It's been a long time.

Oh hey there. I thought I used to have a blog, and here it is! It's been a long time since I've been 'round these parts. I hope you'll excuse my absence... I was serving the Lord.

So today was Sunday. Fast and testimony meeting. I was not doing so hot. Walking into church and seeing the elders with their nametags and smiles and light made me miss Oregon. And even more so, it made me miss the feeling I had there as a full-time missionary. It's hard not to compare the life I had two weeks ago to the life I live now -- especially when the present seems to pale in comparison. As I sat on the pew, waiting for sacrament meeting to start, I reflected on how I've been living my life lately, and I realized some things. I haven’t been studying in the mornings. I still read the scriptures, but I don’t really study, if that makes sense. That and I haven’t been keeping up the schedule of going to bed early and getting up early. I go to bed at midnight or so and wake up at 8. And I just feel gross when I do that. So I was sad about it. Also, this morning I cared more about my outfit than reading my scriptures, and that was a problem.

The meeting progressed. About halfway through, I moved to sit with one of my favorite families in the ward, the Sweats. Their mom was at home sick and their dad’s in the bishopric so he was on the stand, leaving three young girls unattended (ages 9, 7, and 6). I scooted over and leaned over to the 6 year old, whispering that I was going to bear my testimony. I knew that I needed to be accountable to someone so that I wouldn’t chicken out. She smiled, letting me know that she would make sure I got up there. So the bearing of testimonies went on, and the spirit was so strong. I was teary the whole time. The meeting was about 5 minutes to being done when I still hadn't gone up -- so the girls decided to take things into their own hands. “Why haven’t you gone up yet?” they asked innocently. I answered with some lame excuse about not having enough time, feeling kind of nervous, blah blah blah. So Ariana frankly replied, “You did it before, why are you afraid to do it now?”

It was an innocent reference to how I had spoken in church the week before, but it hit me as a message directly from the Spirit. You did it before. You’ve lived by the spirit, received and followed revelation. You know how to rely on the Lord and to put Him first, above all else. You’ve grown. You’ve studied your scriptures every morning, prayed like there was nothing else in the world to do, lived your life with meaning and purpose. You did it all before. Why are you afraid to do it now?

In that instant I realized that my life is no different than it was before. The basic principles are all completely the same. Pray and study first thing every morning. Take care of your body. Love the Lord. Share the gospel. Live by revelation and always follow the Spirit. Boldly share your beliefs and your testimony. Pray for charity and love everyone. Help, inspire, lift, and bless others with your light. Hope on, journey on. I know how to do this. And the best part? I don't have to do it alone.

Nine days.

Nine Days. That's definitely a band, right?

Okay. Straight up, this is just going to me rambling. You can't say I didn't warn you.

...

I thought I had things to say. Apparently I do not. I am really excited for this part of my life to begin. In a way, it already has. EFY was an incredible transition from real life to mission life. And really, I just want to get out there. I'm not scared right now. Probably will be later, but whatevs.

HEY my mission is officially a mission! Woooo!

Really though. Since it's brand new, the boundaries came into effect today. How great is that?

Haha. I am literally just giggling to myself over here because I thought I would write some great post about how I'm feeling and everything but I'm just happy that my mission exists now.

Alright. I'm done here.

Best place in the world.

Salem, Oregon

Last Wednesday was one of the most memorable days of my life.

I'd finally fallen asleep at around 3:30 that morning. I was restless, unfocused, and antsy--which didn't bode well with my trying to finish a writing assignment due at 11 the next day (or, I guess, the same day). I woke up at 6:30 because I had work. Except I actually hit snooze twice, slumped out of bed around 6:50, pulled a shirt over my head and jeans over my feet and sleepwalked to the car.

I can't remember a longer morning. Every minute felt multiplied as I thought of the possibilities that lay ahead of me. Mission call, I kept thinking. It's all I could think about or talk about, though at the same time, I knew that dwelling on it would only make the time creep by slower, so there was a constant mind battle going on. (The side about my call won.)

Cue 10 o' clock. There's me sitting in the library staring at my laptop wondering how I could turn a scripture into a verse of hymn. And then there's me distracting myself by talking to Tyler and telling him what was happening that night.

In my class/final, I announced to everyone the reason I would be rushing home afterward--something very important was happening. My professor even prayed that I would have a confirmation of the spirit when I opened that envelope and that I would know it was right. We then proceeded to sing the hymns we wrote for two hours (our final was a writing assignment in which we were to pick a favorite chapter of scripture and fit the words to a hymn of our choice). Finally finally finally it was 1 o' clock.

