room and glanced around I got this feeling, this creepy, small, lonely feeling, that my life had so much more meaning in it when I had a job. That I had people that depended on me, that I had something I would plan around, that I had this wonderful constant in my life, and now that's gone.

It's making me sad in a completely different way. Never, ever, under appreciate what you have, even if you think you aren't, there's always something you aren't putting into the equation. And that something is always the one that comes up and bites you in the butt later.

My Days

My days are filled with trying to kick a cold, and writing a handsome boy, trying to stay positive about leaving, and leaving room for honesty, trying to be strong yet admitting that It's okay to be afraid, staring at my sister and asking myself what I will do without her, changing my hair and wondering why the heck I did that, painting my nails and feeling like a different person, trying to remember to eat, and then to not eat too much, saying goodbye, and then saying hello, packing up clothes, then wondering what I'm going to wear, being forgiving, then being forgiven, wondering, and then praying, crying and then wondering why I can't, my room, the world, my car, my feet, life, and everything inside of it.

Keep your eyes awake and your heart fresh, never ever be afraid to smile, let your heart see things in a new light, and let it close for the day at times, sleep can and will cure all problems, use it often.

Scratch that

Whilst that last post IS a good song, this one is much better for describing my mood. AKA I'm being emo. Bear with me.

Music

When all else fails, listen to music.

Big Jet Plane

My Mission area keeps getting hit with tornadoes. I'm packing two pairs of work shoes.

Happy Post

Good times to be had by all!

Actually not so much. If these past two years have taught me anything it's this: Life often sucks. Hard. So with that in mind I would also like to state this: It also rocks. Hard.

And it's how we keep these two from getting too out of hand that I want to speak on tonight.

Suckiness goes first:
I have seriously dated ONE man. One. I'm twenty years old.
The total number of dates I have been on in MY LIFE I can count on TWO hands. Only two (and for you slow folks out there it's less then ten [or maybe about ten, I wasn't thinking it was going to become this big of an issue so I never kept track. but it isn't a whole lot])
I had ONE best friend in high school, like straight soul mate status, and she left directly after high school and I had ZERO friends for almost two years (That would be how my sister and I became so close)
I hated school and decided college was not for me (I no longer stand by that idea for anyone looking for some solid life lessons)
I found an amazing job and work for amazing people but strongly dislike law (I also SUCK at it) and let me tell you when work is the only thing you have going in your life when you aren't good at it you might as well go and kill yourself. Cause you feel about that good.

Now you might be saying "Goll Kayla, your life isn't that bad." And you would be right. I had a job, period, I lived with my family and no bills, period. But I felt that I was hating myself and my life more often than not and that quickly can lead to allot of things ie. drugs, alcohol, depression, suicide, theatre. And I didn't want any of those things so I did something else and here it comes:

The FIX ALL:
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.
So easy, doesn't even take up a whole line.

Now this fix it isn't easy (hardly) but it is the only one that works. I found very quickly that even though I had people in my life that love me, you know who you are, they had lives and problems of their own and couldn't sit and baby me while I was having a hard time, it's all good, you're forgiven. But there was someone there that could and would and still will: Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. And sometimes they were the only ones that wanted to hear about how I saw a guy who was so cute and we could so have cute babies and how I wanted to be married and how I was made for so many good things and why was I fat and why didn't men like me and did people lie when they said I was funny cause no guy seems to like me?

And I cried alot. A LOT. But I made it through, and it turned out to be a huge growing experience and I'm...stronger...oddly enough. I look at women now and yes I understand their desire to have a man but I can also say "Learn. Take this time to see more deeply what you want, and to appreciate a man for what he truly will be and to see what you will be. And just grow."

OH and my other tip: Laugh. Often, and hard. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me from getting all emotional and crazy cutter lady on people. It works.

And in case my words have given you nothing to think about/suck I leave you with this amazing quote:
"The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea."
--Isak Dinesen
 
And I completely stand by that. Have a happy week all.

Mothers Day

Well technically it's the day after Mothers Day but I just...well I have this thought....and it won't go away....so here it is.

We are all Mothers.

My friend had to give a talk in church today...or yesterday, technically, and to a room full of single non mothering woman talking about being a mom is going to be either pointless or a whole lot of hypotheticals. But my friend found a talk and I read this talk and immediatly one thing stuck out to me: Mothers are awesome. And I said that to her, and she pretty much said I didn't get it. And then she went on to talk about how it isn't Mothers that are awesome but the qualities of Mothers is awesome, a quality that all women possess. And how as a women we don't need to have a child to be Mothers.

And it took my breath away, me who is almost twenty one and about to embark on a journey that is opposite of men and a family, me, who has recently decided that kids were a long, long ways off, sucked up this concept with every fiber of my being. Clung to this idea that I can be something, train for something, prepare for something that scares me to death. That in my ability to love everyone, to be kind, to trust, to hold, to respect, to look after, to serve, I better myself for when I have children of my own (oh yuck barf). I'm sorry, I love kids, I really, really do. I always have. Heck I was told from the time I turned ten until the day I stopped babysitting constantly, 18, that I was going to make an amazing Mother. But lately....I just can't picture kids, I know I will have them, my life wouldn't be complete without kids, but it's still so far off that just the idea of kids makes me sick to my stomach.

Sorry, off point. Moral: We are all Mothers, whether we have kids or not, and we need to act like it.

The End. Happy Mothers Day.

The World Around Us

I had a tough weekend this past week. On Thursday April 28, 2011 I found out that someone I love very very much could be sick, extremely sick, life changing sick. I cried. I did my homework, I checked life expectancy, I checked symptoms, I checked how it would affect that person and me and my family. And I cried some more. I thought about my Mission and what to do about that. I thought about my family and how things will change. I covered alot of ground. And we didn't tell anyone. We kept it to ourselves because we weren't 100% sure this person was really sick. We were waiting for one last, final, big, thorough test to tell us exactly what was wrong. And so I prayed. A quick prayer that asked Heavenly Father to help me, to get me through this, and to keep me strong. And I was okay. I made it through work, I made it through the weekend and on Saturday night I got on my knees and prayed again.

