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.
Showing posts with label kayla. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kayla. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Lady I want to be
Sometimes I feel like this lady.
And sometimes I feel the opposite of this.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
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.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
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.
"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.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
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.
Friday, March 11, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My panic attack
I have had a problem sleeping lately. It's so odd. I like the idea of sleep, normally. Actually, the more I think about it....I always have a problem sleeping, I'm a very light sleeper. It's somewhat extraordinary since everyone else (excluding my papa) sleeps like logs (Do logs even sleep? Who comes up with these crazy sayings?!?!). But I sleep lightly, unless I am completely out of it (which has been happening a lot lately), and I am awaken constantly. Well in the past-oh i don't know-year or so, I have had trouble falling asleep. I either don't make a move towards the bed, because I see it as my enemy, or I just lay in bed and can't turn off. And you can't hate sleep, because it's sleep, and sleep is the nectar of the gods, but I hate the time before you go to sleep. Where you lay in bed and think about life. I used to not hate this time. Heck I used to look forward to it. Plan out how early I could go and lay in bed and scheme up awesome scenarios with boys and how they would rescue me. It was magical.
And then I got into a car accident.
It was a minor one, no one was severely injured. It was raining and my car was really really old and the tires were bald and I lost traction in a turn and hit a wall. Car was totalled though (i still don't understand how, I was doing like fifteen miles an hour) and I had to say goodbye to 'the boat' as we so aptly named it. But when I got home from said accident (and every day after for a good three months) every time I got into bed all I could think about was how I wrecked the car. And how scared I was, and how scared everyone was, and how mad my mom had been, and the fear and the cop and how my baby cousins were in the car at the time.
And then I hated the time before bed. Because suddenly the world came crashing down on me. I would feel like I was being suffocated by my mistakes and the things I couldn't do and my future. It was horrible. And so I started staying up late, ignoring my bed until I could barely keep my eyes open and knew I would get into that bed and pass out. No thinking, no guilt, no fear, just blissful sleep.
And I don't think I have ever really shaken that process. I still feel guilt about the accident but nothing like back then, it's more of just a stepping stone for me, a bad memory. But I still fight sleep. I play on my lap top, and ipod, and listen to music. Anything to keep from being empty and undistracted. It's a horrible habit to keep. I push all of my worries away during the day and then face them at night. It's horribly unproductive. AND it keeps me from sleeping.
So last night, I'm laying in bed, I had pushed myself as far as I could go (it was like twelve thirty [which is late for me]) and finally decided it was time for bed, i was ready. So I lay down, fully expecting to simply pass out and suddenly I thought about my mission. And how I was going to be expected to teach these beautiful people that wanted to learn about the gospel.
Their knowledge and entrance into a religion and truth that I believe in wholeheartedly rests on MY shoulders.
I couldn't do it. I wasn't a good example, I was flawed, I didn't know enough. I didn't have every story of the BOM memorized, or know why Jesus left himself out when he spoke of 'being perfect' in the bible because he hadn't been resurrected yet (obviously I learned it the other day) I don't know the history of the church backwards and forwards, I didn't know about the book of Abraham, or the persecution of the church in these latter days. I didn't know the exact difference between exaltation and salvation. And these are just the things I know I didn't know. I'm still learning about my ignorance every day. It's humbling and daunting, and horrible. I know I'm not a religious scholar, nor am I an apostle, but how can anyone honestly expect me to teach people when I am still learning myself? And I laid there and thought about denying my call, and what everyone would think, and wondering why I got myself into this situation when my ran circled around three things.
1. D&C 4:3- Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work. Not if you're the smartest, not if everyone thinks you should go, not if you're really feeling up to it, not only if you want to. If ye have the desire, you are called to the work. I might get this tatoo'd to my forehead (kidding, kidding).
2. If you have fear, you are relying on yourself. When you rely on the Lord, there is no fear. This was just taught to us by a sub in mission prep. It's amazing how something so simple is so true.
3. If you love everyone around you, and everyone you are expected to teach, like the Lord does you will have no fear. It's more of a continuation of number two but it has been running through my head constantly aspecially after I was asked to teach in Relief Society. If I look at everyone with the love I know that the Savior has for them, I will only wish that they get to partake of the gift that I also have. I won't worry I'm not going to know enough. I won't worry they might make fun of my accent, I won't worry that they might think I'm stupid or that my testimony sucks, I won't worry that they might think I'm ugly. And even if they do, I won't care. I will know I did the Saviors work, that I laid the bait for them (another mission prep lesson, that mission prep class is amazing) and that If nothing else, I planted a seed. No matter how small that seed may be.