I remember the next 15 minutes of my life exceptionally clearly. I stupidly took the long way out of the JFSB, ran and walked down the RB stairs, said hi to Alyssa as I sped by her, and ran past the Smith Fieldhouse to the third row of the student parking lot where I had parked. I stuck my iPod into its auxiliary cable and "If It's Love" by Train came on. Rolling the windows, I sang as loud as my voice would allow as I drove (I did not speed) home. I parked in the second spot on the right, pounded up the stairs, threw open my door, tossed my backpack onto the couch, and snatched the mail key off the nail in the wall. I stepped outside. And then I was standing in front of the mailbox, arm outstretched, key in hand.

And I just stood there.

What if it didn't come? was one of the thoughts that went through my head. In retrospect, it was probably the only one that I could process, the only one I could actually use words to express. I just paused. There was a lot of weight that was going to come with that letter, and I guess I just didn't know if I was ready to carry it yet.

The hesitation didn't last though. After about 10 seconds, the lock was turning and I was staring at my future. Hashtag destiny hashtag so cheesy. But it's true. I picked it up and stared at the words "Sister Bronwyn Elise Bent." Somehow, all the antsy-ness, impatience, and anxiety dissipated. A calm patience came over my heart, and my eyes welled up. Okay, I cried. This should surprise no one. My roommates weren't home, so I actually ran to apartment 6 and banged on the door, but no one was home there either. So I went over to the little hill of grass just outside our living room window and sat down. I was holding it in my hands. My 6-month struggle had not been in vain; here was the fruit of my labors. I looked at it, hugged it, and thanked God for everything. I had never felt so blessed (well, until later on in the evening, but at the moment I had never felt so blessed).

Fast forward 8 hours after a shower, 3-hour nap, cleaning spree, and episode of Chopped. I'm standing on my couch in my living room, which is crowded with 25+ dear friends, including some family skyping in from California and Maryland. Lauren walks in (at last!) and that's my cue. With shaking hands, I slide the letter open through the top and pull out a packet and a sheet of paper. Sit down. Flip paper over and begin reading.

Oh wait, I forgot--I was already crying at this point.

So I tried to read but it was probably all just blubbering.

"Dear Sister Bent..."

A pause to breathe and control myself.

"You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints."

And then my eyes were on the second line. I saw where I would be going before I had time to read a single word of it. Cue more tears, closed eyes, deep breaths, and a silent prayer. I sobbed/smiled. (Smobbed? Smibed?) Everyone yelled at me because I totally left them hanging. Oops. So I continued:

"You are assigned to labor in the Oregon Salem Mission."

And the crowd goes wild! Joy, pride, and gratitude swelled in my heart and manifested itself in streaks down my face (I really can't help it you guys...). I can't remember ever feeling happier. In that moment, Heavenly Father answered countless prayers and blessings, namely that I would be able to go on a mission at all, and also that I would feel a confirmation of the spirit that my call was received with divine revelation. And it was.

I am one hundred percent confident that Salem, Oregon, is exactly where I need to be. I know what my Savior expects of me. I'm bringing the fire. And Oregon better get ready.

To Whom It May Concern:

March 29th. I didn't take my phone to the gym; I left it on the coffee table in the living room. When I got back, I had four missed calls and a text message. People don't usually call me. There were two from my mom, two from numbers I didn't recognize. Two voicemails. One from my mom, one from my bishop, and all it said was "Bronwyn, it's Bishop. Call me back!" And then the text? "Bronwyn it's bishop give me a call when you get a chance thanks bye." Whenever anyone tells me that they need to talk to me, my stomach sinks, and because of all the hold ups in my mission papers thus far, I felt sure that Bishop Donaldson was calling to deliver more bad news. I mentally prepared myself for the disappointment as I pressed the worn down green button and waited somewhat anxiously as the line rang too many times.

At long last, he answered: "Hello, this is Lee."

"Hi Bishop, it's Bronwyn!"

"Oh hi, Bronwyn. How are you doing?"

"Good," I responded. Cut to the chase, I thought.

"President Lusvardi is going to submit your papers this weekend. You still want to go on a mission, right?"

Shocks. Gasps. Heartbursts. "Wha-- Y-yes. YES."

The thing is, I thought I'd have to meet with my stake president again. I thought it would take more weeks on top of the months that I'd already waited through. I knew it would happen eventually, but I had stopped hoping for it to happen any time soon. I had honestly prepared myself to wait as long as I needed to--finally, I'd reached the point where I felt patient. The fact that I knew I was going was enough. However long it would take, I would wait. And, as it turned out, I had to wait quite a while.

But he explained to me that I didn't have to re-meet with President. He said that they talked, and they both agreed that I was ready, and they believed in me. I'd gotten all the clearance I needed--there was nothing left to do other than submit my papers, and that was going to be done within days. Days! I hardly knew the meaning of the word. After a timeline measured in months, my reality was shortened to days. And in just a five-minute conversation with my bishop. In five minutes, my waiting was almost over. Almost...