And I did something I don't normally do. I asked my Father in heaven something bold, something I knew he could do but I wasn't sure I was entitled to, I asked him to cure someone I loved, to not only grant me the strength to endure, if this sickness was his will, but if possible to take this sickness away, to move a mountain, my mountain. I cried, I cried because I wanted it, more than I wanted anything at the moment, but it felt selfish, and I knew that Heavenly Father doesn't give you what you want, but what you need. And so I cried because I thought I had already lost.

--Now I want something to be clear, when I got the news my mind split in two about my Mission, me going, or me staying. The sickness that this person had wasn't something that happened quickly, they could live another 20-50 years, but it was a somewhat unpredictable sickness in that it weakens you, so time wasn't always on your side. But more importantly was how my family was going to do with this sickness, could they handle such an important person being sick? And another thought hit me, it was something I had heard from alot of Sister Missionaries "It's amazing the things Satan will throw at you before your Mission to keep you from going." Was this a test? Was this Satan? And in that moment, with those questions, my mind snapped to one decision and clung with all it's might. I was going. Before I even said my quick prayer at work, through the tears and the wikipedia searching I knew I was still going. Nothing would ever change that.--

So during my prayer on Saturday night I did something I wasn't very proud of, I threw my Mission at The Lord, not an 'in your face' kind of thing but in a 'what about this?' way. A 'what about me? what about our plans? Why are you killing this person that I love and need?' and I fasted the next day. Keeping this person in mind and hoping for the impossible.

And I pushed all sadness away. I pushed away being upset and scared until we got the last test results back, until it was final. And I can say that I was....fine. Completely and totally fine. I'm not sure how I was going to be when I got the results back, when I knew that it was serious, that this person was sick and that wasn't going to change. But I was so....okay. I was also very sure and very ready to accept that this person was sick. That it was final. But I felt that my fast was already helping me because I was stronger, steadier. I was still sad, it was sad. But everything would be okay, honestly, looking back, I shouldn't have felt like that. At. All.

And then I saw this person this morning. Goll this perfect person, this person I love so much, and I talked to them and they told me a story about a sister missionary, and I cried a little as I drove away to go to work. And three hours later I got a call.

"Everything is fine. It was a false alarm. The Doctor doesn't understand what happened. He's pissed." And I was so relieved. Still am. I don't....I don't know how to explain it. I'm so....touched, amazed, inspired, shocked, awed, grateful for my Father in Heaven, for fasting, for prayers, for miracles, for my life, for my decisions, for my faith and at this moment, I'm most thankful for the ability, in two months time, to be able to share this gospel with everyone. To bear testimony to miracles, to faith, to moments in life when we don't think we can stand and to Heavenly Father who carries us. To moments when Heavenly Father moves mountains, and my faith, that is as small as a mustard seed. And the ability for everyone to have moments just like these.

The Lady I want to be

That right there is the lady I want to be. The lady I want to be so bad I can taste it. See that smile? That smile I want, I want the way her eyes shine, I want the kindness in her face, I want dainty hands, I want to be able to wear green pants and not look like a freaking weirdo.

Sometimes I feel like this lady.
And sometimes I feel the opposite of this.

And  yes, I believe in being yourself, completely. But sometimes you see someone shine and you want to capture that twinkle, just a little. And this lady blazes like the sun. Something about her blows me away. Maybe it's that she is artistic, I'm not. Or maybe simply that she is breathtaking, putting my hand down there. Or maybe that she sees beauty in everything, that she has the simplest, but most romantic and beautiful, dream of living in a bright house with fresh flowers and a man that will dance with her right there in the living room. Or maybe it's that she is so beautiful, and so breathtaking and yet in the corner she has a little glimpse into her mortality, a little dissaray, a little humanity, a simple mess. But that only makes me like her more.

Refresh, remember, remind

I almost feel the need to apologize for the last post, but I won't. A. Because I think it's nitty and gritty and real (like the picture to the left) and B. Because I write very well when I'm sad, and that post is very well.

BUT I no longer feel like that. I can't fault the post because everything I said was and is true, but at this moment I feel like nothing has taken that emptiness' place, nothing but possibility.

I have always felt like the Sunflower is the flower of possibility. It is a thought that has only formed recently, my love for Sunflowers, however, has always existed. Maybe it's that they have sun in their name, something we will never be able to stare at or touch, or maybe it's that they will grow anywhere (Las Vegas included, can you say freaking impossible?) or maybe it's the child in me that stared at the looming sunflower as a small sun in the sky, or maybe it's that they get big and tall (like me) so I naturally flock to them. They are the giants in the flower world, a species of their own, but so beautiful you know they hold their own against the most extravagant of roses.

So today is a Sunflower day. Today is a day to look at tomorrow, today is a day to live, to laugh, to love, to refresh, to remind and to remember. Today is a day for love.

“No one ever finds life worth living - one has to make it worth living” Winston Churchill.

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow.” Mary Anne Radmacher

"Time goes by so fast, people go in and out of your life. You must never miss the opportunity to tell these people how much they mean to you.”-I don't know.

“When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels.” – Edward Dahlberg.

“I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.” – Mary Anne Radmacher Hershey

“The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.” – G. K. Chesterton 

 And last but not least, because I had this experience the other night:

“It is solved by walking.” – Algerian proverb

Go travel, whether it's around the block, around the city, around the state or around the world, travel. Live, breathe, walk, see, feel, imagine, hope and then make it.

One of those moments

It's one of those days. Where you have one of those moments. The life and death moments, the what the heck am I doing moments, the what really matters moments, the where is my life going moments, the sad moments where you feel human and crappy and like you should be somewhere, anywhere, else.

I hate these moments.

I hate the depressing weight you feel sitting on your chest. And what's worse is that you can't make it go away, it isn't a knot in your hair or a wrinkle in your clothes. It's not something that can simply be fixed. All you can ever do is push it away. Wait for something to take its place, work, boys, friends, books, distractions, anything. Sometimes something really good comes along, like Disneyland, or a really great boyfriend, heck maybe even a husband. But it always comes back because...well because it's life. We aren't meant to be happy and elated all the time, life doesn't work that way, and so people make vacations and have affairs and turn to alcohol and drugs and tv to get away from these moments. They throw themselves into things that make them feel good, sometimes that's something they can control, like work, or sometimes it's something that will simply numb them, like drugs or, for the less extreme, alcohol. But when you don't want any of those things you turn to even less extremes, tv, books, movies, stories. Because life sucks.

And that is how today smells. Like suck. Like a life sucking crap fest. Like mortality.

