Readjustments

Sigh. A nice weekend. Family get togethers full of laughter, music, games, and fun.

My happy tummy is full. Has been all weekend. Yummy food stuffs in well-stocked cupboards and grand dinners for the holiday season have seen to that.

But...lurking in the back of my brain, a whisper. A grating reminder.

Bare cupboards. Cold empty fridges. 

Grumpy belly gnomes. Grumbling and gnashing of teeth.

Food. A foreign dream for a college kid like me.

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Eating snow babies

Oh snow. How you and I have battled through the years. You win some. I win more.

The cold time of year has begun and you had a win today. I slipped and took a tumble. But... I won more. I ate your babies.

Yes. I ate them.

I caught them with my tongue as they fell happily to the ground. They are screaming and wailing inside my body. Melted and suffering in my warm belly. 

You must have a short memory because this is my only revenge and yet you keep coming back for more. I could do this all day.

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Charcoal on the outside

Undergraduate studies. Roasting a pig over a pit. I've heard it both ways.

My allotted time has come and gone. But I'm still over the fire. I am well done through and through. They keep the skewer in my body. The heat cooks my soul away.

They mush prefer ash and charcoal.

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Despicable Kidnappers

After a long grueling lab I decided to purchase a gallon of lovely fresh pressed apple cider.

Mmmmmm....

The rich copper color of the cider and the sloshing of the spiced drink made my mouth water. Oh boy! I couldn't wait to get home and drink the deliciousness.

But as is life, things came up: the car required some nourishment, a friend needed a vent session, and my tummy reminded me of its emptiness...and my cupboards' emptiness (i.e. a Lee's run was needed). I got sidetracked.

As I made a quick list in my head of the items I required for my tummy (milk being the main one) I recalled my recently acquired refreshment. Exclaiming foolishly among thirsty roommates of my apple excitement, their departure unluckily was quicker than mine.

My cider went missing.

Frantic, I searched the back seats, the floors, my dash, under the seats, everywhere! To no avail.

With the fury of Hurricane Katrina, I informed my roommates of their eminent death. Assuring them of this I began formulating my revenge.

It will only be returned to you with the return of love and affection...

Forgiveness for such a despicable crime was a far away thought for me. But with every intention of coming to real feelings of forgiveness I informed the guilty party of assuredly good feelings between us once again.

Or perhaps I should've asked for more from you. Like 'the Diamond!!'

At that moment the door opened and my precious freshly pressed apple cider was returned to my waiting arms. My throat is a happy thing again.

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My team

Last night I struggled with the idea of sleep.

My mind literally would NOT settle down and let me get some Z's. So as a result I could NOT make myself get up and go to 7:30 class (much to the disappointment of my wonderful roommate).


So I slept in (as much as was possible considering my mind was still hard at work...) and with the time I had allowed myself before I went in to work, I decided to do something productive.

I got on to the official LDS website and listened to some of the speakers from General Conference that I hadn't listened to as attentively as some of the others. I felt the wonderful Spirit settle down on my freshly made bed beside me and teach me things about myself and my eternal worth as a daughter of a Heavenly Father.

Although this isn't from any of the talks I listened to this morning it made a point to me that helped me realize where I'm going.

"The future of this world has long been declared; the final outcome between good and evil is already known. There is absolutely no question as to who wins because the victory has already been posted on the scoreboard. The only really strange thing in all of this is that we are still down here on the field trying to decide which team's jersey we want to wear!"
-Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles

I know what team I'm on. There isn't even a question as to which is the best team. I may have slip-ups and stumblings as I play for my team but my Coach will never forsake me or send me off the field until I've finished what I've come here to do.

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Stress is like a hole in my stomach

Sometimes I want to scream like this.

And other times I want to go crazy like this.

But most of the time it ends up coming out like this.

Roiling and broiling in my little tummy. One little spot at the bottom starts to burn.

All the heat focuses. White hot fire lances everything around it.

Nothing wants to come into my mouth. My stomach clenches and starts to get all wrinkly like a raisin inside my body. Everything starts to erupt like Mt. Vesuvius. 

But I can't explode. Everyone else is keeping a cork on it and it looks silly for one person to explode by themselves.

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Passionfruit

There's a lot in the world to be obsessed about. Growing up I had a huge obsession with horses. Anything that had to do with horses was by far my favorite (whether or not it deserved such elevation in my little world).

Although I have small obsessions like giraffes, collecting notebooks/journals, bracelets, stapling papers together, and sports to name a few, there is one mainstream passion that I have begun to notice taking over my life.

I absolutely adore, love with all my heart, cannot do without, must do all day for the rest of my mortal life...

Getting to know myself. I certainly don't know myself as well as I should and I don't know half the things about myself that I observe in my friends and family on a regular basis. I know what I like and what I love but not why. It's like I'm a mystery!!! (that was for you Abbie Dean) A soul waiting inside for me to discover. I have always enjoyed getting to know people, their little quirks, why they do things the way they do. But until recently had never thought to discover myself.