I had my first meeting with the bishop on October 9th, and we started the process that evening. It's been six months since I started my mission papers, only six months--but it's been almost three years since I decided I was going to go. This has been in the works for a while... And I'd venture to say that it's been in God's plan for always.

April 1st. My mission papers are in.

Dualism (my version).

Yesterday was wonderful. Yesterday filled my heart. And yesterday I faced the hard and fast reality that I am a romantic. This is not something I have ever wanted to accept about myself, since I try very hard to be a strong, independent woman. I don't like asking for help; I know my limits and I enjoy pushing them. Accomplishing hard tasks fills me with confidence and a drive to do even more. And I want to be the type of person who doesn't need a man to make her happy. I want to be completely fine on my own, capable of fulfilling my own dreams. I want to be the resilient woman who is unaffected by setbacks and trials.

But no, I just... I like feelings. I love feeling things. My soul is constantly filled with some kind of emotion, be it good or bad. I revere the soft pat of tear drops as they hit your pillow case. I live for the ache in your chest that serves as a blissful reminder that you are alive despite what has happened to you. And I love the snap of laughter that pops like a balloon breaking because it couldn't hold its excitement in. I catch the spark in people's eyes when they meet someone for the first time and are so intrigued that they can't think about anything else -- I know that feeling like no other. I'm the kind of girl who tears up when she thinks about how much she misses her family and smile-cries when she thinks of the gospel. I never wanted to be this kind of person--I wanted to be put together.

Maybe I can be both.

Haiku

My eyes have glistened
on the brink of tears soft, still,
and ready to fall.

Decisions

I have about 10 unfinished drafts hanging around in my inbox, and it's about time I posted some of them suckers. That's what I intended to do originally, right? (Actually, I think I'm going to make that a for-real goal. I am going to post all these drafts that are just bummin' around. Ha!) Anyway, I just happened upon this one and was moved by how strongly I felt this... And how everything is okay now. It really is okay. I've been incredibly blessed and guided through the trial. And like I've mentioned before, I believe that I am in the process of coming out triumphant.

Anyways, I wrote this roughly four weeks ago. Take from it what you will.

-----------------------------------------

Life changes. It's the end of an age. Don't cry because it's over. This is the start of something new. And etc.

I am losing three of my closest friends very shortly. Okay, I shouldn't say losing, but they're all going away and I am having trouble coming to terms with it. Obviously there's nothing I can do, but I am going to hang on to these next few days with all my strength. I don't want to be misunderstood -- I am absolutely thrilled for the adventures that these ladies are embarking on, I'm just a little sad that I won't be there for the ride.

I don't know. I guess I don't have that much more to say about it. It just adds to the everything that is changing in just a few short weeks. And I mean every single aspect of everything.

But you know, this is okay. I am going to be okay. I feel at peace with the choices I've made -- I know that they are the right ones. And it is just so amazing to me how quickly after the storm I am comforted. I'm not alone.

Heavenly Father is good to me.

The sun will leave us all behind

How am I feeling? Filled with the inexplicable desire to go snowboarding.

I'd never been to Sundance Film Festival until today--and I'm still not entirely sure I can say I've been to it, because all we really did was walk around and stalk famous people. And by that I mean we looked inside the building where the private party for HitRecord was being held and Joseph Gordon-Levitt may have been in that building. May have been.

I should've taken more pictures; Park City is absolutely stunning. Oh, and did I mention it was a good 30 degrees warmer there than it is in Provo? I should also mention that you couldn't tell. At all. We were freezing.

He let me play his piano.

I wanted to eat here (wish not granted).

Spencer tried on a frog hat.

And there I am, playing the only song I know.

You know what? I could've played that piano all day. Yes, the same song, the one I learned two years ago, the only one that's remained in my memory, over and over and over. I'd just hit the repeat button on my brain and totally tune out everything else. Yes, that sounds lovely. Sigh. I needed this day. I needed a refreshment. Park City with two of my dearest friends was the perfect refreshment.

It's still weird that I have married friends. I feel like I did when I was nine years old and wanted to stay up late to watch a movie with my older cousins but my mom wouldn't let me; she made me go to bed early; although in this scenario it's the married friends going to bed early. But I'm still the little nine year old struggling to be seen as older than I am.

Sorry about the lack of fluidity of thought. My brain is all over the place these days.

Lastly, I can't get this song out of my head.

New Morning

Disclaimer: The following blog post may or may not cause this:

Let me tell you something.

My knee caps are sore. I've been kneeling beside my bed, staring at this computer screen, while my stomach and heart are both going wild with elation. So many thoughts are whizzing and whirling around each other but for some reason I have no idea which words to type out first. And so you get this firsthand account of my train of thought.