Please take one step to your left. Excellent.

I was talking with a friend yesterday and she told me the saddest thing I have ever heard, only problem is I had heard it before.

The day was glorious, beautiful, if not a little dull. I sat in my fifteen by ten office staring out my back doors at the cloudy sky. My hands itched to hold a new book, my back to lay in soft scratchy grass, my new shades on my face, the sun peaking out from behind tree branches. But I couldn't. So I asked if others were. "You aren't working today, please tell me you're outside reading a good book and soaking up that sun." I got a very grumpy. "There is no sun." Back. And I quickly found no one was. It was apparently only my dream. But another quickly followed when a friend of mine text me with a problem.
-"I'm thinking very dangerously." Naturally that catches my attention. Dangerously? Does she want to rob a bank? Does she want to go streaking? Is she going to light off fireworks? No. None of the above. She was thinking dangerously about a boy. She wanted to ask him out.
-"What do you think?" I think that over. What do I think? I come to the decision that I'm torn. Part of me says you only live once, and the other part says you're odds aren't worth the stress and heartache in asking. But she's adament. She even calls me at lunch so we can have a discussion, a thick debate. Very quickly she convinces me it's a good idea. I'm still hesitant, but other than talking about all the things that could happen I have no problem with her idea. I even start to get excited. We only live once, anything is possible, shoot for the moon, it's just one guy there will always be more. And then I start to think about my guy. My moon. And shooting for him. I get excited, I get nervous, I get excited again. And then that all dies.

-"My Mom says weight is a big issue in our generation and I would be depressed when he rejects me."

My heart sinks, stops, and stumbles to a start at half mass. I've heard it before, not put quite like that, but basically the same. My family says the same things. We aren't dumb. We know how the world works. Heck I think I get to see it more than anything with the stupid 'Singles Ward'. But with the kind of day it had been, the hope that had gone into this moment, and the dreams on the horizon it tears me apart.

I flop through the rest of the day and freak my family out at home. My Mother thinks I'm going to kill myself and sends first my sister into to cheer me up and then when that doesn't work, she sends in the big guns, the never fail guns: my father. He sits and and doesn't say anything. I just want him to go away. And then he pulls out his journal, a journal I never knew he had, and reads a recount of when him, myself and my older brother Spencer went to Moab when I was ten. It was adorable from his point of view, when that doesn't produce a smile he continues to go through the objects from his mission (something he promised we would do at some point) and finds a piece of old newspaper. He laughs while reading it, I turn slightly.

"This is a newspaper clipping of BJ from high school. Mom said she is in this picture." He points to a worn out black and white picture of a large group of students. I try to see her but can't. It isn't a very good picture. "I said 'Mom the circles are the ones I think are her' and then I circled this black guy, this black guy, this black guy and then this white guy." I laugh, hard and long. My Dad continues. "And then my Mom sent it back, 'Kenny! You circled three black men and a guy!'" I laugh harder, my Dads even chuckling at this point. "Yeah Mom, I was serious, you only knew me for what Nineteen years at this point." I stare at the crazy man I call my father, the man that.....is a nerd, a comedian, a joke, weird, hilarious and likes to sleep. The guy that...freaking knows what to do. The guy that my mother sends in when she doesn't know what to do. The guy that always stands up for me.

The guy that doesn't have a weight issue.

The guy I will forever love. And at some point, when the time is right, the guy that I will look for in a spouse. The nerdy, hilarious, odd, kinda weird guy. Maybe not the most obvious choice, but obviously the best.

Done and Gone

It happened. And it was amazing. My Mumford and Sons experience:

To start, the concert ticket says the concert starts at 8 pm. I arrive at The Cosmopolitan at 6. They say I'm too early and no line has even started, Jordan gets on my case about being crazy, so we walk down the strip and hit up McDonalds come back before seven and bam HUGE LINE.

Fantastic. But you know we dealt. THEN they didn't even start letting people inside UNTIL 8 pm. Lame. BUT we got a great seat up by the stage.

Also amazing. And then we wait and wait and wait and wait. And some little guy comes on and plays a couple of songs and they were pretty good. And then FINALLY. The main men, the show stoppers, the hero's, my hero's, the beauties, the EVERYTHING. Mumford and Sons. And they play, oh how they play. The music flows from them like air, like they were made to do it, like it cost them nothing but a flick of their hand, like they weren't shattering my life with their beauty. It was amazing in ways I could never try and duplicate. And they played new songs, gorgeous songs that needed to be out so I could purchase them. Songs that I needed to play over and over again, digest them until they were things I knew, knew inside and out, knew what they wanted me to know, heard what they wanted me to hear, touched me in the way only they can.

The lead singer, aka me and Jordans boyfriend. He was beautiful. AND he plays the drums. Yeah, he's got it going on. OH and they did a cover, and that cover was amazing, it was a song I swear I had heard before but couldn't place it. Now though, now I love it. Who cares who originally sang it, it has forever come out of this mans beautiful mouth. And for your viewing enjoyment, a little video from the night, it's of The Singer, Marcus Mumford, on the drums, yes that's right the drums, playing a new song that is absolutely beautiful. You will have to ignore A. the screaming fans, myself included, B. the crappy quality and C. The possibility of you passing out. Pleas enjoy your life and if possible: see these men perform.

-----The video won't post. Sorry. Just use your imagination.

UPDATE: I found the song I wanted to posted, on youtube of all places, weird. It's HD and everything (Coachella broadcast every ones shows live, genius). So the sound is amazing and you can pretty much see how perfect they all are. But I do want to say...I think they played better for me in Las Vegas. Enjoy.

Mumford and Sons

It is here. The big day is here. The huge day. The...most awesome day of all time. I'm freaking excited!

I've been listening to M&S for the past two days, nonstop. And it just pumps me up more.
Ofcourse now I have to make sure the ticket I bought isn't a fake. Lame. But even if it is I told Jordan I'd give her twenty bucks and she could go watch a movie and I would stay at the concert. Win, win. Minus ninety bucks. Live and learn I guess. I knew I should have bought two. That was me being dumb...and cheap.

So happy friday. And if you have a few moments go and listen to this. And that's LIVE. Man I'm jazzed. See you tomorrw blog world!