I spread the peanut butter on one slice first and then wipe the remaining off on the other slice of bread before spreading the delicious jam or jelly of choice BECAUSE that's how my mother always prepared our PB and Js when I was a little tike.

I like to organize and clean my surroundings when I'm feeling nervous or uncertain BECAUSE I've discovered that when I feel like I have control over one menial thing, I have some control over life no matter how hectic it may seem. 

I sing loudly and without abandon to the radio BECAUSE I love life. Life holds so much joy in every day and singing out loud just for the heck of it makes me happy.

I pray all the time...like ALL the time, so much in fact, I'm sure I've heard the Man Upstairs sigh a time or two when I call his name...but all joking aside. I pray to a God that lives BECAUSE when I know something to be true I do my best to live by it. I know He will answer my prayers and listens to the small little problems in my life and does His best to comfort me.

God has given me so much. Even just considering me as a human being and His spirit daughter, I have a lot to be thankful for. Every time my faith falters, every time my soul cannot grasp onto hope's bright light, every time my head hangs down, my Heavenly Father is there for ME because he loves ME.

If the Supreme Being of the universe loves me that much, then there must be something special about me.

That is my new obsession. Finding myself through my Savior, seeing my true reflection through His eyes.

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Woe is me...

Many days had passed since my grand adventure. Laughter, good company, and great stories would never fade from my memory. But there is a small amount of remembering that fades with time. Specific wording to a fantastic joke, complete conversations that changed my life, or merely the look on Betsy's face when Jacs told her to change out in the wild...

But wait! Pictures can speak a thousand words. Written travel logs can replace the memory that fades. Pictures of good times, taken in the confines of a cabin in the woods, taken at the top of cliffs, taken in the three hours it took to reach that place, taken on horses and saved to the memory card for later viewing.

Alas, I cannot blog on this wondrous occasion as I do not have the pictures or the travel log to do it with. I am sinking into the depths of despair and woe.

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Melts and Hot Air Balloons

There once was a little girl named Shley. Dreams of being a grand prestigious artist had always been hers.

One day her friend Bie and she decided to have an adventure. They gathered their crayons around them and some canvases and blow dryers and a little bit of sticky super glue...and they started creating.

After messes and frantic searches and sticky fingers, masterpieces emerged.

We call this the SHAGGY DOG...

Rainbow...duh

Mud castle/Fangorn forest

 Will she sell these pieces of art? Oh no. They are far too wonderful to trade for mere moneys!

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Dream big

Dreams, butterflies in the azure sky. Floating, lilting, playing in the soft downy clouds. Beautiful bright colors gleaming on their backs in the morning sun's rays. Nothing can reach them but a child on wings. Children are their caretakers, treating their fragile wings with gentle care and love.

Adults stay to the hard, cold ground to which they cling. They're really grown up caretakers that have stopped using their wings and grasped 'reality' tightly in their fists. Fear guides them now.

One such grownup child sits. She is small and few take notice of her. Her wings are broken. Her's is a lucky story however. She can still see the butterflies and her own wings. Most grownup children forget to look for either of them anymore.

Everyday she stares with hope and yearning at the beautiful orange butterfly dancing above her little spot on the ground. So close and yet so very far away. Her eyes shining and sparkling she beckons her desired treasure near. But it will not do. Dreams cannot get that close to the ground or they will die. And so each sunset ends with tears of sadness.

A little blond child stops and watches her reaching skyward with curiosity and compassion on his little smudged face. Gallantly, he offers his wings to her. Her excitement is beyond belief. She doesn't even notice his tattered clothes and matted hair.

She leaps into the blue. Her day in the sky is magical. She dances around clouds and amidst oceans of dreams and laughter. Her special friend is the little orange butterfly perched on her slight shoulder. Even as midnight colors and bright twinkling fairies blanket the sky, she wants to stay but the nice little boy must be missing his wings. She drifts down on fluttering wings to where he sits. His face is beloved to her now and always will be. With tears in her eyes she carefully hands the precious wings back to her savior. He kindly accepts.

He hands her wings to her. They are no longer broken. He has fixed them just for her. She wraps her arms around him in the best hug she has ever given. A small movement catches her eye. The little orange butterfly is falling to the ground from her shoulder.

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Wanderlust

My bag is packed. Selected and designed to get me to my journey's end.  I open the door. The first step is always the hardest, the leaving part. But yet not the hardest. The excitement for adventure in me makes it easy. I step onto the road to test my true endurance.

The road is long. I've known it for some time. Prepared in every way possible. But what awaits me, is beyond my comprehension. I've only heard stories and fairy tales of the place at the end of this road. I must get there. The desire in my heart and the strength in my soul begs me to reach out for it. Despite the promised dangers that lay in wait and the strain on my mortal body, I travel.

Thirsting and starving. Stumbling, weary, and travel worn. I stop. Only for a time. I am alone on the road. I find a stream heading the same direction I am. The cool water refreshes me and I eat my bread to strengthen me. The night is coming.

