Courageously Restarting

I forgot about my blog. (boo-hiss) Luckily I don't have a TON of followers or else that would get awkward.........


I'd like to think that starting over is perfectly normal. Exercising. Few of us have 100% attendance. Same with eating healthy. I actually had a journal entry about this just this morning! Funny how things crop up. I don't believe in coincidence either.

The blog was something for me to use the literary word to express myself during difficult times or ironic times or funny times or just plain good times. I find that I miss that feeling. But I grew up - graduated college and moved to a new place where I got caught up in trying to connect to real-life people. So now that I'm settled - nearly 3 years later - "I'M BACK!!!!"

You wouldn't think about it but the Lord wants us to always understand the idea of starting over. I think as humans it's almost second nature to let things slip and then try again and then let it slip and try again and again and again. The Atonement of Jesus Christ allows us to do this. No matter what the circumstance is. So even for my silly blogging that got dropped for a few years...starting over again always feels so good! So. Let the adventure begin. Again.

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Sleeping habits

I've been noticing a few things upon waking to the sunshiney world morning after morning. Things that I must do in my sleep but of course am unaware of such actions as I am asleep. Thus I can only make guesses from information gathered after rising from slumber.

I rotate clockwise. 

(I basically unravel all my sheets in one direction and send them plummeting to the ground)

I switch places with my body pillow. 

(I wake up on the other side of my body pillow than originally arranged)

I somehow push the mattress away from the wall. 

(when making my bed faithfully every morning I have to push it back up to the wall so my pillows don't disappear into the black hole behind my bed)

I pretend to eat suckers. 

(Carrie, my roommate, tells me that she hears noises that sound like I'm sucking on a sucker or eating quite noisily)

I write music in my dreams and hum it to Carrie.

(Pretty self-explanatory...)

I sometimes remove items from about my person. 

(nothing scandalous, things like earplugs, socks, etc)

I'm a really light sleeper and always have been. All my roommates, siblings and most especially my lovely mother can attest to this. 

It's a wonder I can do all these without waking myself up. 

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Trains are mean

Train wrecks. Nasty business.

BIG TRAIN. little me.

I never know if I'll get run over entirely or just knocked out of the way. Terribly unavoidable either way. 

If I knew how to walk through life without following the tracks then I might not get hit so often. Or at all really. No matter. 

Being hit by trains all through life never killed anyone. Well...until it did.

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Sneezing gone awry

nose: Oh...that tickles...that REALLY tickles!! All I need is a small sneeze for this one. I'll have to call the brain.

nose rings over to brain

brain: Hello nose! How are things over there?

nose: Oh there's always the ups and downs. At the moment I've got an awful itch! Could you do me a favor? 

brain: I know exactly what you need! I'll talk to all the muscles needed for the job.

nose: Oh thank you! Thank you!

brain rings down to abs, pecs, and throat

throat: Hey brain! What's goin on up there? Neck told me he had a feelin something was goin down.

brain: Oh nothing big. It's just that nose has quite the tickle he needs getting rid of.

throat: Oh that's nothing. We'll take care of him. I'll get things started.

brain: Great. I'll just relay to pecs and abs.

pecs: Brain? What is it?

brain: A sneeze is in order. 

pecs: All right. I'm on it.

abs: Brain! I haven't heard from you in a few days. 

brain: Well things have been pretty quiet since the surgery. You up for a sneeze yet?

abs: Ummm... Lemme check. *grunt* *grumble* OUCH! Oh no...nope I can't do it yet!

brain: Uh oh...I'd better stop the sneeze!!!

The body winds up ready for the pitch. Every part ready for impact.

 brain over body system intercom

brain: CEASE FIRE!! CEASE FIRE!! Abs can't help yet. Nose...I'm sorry. But you're just gonna have to deal with it for now. Maybe next time buddy.

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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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Books of paradise

There are many times in my life when I just need to cuddle up on the couch or curl up on my bed and read a good book! 

Sometimes I*m in the mood for a gushy-like-gushers; cheesy-like-the-delicious-squeaky-kind; sappy-as-a-pine-tree romance novel. Other times I*m in need of an honest to goodness C.S. Lewis novel for some deep soul searching and philosophical ponderances. Every night I crack open the Book of Mormon (1) for some serious studying to find life changing answers and comforting words. When I*m up for it I*ll grab a Sherlock Holmes mystery and puzzle my way through it. 