Running and rapers

I was with some friends the other night and one of them started to get nervous, because of the late hour, that something was going to happen to us. She reminded us about the raper that was been in the area and that maybe we should hurry things along. Well A. we were in the church parking lot, and B. there was four of us, and one of them was a guy.

To say the least I didn't take her serious.

And to add to it I was driving home with my other friend and both of us agree, we are on the bottom of the list for rape...I would also like to throw kidnapping in there simply because I don't think I will get kidnapped. And even If I did I'm a pretty savy fighter so my fear is pretty low. Now I'm not dumb, or suicidal, I still take my phone out with me whenever I leave the house to jog or exercise at night, and I always stay in familiar areas but I don't refuse to leave the house or the safety of my car at night because I'm scared.

Well irony of ironies has come about. I have to pick up a ticket from a stranger. Someone I have never met and suddenly I'm nervous. I'm not going to this persons house, we are meeting at the Palms for goodness sake but who knows? Maybe he's crazy. People have gotten snatched out of parking lots before. I have had to talk myself out of taking someone with me about a dozen times. I would just feel so freaking wimpy if I did that. And there you have it. If I die or end up on the news as a kidnap victim I hope this gets read at all the Elementary schools "safety and strangers" assemblies.

A reasonably priced ticket

I am on the hunt for a reasonably priced ticket. Possible you say? Not. The tickets were originally $35.00 and that's how much I bought mine for. Well being the idiot I am I didn't buy a second. Why? Cause no one wanted to go with me but now well people want to go but I have no second ticket and the concert is now sold out. What that means for me? Triple prices on the tickets, if I'm lucky. I have now posted asking for a ticket for around $75 (not gonna happen) but I have also emailed people for tickets all around $100 (hope they still have them). So now I wait. Am I willing to go higher? Yes. Why? Because the ticket is for my sister and....well I'm a sucker for my sister. And everyone should have the chance to see Mumford and Sons in concert.

ALSO!!

I have a theory going. Wait for it.....I'm lucky.

No wrong word. I'm...blessed.

In the little things. This concert for one, remember this post?, and then I got to go to Disneyland and I was running late to church last week and I STILL made the sacrament (they usually get to that post haste) and just...well little things. I love it. So now I am on this little endeavour and we shall see how it all turns out. I'm so excited!

Hopefully I didn't just jinx myself.

Unhealthy habit

Ever just say 'screw it'? Ever? Not even in a 'I'm going to forget about everything I have been taught in life and go on a drunken coked out murder rampage while naked' but in a 'let's go look at that one guys profile'. You know the guy. The one that "got away". I hate that term. It's dumb. And this post has alot of quotation marks, also unhealthy. Anyway I have this boy. I don't know if he ever got away because I really never got him. But he is very special to me because...well because I just really liked him. And I have this thing where if I liked you long enough and thought you were amazing enough, even if NOTHING ever happened, I will always hold that little part inside of me. That part that liked you.

So this boy Jason*, I liked allot. But we met in unfortunate circumstances (he was on his mission aka married to the Lord, literally. More unavailable than if he really was married) and so we were simply friends. But we were really really good friends. Like really good. As in...unnaturally good. Or maybe that was just me. But he came to our house A LOT. And we're members. So he didn't need to come to our house so much. But he did and I saw how funny and spiritual and nice and decent and amazing he was and I slowly grew a little crush that just kept growing and growing (because the Lord was in on it and he didn't move for FOUR FREAKING MONTHS) until one day I looked at him and well went all gooey eyed. And it was just bad.

So finally he got transferred well low and behold he was zone leader so he came by with the new guys. Nice thanks Jason. And then he came by again (and this was awesome because the new missionaries NEVER CAME BACK until this time) and then one last time and it was literally his last time. He came by to have us sign his journal because he was moving far away and wouldn't be able to visit. Well I was having a bad day and was held up in my room stinky, no shower, in bum clothes, didn't plan on moving for as long as possible and bam Jason's saying he won't leave until I come sign his journal. Well I was stubborn and said I wasn't coming out. And then Jordan called me out to the fact that you know I liked this guy and he was leaving and I could throw my email address in his journal and he could look me up after his mission. So finally after a couple minutes of inner debate (no, I didn't take the time to put on some make up or fix my hair I debated on going out there[and yes he really was waiting]) I finally went and he looked beautiful and I felt dumb but I signed his journal and I tried to make it funny and yes I did put my email address down. And my swanky mom managed to snag his as well and then he was gone.

And...suddenly I don't feel like finishing this story. It doesn't have a happy ending. It...he never got back to me. I emailed him and he never said anything and he never emailed me and then one day I found him on fb (yes I was looking) and I added him and he still, he never talks to me. And now I'm serving my mission forty miles from where he lives and I don't have the heart to tell him.

I had given up on him. Waiting and waiting, hurting, pining for him, hating myself because I thought I wasn't good enough. Until I finally said: no more, I can't keep hurting for this man. And then the dreams started. I never once dreamed of Jason while he was here or while I was hurting for him. It wasn't until after I gave him up that I had a dream and it was a bad one. He was mean to me. Horribly, horribly mean. Called me names and said what was wrong with me and why he would never want me. And it just opened up the can of worms all over again. I was hurt, hurt almost as much as if he would have said it to me himself, and then I was just mad. So mad I had half a mind to tell him off on fb. But I didn't. I somehow controlled the urge to throttle him and slowly I got over him again. I focused on my mission and where the lord wanted me to be. And life was good again.

And now! Now I'm forty miles from his freaking house! What. the. eff. Why?!?!? WHY!?!?!? And to top that all off I just had another dream. But this time it was a marriage dream. He wanted to marry me. He was engaged and saw me and decided to leave his boo thang for me. What is this?? Is this some sort of growing experience? Some sort of...torture? I mean if this is some amazing way of bringing us together than yeah cool awesome but if not....well than it is just rude.

SO the point of the story and then the rant is because this morning I woke up and decided a year a half of my life was pointless and checked out pictures of Jason. And he looked wonderful. And now I'm sad. The end.

*names have been changed.

Failing at life

I feel like I'm failing at life right now. I'm trying to accomplish three things.

Lose weight.
Prepare for the mission.
Finish your life here and don't screw up.

I'm failing at all three.

I'm not preparing for the mission as well as I wish I was.
I'm NOT losing weight.
And even though I haven't technically screwed anything up I'm not succeeding and that generally feels the same as screwing things up. AND I can't write to save my life. I have things I want to say but I just can't. I can't write happiness. I think I said that in my first blog. I'm just not good at it. The warmth that comes from happiness never seems to spread to paper/computer screens.