And then I got into a car accident.
It was a minor one, no one was severely injured. It was raining and my car was really really old and the tires were bald and I lost traction in a turn and hit a wall. Car was totalled though (i still don't understand how, I was doing like fifteen miles an hour) and I had to say goodbye to 'the boat' as we so aptly named it. But when I got home from said accident (and every day after for a good three months) every time I got into bed all I could think about was how I wrecked the car. And how scared I was, and how scared everyone was, and how mad my mom had been, and the fear and the cop and how my baby cousins were in the car at the time.
And then I hated the time before bed. Because suddenly the world came crashing down on me. I would feel like I was being suffocated by my mistakes and the things I couldn't do and my future. It was horrible. And so I started staying up late, ignoring my bed until I could barely keep my eyes open and knew I would get into that bed and pass out. No thinking, no guilt, no fear, just blissful sleep.
And I don't think I have ever really shaken that process. I still feel guilt about the accident but nothing like back then, it's more of just a stepping stone for me, a bad memory. But I still fight sleep. I play on my lap top, and ipod, and listen to music. Anything to keep from being empty and undistracted. It's a horrible habit to keep. I push all of my worries away during the day and then face them at night. It's horribly unproductive. AND it keeps me from sleeping.
So last night, I'm laying in bed, I had pushed myself as far as I could go (it was like twelve thirty [which is late for me]) and finally decided it was time for bed, i was ready. So I lay down, fully expecting to simply pass out and suddenly I thought about my mission. And how I was going to be expected to teach these beautiful people that wanted to learn about the gospel.
Their knowledge and entrance into a religion and truth that I believe in wholeheartedly rests on MY shoulders.
I couldn't do it. I wasn't a good example, I was flawed, I didn't know enough. I didn't have every story of the BOM memorized, or know why Jesus left himself out when he spoke of 'being perfect' in the bible because he hadn't been resurrected yet (obviously I learned it the other day) I don't know the history of the church backwards and forwards, I didn't know about the book of Abraham, or the persecution of the church in these latter days. I didn't know the exact difference between exaltation and salvation. And these are just the things I know I didn't know. I'm still learning about my ignorance every day. It's humbling and daunting, and horrible. I know I'm not a religious scholar, nor am I an apostle, but how can anyone honestly expect me to teach people when I am still learning myself? And I laid there and thought about denying my call, and what everyone would think, and wondering why I got myself into this situation when my ran circled around three things.
1. D&C 4:3- Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work. Not if you're the smartest, not if everyone thinks you should go, not if you're really feeling up to it, not only if you want to. If ye have the desire, you are called to the work. I might get this tatoo'd to my forehead (kidding, kidding).
2. If you have fear, you are relying on yourself. When you rely on the Lord, there is no fear. This was just taught to us by a sub in mission prep. It's amazing how something so simple is so true.
3. If you love everyone around you, and everyone you are expected to teach, like the Lord does you will have no fear. It's more of a continuation of number two but it has been running through my head constantly aspecially after I was asked to teach in Relief Society. If I look at everyone with the love I know that the Savior has for them, I will only wish that they get to partake of the gift that I also have. I won't worry I'm not going to know enough. I won't worry they might make fun of my accent, I won't worry that they might think I'm stupid or that my testimony sucks, I won't worry that they might think I'm ugly. And even if they do, I won't care. I will know I did the Saviors work, that I laid the bait for them (another mission prep lesson, that mission prep class is amazing) and that If nothing else, I planted a seed. No matter how small that seed may be.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
My Serenity
I'm calm. Oddly calm. It's wonderful.
I feel like my head is swinging in a hammock in the Bahamas. My body on the other hand wants to run and dance, sprint even, shake and tumble. It wants to burn some serious energy. I want to go and walk eight miles and go home and crash. That sounds blissful.
But back to the calm.
My head has stopped. It's simply empty. And I love it. I wish my body would catch up. Normally it's the other way around, my body is always lazy, my mind doesn't normally just give up like this. I honestly wish it would more. I have no....expectation. And I mean that in the best possible way. I normally drain every possible thought and action with wants and desires for more. But I'm so content with everything that...it's like I'm high. I could sleep for days, mentally, physically I'm eyeing my back door to see how far I could walk. The store? The church? The mountains? The desert? Where would I stop? Never. I love it.