Much must be done to prepare myself for the long night. Shelter is thrown up and a fire lights a small circumference around me. I sleep for a time.

Noises coming from the dark. I've been taught to stay in the light. The creatures of the night don't bother with fire and its company. But sleep is hard to come by with the fear and anticipation of what lay beyond my eyes' seeing. The fear gathers inside me and I doubt the sun's rising. But just the slightest glimmer on the eastern horizon sparks hope in my heart.

The road stumbles me. My small torch only shows me so far ahead. Many times I climb huge obstacles and other times I walk sluggish through dense forest. But always my mind remembers where I'm going. And who will be there waiting.

I've reached the mountain. My destination lies beyond. With determination I reach up and take hold. My load weighs me down at times but it is essential for me to keep it close. Climbing requires all my strength and fortitude. Sometimes I run out. But Someone's hands push me forward or lift me up when I get caught.

Right now I must struggle on. The hardest part of my journey is stretched up before me. I have come a long way. But more is required if I am to reach this place. My heart yearns for it. Although my body is weak, strength will come.

Nothing can stop me but myself.

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Book covers and what's inside

The Master Librarian always says, "Never judge a book by its cover." The hard part is there are so many attractive covers. They look so enticing and exciting. Most of the other book covers are mediocre and thus just beyond my notice. Not that I judge them for it. Just ignore them. A few grab my attention because of their atrocious looking covers. I definitely judge those and I think those are the ones He's talking about. But there can't be much to love inside their covers when they look like that.

I peruse the selection of new books before me. I sort them according to their title and on a smaller level their state of attractiveness. Humming as I finish my job there in the library, the Master Librarian walks up behind me and watches my work silently. I hardly ever see Him even though He's always there.

My sorting is getting more liberal. His presence somehow makes my eyes see differently. Some books look precious to me despite the raggedy appearance. I feel his attention move to the previously sorted books. I can feel the prickle of guilt start inside my gut.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Little One." My cheeks burn as I go back through the piles and rearrange their order. I must see what is inside them before I can decide their place in the library. Some of the prettier ones have horrible things inside them. I'm horrified! Many of the uglier ones are so beautiful on the inside. Some of them I sit in wonder for hours staring at what I see inside them. A quiet nagging starts in the back of my brain.

One book sits in the back corner of the library. I do my very best to never touch it. Or dust it. Or come near it. That book has been there for a long time. I've never liked the look of it. It always made me mad to look at it. Sometimes I couldn't understand why the Master Librarian would make these kinds of books.

I look to His face. He knows where my thoughts have wandered. Suddenly I know that He took great care to put that book together and it hurts him when I avoid that book so much. I hang my head in shame.

Once alone again, I wander over. The book is dusted over and just as hideous to me as ever.

I gingerly pick it up. The book seems eager to open up to me. What an odd sensation to get from a book. I open the once repulsive cover. Wonder and amazement flood my entire being. Why hadn't I opened it before? Sadness replaces my feelings of awe. How lonely it must've been because of my aversion.

It took me a long time to see and it will take me even longer to learn to "Never judge a book by its cover."

An age old phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover.' Repetition usually denotes a valued lesson...it always falls on deaf ears. Learning often involves mistakes in retrospect. But those are the hardest lessons to learn. Regret is often their companion. But they stick longer.

Snap judgments can last a lifetime. And thankfully the Lord showed me the truth. All the bad thoughts, the misconceptions meant nothing to me. I was shown the soul of someone I had deemed unworthy of my love and compassion. But that was the biggest lie I told myself. They needed that part of me more than anything else I could've given. I realize all the little mistakes through the many years I've known them that had I saved judgment for later I might've made their journey a little lighter, a little happier.

To have a friend in someone who needs a friend so badly, is probably the most fulfilling role a person can fill. Hopefully I'm big enough to fill it this time.

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Skyline

Euphoria. Flying, soaring, tumbling. Other waves crash all around me. But I can fly! I feel the air beneath me as I surge forward. I can almost touch the sky with his billowing clouds and huge blue eyes. Laughing and giggling I swerve away from his tickling fingers.

Dolphins leap and splash all around me as they play. They are a gift from my mother. She sends all sorts of creatures to her little ones. We might get lonely this far away from her.

I come close to my sister waves. We collide and bounce all around each other. Together we build higher and faster. Nothing stands in our way. Ships avoid us. Sea creatures join us.

Oh the power of our unity!

Surging forward, the elation drives me to the heights beyond the clouds. With those around me I feel secure and profoundly strong. I can't help but beam my happiness at the sun sitting up in his universal realm where all the lights play and dance. Sometimes they come and join in our frivolity down on the earth. Alighting on our wings and floating to secret places.

Cliffs. Our most challenging obstacle. At most our force combined can chip off small slivers. Pounding the hard surface of the earth is a grueling task. She is unyielding and stubborn. It is hard on all of us. But it must be done. It is what is required of us. We push and strain against her solid barrier. Some of my brothers and sisters can't make it. Our ranks never dwindle.