Fail.

Sucks.

 Lame.

AND Mumford and Sons is coming on Friday and I'm not even as excited as I could be because I'm going alone. That's embarrassing. But I'm still going. Cause...well cause It's Mumford and Sons. I'm not going to throw that goodness away.

My Wound

I have a wound on my hand today. My left hand to be exact. And this wound I wear with pride. Allot of pride. It isn't that much of a wound. The upper palm, right below my fingers, is swollen and tender. How did I get such a weird wound you ask. Easy, baseball.

Amazing baseball.

Baseball with my Dad. Baseball I haven't played with my Dad in years. It was magical.

So today I wear the wound with pride. And the second this wound is gone and I can catch balls again you will find me at the park playing. Because I'm 88 days and counting. And that my friend means baseball with my Dad, magical baseball that ended at the tender age of thirteen when I showed I was too wimpy to actually catch the ball, is back on. 88 days of the sport I didn't know I loved. But most importantly: 88 days with my Dad.

Engaged

Is it wrong that I hate that word?

That it sends shocks of disgust and longing through my body?

That, since I have been called on a mission, it has become a word that I throw to the back seat? That I forget about, and instead think of skirts and books of mormon and spirit touched investigators?

Maybe I'll just pretend I'm engaged to my mission.

.....I need engagement pictures....

“Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary: use words.”

St. Francis of Assisi said that. It blew my mind.

Watch conference people (if you haven't already).

Beautiful words are spoken there.

Have a great week.

My Grandma is my home girl

That was a lie. Cause she is so much more than that. She's amazing. I went to visit her today. It had been a couple weeks and I wanted her opinion and honestly it was kind of a miracle I got over to her because I have not been feeling down to do anything that involved me having to be active, participate, or didn't include food (it's been a rough couple weeks). So I show up, and play with my rad baby cousin and then the house kind of clears out (perfect setting, also unexpected given that I went with two other people and she lives with four other people [all of whom should have been there]) and I start my....expedition. "I need your advice..." I always want her advice. Cause she's perfect. She's lived through so much, she's one of the strongest ladies I know, and she takes everything in stride. She isn't judgemental and she's very kind about her advice. And so we get through my question. And I sit there and she asks me about a going away party and when I'm suppose to go to the temple and when my farewell is and when my talk is and how my family is doing and where my boundaries are and if there is a temple in Oklahoma. And I sit there and answer her questions and she just starts talking and talking. Which was odd my grandma is usually the listener. And I just let her talk and talk and talk and plan and want things and congratulate me. And I start to tear up a little and I don't know why but suddenly I feel very small and very venerable and I want her to stop and I try to get her to stop but she doesn't she's so excited and happy and nervous for me. And then she looks at me and says "You've done enough. The Lord has your back and I have your back and I want to do this." And I tell her that isn't necessary but she is adamant and talks about how I can't do it all. And she keeps talking and talking and I'm listening I really am but I don't remember what she said because all I can think about is how she has my back and how the Lord has my back and how....how I didn't want to be vulnerable, I didn't want to be weak. But the tougher I tried to be, the more I hardened my heart, the less I let the Lord in. And suddenly I can fix how I feel and I get back on track and no it wasn't going to be easy but I would be relying on the Lord and he would be there for me. And that was better than being hard. And I thank her again and again and again and she says she wanted to plan the party and I smile a little and tell her how much more she has done for me. But she doesn't understand and I all I can do is thank her. So again I say: Grandma you are my home girl. You are my counselor. You are my friend. And you are one of the strongest people I know.

Nothing. And Romance.

I want music. But good music. Music that speaks to your blood. That makes your heart race and your toes curl. That caresses your skin and tells you fairy tales of men and places, people and feelings. That takes you through an entire story and at the end says "You've been here before." I want that kind of music. And I'm not finding it. I'm stuff about front seats and back seats. What my name is. Who my doctor is. How someones boyfriend is an alien. How the world is ending...but we are going to just keep on dancing. It's getting ridiculous. But what this is really about is my dream last night. My naked dream. But not in a bad way. I was totally aware of it. Some guy friends came by and I was all naky and they were like "Want to go to the store?" And I was like "Guys I'm naked." And they were like "Dude! We were thinking about going to the store naked too!" And it was decided. I would go to the store naked. And we walked. And I was holding a baby blanket, that was not covering the goods, and a lawn chair. Odd. And we were like, heading to Vons and I was totally cool with me being naked. Until I saw the bus full of children and my morals kicked in and I was like "Oh crap schools out. Guys I can't be naked in front of kids." And I was suddenly self conscious that they had clothes on and I didn't. And they were cool with it. They just shrugged and we turned around and I glided home on my cool lawn chair. And then something else happened after that. I think we went to...a theme park? Idk I just had clothes on in that part of the dream. Weird. My other dream, which I think is a total sign, was of a zombie apocolypse. And I was rockin it. And Preston W. was there. And he was not rockin it. He kept letting infected people in. I don't care if it's your gf she ain't coming in our makeshift hut! Gah! So frustrating. But yeah, I was taking down some peeps. On the for reals. Just come to my house when the Zombie apocolypse happens. It's cool.

Big happy smiley happy face

So I noticed going through my posts that I'm kind of a downer. Or maybe just that last post was super ridiculously sad and bitter so here comes a super happy happiness post. My broham (Charles) plays lacrosse and his team has been winning but wait for it....last game he scored FIVE of the...I think TEN POINTS. What what?!?! Yeah, the only athletic Hanshew. Represent. My mish. What what?!?! Yeah. Oklahoma better be ready! Cause I know I am. The fam bam. Craziness cuteness pie. They want to throw a going away party for me. Three months before I leave. The idea still makes me laugh. I think I'm holding them back pretty well though. I keep telling them I have ZERO friends. They laugh at that and say 'Then it can be a family party." Sweet. Work. Suck. Skip. Books. Yeah! I can read! And I love it! Succession of three days off. Yeah. Have to take it. Whatevs. Maybe I will go back to D Land. Yes ma'am. Running....you suck, skipping as well. Clothes. Oh what up?!?! I don't know how to dress for Oklahoma. It's kind of embarrassing. Whatevs they're all hillbillies down there anyway. I'll fit right in. Um....that is all.....at least on the happiness scale. I'm just a flurry of all things emotional. Cool. Keep it real people. Keep. It. Real.

