The Not-So-Fun, Really Good Two Years

You know what I like about reading about the French Revolution? I really liked reading about Little Red Riding Hood eating her grandma, then getting naked, crawling into a bed with a wolf, then being murdered by him. That's it. There was no happily ever after to the French story. I ate it up.

I promise I'm not sadistic, at least I am pretty sure I am not; I don't go around imagining scantily clad little girls being ripped to shreds. (although I do sometimes creep my roommates out with my possession acting skills, and I like to bite sometimes, but that's beside the point)

I am not disgusting, definitely delusional, but not disgusting. (At least that's what I think)

Here is an article that totally led me to see why I have been shaking my fists at the sky for a while now. I am a yippy (or I guess it's a yuppy, but I like yippy better). Please read, so I can continue my discussion.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wait-but-why/generation-y-unhappy_b_3930620.html

Insert my name in for Lucy, make the unicorn a bit more shiny (because I'm more special! Thanks Richard for pointing that out. Even when I'm trying to humble myself, I try to make myself special), and you understand what I have been thinking my whole life. I am glad about one thing though. After reading the article, I wanted to go learn more. I wanted to go away for a while from the comparisons and the flowers and unicorns and get my hands into the dirt and work. That would not have been the case 3 years ago, and I am grateful to God for that. It hasn't been easy or fun getting here, but I think I'm on a better path for it. I am lucky that God loves me enough to let me hurt for a little while.

But I digress, back to cannibalism and nudity. I loved it. The French people were human. They were raw and dirty and laughed at cats being mutilated, but they were humans, just like I am. Why did I love reading about them (I asked myself)? I didn't quite understand as I was reading, but I think I do now. I am craving dirt and blood and sweat, and the French people in the mid-1700s knew all about that.

I have lived in the trees and forests with the spirits of the wood and have been to Masquerade balls and won an academy award. I really did. It was in my mind, but I created that world for myself, and I loved it there. Until I was about 19, I honestly thought I was perfect. I could not think of a mistake I had made, one regret I had; my life was a movie that someone was just waiting to film. I loved it there, but everything I did well, I did out of fear of not keeping perfection up. It sucked (although I didn't know it). I was full of anxiety and competition. I didn't love people or let them in because they didn't belong in my world. I was ecstatic, but not happy; I wasn't at peace and I was lonely, even though I didn't know it yet. God did.

Finally, when the time came (however that time is configured with God), I was let down. Hard. God didn't answer my tantrums, no matter how loud I yelled or cried. I had a crisis of faith. Was God real? Was I a liar? Who am I? What am I doing? What is the point? I felt very much alone and in so much pain that I could not understand. I went to church for a year without feeling the spirit. I went to parties and with friends with a pasted smile on my face, but inside I felt dead. I finally went to see the doctor after I couldn't function in class. It took breaching my place of security and pride for me to ask for help; this was 6 months after the onset of my internal battle. He put me on medication. I felt like a failure.

I tried to find myself in love, in school, in Rhode Island; nothing helped. I felt abandoned. By God. By everybody. I was miserable and alone and felt no purpose in life. Occasionally I would see a spark of life in others and I would try to cling onto it, but it would slip away. I had lost my spark. I was dead. I begged God, who I was still praying to though I had long forgotten who I thought he was, for a friend. I prayed for some way to get through that hell of self-doubt and fear I felt he had banished me to. God sent me a friend. He sent me Richard. I don't know how we got through a whole year together. It was rough. But we didn't know any different, so we did it.

It was a year full of symbols and stories, discovery and a lot of smiles and tears. We were two hopeless romantic and rose-spectacled souls that had had a harsh bout with our expectations vs. realities. We saw each other on the quad the week before school started. The sun was fresh and full of late-summer promise as we embraced and talked for hours. That first week of conversations and promise culminated in the institute dance. This next example shows exactly where we were at that point. At the end of the dance, it was raining. Richard laid himself down in the middle of the parking lot just feeling the rain. I wanted him to give me attention, so I tried to join, but he sat 2 feet away from me in the opposite direction to talk with me. After 30 minutes of beating around the bush, he finally spat out "all I'm trying to say is that if you didn't invite other people on the hike tomorrow, I'd be okay with that" to ask me on our first "date". Our history has way to much detail to go over, and it is not important.