Some pull back for a time...

but the rest of us push forward even harder.

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Monsters, beasts and the like

I listen carefully as I wait for them. They always come when it's the darkest. When I can't see them, only then will they come. The thud of my heart drowns out their coming, but I can feel them all around me. I can feel their empty souls. Ugly and lacking in light.

I try to elude them but the darkness is theirs. I kick and punch with all my might but nothing I do seems to faze them. My strength is being spread too thin. Too many.

Slowly they infiltrate the small space inside me. I scream but no sound comes out. The more space they take up...the harder it is to push them back out. They are cold and spiky. Prickly. My body crunches into a tiny ball, trying to squeeze them out. But somehow they've found more space to occupy. They reach into the parts of me that are weak and try to break anything they can.

Weakness. I can feel it piling up. How easily they found it all. How abundant it has become. There is no hope within me. It must come from outside. Anything.

Eternity drags by as the skirmish continues. Repetitive fears and worries flung around the room. Good always prevails...my time is coming...

Light. The Sun.

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On the clock

Darkness surrounds me. A soft darkness against the back of my eyelids. My body slowly relaxes against the welcoming couch cushions. Breathing slows down to a quiet rhythm and my heart thuds a low bass. The gears of my mind wind down and settle into place.

tick.

NO!! Please. I beg you! Do NOT Listen.

tick. tick.

Listen to the white noise of the fan blowing cool air across the room. Its purr will calm the senses. Ahhh.. much better. Listlessness takes over once again. My mind does a replay of the events and worries of the day, slowly stumbling along.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK.

Furrealz?! Ugh. Sounds like this clock has a hitch in its getup. Perhaps a limp? Whatever. It doesn't matter, either way it was seriously delaying my time of rest and recuperation (which considering how much I really don't get anyways you'd think I'd be used to it by now...), something most precious to me.

TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick....

Blast my light sleeping habits. Other more fortunate people would find it almost soothing to have the telltale rhythm of the clock rocking them to sleep. Oh no. Not me! That would be too wonderful. My body enjoys torturing itself at night. Even as a wee infant my mother told me it was my habit to wake when she so much as took a step into the room. I've had quite the amount of practice it would seem in a fifth of a century.

tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. tick. TICK. TICK. TICK. TICK.

ARGH!!! I will crush the stupid wall decoration! I swear that it will be done.

I tear down the time keeper and pull out its heart. The clock becomes quiet and useless without its power source. Blessed silence. Hallelujah!

Goodbye loud world of clocks and ticking. I'm headed to a world of quiet dreams.

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PUPPIES!!!!!!!!!!!

Since the little fluff balls are as of yesterday all taken to new homes and families, I must now present them to you. Puppies. What happy, fun creatures. Bouncing, skipping, playing, rolling, growling, yipping, romping, barking, tumbling, chasing, etc. Puppies only lose their appeal as they get older and bigger.

I have such a soft spot for animals. There is nothing more enticing to me than a cute fluffy little animal begging me with sad brown eyes to come and pet them. I'm a sucker for that. So imagine how awesome it was to come home to nine...yes NINE...new little puppies all bundled up in a pile in my dog's big doghouse on the first of May. Every week that passed the little guinea pig looking blobs became a little more puppy-ish.

My puppy, Rikki, the mother, is half Australian shepherd and quarter Border Collie and quarter Black Lab. She was a hoot to teach because she was wicked smart but had as much attention span as a goldfish (unless there was a treat involved). The father was a stray from a mile away. The owner's lived next to the church* we used to attend. He was a Red Heeler/ Terrier mix as far as I could tell. The array of colors in our puppies makes me wonder if there was another father in the mix-up however...

The boys were a little outnumbered coming in at 4.

Husky boy (aka Tubby)

This little guy was super fun but only after he got over his 'Momma's boy' shy-ness. Always happy and quick to play. He was gone the first week the FREE PUPPY SIGN went up. Cutie yeah?

Boxer Boy (Really submissive...momma's boy)

This pup was SOOOO submissive as you can see from the picture. He was such a Momma's boy he would only come greet you when you first came into the dog run and then it was keep your distance. But on his brave days he would play and tumble and attack my fingers just like the rest of the pups.

Rikki Boy

This little guy was as dominant as the kid above was submissive. He was the first to attack my legs/ fingers/ arms/ clothes...whatever he could get his teeth on. So much fun though! He would bark in protest if all the other pups were surrounding me and he couldn't get to me.

Border Collie Boy (super shy and super cute)

Oh Em GEEE!!!! This little tike was the last to go. He was so much fun! He would be way shy at first but then he would attack and it was adorable. He was my favorite little boy and I had a secret wish for us to keep him out of the all the pups. So sweet. :)

The girls came in at 5.