One flew over the cuckoos nest

Sometimes I feel like I'm crazy.
And some days I feel like I'm the only sane person in the world.
And then there are days where I feel like everyone is crazy and all you can do is manuever your own craziness.
And then theres today.

Today is just a timecapsle of wth? People. You're the spice of life. I got it. But seriously, can't you just leave me alone? I don't want to deal with people, or see people, or hear about people, or have to talk to people. I'm tired of people.

Not all people obviously. My boss=superman. He's amazing. It's ridiculous.
My mom=Called me 'cool' yesterday. Actually I believe she said I was 'so cool'. I don't think anyone has ever just come out and said I was cool. It was kind of magical.
My fam=spice of life. My life at least.

But everyone else can go the heck away. On the serious. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of dramatics. I'm tired of craziness (especially if it isn't my OWN). I'm tired of manuevering around being nice and politically correct, or even socially correct, or even just correct. I don't want to be hurt that someone isn't talking to me. Or they're angry because I didn't talk to them as much as I did to someone else. Or simply because I was there.

HOW DO THE PEOPLE OF JERSEY SHORE DO IT?!?!?!?!

I wish I had a bunch of guy friends because honestly...they're so much better. Women are dramatic and crazy. Men keep it so black and white. And it stays that way with them. You never have to wonder if someone isn't talking to you because something that they said was about you and suddenly you have to wonder what you did that made them mad. No. If a guy isn't talking to you it's simply because he's busy. Or has nothing to talk about. It's amazing.

So please Tuesday, get uncrazy and awesome. For me. Thanks.

The Call

"Have you checked the mail box yet?" It just hit twelve. The mail was suppose to come at eleven.
"It isn't here." My mothers voice says to me. I pause. Something sounds off. Is she lying?
"You sure?" I double check.
"I don't think I can really screw up checking a mail box." I had to give her that. "When were you expecting it?" I sighed my heart dropping.
"Well I was hoping today but I didn't think it would come this early. Probably not til next week...or even the week after." I add as I count how many days it's been since my interview. Only twenty four. It felt like alot. My mother assures me it wasn't here and to be patient. I get back to work, my heart sunk for the week.
I get a call back from her within two minutes. I answered confused. We just talked. She rambles for a moment about my brother and picking up the car before finally saying.
"I lied, it's here. I wanted to surprise you but your brother is taking so long picking up the vehicle." As if the extra two minutes would matter to me. I jump for joy. Yelling and exclaiming my breathless happiness as quickly as possible. She is happy with me and wants me to open it immmediatly. We don't. I wait, somehow. Until after work. As I am driving home, I'm purposfully avoiding the white envelope next to me. The contents of which scare me, possibly to death. Or at least, denial. What will they say? Where will they send me? I'm scared and excited. But it is my fear that keeps me from ripping open the envelope and ruining the surprise for everyone.
I recieve a call from my father, who is at work, letting me know that we should hit the house at the exact same time. I slow my vehicle down. How am I suppose to open this letter? How am I suppose to face my fate? Where will I go?!?!?!? How will I do?!?!?! I immediatly decide I'm not ready for something this big. As to how I even got to this point is completely in question. I'm not strong enough for something like this. I'm not smart enough, I don't know enough. Every fear that I could have is filling me and as I enter my house I hide in my room.
Everything is the same. My house is the same. My family is the same. My mother is cooking, my brother is playing on the tv, my sister is skyping, my other brother is at work and my father hasn't gotten home yet. It appeared I was the only one freaking out. Like my world was being turned upside down and inside out. Like I might have to turn down this opportunity. I search for the strength that brought me to this opportunity and slowly crawl out of my room as my dad walks in.
"Alright let's do this. Where's mom. Okay, where's Kayla." I make myself known and take a seat. Everyone pauses their life and moves towards me eyes just as weary as mine. And in that moment I pause.
I forgot.
I forgot how much this will affect them. I forgot how much they share my fear and desire. I forgot that they want to see me happy. I forgot that they would be missing me as much as I would be missing them. And with my Dads eyes bright (he's the only one that went on a mission) I open the page and read out loud where I will be going.
"Oklahoma, Tulsa Mission. English speaking." That's all I can get out. I burst into smiles. My family cheers and applaudes. My Dad couldn't be happier.
"Perfect, I won't have to worry too much." Everyone agree's, copying his statement. I keep reading the letter.
"I report to the Provo MTC July 6th." More smiles, everyone agrees this is good and continue with their life. I walk to my room my mind spinning.
I was sure I was going Spanish speaking......I thought....I thought I would go out of the US....I wanted to go out of the US.....Why do I want to know Spanish so bad if it wasn't to prepare me for a mission lord?......
I don't understand why I would have such a strong desire to learn Spanish if it wasn't for this. And as I go through my papers I get this feeling. This perfect peaceful feeling that this is right. And suddenly I get swarmed with all of these thoughts.

I had always wanted to go visit little towns.

I had always wanted to get away from the city (see this post, and then this post, both of which seem completely ironic right now and yet so fitting).

I'm not ready to go outside of the US.

This is perfect for not only me but my family as well.

Baby steps.

I don't think I can properly state how badly I have wanted to go visit the sticks of middle america.

And above all else was that feeling. That perfect feeling that this was meant to be in ways that I can't even see. And then I got online and saw this:

Consider the deal sealed.

It's here

It's here. It's beginning. It's legitimate. It's great. It's scary. It's....amazing. I don't think there is anything I can't say as of today, including: I've never been so scared of a little white envelope before in my life.

I, Kayla Obriann Hanshew, have been called to the Oklahoma, Tulsa Mission, English speaking. I report to the MTC on July 6th, 2011 (five days after my birthday) and all I can say is; YES.

Hello mission area (Yes, it does cover FOUR states)

And yes it will be my home for eighteen months. I will be seeing lots of-

And even some

And I don't think I have ever been so excited for anything in my entire life! And I want to write why I think so but not in this post.

What?!

I'm crazy. I've simply decided that.



Reason being: I want things. Things that, if I got, I would have no idea what I would do with them.



That picture in the last post. I want it. Bad.