What is important is that I was lonely and afraid and I clung onto him like he was my salvation, because he was to me. I worshipped him and sought out his approval like he was my God because I didn't have anyone else. Well, what happens when you rely that heavily on an imperfect person? You get angry at them when they disappoint you and you look for and create what isn't there. Richard is a good man, a very intelligent man with a huge heart, but he is very fallible. He is human. Why he endured my whiplash emotions, I don't think I'll ever understand completely, but he did. He stuck around. And I thank God for that. I don't know what I would have done without that small ray of light in my life. He is not perfect. I was his first love and he had a lot of growing to do, too. Neither of us knew how to trust or love.

We clung onto every moment, every detail, trying to make sense of it all and desperate for it to not disappear. I wanted to do everything right so that God would not take the love away. I lived in constant fear that God hated me and wanted to take away my happiness because I had displeased him. That high-energy clinging could not keep up forever. I was starting to feel some light in me again from faith and from God towards the end of the school year and it felt good. Richard wasn't ready to move on. I needed to to survive; I was being drained by the constant internal fighting and I could not afford to go back into the dark. Things fell apart. I went to Germany.

I started opening up little bit by bit to God. I started seeing some good in people again. I began painting my life the way I wanted it to be. I chose to live in the present with the people I love & choose instead of trying to find the "perfect people and things to do". I came back and moved into my new apartment, which I began to create as my home, my own space. I had the desire to bake and get my hands in a garden. I bought things that made me happy. Where those things were too petty for my time before, I then found feelings of security and simple love. I felt happy.

Through a strange course of events, Richard and I are now trying our hand at learning about each other again(We have grown so much. I am in awe of how much after writing this. God knows what He's doing with us.)I am at school again and am excited about my classes. It is like the beginning of last year in a lot of ways, but now I feel I can do it this year. That I can learn and grow. I have learned much about trust and faith, love and letting go.

So, where am I getting with this? I think through the last two years, I got sick of chasing the elusive unicorn through the clouds. I have begun to see that I am not "special" yet, but that I want and need dirt under my fingernails. I need to do something hard and fulfilling. I am not expected to be spectacular because of who I am, but because I am a human and have the capability of doing hard things with lots of work and diligence, with faith and hope that I am creating something worthwhile and beautiful. Before I had a pretty house of cards, now I want to make a house of stone, built on experience, work, listening, and growth. Right now I have only laid a few stones, but I am so excited to keep going. I'm a little on the low side of the despair-pooping butterflies pendulum, I sometimes struggle finding hope, but I will get there. The French didn't know it all, but they knew about something I don't yet: work. Others will know other things. God always wants to teach.

I will have periods in my life of unicorns and flowers again, high on the cycle. I will have other lows making sure I learn how to work and keep me grounded. It gave me a concussion for a while, but that period of daze and depression have given way to a period, however brief, of a desire build something solid and sturdy and secure. I am so going to forget all of this. I am going to keep overextending, but I am going to keep practicing. Because I believe that after a lifetime of practice, I will be a little bit better at recognizing what I need to do and building foundations. And that is why I like studying about the French Revolution.

Pie and Architecture

Today, the past few days actually, I’ve been completely obsessed about a haircut that I am scheduled to receive on Wednesday, and according to my analytical nature, almost every waking moment has been devoted to this topic. Blind as a bat (I didn’t have my glasses); I went to run daily errands.

I have to get money from the bank. Should I really go that short? Hand in my roommate’s paper. Could I pull it off? I’m so late! I wonder if the bus is going to be there soon. Am I doing this for myself or for the attention? It’s my sister’s birthday this week, what should I get her? It’s almost silent everywhere I go, I guess this is what spring break looks like in Logan, Utah! I wonder if the bank is open in the TSC over spring break… That’s so short!