I have no reason to feel the way I do, and yet this sudden, unexplainable passion for life seems to be bursting out of my face. I want to run down the street with my arms outstretched and yell and laugh and twirl and tell everyone how happy I am to be alive. I want to be alive. I had a cooped-up day--too many hours were spent watching Parenthood and napping--and my number one priority right now is to make sure that tomorrow is not the same. To be completely honest, I've had a cooped-up past couple of months. It's not news that my life since last September has been a wreck. Or at least, I've been a wreck. I've had more tearful nights than I care to admit. I've been hopeless and careless and faithless. I've had sleepless nights and grumpy mornings and angry days. I've woken up at 3am with an apathetic heart and had to drag myself unwillingly to class and to work and to the grocery store. I've thought and feared that my passion has left me, but I am thrilled to be able to ardently proclaim that it has not. I love life; I love living it. I love the endless possibilities it is offering me and praying that I will accept. I love what I can create and instigate. I have so much more power than I ever give myself credit for, and somehow, I am climbing out of a three-month pit triumphant. Not by myself, no, not even close. And I know I have a ways to go, but I'm getting there. And most importantly (at least to me, and right now), I know what passion is and I know that I have it because I can feel it again.

The world inspires me; humankind inspires me; the gospel inspires me. There is too much wonder in the world to live without excitement. Yet I seem to fall over and over again into the trap of thinking that I have no control over what happens to me or I can't effect any change in my life. Well, guess what--I can. And I am going to. I'm going to do so every day for the rest of my life. For too long I have sat waiting for good things to happen to me and become angry or bitter when they haven't. I've compared myself to others and made life a competition, when all I should've done is opened my eyes and enjoyed what I've had all along. Yeah, that's over. I'm done. That mindset is fatal and I won't submit to it any more.

"I've been calm all my life... I'm gonna do something about that."

I feel like... I feel like I'm back. Hah, and I'm just beaming you guys. Maybe this will seem silly in the morning but right here and right now, it's all very real. Everything is okay; everything is fantastic. I know who I am. I really, really do.

Here's to hoping this feeling is more than just a momentary one.

"Have you heard who you are?"

"You're a new morning."

Oh, Paris.

"That Paris exists and anyone could choose to live anywhere else in the world will always be a mystery to me."

That pretty much sums up the thoughts that went through my mind when I rode the train back to London from our two and a half day excursion to the city of lights and the home of croissants. Sometimes, all I can think about is how I felt in Shakespeare & Company with The Picture of Dorian Gray in my hand, or how I felt standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower with blisters on my heels, or how I felt in Museé de Orsay with wonder in my heart. Suddenly I knew how other people in the world felt when they walked those streets because I felt it too, an indescribable, powerful overtaking. Amazement, fascination, longing.

Tonight I watched my first Woody Allen film and I loved it. Midnight in Paris made me giggle and it made me frown and it made me think. It was one of those movies that I know will drift into my thoughts more than a few times in the next week or so, and those are my favorite kind of films to watch. The kind that stick with you.

"That's what the present is. It's a little unsatisfying because life is unsatisfying."

What hit me and what I think I related to most in this film was how much Gil wanted to live in a different time and place. I totally feel that. I've always thought that it would be so much better if I lived in the 20's or the 40's, or any time before the Vietnam War really. Never quite satisfied with my life. I don't really know why that is or how to stop it. All I know is that I focus so much on checkpoints: "I'll be happy when I go to college," I say. Well, I'm in college. "I'll be happy once I'm used to BYU." Hey, guess what -- I'm used to it. "I'll be happy when [fill in the blank]." The big takeaway, though, and what Gil finally realized is that he would never be happy unless he learned to be present. Not like the past, present, future kind of present, I mean mentally aware and accepting of the right now. Not wishing or waiting for something to happen, but immersing oneself in the current surroundings and situation. He realized this and then he walked down the Seine with a cute girl and it rained and it was all romantic and blahdy blah. So maybe once I finally accept and immerse myself in my life -- in the right now -- I will magically run into a handsome man whose conversation is enough to make me love him in less than two hours time. It's a thought anyway.

Also, this song. Oh, Paris...

Paris.

Blue skies are calling

I wrote a couple paragraphs. They were about my fears. My fears about next semester. Nervousness for school to start. Anxieties about new roommates. I got it all out. And, well... it's gone now.

Because I realized that none of that is important -- not now, not ever. I know that I'm nervous for everything to change, but things have to change, and they will whether I'm prepared for them to or not. Life does not wait. I know that what's most important in my life right now is my ability to embrace whatever comes next. Both my happiness and my inner peace depend on my willingness to do that.