I'm high off of my interview. It's starting to stick. I'm going on a mission (well there is still people that could say no. Or I could always get hit by that drunk driver [according to my dad at least]) but if all goes well I will be leaving on my mission the Tuesday after my birthday, July 5, 2010. A day after my grandpas birthday and the birth of this wonderfully free nation. Where could I go? Where will I go? But my mind doesn't spin at the possibilities anymore. It smiles at them. It's like my mind just birthed a child after being pregnant for eight months, it's all smiles and no worries, it's just glad the baby is out. I've hit the eye of the storm. ha ha I like that. I should really enjoy this peace. Man I love this peace. It makes me weepy though. All I want to do is cry, but from joy. It's so bizarre.
But even at the bizarreness I just smile, I don't think I can't smile. I hope I'm like this on my mission. High off the spirit. High off the love. High off the knowledge.
I want this for the rest of my life. I want to say something profound to make everyone understand how this feels. To spread some of this warm liquid honey gold love onto you but I'm not much of a poet. But for you, I will try:
My heart is warm
You'll see
My heart is warm
For thee
Keep it warm, make it last
For this moment, it shall pass
And when it does our heart will quake
And from this dream we will wake
And search again for what comes from within
But don't look far, for our sight is wrong
And man not so strong
But He holds it in his hands
With a smile oh so grand
And gladly He gives it back
For his love He does not stack
And warmth floods through you again
And you remember exactly why you love Him.
I feel like my head is swinging in a hammock in the Bahamas. My body on the other hand wants to run and dance, sprint even, shake and tumble. It wants to burn some serious energy. I want to go and walk eight miles and go home and crash. That sounds blissful.
But back to the calm.
My head has stopped. It's simply empty. And I love it. I wish my body would catch up. Normally it's the other way around, my body is always lazy, my mind doesn't normally just give up like this. I honestly wish it would more. I have no....expectation. And I mean that in the best possible way. I normally drain every possible thought and action with wants and desires for more. But I'm so content with everything that...it's like I'm high. I could sleep for days, mentally, physically I'm eyeing my back door to see how far I could walk. The store? The church? The mountains? The desert? Where would I stop? Never. I love it.
I'm high off of my interview. It's starting to stick. I'm going on a mission (well there is still people that could say no. Or I could always get hit by that drunk driver [according to my dad at least]) but if all goes well I will be leaving on my mission the Tuesday after my birthday, July 5, 2010. A day after my grandpas birthday and the birth of this wonderfully free nation. Where could I go? Where will I go? But my mind doesn't spin at the possibilities anymore. It smiles at them. It's like my mind just birthed a child after being pregnant for eight months, it's all smiles and no worries, it's just glad the baby is out. I've hit the eye of the storm. ha ha I like that. I should really enjoy this peace. Man I love this peace. It makes me weepy though. All I want to do is cry, but from joy. It's so bizarre.
But even at the bizarreness I just smile, I don't think I can't smile. I hope I'm like this on my mission. High off the spirit. High off the love. High off the knowledge.
I want this for the rest of my life. I want to say something profound to make everyone understand how this feels. To spread some of this warm liquid honey gold love onto you but I'm not much of a poet. But for you, I will try:
My heart is warm
You'll see
My heart is warm
For thee
Keep it warm, make it last
For this moment, it shall pass
And when it does our heart will quake
And from this dream we will wake
And search again for what comes from within
But don't look far, for our sight is wrong
And man not so strong
But He holds it in his hands
With a smile oh so grand
And gladly He gives it back
For his love He does not stack
And warmth floods through you again
And you remember exactly why you love Him.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
It happened
I did it. It happened. I went and had my interview. I want to say "it's done" but that is so far from the truth it is laughable. I might as well name this blog "it's starting" and I very well might so please do pay attention to the title.