Husky Girl

This little gal was a yippy little kid. She would bark and she was not shy about wanting to dismember any limb she could get ahold of. Don't get me wrong she was cute while she did it but it certainly didn't feel lovely to have a cute pup pulling my arm out of my socket for all she was worth. ;)

Boxer Girl

She was the last little girl to head out from our kennel. She was a blast! She made sure she was the first to come out and greet me at the gate besides Rikki. Then she'd get so excited she would run back to the doghouse and then come back and maybe a couple more laps before settling on chewing on my fingers.

Black Girl

This sweetheart was the second to last batch that trickled away. She was so very sweet. When I would grab the last few remaining and take them over to the lawn to play, she'd romp around as much as the rest but when the sprinklers were on she wouldn't venture past the line of water. Her hair was so soft and thick. She's one of those with the sad brown eyes that can get me to do anything for them...

Aussie Girl (Cookies'n'cream)

Now she was my second favorite of the girls. She had the cutest bit of fluff just behind her head and it was so fine and soft. She was so playful. I dubbed her cookies and cream because of her coloring. Rikki's sister looked exactly like this and that's what the owner named her. Fitting.

Blue Heeler Girl (my favorite)

I adored this little girl. She was so sweet. When all the rest of the puppies were attacking me with their teeth she would come sit in my lap and lick my face. She was so sweet and gentle and she was the cuddliest of all the puppies. She was the first to go and I was devastated. DEVASTATED. But she was the best so of course she would be the first to go.

Eating time

My pup was very put-out that she couldn't find a spot to eat. These pups not only devoured every piece they could get into their mouths...they stood on every other piece of food on the dog bowl. There are only eight in the picture...and my feet as you can see. The black girl is missing. But they were such fun! I can't wait until the next round....(don't tell my mom...I don't think she'll be very excited...)

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Rhythm of the earth

The summer sun beats, heat pounding our souls. Cotton balls float across the air like warm snow, glowing from the light of the sun. Hollow echoes from djun djuns and the drummer's lively passion seeps into the earth.

Bodies sway to the summer rhythm coming up from the earth. The drummers sit in a half moon, surrounding us with the beat. Our feet start to pound into the dry hard earth to her beat. Dust swirls around our ankles and the trees quiver at the earth's pounding. The drums reach their fevered pitch, my heart falls in step with the heated rhythm. Life beats through the drummer's fingers.

What started as a slow sway has now changed to leaping feet and swinging arms. Earth, sun, dancers, drummers, all become one in rhythm.

Worldly cares are thrown aside to be picked up later when my world isn't occupied by the beat.

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Bye bye plane

I cradled the air around my niece as she climbed up the old orchard ladder. Her intent on reaching the very top with all the bravery of a two year old, was steadfast. She most certainly didn't need any help from me. She informed me she could do it all by herself (that didn't stop me from adding my protection nonetheless...).
 
She reached the step almost at the end of my reach so I clamped my hand on her ankle, effectively ending her assent. Every time she reached that point she would look around and with a grin brighter than the sun on her face, she would say "I can see anything I want to!" To my mind (all of 22 years of experience in the art of thinking, thank you very much) that was obviously impossible but in her mind (only 2.5 years absent from heaven) everything was still so very possible.

A plane flew by overhead, a mere speck against the vast blue sky. My beautiful little niece gasped and waved to it exclaiming, "Bye! Bye! Plane! I will see you tomorrow! And we will fly!" I was struck by the fantastic thought. How big the world is for one so small. Her dreams weren't separated from her reality.

The obstacles in our lives are hard. A lot of them are painful and very trying. Just as this ladder was quite a feat for the 2 year old, it was also an opportunity. She could see so much more at that height than she ever could at ground level and it didn't matter to her that she had to climb, in fact she was happy to do it. Every time we hit an obstacle, it is just another ladder to climb. We have to learn what it takes to climb it, what we need to pull out of ourselves to get to the top. Then we can say "I can see anything I want to!" We can reach our potential a ladder at a time! The higher we climb the more of the valley* of our lives we can see.

My niece luckily did not climb that ladder alone (or else I would have words from her mother and I probably still will...) nor do we have to climb our ladders alone. All of us experience the need for independence especially when those around us offer their help but just think...we always have that one Person who will never let us climb alone no matter our protests. Christ* is our spotter. He will always make sure we get to the top safely. Always.

Then when we have no longer to climb...he helps us fly to our dreams.

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And did not know it. What!

This little delight is me trying a hand at poetry. I spouted it out one day when I was feeling especially pensive about life and the "elusive future" (as Pres. Monson puts it) in store for me.  We all search for answers to what will happen to us as time goes by. Although I still sometimes worry about my future I know to whom I can turn for solace and comfort.

They say it like it's my choice. But how could it just be mine?
It can't be up to me alone, can it? That would be too easy.
The world isn't run on one girl's dreams.

And if it were up to me…would I choose the lighter road?
My decision weighs on the balance, not balances the weight.
Destiny doesn't change for one heart's high hopes.

In the divergence before me, I know what end I want.
Easy trails and smooth walking don't describe that road.
Life won't slow down for my feeble knees.