Right now, everything is in motion. I have many decisions that are just kind of floatin' around up there, waiting for me to give them more attention. I do not intend to try to make these decisions now or even relatively soon. I'm just waiting, and as antsy as that makes me, it's what I've decided to do. It's what I feel I am supposed to do. I have no definitive plans for the future, and as someone who always has her life planned out, that terrifies me. Truly. But, you know, I have to be okay with that. And I will be.

Found this on Pinterest a while back. Always applicable.

Everything will be fine. Life is good; God is good. And things will work out in the end -- probably sooner, actually. I have complete faith in that. Until then, I'll just keep going, keeping an eye out for my blue skies. They're on their way. Merry Christmas. :)

Let's be best friends

Note: I started this post six days ago and never finished because I have been so unable to make a decision. Choosing a number 5 was excruciatingly difficult. Don't ask me why. But finally, and without further ado, I present to you... this. It's been a long time coming.

Last Sunday afternoon Sadie and I watched The Princess Diaries, and it didn't take me too long to decide that Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi is so original, unique, creative, and cool. She rock climbs, does yoga, paints, and hangs out with her mom in her spare time. She loves her 'Stang more than most people. She sets aside her pride to help out her grandmother, who she eventually grows to really love. She eats corndogs with mustard, not ketchup (girl knows what's up). Basically what I'm saying is that she is what everyone should aspire to be but she doesn't know it and she doesn't care. Sadie and I therefore concluded that we really, really want to be friends with Mia Thermopolis. But then I thought, you know, I bet Anne Hathaway is this cool in real life, which then sparked thoughts about other actors who are probably really funny and nice in real life, too. And so, after much consideration, I present to you a list of famous women that I really want to be my best friend.

#5: Taylor Swift.

My number one reason for picking her is that she just seems so. nice. From what I've gathered from the few interviews I've seen of her, she's genuine, kind, quirky, and fun. Good qualities for a best friend. Am I wrong? Additionally, I really appreciate the honesty that she puts into her music and the self confidence it takes to do that. I do have to admit that her newest album didn't seem as consistent to me in terms of her personality and honesty coming through -- I felt like a few of the songs were so over-produced and mainstream that I couldn't see the Taylor in them. However, there are still songs I relate to, and I appreciate her insight and her ability to express herself through music and words. It's something that I wish I were better at. Also, we could spend hours jamming, which is always a good thing. Oh she's just so cute. Love me some T-Swizzle.

#4: Anne Hathway.

I'm willing to bet that she is not far from the yoga-loving, rock-climbing, ketchup-hating person that she plays in one of her earlier films, as previously mentioned. Also, she was Cat Woman, which means she got to kiss Christian Bale, which means that if all else fails, we will have something to talk about. At length. Additionally, she can sing, she cut off all of her hair for a role, which is something I greatly admire, and she plays the most dedicated maternal role ever to be imagined up in the history of all-time ever.

#3: Mae Whitman

It took all of three minutes for this girl to beat out Anne/Mia/Selina/Fantine. I admit, this is probably a shallow reaction, but the second I saw that picture on her Twitter account, I was sold. Also, her background is a teacup pig wearing rainboots. So I guess I'm a little bit superficial, and I'm totally judging a book by its cover here, but she just seems like an awesome individual! Search her name on Pinterest and tell me she's not the cutest person in the world. After scrolling through pictures and descriptions, I have come to the conclusion that we would get along really well. I love that she is not your typical Hollywood star. She's not tall, she's not stick thin, she's not gorgeous. She's just normal. She's real. Also, she was in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, which earns her 100 points automatically, and she's in The Perks of Being A Wallflower, which I have yet to see, but again -- major points.

#2: Emma Stone

Hold the phone. She is doing The Bronwyn Face. I shouldn't need to say anything more for you to understand how awesome this girl is, but I will anyway. Just watch one of her many hilarious interviews -- she is just as funny, if not more so, in real life as she is in the roles she plays. You realize that the "character" she plays in Easy A is just herself, right? And let's not forget that in addition to being hilarious, quirky, and fun, she is also stellar in more serious parts (e.g. Skeeter in The Help). When she was a teenager she presented a Powerpoint to her parents to convince them to let her move to California to kick-start her acting career. And she's dating the cutest lil' Brit you'll ever lay eyes on.

#1: Zooey Deschanel.

I mean, was there ever any contest?

The thing is, I know she's exactly like the characters she plays in movies, TV shows, you name it. That's fine. I don't want to ber her friend because I think she's this incredibly diverse actor. I know she's just like Jess from New Girl, just with a little more common sense and self-awareness. I legitimately don't think she could be skanky if she tried, and that's the thing -- she doesn't try because she doesn't want to be. I respect that. Additionally, she's smart and insightful. The internet tells me that she once said this: "In an ideal world no one would talk before 10am. People would just hug because waking up is really hard." Doctrine, my friends. And her Twitter feed is hilarious. Plus, she's got an in with JGL, who, after Heath Ledger died (RIP, my love), moved to number one on my list of Men That I Would Marry Without A Second's Hesitation If They Asked Me. (There's only two people on that list now.) Side note: Once I had a dream that he was LDS and we were at a party. We were sitting in some basement with a pool table and a sink, and whilst we were sitting six inches apart on a red velvet couch, and he asked me on a date. It was awesome. But really, back to the subject at hand -- more than anything, I would love to spend days on end just sitting with these two, harmonizing with Zooey as Joe played his guitar and threw down the occasional beat(box).