I had my interview. And I laid everything on him. I mean everything....I really don't know what I was thinking. Probably something along the lines of "This guy can excommunicate me...right now." Or "I am so not worthy to be here right now." Or maybe, "I so have to poop." Which, I didn't, but you know...sometimes when you're really nervous...your body reacts in really odd ways. But he didn't excommunicate me or send me to the rest room, he was actually extremely nice. We talked, and talked, and he asked me some questions and I answered them as honestly and efficiently as I could.*
*Immediate Side note-Does anyone ever get in front of your Bishop or Stake President and want to talk their ear off? They could ask the most mundane simple Yes or No question and suddenly they also need to hear how you came to this decision and how your mom yelled at you one time and how you almost broke your leg at girls camp and how you got your job and grandma! don't forget about grandma! and it all pertains to why I sustain President Monson just give me a second I'm getting there. By the third question I finally just forced my mouth closed after the initial, premature, excited "...Yes!..." I'm sure I looked crazy, another reason I'm wondering why he said I was good to go.
Anyway, we are interviewing and I am acting crazy (at this point my excitement and my nervousness cancelled each other out and I was simply a numb twitching mass of flesh) and I'm trying to show my eagerness and my spirituality in each of these Yess's but I doubt it's coming through and he's kind of just staring at me (he has the BEST poker face) and slowly I'm building myself up for a "No.". I'm sure it will be kind, but it will still be a "No.". And just as I'm starting to wonder how much longer he can drag this on for he looks at me says
"When will you be leaving?" And I kind of take a second to think this through (after my vomit of the mouth I was actually thinking before speaking) and I tell him.
"My birthday sir, July 1st." And he nods.
"Four months? Good." And I kind of let that sink in. Good? Why is that good? Of course I don't say these things because part of me agrees with that. Yeah I need that time. I need to learn this entire freaking religion all over again. I need to shop. I need to save up that money. I need to get that other suitcase. I need to see Mumford & Sons. I need to figure out how I am going to say goodbye to my family. I may need even more time than that. But I just remain quietly twitching. He smiles a little.
"You're going to need that time. You need to prepare." And then he stands. "Sister Hanshew I think you are worthy and ready to go on a mission. I'm going to submit your paperwork to Salt Lake."
And I just remain sitting.
I don't want to act too surprised because...well because that just looks bad, but I was surprised. I was ready for a very kind but very firm "You aren't ready.". So I sat there. And he kind of stared at me. And then he started inching around his desk slowly, waiting for me to defrost a little. It wasn't until he was behind my chair that I noticed he was heading to the door. So I stood, probably too quickly, and thanked him, and thanked him again, and then bolted out of the room. I hit the hallway and almost repeated that I could go, just so I had witnesses. "You're secretary heard! You can't take it back!" But I didn't.
Now It was my turn to inch down the hallway. Slowly, scared that if I stayed around him too long my vomit mouth would return and I would say something and he would look at me funny and suddenly rethink if I was ready. Maybe even call me back into his office. But he was just so nice, he either overlooked my absolute insanity or didn't notice because as I was trying to escape he was telling me about the program and when my papers would go in and if I had the missionary handbook and how he knew my family and how he would give me a call after the paperwork was submitted and introduced me to his secretary (my witness) and I smile and smile some more and try to say as little as possible. Until he finally noticed I was almost in the main lobby and about to explode in contained freak outs. He smiled again and said "I sit at my computer and go through those on Fridays." And I smile and thank him again and head to my car, but can't get away cause now I see people I know and I'm still numb and freaking out but now I'm just excited too and I explode in a much too happy "Hi." And she says "Well Hi! What exciting things are happening in your life?" And I'm like BAM sign, vomit of the mouth here we go again.
And so it begins. I really hope I get this mouth thing under control before I enter the MTC, or give my farewell talk for that matter...
I had my interview. And I laid everything on him. I mean everything....I really don't know what I was thinking. Probably something along the lines of "This guy can excommunicate me...right now." Or "I am so not worthy to be here right now." Or maybe, "I so have to poop." Which, I didn't, but you know...sometimes when you're really nervous...your body reacts in really odd ways. But he didn't excommunicate me or send me to the rest room, he was actually extremely nice. We talked, and talked, and he asked me some questions and I answered them as honestly and efficiently as I could.*
*Immediate Side note-Does anyone ever get in front of your Bishop or Stake President and want to talk their ear off? They could ask the most mundane simple Yes or No question and suddenly they also need to hear how you came to this decision and how your mom yelled at you one time and how you almost broke your leg at girls camp and how you got your job and grandma! don't forget about grandma! and it all pertains to why I sustain President Monson just give me a second I'm getting there. By the third question I finally just forced my mouth closed after the initial, premature, excited "...Yes!..." I'm sure I looked crazy, another reason I'm wondering why he said I was good to go.