To take a step in one direction, I need to have courage.
But to reach that goal however, I can not walk alone.
He will walk beside me for my faith.

The world may not care for my dreams. He does.
Destiny may throw my hopes to the wind. He holds them in his own heart.
Life may push on without me. He won't move forward leaving me alone.

No matter the path I choose.

I usually have a hard time accepting the possibilities that life holds for me. There isn't enough solidity for me but that's exactly how God planned it. In order to progress I must take a step in the dark hoping to find ground beneath my feet. The solid ground of my Savior, who will always be there to support and succor me.

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Real faces

A mask to the world. With light colors and happy faces painted on the outside. A sunny lie. Something different resides behind the facade. Nothing black or evil. But something different. The truth. The real face.

The face I don't like to see.

When the world looks at your face they see beauty and sunshine. Your pay isn't an actor's pay as much as it should be. Happiness that bright has to be of an actor's creation. Contentment and serenity dance a scene on your mask.

Weathered eyes see past the age old play.

What lies behind. The thing of masks is their holes. Flaws. No matter the finesse of the painter, there cannot be perfection. Sight would never be sacrificed for such.

Eyes. Windows to the soul. Souls cannot lie. Eyes. Two way streets.

No contemplating on what lies behind. Studying what is seen is a dangerous game to play. Knowing what resides there behind the pretty mask stutters the painting's beautiful image. All feel the unrest and the dissonance. To discern the origin of discord requires well-traveled eyes. A hard road traveled.

A road never traveled twice.

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Misused opportunity

In the entire world there are many opportunities that pass us by. Many of which we make a choice not to take the opportunities by the throat. Sometimes we just miss them and don't realize it until a later date.

Now.

It has come to my attention that I had the opportunity and used it to the advantage I saw fit, but I didn't use it as I should have. As soon as I have this opportunity again...I vow I will not misuse it again.

On the cruise that me and my friends went on this last Spring Break, there were self-serve ice cream machines in the buffet kitchen area. We stopped by on a regular basis. Filling bowls or cones whenever we wanted (don't worry, I struggled with the consequence of that choice at the gym soon after) was a dream come true. As a small child I recall always wanting a soft serve ice cream cone whenever we happened to be lucky enough to stop at a Mickey D's.

There was a third option of consumption means that neither I nor my companions had thought to utilize.

Straight into the kisser.

Regret. *sigh* That is all I feel.

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Eggs-tra traditional paintings

As soon as the bubbling water finishes boiling the oval white canvases and the colors saturate their intended medium, the child within bursts out the seams. Endless possibilities rattle around in my mind with all sorts of color combinations, a myriad of patterns and designs. The visions begin to form one by one. Each unique and exciting.

Eggs plopping. Crayons silently scraping. Fizzing colors surrounding me. Masterpieces only after awkward transitions and strange beginnings. Exhilaration tingles through me as each egg comes out exactly or better than my imagination had concocted.

Easter eggs...2011

I may or may not have gotten my fingers dyed in this production...

All kidding and frivolity aside. This season always brings to me a renewed remembrance of my Savior, as it is a celebration of His atoning sacrifice and most especially for his resurrection. As my Friend, my Comforter, my Redeemer, my Brother, my Advocate before the Father, He has never let me down. My straying feet have been the cause for separation. Jesus is the Christ. He is risen again. I have no doubt. I look forward to the day I can be in His presence again. In His name, amen.

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Funny backpackers

Now being the human being that I am, I must admit that I do not run gracefully nor normally (assuming there is a normal way to run). My dearest older brother's wife wrote a post on people who run funny on their blog. It got me thinking about how people run...but not at the gym. Circumstances of normal everyday life.

Unless you are a small child (all of whom look absolutely adorable in this instance), running with a backpack produces all kinds of ridiculous arm swinging and off balance issues. Being a college student, I have been late to classes a time or two (maybe more but that's not the point of this post), so I've had to run with a full backpack uphill to campus which is even worse! Heavy-laden backpack flying in crazy circles behind me, arms pumping wildly to the side to counter balance the stupid swinging backpack, legs straining to keep the rest of my body upright...Let's just say I know I won't get attractive points for it.

a small (ish) child running in a backpack

Now running in heels only applies to women, but who really looks attractive running in heels? I mean really? (besides the mega-human celebs, who SLEEP in high heels) If you hit a bump or a rock you're sure to collapse an ankle or break your knee from the fall. The taller the heel, the greater the negative effect it has on your running abilities. Besides, the heels have a way of finding cracks to wedge themselves in, mud to get stuck in, unevenness to catch on, etc. No bueno my friends. 

apparently they have races, finish line pictures looked painful...so I went with this one.

Now it's unfathomable to me that anyone has the ability to run in poofy snow pants, clunky snow boots, and a huge marshmallowy winter coat THROUGH the snow! I know I can't. It's not graceful in any sense of the word. Plus, the possibility of falling flat on your face, in the snow might I add, spikes to almost 95%. And I'm not talking about Oregon 1" type of snow...I'm talkin 2" per minute Logan Utah type of snow! You have tunnel your way to places on the first day and no running or you would disappear...literally.