But the books I will never tire of. The books that capture my attention every time I look at the cover. Books with cunning wit. Books of stunning insight and out-of-this-world knowledge. Books that make me laugh until I cry or cry until I laugh. Books that change my life. 

These are books of the paradisical glory of which I speak...

Me and my awesome nose...oh; and the book is there too.

The Complete Book of Nose Etiquette
 ...and other nasal matters

written by Dr. Doight du Nez

drawings by Steve Bjorkman

Never before have I stumbled upon such a work of greatness. Well...it was more my uncle. He was foraging through his old room and its remaining occupants and brought it up to us. I snatched it and haven*t relinquished it since. With amazing depictions of the different nose types in existence; the book describes the 7 basic nose types; discusses the different booger removal techniques available; and even lists some easy do-it-yourself ways to get the nose you*ve always dreamed of. This is by no means light reading.

If you can see my eyes...you might be ninja...

The Ninja Handbook

This book looks forward to killing you soon

Official product of the International Order of Ninjas

This wondrously sneaky book came as a not-so-surprise Christmas gift from an esteemed foe of mine. As is his nature; he tends to think that I need help in this area (little does he know I wrote Section II deducing your ninja level and Section IV the skills of a ninja). In this book it discusses secrets of the elite ninja lifestyle. As the title denotes it is a handbook of sorts. But as with everything else that is awesome; being a ninja goes far and beyond what is contained in this teeny tiny book as all real ninjas well know. 

note: there are serious penalties to those who read this book and disperse the actual contents of its pages...you have been warned...

I*m just a small town girl trying to figure things out...

This Is NOT A Book

Written by Keri Smith creator of Wreck This Journal

This Is NOT A Book was an interesting item to come across. It really isn*t a book. I didn*t read it. Every page contains a new adventure to be performed by the owner (me). From creating Treasure Maps to Psychological mood-altering machines to Kits for boring events. This book is stuffed with crazy random missions for the bored-out-of-your-mind type people or people who need some serious awesomeness in their lives. Some day when I*ve completed all of the pages inside...I will be so mind-bogglingly fantastic no one will know what to do with me.

Well...that is assuming they know what to do with me now...as a normally fantastic person...

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Person deja vu and heroes

The weather in Logan; a cloudless sky which causes convectional blinding coldness and a wind chill that drops the temperature by another million degrees; can get kind of cold. As previously discussed; I dislike the cold. I don*t look up much when I feel like my face is being frozen off of my head.

Walking to Institute (1) I have the wind at my back so I take more opportunity for people watching.

A boy is walking towards me that looks familiar and as he gets closer; I deduce that he looks similar to a boy from one of my classes. Either way I don*t know him so I pass him by without a second thought.

Short cuts through buildings further protects my body it*s inevitable demise from the arctic weather outside. Many people pass me by; strangers; friends; and familiar faces. I chat with a few and greet a few more. I near the exit of my building and see a boy who looks just like the kid from my class...

Wait. 

It*s the same kid I just passed not too long ago! Same hat; same coat; same backpack; and strangely enough; same facial expression.

How the ~BEEP~ did he get all the way on the other side of campus in time to pass me again?! Had I just witnessed a Superman at work?

Without any other explanation available...I*m gonna have to go with yes.

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Day of conundrums

First conundrum: To wake or not to wake?

Out in the world of the awake is a haggard life full of dreary colors and drawn faces. No warmth resides in earth*s first morning breath. The happiness of the sun*s rising has not yet come to pass. The remaining winter bird*s twittering and lilting songs are absent. No sane creature stirs from its place of slumber. A sombre existence in a cognizant world.

Second conundrum: To class or not to class?

A professor*s lecture; full of pomp and vague humor; falls upon many closed ears. Numerous thoughts revolve around a world of dreams and happy hauntings sporadically tapping into instruction. A scarce few nod to the beat of exhaustion and button their eyes secure to the drone of the professor*s lulling oration; which arrests sycophantic attention alone. The chosen subject parades no excitement or fascination to claim justification for the sinful earliness of the rendition. The sandbag man is a far more virtuous and heeded competitor in this dark hour. 

 

Third conundrum: to eat or not to eat?

Being that the first and second conundra coupled; cause for quarterhour shuteyes and hurried traveling; eliminating tardiness served as a consequence for cuffing the snooze button. Time warrants especial division. Gluttony doesn*t comprehend the college cuisine and time deficiency increases eradication. Barren cupboards and wasted spaces common corridors in scholarly quonsets.