Anyway, we are interviewing and I am acting crazy (at this point my excitement and my nervousness cancelled each other out and I was simply a numb twitching mass of flesh) and I'm trying to show my eagerness and my spirituality in each of these Yess's but I doubt it's coming through and he's kind of just staring at me (he has the BEST poker face) and slowly I'm building myself up for a "No.". I'm sure it will be kind, but it will still be a "No.". And just as I'm starting to wonder how much longer he can drag this on for he looks at me says
"When will you be leaving?" And I kind of take a second to think this through (after my vomit of the mouth I was actually thinking before speaking) and I tell him.
"My birthday sir, July 1st." And he nods.
"Four months? Good." And I kind of let that sink in. Good? Why is that good? Of course I don't say these things because part of me agrees with that. Yeah I need that time. I need to learn this entire freaking religion all over again. I need to shop. I need to save up that money. I need to get that other suitcase. I need to see Mumford & Sons. I need to figure out how I am going to say goodbye to my family. I may need even more time than that. But I just remain quietly twitching. He smiles a little.
"You're going to need that time. You need to prepare." And then he stands. "Sister Hanshew I think you are worthy and ready to go on a mission. I'm going to submit your paperwork to Salt Lake."
And I just remain sitting.
I don't want to act too surprised because...well because that just looks bad, but I was surprised. I was ready for a very kind but very firm "You aren't ready.". So I sat there. And he kind of stared at me. And then he started inching around his desk slowly, waiting for me to defrost a little. It wasn't until he was behind my chair that I noticed he was heading to the door. So I stood, probably too quickly, and thanked him, and thanked him again, and then bolted out of the room. I hit the hallway and almost repeated that I could go, just so I had witnesses. "You're secretary heard! You can't take it back!" But I didn't.
Now It was my turn to inch down the hallway. Slowly, scared that if I stayed around him too long my vomit mouth would return and I would say something and he would look at me funny and suddenly rethink if I was ready. Maybe even call me back into his office. But he was just so nice, he either overlooked my absolute insanity or didn't notice because as I was trying to escape he was telling me about the program and when my papers would go in and if I had the missionary handbook and how he knew my family and how he would give me a call after the paperwork was submitted and introduced me to his secretary (my witness) and I smile and smile some more and try to say as little as possible. Until he finally noticed I was almost in the main lobby and about to explode in contained freak outs. He smiled again and said "I sit at my computer and go through those on Fridays." And I smile and thank him again and head to my car, but can't get away cause now I see people I know and I'm still numb and freaking out but now I'm just excited too and I explode in a much too happy "Hi." And she says "Well Hi! What exciting things are happening in your life?" And I'm like BAM sign, vomit of the mouth here we go again.
And so it begins. I really hope I get this mouth thing under control before I enter the MTC, or give my farewell talk for that matter...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Losing it
This is it. I've lost my mind. I'm freaking out.
March 1, 2011.
Todays date, you say? No big deal, you laugh.
No. It is a big deal. It's a big deal to me.
I have a meating with the Stake President in t-minus six hours and seventeen minutes and counting.
Yeah, big deal.
He is going to talk to me and decide if I am ready and or worthy to go on a mission. Yes you heard me, a mission. A bonafide mission.
Which is just as scary as it is liberating. I'm freaking out.
18 months? Without my family? Impossible.
Freaking. Out.
I finally finished the BOM (and no that isn't some funky way of saying bowl movement, it's The Book of Mormon) and that was peaceful but now...oh now I'm freaking out.
Cause everything could go well, everything could go exceptionally well, and he could look at me and say 'Yep, you're awesome, and super cool, really funny, and smart, beautiful as well. You need to go on a mission.' And a little part of me (or maybe a big part of me) will die inside cause that means: 18 months of no family.
Might as well kill me.
Actually no, that was dramatic. But it is going to be hard. Really hard. I'm kind of a home body. And I kind of like my family. Are we crazy? Yes. Weird? Extremely. Perverted, disoriented, odd, mean, violent to each other(in a loving way)? I have the bruises to prove it. Yes. Does that mean I can go 18 months without them? No. I'm putting alot of faith in the lord, and a tiny bit of faith in myself, that everything will turn out okay. That I won't get out into the field and ten minutes later turn and say "Okay experienced it. Yep, great spirit. Lord you sure are cool. Now take me home."