So yes. Zooey, if you're ever in the area, I'd be happy to show you around our happy little valley. Or I'll just go wherever you wanna go, I mean you could probably fly us to Australia and we could romp around with some koalas. I bet you'd enjoy that. Because I would. And because we would be best friends.

Pre-Finals Week Blues

One time I was sitting in a library, with Jennie at a desk not too far behind me, because it was the week before finals and that always means going to the library, when I realized that I wouldn't be going to bed for at least another four hours because I still had six pages to write; well, that one time is actually this time, meaning right now, and by that I mean I am so beyond screwed because, like I said, six pages you guys -- six freaking pages -- all of which will have to be proofread and edited and perfectified (and yes, I am completely aware that I just made up a word, but I bet you like it just much as I do) and then printed and stapled and finished, done, destroyed like the one ring that ruled them all in the fiery depths of Mount Doom, but hopefully I, unlike poor Mr. Baggins, will be able to keep my index finger, as I am incredibly fond of it (more so than I am of my other fingers even, seeing as it is the least crooked -- oh yes my fingers are terribly crooked, and I will attribute that to my incessant knuckle cracking) and I do not wish to be a nine-fingered woman, although I suppose there are worse things I could be...

Like this. This would be worse.

Anyway. How was that for a long sentence? Holleratcha.

Wish me luck.

It's been a while

Hello, Blogging World. Yes, I know it's been a while. I'm sorry I've been so MIA lately. No, no, it's nothing you did--I've just had a lot going on. What's that you ask? Well, it's a long story... No, it's not really a long story. You're right. That's just what people say when they really don't want to elaborate. Okay, so I don't want to talk about it. Can we move on?

Anyway. I wanted to address some things that have been happening in my life lately, more for my sake than yours. My thoughts are not even remotely organized so I'm going to try the best I can, but it's going to be a bit sporadic. But hopefully not more-than-a-bit sporadic.

Um, I have at least half a dozen blog posts saved as drafts that I never got around to finishing or publishing (obviously); I should probably finish those. That's going to be my goal this upcoming week. Except for one draft that was never intended to be published, it was just kind of notes to myself while I was on the internet one night and I figured out something that I promise is only relevant to me and none of you and had to write it down. That's all. ...Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, there are a few things I wanted to address. Right? Right.

I have some rad news: I am going to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I'm working on my papers right now and I am thrilled. What an opportunity. But no, I don't have my call yet, and no, my papers aren't actually in yet. I wish they were! But something came up and they will take longer than expected. I didn't kill anyone, the BYU Health Center is just super booked so when I had to make a return appointment, they didn't have any openings until January. So they won't be in until January, at least. I promise I will let the world know the moment they are in and the moment I get my call and the moment I find out where I'm going. You can count on it. Let's all heed the old saying that goes, 'a watched cookie never burns*,' or something like that. Just... It'll happen when it happens.

...But this is the picture that the Twelve will see when they decide where in the world I am going to spend a year and a half of my life :D My hair is, sadly, no longer this vibrantly red. It's quite faded, more like auburn now. I miss it. And I'm going to miss it even more when I go back to my natural color for the mish, but hey, who wants to be worrying about her roots when she's trying to serve the Lord? Not this girl.

So yeah. Mission. So stoked. Anyway... Okay I swear there were at least five points that I wanted to make. I should've made an outline.

I'm going to stop right here with a solemn promise to blog more and to get all these drafts published. For realsies. I mean, I'm not going to publish them all in one day and completely overwhelm you (and more importantly, me) but I will get them done. Pinky swear.

Oh, and you all deserve to hear this. Just listen.

*For the record, I know the actual saying. You don't have to mourn my lack of cultural knowledge, I know it.

Sometimes

Sam is the only reason I've seen Princess and the Frog.

Nobody wanted to play Full Contact.

We made lists, tanned, laughed, danced. A happy day.

It was Derek's birthday so we went on an adventure.

I stole her a chapstick so she stole me these sunglasses.

I lost the shorts I was wearing in this picture.

Katy Perry's "Firework" has never been so much fun.

We dried off in the men's restroom.

One mud fight and my clothes were never the same.

I'm heavier than I look, so that was impressive.

The judgment from the woman behind me is my favorite.