Fourth conundrum: to cut or not to cut?

Safe paths on busy highways in blocks and rows. Cut pathways snake through glades and manmade forests frothed with cultivated ices. Danger*s path the quicker road whilst safety*s course runs straight and eternal. Time saved prospects point out slippery ways.

Fifth conundrum: to work or not to work?

Well earned bills and hard spent hours; counterparts work well with instruction. Double-crossing juvenile*s wander lazy patterns within dusted academies while worn out managers sings praising. Beastly creatures run rampant through lowered appendages chasing star sounds. Late leaving monsters grate on hearing aids and mentors. Shaved trees whir round signatures and metal spikes in endless rhythms. Creeping bothersomes watch through clear membranes. Racing to time*s clock to beat the lagging constitution. 

Sixth conundrum: to study or not to study?

Missed concepts from early mornings literally book-ridden. Reconciling weary eyelids and drooping posture steps to ambrosia. Waltzing figures catching butterflies and bowling bubbles in neighboring ballrooms cast shadows on rainbow walls. Rambling attention befits festivities and laughter. Social calls inhibits motivation*s flow. 

Seventh conundrum: to sleep or not to sleep?

Days lain awake; end results to rest. Began with sleep*s deprivement now swift to late activities at it*s expense. Life*s spent worries laid to rest at bed*s edge.

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Disgusting distasteful deceivers

The bag sits innocently on a shelf. Other bags surround it but this bag is different. It is new and exciting. The packaging is bright yellow with rainbow of colors flying about with an alluring pattern.

Skittles.

My taste buds are always pleased with the taste of the rainbow. Never has disappointment been the emotion I*ve experienced when devouring their deliciousness. I am definitely a fan of their delicious flavors.

Thus I am viciously betrayed.

The view before me suggests another package of fantastic flavor. The smell of sweetness somehow wafts from the unopened package. I take the bag of Skittles Blenders in my hand; checkout; and arrive home in a matter of a moments. I pull the colorful bag out of the grocery sack and open it to the yummy looking contents.

I grab a few of each color; intent on deciphering which flavors are the most delicious. I pop a few of the light green in my mouth. Meh. The flavor is definitely NOT a party in my mouth as I was expecting; a little bitter for my taste buds but overall a mundane flavor.

The next color; creamy orange; zooms into my oral cavity. Chewing. Chewing. Nope. Not a fan.

Pink. This is always a great choice. I can*t go wrong with this color. Surprise fills my soul. It isn*t tasty in any way; shape; or form. What had possessed the flavor creators?! My mouth is feeling completely unsatisfied.

Red; surely this color will give me some sort of delightful surprise. I shove the crimson candies in my mouth; determinedly. The flavor hits my tongue and...my tongue rejects it wholeheartedly. My mouth begins to complain and my stomach churns at the noisy orifice. There is no way I*m sending the abhorrent mass down.

Blue. The last color of the new Blenders* flavors. Perhaps I had gone through the worst colors first. This very well could be a flavor fest waiting to burst in my mouth with a magical sensation of ambrosial delight. Hesitantly; I put the indigo pieces past my lips. My entire body revolts! I have a mouthful of inversion inside of me! Luckily I*m able to remove this disgusting inedible stuff into the nearby trash can.

My mouth is extremely disappointed right now.

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Sounds of the Summer

I stand there in the open space. My eyes are already closed and I take in a breath of warm summer air. I smell the spicy heat and the nearby alfalfa. The knee-length grass brushes my legs and the sun*s rays warm my skin. Lost in the laziness of the warm season my mind loses the need for focus and busyness. The warmth soaks into my body and my entire being is at peace.

The sounds of summer bombard my ears. The whine of traveling cars is a distant overtone to the ensemble. Tractors in the fields discing and swarthing; rumbling through their life*s work. Lawn mowers humming in nearby yards. The drone of an airplane flying low over the alfalfa fields echoes off the face of the mountain.

But beneath man*s sounds rings nature*s call. Crickets; hiding in their secret places; give evidence to their location; chirping a summer melody. Meadowlarks warble and sing their songs. The wind tumbles and plays through orchards; rustling the leaves. The cawing of magpies adds the brass to the animal symphony.