They're getting paid to look happy about it.

To go along with the snow idea...running on sand. Talk about frustrating. If you're on a beach and you're close to the water, the sand is relatively packed making barefoot running a paradisical exercise. However, move 5 feet away and you've got a running nightmare. Every step sinks, plummets, plunges, shifts, rolls, or dives under the impact of your feet. To run the equivalent of a marathon, you need only run the length of a football field, you'll take the same number of steps in a MUCH shorter distance. Super-duper tiring (especially when playing frisbee or football...ugh). The end.

See how slow they're moving...?

But...if you move 5 feet closer to (I really mean into...) the water, you have another problem. Water. Lots of it. Moving against you whichever way it's going. Now there are a couple different options for running in water. First: high-step running. You feel like a majestic horse (only animals look good running through water in real life...and Bay Watch...which isn't real), tramping over the water and gracefully plopping your feet into the watery depths (if you ask me...you look ridiculous if you're completely serious while doing it). Second: slosh-through running. Keeping your legs in a normal running rhythm and motion, you can only get a few steps before your upper half's momentum carries it way too fast for your lagging bottom half and you take a swim instead.  A much preferred mode of exercise anyways...

I know that as a normal human being, I've experienced these, each in their own awkwardness and ridiculousness. If you are one of those exceptional few who can sail through any and all obstacles presented here...don't judge.

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Scottish traveling

The rain splatters across my windshield. The wipers scrape a grating rhythm. Poor weather stripping makes loud air whistle to get inside. No sounds but for these, the rain and wind. Besides its setting, the sun has long been hidden behind inky wet clouds. Hills and mountains shrouded in billowing fogs.

My long drive from the "Welsh" city, made mysterious by the dark mists. Cars few and far between increase the stretch of darkness.

Misty Highlands from ancient times, feel close. Looking through the mist to the darkened hillsides, I can almost see long ago Scotsmen. Bagpipe reeds drone a melancholy melody through canyons and ravines. Kilts of various tartans and half cloaks blend in a bagand procession. A longing rises in me.

The lands of my ancestors. The British Isles where much of my heritage hailed from. There has always been a deep longing within me to see the green covered lands of lore. The luring pull of unseen places and beguiling stories of yore, entice my mortal existence to adventures.
 
To see my homeland, turned into such a place by spring rains, always turns my mind and heart to those lands that lie so far away.

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Glowing inside

I sit inside this decaying mortal body. I've been trusted with its care. It functions well. But every moment is precious. Although there is strength and physical hardiness to be found, my gift is fragile. Any moment could find me flying back to the presence of my God, leaving it behind.

My beautiful perfection has been marred by some of the things it does. I feel bits of me being chipped off by the sheer depression of a mortal mind and the weak faltering of a carnal nature. I try to stop it. To warn it but while I am in this body, my voice goes unheeded a lot. My voice. It used to ring through the halls of heaven, but now it's small and quiet, barely a whisper. 

Words of encouragement drizzle down on me like warm summer rain. There is nothing else comparable to this feeling. The voice of the prophet of the Lord carries in it the voice of my Savior. My Redeemer speaks to me through his servants, words composed to lead me through the darkness into His everlasting light. The love and light in their eyes reminds me of moments before this life. Of a Heavenly Father and Mother. I swell with happiness and fill the shell that holds me here.

First Presidency

These are the moments that regenerate the light within me. The channel that mortality hinders, opens up at their soft words. The more light my mortal lets in, the less I am pushed back. The abundance of light that this gathering and teaching has provided always stitches a part of me to my frame. This is why I'm here in this body.

To become what my Father is. Light.

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Golden delirium

I watch the little white fluffs coasting down from grey low-cast skies. Street lights cast a glow of gold across the white terrain, almost beguiling me. 

But I'm no fool. 

There is no warmth on the other side of the double-paned glass that I look through. It is a false type of gold. 

Hell's gold.

The real gold won't come for a long while it seems. The presence of cold and slushy snow drifts acts to push back its coming. 

The world has been subjected to this cool silver season for a small eternity. Every year it seems to last longer than the winter prior. And colder. It's always colder than the last roll around. 

Heat. 

That's what I look forward to. Hot molten sunlight saturating my skin and hair. Inhaling spicy summer air, warming my frozen soul. Gold and lively green hues surrounding me and feeding my dull spirit. Sunlight reaching into every dark corner and refurbishing the winter dilapidated happiness.

To run through fields of lush green grass chasing balls and frisbees. To catnap in sunlight's warm embrace. To accompany nature's inhabitants through morning's first waking, along deer trails and mountainsides. To explore the wilderness of a hidden grove. To lay in repose, watching the clouds drift lazily across an ocean-blue sky. To watch tiny seedlings swell to adulthood in the sun's daily presence. To lose yourself in the pink and white frothed orchards.