WHAT THE HECK WOULD I DO IN THE MIDDLE OF NO WHERE?!?!?



I love the city. I hate the city as well. But I'm by no means a freaking cowgirl. I LOVE the internet. I love people....and Del Taco. WHAT WOULD I DO WITH ALL THAT OPEN ROAD?!?!?



Nothing! I would stare at it....and then be like "Where's Del Taco?"

Saddest part? I still want that freaking open road. I want it for so many reasons. I want it as a symbol, not as actually being in the middle of nowhere (though I do still want that [just with a Del Taco]).

Crazy much? Well yes. Thanks for noticing.

Today

This is how I feel today.

A boy, a girl, and a graveyard

Weird title, no?

It's a song.

An amazing song.

To which lyrics are sung.

Amazing lyrics.

Which include:

Lucy takes the long way home.

Meets me in a field of stone.

She says I don't know how I'm suposed to feel.

My body's cold my guts a twisted steel.

And I feel like I'm some kind of frankenstein, waiting for some kind of shock to bring me back to life.

But I don't want to spend my time waiting for lightening to strike.



What?!? What?!?!?!!? Perfection? Why yes, yes it is. And because I like to share (and man is this worth sharing). You can find that song here. You're welcome.

Yuck

Today has not been good.

I woke up this morning and weighed myself WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?!?

I'll tell you what.

Oh it won't be that bad. I was down four whole pounds. I walked Disneyland twice in a row, that's ALOT of excercise. I didn't do THAT bad this week. I mean...I walked Disneyland twice. Pure excercise for a total of like....twenty six hours. That is ALOT OF WALKING. That would have counteracted the bad. Right?

Nope. Nada. Zilp....more words for no or none.

I had gained seven pounds. SEVEN POUNDS. Now I'm a big tall girl and honestly I can fluctuate ten pounds in a day pretty easy. Well gain ten pounds that is. I never lose ten pounds in a day....or atleast not yet. But I am pissed. And what's worse? I saw it coming. I was checking myself out and knew...just knew I've gained weight. And then today I saw the tell tale sign.

My ankles were gone. MY ANKLES. I love my ankles!! They've sometimes been the only thing that keeps me from thinking I'm past the point of no return on the obesity scale. AND THEY'RE GONE.

So I'm hurtin majorly right now. And I'm going to run. Because I have to.
This is the heaviest I have been in almost four years. Maybe this IS the heaviest I've been in four years. And that puts me at only ten pounds lighter than the heaviest I have ever been in my life. MY LIFE. So I'm going to go running tonight. I'm not going to go crazy or anything. Just see how far I can run in an hour. And then I'm going to run the next day and the next and the next. And I'm going to keep running until I hit the point that I am running ten minute miles. And until I get my effing ankles back!! I'm freaking out here man.

And I want to give up as much sugar as possible. Which really scares me. Cause I don't think I eat that much sugar. But that's because I've never had to cut myself off from sugar and see how much I actually eat it. I'm thinking of alot of things I need to change. I want my ankles back. :(
Pictures of said kankles/all things fat and nasty are soon to come.

Boys

I have two brothers. One Older than me, one younger. And I have a dad. And Uncles. And male cousins. So I know alot of boys...guys....males? And then there is just information out there for the world to find. Movies and books, television and plays. Boys are depicted everywhere. Sorry, males. I'm not trying to say that every guy I meet acts like a child, I'm simply calling males boys.

So I think I know boys....or can at least expect certain things. No chick flicks, don't get all emotional and crazy on them, they don't understand how women work, don't talk periods, don't expect too much sympathy, they aren't very good at being gentlemen, they're pretty immature, they're kind of crude and sexual, and very focused on the physical aspects of women and they really like to talk to other males. And a whole lot of other slightly bitter stereotypes.*

*Not to say that I think all men are pigs or sexist or disgusting or jerks I just kind of clumped them all together for some reason. My bad.

Well that isn't true at all.

I just got to spend a little over forty eight hours straight with a group of four guys, which isn't a lot, but they weren't anything I thought they would be. I was preparing myself for...farting and hitting on ladies and being ignored and rock music (they're all young guys). But I got none of those things. I met a guy who has a greater Disney collection than I do. Was I ignorant enough to think it made him slightly less manly? Yes. I'm sad to admit it but yeah. I thought it was weird. But then I got to know him a little more and I found....he just liked Disney. And soft music, and acoustic versions of songs. He was in the air force for a while. He's now a security guard. He carries a gun and threatens people for a living. So, yes, I was expecting some Rob Zombie. But I never got it. I got Pocahontas and Aladdin. And it was Heaven. Suddenly I wanted MY husband (future husband that is) to like Disney. I wanted to be able to snuggle to Little Mermaid without him thinking he was doing me a favor. I wanted to be able to listen to Disney soundtracks and not have him make fun of me for it. And this man, this amazingly kind man, was so sweet. I made fun of him, constantly, his music, his car, his....dad like accessories (Sunscreen? Really? Yeah I used some. So glad he brought it). And all he ever was, was nicer. He found music I would like, checking to see if what he put on was okay (I tried to not be too picky, I was just shocked he listened to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir so much). I changed into a Mumford & Sons shirt for the car ride home AND HE FOUND THE ONLY SONG HE HAS BY THEM AND PLAYED IT FOR ME (without saying anything. It was adorable). And it just got better from there.**

Another kid, whom I have known for FOREVER and love dearly, talked about how women should be dressed less skankaly now that it looked like it was going to rain. What guy gets GLAD about that? They were respectful and nice, they never became demeaning or perverted. And I don't know if they were on their best behavior for me and my friend but it was charming. Suddenly I became the only person that said the crude jokes (that's what she said?). And the line of respect between men and women grew. They were careful and secretive with us, they never got suggestive even in joking. They never pushed the line of (BIG SIDE NOTE I am so tired today I CAN'T THINK OF ANY WORDS. I'm like....sexuality?....What does that even mean?)...anything. They never pushed any line. They were careful and respectful. And I loved it. I mean they were still guys and joked about getting numbers but it was so....different. Suddenly it became M.I.L.K. Mother I'd like to kiss (KISS!! How adorable is that?!?). And M.I.L.T.T.O.A.D. Mother I'd Like to Take On A Date. They knew their lines, and they didn't even joke about crossing them.