My puppy*s barking jolts me from my warm musings. The biting cold of the winter reality tingles on my exposed cheeks. A sigh escapes my lips. Winter is a time for nostalgia.

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Maher shalal hash baz

Everywhere we travel as a pair; me and my bumble bee. We*ve raced races and run reds because we two are unstoppable. My little black hummer has purred alongside rumbling diesels and roaring low-riders and won the noise contest every time.

Nissan Sentra 1993 Coupe. 1.6 Liter engine 4 cylinders. Manual transmission. Black exterior with a gray interior.

That*s all a car dealer would tell you about my girl.

But there*s so much more you need to know. There*s a rusty front fender that was the replacement after an accident that happened before she came to me. Her muffler is rotting at the joint which gives her the voice of a racer. The clutch is touchy and each day it*s a different ratio to get her going. Third gear tends to require more clutch than the rest.

Inside on the steering wheel is a furry cover with the pattern of a giraffe*s coat. That appeared on the steering wheel one day after I came out of my internship and I still don't know who put it there. Hanging from the rearview mirror is a Makini Helmet which is a symbol of protection and is believed to deflect death and bad spirits. I got him from my friend Jacqi; who got it straight from Hawai*i. My stethoscope is also hanging around the mirror for emergencies which got me through my Vet Assistant certification. Down below the vent controls sits a branch from the forests of Salmon; Idaho with a very light green lichen growing in random tendrils away from its anchor.

Inside the glove box is of course the instruction manual; the registration; and the insurance card. Then there is a pressure checker for those times when my tires get low and I get ambitious enough to actually check them. A CPR mask takes up most of the room in the small area which was from my CPR certification. Some Wet Ones in a pink package are squished underneath that. On the side a bandage wrap and my old cell phone for emergencies.

Below the passenger seat resides a Meal Ready to Eat (MRE); spaghetti and meatballs from a Search and Rescue Dog demonstration in Salt Lake next to the broken passenger visor. Behind both seats is my bent-out-of-shape sun shade and hanging from the ceiling handle are multiple Black Ice car fresheners; my personal favorite. An orange frisbee sits on the floor and I use this for clearing off great amounts of snow from my car during the winter.

In my trunk I keep a spare pair of winter boots and my mummy bag. My car is definitely my bunker of choice. I would be able to survive a nuclear war just chillin inside. Being an older year she has the stamina of an Olympic runner and the strength of an ox. But the problem with older cars is they don*t have the perfectly running engine or the nice new looking metal.

My little putt-putt has troubles sometimes. Her battery gets iffy in cold weather and happens to be scared silly of my Dad. The tires are always bought used and they go quickly because her alignment isn*t spot on. The speakers are selective on who they play for (Melissa). The defrost works at an alarmingly slow rate. During the summer the air conditioning is 60 mph windows down. The thermostat is stuck now so heat in the engine can*t be regulated and she overheats. Every once in awhile the security switch gets bumped so she doesn*t even bother turning on. The driver door doesn*t shut the whole way so getting up to 60 mph the music; if the speakers are working; can*t be heard for the wind whistling his way in.

But for all her flaws; for all her little quirks; she is my baby. I love my black Shaley. She is my little bumble bee. She and I have been so many places together. She captures all my tears and sings with me to all my favorite songs when the speakers are working. Every time my road rage flares; she grumbles along with me.

She is my Partner in Crime.

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Snowflakes

Grumbling with bitterness and resentment, I flip my hood up and step out of the warm building into the falling snow. It's not the huge light fluffy snowflakes that fall in enchanting patterns but rather little wisps of ice streaming down to the already frozen earth.

Faceless strangers pass me, hoods pulled low over their foreheads. I struggle over the unevenly trodden snow as I make my way home.  Although my hood is pulled up and over my head, it doesn't seem to cover quite enough. Iceflakes still pelt me in the face. I bend my head forward against the attack. My forward progression requires more vision than is provided thus. So I lift my face and take the snowflakes in the face once more.

There's a lot to be said about the people I see walking undeterred by the cold, wet flecks smacking them in the face. My eyes blink rapidly of their own accord every few seconds and twitch uncontrollably between blinks. Whatever makeup I managed to get on my face and eyes in the sleepy getting ready hours of the morning, was fast melting off. My brow becomes furrowed and my nose crinkles with the strain of trying to see past the blasted snowflakes. The entire surface area of my face was intent on closing in around my eyes to protect them from the mini ice bullets.