......and yes i did do that at girls camp my first year.....
Can I go awhile without them? Yes. A week? No sweat. A month? Most likely. 18 months? Huh.
You know what is getting me through today? Either 12:27. Cause we all know I have alot of weaknesses.....but I'm still freaking out. It's just all inside now.
March 1, 2011.
Todays date, you say? No big deal, you laugh.
No. It is a big deal. It's a big deal to me.
I have a meating with the Stake President in t-minus six hours and seventeen minutes and counting.
Yeah, big deal.
He is going to talk to me and decide if I am ready and or worthy to go on a mission. Yes you heard me, a mission. A bonafide mission.
Which is just as scary as it is liberating. I'm freaking out.
18 months? Without my family? Impossible.
Freaking. Out.
I finally finished the BOM (and no that isn't some funky way of saying bowl movement, it's The Book of Mormon) and that was peaceful but now...oh now I'm freaking out.
Cause everything could go well, everything could go exceptionally well, and he could look at me and say 'Yep, you're awesome, and super cool, really funny, and smart, beautiful as well. You need to go on a mission.' And a little part of me (or maybe a big part of me) will die inside cause that means: 18 months of no family.
Might as well kill me.
Actually no, that was dramatic. But it is going to be hard. Really hard. I'm kind of a home body. And I kind of like my family. Are we crazy? Yes. Weird? Extremely. Perverted, disoriented, odd, mean, violent to each other(in a loving way)? I have the bruises to prove it. Yes. Does that mean I can go 18 months without them? No. I'm putting alot of faith in the lord, and a tiny bit of faith in myself, that everything will turn out okay. That I won't get out into the field and ten minutes later turn and say "Okay experienced it. Yep, great spirit. Lord you sure are cool. Now take me home."
......and yes i did do that at girls camp my first year.....
Can I go awhile without them? Yes. A week? No sweat. A month? Most likely. 18 months? Huh.
You know what is getting me through today? Either 12:27. Cause we all know I have alot of weaknesses.....but I'm still freaking out. It's just all inside now.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
My one a.m. blog
I am writing. And it is one in the a.m. This sounds unhealthy, but I am doing it.
I was watching SYTYCD. Lots of dancing. Lots of music. And it made me lonely.
I'm suppose to be at IHOP right now with my friends. Actually I was suppose to go to a Sadies dance (stag I ain't askin no boy out) and dance the night away and THEN run to IHOP at one in the a.m. But I was out buying ice cream and wasn't given proper heads up (thanks lame friends) and thus I wasn't ready in time and I couldn't find stuff to wear and all that crap. And so I said, "Thanks but no thanks. I'm out." So now I am laying in bed thinking about life. It's been entertaining. Here are my thoughts.
-Dancing. Why don't more people dance? And, like, all the time. All. The. Time.
-Boys. Why do we like them so?
-Girls. Why are we so crazy? I even admit: I'm pretty insane. We have all these emotions..blah we just can't throw them out. Yet I heard a song and it summed it up, "And this house ain't a home anytime she goes away." How true Bill, how true.
-Friends. Why are good friends so hard to find? And when is it that when I find a good one: people take them? Or they freaking go and change on me or we just dont' get along that well.
-Hairspray. Thou art perfect.
-Life. You crazy, crazy ride. You infuriate me. Why can't I just get ahold of you? There isn't a manual or even reins you just kind of jump on and get kicked around. I sure hope I find a seat I like soon.
-Marriage. How I hate you stupid looming stick that is hanging over my head.
-Singledom/lonliness forever. How I hate you ax hanging over stick hanging over my head.
-My dramatics. I think it gets higher the later it becomes.
-Fear. I hate you the most fear. You have such a tight grip on me I can't breathe. I can't move. I hate you more than anything in this life. I hate that you are my constant companion. That you sprinkle every thought and action. Why can't I use you for good? I'm a villian in a comic book and fear is my weapon.
-Work. Why did I enjoy you so much today? You were perfect in every way and that, for some reason, makes me even sadder. I wish I was still there. I want to be productive and useful and do good for a few more hours, I think I need it today.
