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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.