These are what I hunger for and every winter I'm left wanting. Starving.

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Moving myself: Jog part jump

This is going to sound really bad. Maybe I shouldn't say it. But it's the truth. My confession today is...

I like to do crazy things to my body.

Don't get me wrong here and leave the page thinking you just came across another crazy person!!

For the most part actually 'altering' my body is not an option. Because of my beliefs (1), I will not do extreme things to my body because of the sacredness of the covenants I have made. Henna is the closest I've come to getting a 'tattoo' and the closest I will ever get. I have recently become kind of obsessed with Bollywood and that may have played a part in my crazy decision to participate...

Sadly it faded within a week...

One of my very dear friends (who got me hooked on Bollywood) joined in this activity and has now elicited my services as the artist for her next Hindi party.

All my life...I have lived with a body that was whole. The only holes in my body were the ones God blessed me with. As a church worldwide, we female Latterday Saints have been asked to only have one set of ear piercings and nothing else. Now my Momma decided before that counsel ever came, that we were not allowed to have piercings until we were 18 and could make a marginally rational decision about what to do to our bodies. By the time I turned 18, I hadn't really the desire to join the crowd and get my ears pierced. I liked being different.

One day years later, I was in Wal-mart (don't judge me for it...) and made a split decision to get my ears pierced.

Luckily I had an older lady doing it for me...who couldn't have possibly pushed the needle through any slower...

I love the diversity of earrings. I can express my particular style, mood, and craziness with my choice in earrings.

Probably the craziest thing I've ever done to myself on purpose and with a lot more thought than other crazy things I've done. I decided to wax my legs. I'm telling you now...this is probably the first time in my life...I've screamed in pain (assuming that yelling and grunts don't count). I did the strips the first time I did this and Ima tell ya. That hurt like nothing else I've ever known and I've been injured multiple times in sports and other activities. Since then I've learned that hard Brazilian wax, which is 85% less painful, is the way to go. I have waxed my legs a few more times and the results are so very wonderful.

Now to the awesome things I've done. Besides playing sports with all of my worth (diving, sliding, pushing, shoving) and putting myself in dangerous situations (hiking up the mountainside and coming down waterfall ravines in the rain...), I have done things people either admire or term crazy.

I did a polar plunge. I really don't think I need to say more.

Note to self: don't submerge...just dip...

To go along with that, we went up to a rope swing at Bloomington Lake, Idaho during the early summer. It is in fact a glacier lake with snow sitting off to the side halfway in the Lake.

Am I crazy? Possibly but I'm all right with it.

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Looks for myself: Hair part

 In the entire history of the world, woman has been known for her long lustrous locks of hair. Blue ebony plaits of the Native American tribes. Glorious long blond curls of the Germanic tribes. Sparking red tresses known to the Irish. Brunette ringlets abundant in the European hills.

There is a lot that can be done to this hair we women have been blessed with. If it so happens we need a change of color...there are multiple options at our disposal. Now as a generally un-girly girl (that was for you Melis) I do so enjoy doing fun things although I love the hair that God blessed me with.

Dying my hair a darker shade is one of them.

Only temporarily of course. If it was permanent then I would be mad that I couldn't change it back to my natural color without going through the awkward "dye line" stage.

Highlighting my hair was another color change step I had to try.

Note also the extremely attractive sunglasses. Luckily I didn't do platinum blond highlights because then I would've had one of those undesired lines mentioned earlier. I had more like a caramel glaze drizzled over my already light brown hair. I look like a Californian babe...obviously...

The last color change idea I tried was a peek-a-boo. Now I've tried doing the cool bright colors but they faded... the blond is still awesome sauce. I do not as of yet have a good enough picture to display here but it does exist...

Now. This part is my favorite. I have never been so excited about something so little in my entire life.

My jedi braid. 

A simple wrap of diverse colors and patterns arranged in my hair thus. I'm the envy of the university because of it. The colors you see here have since been removed and replaced with an earthy brown, and bright green and salmon bands. Thanks to the dexterity of my good friend Shalyn Maxfield. I have done my best to spread the awesomeness of the jedi.

The one thing that I have done often to my hair and with a great measure of trust. I've received multiple hair cuts. Not from just any old hair stylist either. I've received hair cuts from not one but two of my beloved sisters....and loved it!! My bravery was well rewarded. Despite their lack of well-practiced hands or even their confidence in themselves, they succeeded in making me happy with a shorter, more manageable haircut.

Out of all the crazy hair cuts, hair dye colors, hair wrap options, feather inserts, hair extensions (which I NEVER plan on participating in) there is really only one option I haven't tried... a perm. Now in my childhood recollections...a perm meant Shirley Temple ringlets. There is no way I'm goin there brothers and sisters! However, when I do happen to have the length of hair requisite for said perming, I will go for the long wavy curls that are more stylin in this age and time. So there might just be a post further in the future concerning my next step in the hair tweaking process...

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