I was sadder than I look that day.

The manager of the caf asked us to shower next time.

We picked these from our courtyard. Yep.

Good friends. Mitra left us that day.

The most make up I wore all year.

Hawaiian sunsets. It's no wonder I was distracted.

Sometimes it hurts that I'm not still there.

Cloud Atlas

I wish I had the words.

I am so often scared that I have forgotten how to feel things. That I go through life and don't notice small things, beautiful things. That I can't remember how to relate to people or open up. Be honest. I feel that I don't have meaningful conversations and I fear that I am forgettable. What if I've forgotten how to relate to people? What if I don't know how to fall in love? I'm afraid that I am incapable of higher emotion. I can feel momentary elation. I can get scared. I can cry because I'm sad. In fact, I experience these things all the time. But what about joy. Empathy. Loyalty. Passion. Love. I don't know where my passion went. I don't know when it went. I just remember walking in the courtyard of the jfsb one day during winter semester and talking to my mom on the phone, tearing up because I'd realized that it was gone. I hadn't noticed it leave. I want to feel things strongly again. I want courage, peace, excitement, devotion, spirit. Happiness? Maybe. Some days I wonder... Most of all, I want to love with all my soul, love with a love that is more than love. I want to feel connected with the world around me. After all, "our lives are not our own." There is something so much greater than what I am. Some times, like tonight, I am reminded of that so strongly that I can't believe I ever forgot. But I do. I forget, and then grace is kind enough to remind me again. Then, I am hopeful. I have hope that I will one day be able to feel strongly and passionately; that I won't fear love, but embrace it; that I will see beauty in everything, and not be ashamed to cry; and that, after all this, I won't forget, but grow in my remembrance and passions. When that day comes, I will be able to express how I feel.

But I don't -- at least, not the right ones. So just listen to this. Listen, and feel.

I wrote a poem.

It's not a very good poem. I am by no means a good poet, but, by virtue of the fact that I just wrote a poem, I suppose I am one, albeit a lousy one. Anyway. I wrote this for my English class because I was told to and because I need to remind myself of my dreams every once in a while.
(I am making this seem like it's not a big deal to me because if it's not a big deal, then it doesn't matter if it's any good or not. I can just pretend I don't care. But I do care. I care a lot. Just for the record.)

Haven't any of you ever had a dream?

Okay. Without further ado:

To sleep long and deep, with dancing dreams that keep me calm

to sip cocoa by campfires, snuggled up with my boy

to wear flowers in my hair

run barefoot through a field

and twirl, sing, breathe

Not to change to fit others, or pretend I'm not scared,

or to realize after all this time I was wrong

but to finally feel like myself

and know it's because of you

and watch you smile.

For reals this time

I feel stupid for blogging about this. First a post about hair, and now this?? Oh well. It needs to be done.

Things are about to get personal. Are you ready?

I'm uncomfortable with my body. I have low self confidence, getting dressed is the most frustrating five minutes of my day, and I never think I look good. Listen, I know I'm not fat. You don't need to insist that I'm not fat, because I know. But I'm over average, and I don't like that. I know I have infinite worth and I know I'm a daughter of God, so don't be concerned. I just don't feel awesome, and I should! I'm 20! I should be an irresistable freakin' babe. But instead, I find myself lazy, lethargic, and, well... squishy. I am squishy.

Health-wise, college has not been awesome to me. I gained 20 pounds my freshman year. When I came back home for the summer, I lost half of that. I hung out around at 150 pounds for the duration of my sophomore year, until I went to London and gained about 15 more pounds. Don't worry -- every Nutella-smothered biscuit and crepe I ate was delicious. I regret nothing. But I haven't lost any of that weight, and it's been almost four months since I got home. It is time to do something about it.

When I was a senior in high school, I dropped a lot of weight for prom. The truth of the matter is I had gotten my dress from a vintage store, and thus there was only one of it, and therefore only one size. And that one size happened to be too small. But I was absolutely in love with the dress, and it was only $60, which for a prom dress was a total steal. So I bought it anyway. I then cracked down and followed this hardcore diet that I would never recommend to anyone. I literally only ate a limited amount of fruits, nuts, eggs, and vegetables. In two weeks, during which I was very cranky, I lost ten pounds. But I looked HOT.

I don't want to be unhealthy this time around, but I do want to see if I can get back down to that weight, because I felt great. And I want to feel like that again. So, without further ado, a progress/goal/chart/picture thingy:

starting weight: 164 (10/3/2012)

goal weight 1: 160

goal weight 2: 155

goal weight 3: 150

goal weight 4: 145

goal weight 5: 140

ultimate goal weight: 135 lbs.

Feel free to offer all the words of encouragement that your brain can come up with. And by that I mean please, please, please help me stay motivated. I'm notorious for giving up. And I'm tired of starting over.