All of these people with the finesse to blink naturally in normal intervals must be laughing quite recklessly on the inside. I probably would if I could see my face contorting as each seemingly harmless snowman baby flies into my eyes. No one else seems to be struggling with this as I have been.

The solution...for the snowing to cease, but since I have no control over that I will just have get a hat with a brim.

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Size issues

I am leaving campus, making my way home in the crisp fall air. Home. Home is a three story apartment building, gray siding with chipping paint, rotting boards, and rusting stairs. Despite the decrepit outward appearance, the inside has been transformed into a comfortable and cozy home. I am looking forward to making it back to the marginally warmer indoors. It is a bit nippy out and I am so very tired. A nap is more than welcome on my agenda. 

Looking down at my feet and watching all the fallen leaves as I pass them, I start to see something unbelievable. Of course there are red leaves, yellow leaves, orange leaves, greenish leaves, brown crunchy leaves, but the colors aren't the peculiarity I'm seeing. Every so often, amidst the array of color, I see an enormous, gigantic, huge, impossibly large leaf. Some of them quite possibly have more surface area than a serving plate. 

I, being the plant geek that I am, pick one up and continue my journey home, all the while staring in amazement at the huge plant appendage in my hand. I look back once or twice at the tree this abnormal thing must have fallen from. All the rest of the leaves look normal tree leaf size. 

Once I arrive home and drop all of my things on the couch I begin comparing the leaf to all sorts of things to verify it's true size...

Left: Platanus x acerifolia, Middle: Homo sapiens, Right: Acer platanoides

I compare it to my face. It is bigger. 

Maybe if I spread both of my hands across it...not even close. The leaf wins by a long shot. 

Couch cushion...maybe 2 1/2 times smaller. Maybe.

Both of my neighbor's shoes...it wins again. 

The large end of a guitar. Its lobes still hang over the edge.

My hips...it's a tie. 

I compare it to a record case. Almost the exact same size across in all directions. 

A cookie sheet...it takes up over half of its surface. 

It is larger than the butt indent on all of our dining chairs.  

                          An 8" x 11" sheet of copy paper...way bigger. 

This thing is humongous! I could use it as a hat, it's that large. Like on the Disney movie, Bambi, when all of the little chicks are huddled under the leaf that outsizes them and their mother combined. But those are little prairie birds. I'm a human and I could probably shelter myself under this thing. And it isn't even the largest that I had seen lying under its mother tree. 

I know what tree I want to stand under come drenching spring rainstorm. I say spring rainstorm because in a fall rainstorm...the huge leaves would fall and plaster themselves to your body. Unpleasant at best.

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Never enough

Have you ever noticed that there is never enough of something? Maybe I'm just picky but it seems that there just isn't enough. For example:

There is never enough jelly to the peanut butter.
There is never enough warm water to the shower.
There is never enough chocolate brownie to the ice cream.
There is never enough syrup to the pancake.
There is never enough money to the expenses.
There is never enough sprinkles to the cookie.
There is never enough frosting to the cake.
There is never enough food to the cupboards.
There is never enough pondering to the decisions of life.
There is never enough sun in the winter.
There is never enough spaghetti sauce to the noodles.
There is never enough patience to the trial.
There is never enough studying to the test.
There is never enough stillness to the moment.
There is never enough time off work to the vacation.
There is never enough conversation to the problem.
There is never enough ranch dressing to the vegetable tray.
There is never enough kneeling to the prayer.
There is never enough sleeping to the night.
There is never enough laughter to the friendship.
There is never enough pushing to the limit.
There is never enough clinging to the rod.
There is never enough fruit snack to the package.
There is never enough hope to the darkness.
There is never enough time to the relationship.
There is never enough milk to the cookies.
There is never enough gifts to the Christmas tree.
There is never enough thanks to the rescuer.
There is never enough gravy to the mashed potatoes.
There is never enough room to the apartment.
There is never enough expression to the love.
There is never enough...

Now I could go on and on. Is it a fact of life that there will never be enough? Or is it just me being picky and complainy? All kidding aside, yes it seems that we can never be satisfied with the amount of dressings to our foods but that is easily fixed by going a getting yourself more or just dealing and eating it anyways. But a lot of them are serious questions. Do we give enough thanks to our Creator? Do we show enough love to our family and friends? I don't think that that is possible. That's why we have this time on earth...to do everyday, those things that we can, to get closer to having done enough.

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