-Jayla. I miss you. Alot. I think about you all the time. I wish you hadn't left me. I wish you hadn't changed. I wish even more that I wouldn't miss you. I hated our relationship towards the end. But man were you perfect. I see that now. You. Were. Perfect. I tried to hold onto you for as long as possible. I fought for you. Fought myself. Fought you. And then I just fought. I miss you, the old you. That reminder helps....and hurts. I want to talk to you. I want to share my thoughts and concerns, my fears. Dear Lord my fears. They're everywhere now. No one will listen to me about them, probably because I've talked about them half a million times. But you always listened. You were always there for me. Why did we fail? Was it only me? You were the best friend a person could ask for. I guess I asked too much. I'm sorry. I don't think I ever told you that. I really am sorry. You deserve every happiness in the world. And not my version of happiness, your version. Whatever that might be. That was always the hardest concept. That you might have outgrown me. That your happiness and my happiness no longer ran hand in hand. That we aren't going to be old, married neighbors that swap hot husbands.
-This post. Highly dramatic. But helpful. I hope Jayla reads it. And everyone else....just ignore the dramatics. It's two o clock in the morning. I guess I should change the title of this post.......
And this is what I think about when listening to Enya and staying up at all hours of the night.
I was watching SYTYCD. Lots of dancing. Lots of music. And it made me lonely.
I'm suppose to be at IHOP right now with my friends. Actually I was suppose to go to a Sadies dance (stag I ain't askin no boy out) and dance the night away and THEN run to IHOP at one in the a.m. But I was out buying ice cream and wasn't given proper heads up (thanks lame friends) and thus I wasn't ready in time and I couldn't find stuff to wear and all that crap. And so I said, "Thanks but no thanks. I'm out." So now I am laying in bed thinking about life. It's been entertaining. Here are my thoughts.
-Dancing. Why don't more people dance? And, like, all the time. All. The. Time.
-Boys. Why do we like them so?
-Girls. Why are we so crazy? I even admit: I'm pretty insane. We have all these emotions..blah we just can't throw them out. Yet I heard a song and it summed it up, "And this house ain't a home anytime she goes away." How true Bill, how true.
-Friends. Why are good friends so hard to find? And when is it that when I find a good one: people take them? Or they freaking go and change on me or we just dont' get along that well.
-Hairspray. Thou art perfect.
-Life. You crazy, crazy ride. You infuriate me. Why can't I just get ahold of you? There isn't a manual or even reins you just kind of jump on and get kicked around. I sure hope I find a seat I like soon.
-Marriage. How I hate you stupid looming stick that is hanging over my head.
-Singledom/lonliness forever. How I hate you ax hanging over stick hanging over my head.
-My dramatics. I think it gets higher the later it becomes.
-Fear. I hate you the most fear. You have such a tight grip on me I can't breathe. I can't move. I hate you more than anything in this life. I hate that you are my constant companion. That you sprinkle every thought and action. Why can't I use you for good? I'm a villian in a comic book and fear is my weapon.
-Work. Why did I enjoy you so much today? You were perfect in every way and that, for some reason, makes me even sadder. I wish I was still there. I want to be productive and useful and do good for a few more hours, I think I need it today.
-Jayla. I miss you. Alot. I think about you all the time. I wish you hadn't left me. I wish you hadn't changed. I wish even more that I wouldn't miss you. I hated our relationship towards the end. But man were you perfect. I see that now. You. Were. Perfect. I tried to hold onto you for as long as possible. I fought for you. Fought myself. Fought you. And then I just fought. I miss you, the old you. That reminder helps....and hurts. I want to talk to you. I want to share my thoughts and concerns, my fears. Dear Lord my fears. They're everywhere now. No one will listen to me about them, probably because I've talked about them half a million times. But you always listened. You were always there for me. Why did we fail? Was it only me? You were the best friend a person could ask for. I guess I asked too much. I'm sorry. I don't think I ever told you that. I really am sorry. You deserve every happiness in the world. And not my version of happiness, your version. Whatever that might be. That was always the hardest concept. That you might have outgrown me. That your happiness and my happiness no longer ran hand in hand. That we aren't going to be old, married neighbors that swap hot husbands.
-This post. Highly dramatic. But helpful. I hope Jayla reads it. And everyone else....just ignore the dramatics. It's two o clock in the morning. I guess I should change the title of this post.......
And this is what I think about when listening to Enya and staying up at all hours of the night.
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