70 Reasons to Smile

I made a goal to write down five things each day that I was grateful for/happy about that day. Here they are.

17 September
1. SouthEnd Market had cheap vanilla soymilk. I got some and it was delicious.
2. We watched a movie in my first class, which relaxed me after a stressful morning.
3. Brother Haws offered some beautiful insights. I got a lot out of sections 88 and 93 of the Doctrine and Covenants.
4. My roommates love me despite my many, many faults.
5. We had a delicious late night snack thanks to the collaboration of Taylor's and Sadie's foods.

18 September
6. I didn't have to go into work till 2:30, so I had time to finish my homework!
7. Anna and Becca let me borrow their clothes so I didn't have to go to class in my Tucanos uniform.
8. I had a good, long talk with Natalie.
9. I bought cinnamon graham crackers :)
10. I remembered how much I love the song Boogie Shoes by KC & The Sunshine Band, so I found it on Spotify and listened to it. A lot of times.

19 September
11. Sadie helped me with my project.
12. Becca let me borrow her bike.
13. Joe fixed our dryer!
14. I got to see 83, all of whom I have missed dearly.
15. Sadie and I went on a very nice bike ride.

20 September
16. Jennie shared her chips and salsa with me.
17. Spotify has all the Disney music. So naturally, I listened to all the Disney music.
18. My teacher told my class that our logo designs were good :)
19. It was cool enough to wear a sweater for a little bit.
20. Heavenly Father answered a prayer and I recognized it immediately.

21 September
21. Grant and I had a heart to heart.
22. I think I am getting better at my job!
23. Becca and co. visited me after work!
24. I stuck to my goal.
25. My motivation to stick to my goal never left.

22 September
26. Sadie got engaged!
27. My break was really relaxing.
28. I was reminded that is important to slow down.
29. I resolved to not let myself get stuck like last year.
30. Becca and I had a heart to heart :)

23 September
31. I got to go to the Brigham City temple dedication!
32. I took a great nap.
33. Heart to heart with Parker (a lot of heart-to-hearts lately).
34. I watched the trailer for and got really excited about Les Miserables.
35. I enjoyed our Relief Society presidency meeting, as always.

24 September
36. I slept in (on accident, but it was still great to get an extra hour and a half of snoozin').
37. I bought grapes.
38. I exchanged my shoes for ones that aren't broken, and boy are they cute.
39. I drank chocolate milk.
40. I got a good grade on my paper.

25 September
41. Mumford & Sons' new album came in the mail today.
42. Mumford & Sons' new album came in the mail today.
43. Mumford & Sons' new album came in the mail today.
44. Mumford & Sons' new album came in the mail today.
45. Mumford & Sons' new album came in the mail today.

26 September
46. I listened to Babel all day and fell in love with Mumford all over again.
47. I wore my mom's comfy sweater.
48. Jennie helped me think of things that I'm grateful for.
49. Rachel closed, so I got home 30 minutes earlier than I would have.
50. I found a free pattern for a hat I want to knit.

27 September
51. I saw Hawaii friends at Tucanos.
52. I got to talk to my mom, albeit it only for a few minutes.
53. I read me some Harry Potter.
54. I got to know some of the girls in my ward a little bit better.
55. I survived another day.

28 September
56. I talked to my dad on the phone for a little bit.
57. I saw Katie Belliston in the library.
58. I saw Hayley Rozsa at Tucanos.
59. I talked to Alex on the phone.
60. Will kept me company while I closed.

29 September
61. I didn't have to work, so I actually got some sleep!
62. I got to go to the Relief Society session of General Conference.
63. Alex and I went to Walmart.
64. I got strawberries and fruit snacks.
65. Mumford brought me some comfort. Comfort & Sons. Heh heh.

30 September
66. Church was so, so, SO wonderful.
67. I got to go to ward council. Which I love.
68. We had crepes with Relief Society!
69. Everyone helped clean up.
70. We got home taught :)

A silly blog post about hair

I know I'm going to hate myself for this. I know it. I know it.



















But GOSHDANGIT don't I just look so cute with bangs and short(ish) brown hair!

October 2011

It's long right now. I wish it were shorter. I finally grew out my bangs, what I've been trying to do for years -- but JK I want bangs again. I always want my hair to be what it is not. But I think that is true of me in all aspects of life. I want what I can't have.

What puzzles and bothers me even more than my brain's impeccable knack for desiring what I don't have, though, is my disturbing lack of effort to actually get what I want. Maybe it's because I know that once I get it, I'll want the opposite. Or maybe I'm just scared of trying because I wouldn't know what to do when I actually achieved something that I've always dreamed about. Maybe I'm afraid that no matter how hard I try, it won't work.

Whatever it is, I'm sick of it.