So as we are driving back to Las Vegas, and I'm in this car full of Disney Music and one Mumford and Sons song, and Disney pins and cute gifts for girls they like and I see a billboard sporting a lady with no top on, one with no pants and then one with a girl dancing suggestively in short clothing and I....I just want to cry for them. I want to take all this away. I want to make it easier for them. I want to keep them so...sweet.

And my respect for them went through the roof. I sometimes forget exactly how hard a guy can have it in this insane world. How if they aren't ready to jump the next girl that crosses their path they're called gay or thought something is wrong with them, and then if they do act like a dog in heat they are considered perverted. It's such a hard line to walk and these guys aced it, in spades. So if I can just say, ladies if you are looking for a man to marry that is respectful towards women I have four.

**The reason his kindness was such a big deal is because....he wasn't into me, I wasn't into him. We're friends. And I found (especially in the singles ward) if they aren't interested in you as a mate...they aren't really that interested in you. And then their kindness and patience for you as a human being goes out the window. Sad, but true. So this is really my reminder about how hard boys have it along with how they restored my faith in males by just being nice, nothing expected, nothing wanted, just nice.

Disneyland

I was gifted the opportunity to go to Disneyland this week. I took it.

I love Disneyland. Who doesn't. And I don't get to go often (This would technically be my third time, but the first time I went I was like...two...so I don't count it) so I was extremely excited. Even more exciting was who I was going with, fun people. Funy boys and a girl, that I have known for years (and some I haven't ever known) and good times were to be had. And I was right.

We left late Monday night, very late, eight. Which wouldn't have been a very big deal EXCEPT I hadn't slept very well the night before because I was giddy as a school girl that I was getting to go to Disneyland. But Gary (my new friend) drove and I hung in the back and insulted his car, and then his music, and watched the lights of Vegas fade and the open road call to us. And we traveled and traveled. And then ate at In n out in Barstow. And then finally we were at the hotel.

Now the deal with the hotel was...well alot of things, we shared a room. SHARED. Four boys and two girls. It was hilarious. But not at first. I was nervous at first. Not because I thought anything would happen...well obviously I was nervous SOMETHING would happen but not anything bad. I just had never had to share a room with so many boys that weren't family before. (I'm going to blog about these boys on another post, this one is simply about Disneyland, but stay tuned, I have been completely wrong about men before)

We finally got to bed (at two) and were back up about six. We had breakfast and finally got to Disneyland about ten thirty (it takes a LONG time to get six people ready and fed when sharing a room). And I got on Pirates of the Caribbean. Can I just say what a great way to start Disneyland? It was simply magical from there. But my favorite part of the day? Well I have so many but I will list only.....four.....

4. Lochlyn Monroe-Have you ever seen night at the Roxbury? Well it's the best friend Craig. Yeah, that guy. We met him. Yep. He was in line at Toy Story. Celebrity spotting, holla.

3. Toy Story-That game is simply fantastical. I wish we could have done it more than once (hour long wait. FULL HOUR)

2. Spending all day with four hilarious guys-Just plain fun (see "Boys" post as to how they renewed my faith in huMANity)

1. Fanstasmic-I ALMOST MISSED IT. I went to World of Color, everyone else went to fantasmic, but by some almighty power that be I made it back and they saved me a seat and my mind was blown. Seriously. I even recorded some of it. It was the greatest thing ever.

Best part of day two? Easy.

Riding Big Bear Rapids ten times in a row at eight o clock at night to see who would get hit worst with the water....then freezing for the rest of the night. Totally worth it.

Did I have fun? Um Yeah. Would I do it again in a heart beat? Um heck yeah. Just another item checked off my mission bucket list. So amazingly fun. I miss it already. I would even share that freaking tiny room again.

Impatient

I'm getting impatient.



I want my mission call now. Right now.



And I think I still have four weeks to go. I'm dying.



I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.



Okay, President Waite didn't say no. But Salt Lake will.



And every moment I don't have my call that thought grows bigger. I have gone through such a roller coaster of emotion through out this process, shock, denial, guilt, meekness, pride, courage, hope, inexperience-ness?. And now impatience. I've never been impatient like this before. My impaitience always follows with Well now you have more time to prepare. Well there is always the possibility you aren't suppose to go. More time to spend with family, friends, job, Disneyland, Mumford & Sons, LIFE.



But now my mind is changing, it's wrapping itself around this idea, this plan, and it's sucking it in completely. I'm letting my head and heart become attached because I don't think I'm going to back out of it, or that it isn't going to happen, or preparing myself for failure. I'm desiring it wholeheartidly.



Now when the call gets here who knows how I will feel, but I want it. Now. I want it in my hands, I want to know where I am suppose to go and when I will be leaving. And yes I am still terrified. But I'm excited now. So excited that being scared doesn't even faze me (right now at least) it's kind of just there. And it's probably always going to be there, and I'm okay with that.

Blind

Why do we demand that the other person say the first words? Why do we only proceed if the other person has given the okay?


I always feel like I'm the instigator.


That I make the first move (and even at that, I only do when I KNOW the other person likes me [or have a very strong inkling]).


And I don't want that today.


I want to sit back and let the other person do all the work.


I guesss I'm just better at keeping things light.


But not today.


Today I want them to charge ahead. I want them to spell it out. And I want to act surprised.


That is all I am asking of you today Universe.


Please let Mr. Hottie walk up to me and call me Mrs. Hottie.....And let Mission Prep be inspiring. But that one is more for you Lord.


Today I was called blind, but I'm okay with it cause he said Mr. Hottie is blind too.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I scoff. Did he really just ask that? What a married noob thing to say.

"What couldn't happen?! He could scoff at me or say something mean like 'Boys with butts like mine don't talk to women with guts like yours.' or Simply stare at me blankly before, you know, never talking to me again. I could get rejected in front of the WHOLE SINGLES WARD. Or I could simply lose his amazing friendship." But really it isn't his friendship but the fantasy of being with him that I'm scared of losing (whether by rejection or just really crappy reality, either or). And my boss stared at me before finally admitting "Alright, but your both still blind."

And two blind people never find each other.


Someone has to be the first to see. And today, I just don't want that person to be me..because this guy is different. I feel vunerable around him. Like, if this happened, he would have the upper hand. And that scares me. So I'm standing back, and letting him do the talking. Maybe one day I'll step forward and speak up, but definitly not today.


Maybe tomorrow.