Heading back to my apartment, still consumed in selfish thought (I’ll spare you the egotistical details), I smiled at a man (whom I couldn’t see) in the distance; my usual greeting. I slowly realized a few things: he was in a wheelchair, he was about 70, he didn’t have his right leg, and he looked less than well-kept. He said “Why, hello there!” I more-brightly-than-I-felt replied “Hello!” We began talking, first about the bus and when it was supposed to arrive; in ten minutes I might add, almost exactly the amount of time it would take me to briskly walk to my apartment. For some reason that I still cannot explain other than providence, I felt instantly calm and stayed to talk with the man. I usually analyze and reanalyze the situation for safety and time constraints, but my mind was cooled, only to be interrupted with the occasional should I be more worried right now? He inquired where I was from, I gave a vague answer (just in case, you can never be too careful). He told me that he went to Highland High School, that he had played basketball at Highland High School. This took me aback more than it should have; I wondered: You, you played basketball? Where did you see yourself when you were my age? It couldn’t have been in a wheelchair waiting for a bus in the cold without your leg! He was a man, he was a human, not something that only exists to arouse pity and provide opportunities for charity to fully functioning Homo sapiens. As we talked about our parents and grandparents, and as he with child-like innocence and pain mentioned his parents’ death, his humanity was only seared deeper into my judgment.

He told me he liked to make pies, and though I usually would write the comment off as senility, I listened. He told me that he wanted to open a bakery in downtown Salt Lake. “Do you like pecan pie? Banana cream is my specialty! I make the best banana cream pie! You don’t believe me! I believe you (said with wonder and no sarcasm) I love my home town! Have you been to Little America? I love Little America...” I wanted to believe that in the summer months I would find him opening the doors of his beloved bakery, but deep inside, I felt a pang of sadness knowing it most likely would never happen.
He asked me what I was majoring in; I gave the standard “Speech Communications” reply. He asked what I wanted to do with that degree and I told him. Almost like a recent graduate he told me “I majored in Natural Resources up here, but I don’t like doing that outdoors stuff anymore.” He then told me “I’m built for architecture; I’m an artist you know… an artist” (his voice trailed as he potentially reminisced on his previous artistic triumphs.) He jumped back in “I’m planning on going to the U for architecture soon; I’m going to be an architect.” As much as I didn’t want to question this hope, I knew the rigorous program would not intermingle well with his fragile state… and I was forced by social comparison and reason to think otherwise.

He, in his crippled, elderly state still had dreams, had visions of what he wants not wanted his life to look like. He had hope; he had vision; he had humanity. All I could think on the bus ride home was: What am I doing?! I have wasted this whole day thinking and fearing, lost in a chasm of mundane existence! Am I dreaming? Am I fulfilling my dreams or are my youth and infinite opportunities being squandered by fear and a focus on the menial? I have more opportunities and time than I know what to do with… what am I doing? Where is my bakery? Where is my architecture school?

I’m glad I didn’t efficiently powerwalk to my apartment.

ToTU epiphany #3 (the final... maybe) :)

Sometimes you win Tiles of the Unexpected… and it’s worth it. The hours spent dwindling in victory-less mediocrity (and hours and hours) is worth it. It’s worth the challenges and the unknowns, it’s worth taking a few risks and doing what you think is right to build up your bomb storage for a tile-saturated day. There's a reason you keep playing: the hope of someday finishing the near-impossible third level... the tantalizing, incomprehensible satisfaction of smashing that last horse-cow or oriental smiley. There is always hope, it's been done before, it most likely will be done again, the rules set forth by the game-master in space says it can be done by you; you have only to believe and continue trying and trusting the pieces to cancel themselves out. (see epiphany #2) This aforementioned idea is my THIRD epiphany while playing this sage-esque cyber game; either I'm an excessively quirky person, or the programmers of the game REALLY knew what they were doing!

I've had my eyes opened the past few days to some major things I need to work on in myself, for those around me, and for the happiness of my future. All I can say is that God watches out for me. He knows who I am and what I need and when I need it. People are worth it. Life is worth it. God is worth it. There are happy people. There are positive relationships, not perfect, but positive; people who will genuinely care about you. There are answers to prayers. There is purpose to this life. There is always room to improve or we wouldn't need to be here. There is hope.

(Thoughts helped along by catalysts “Dancing in the Minefields” by Andrew Peterson and "Bless the Broken Road" by Selah, which you should LOOK UP RIGHT NOW if you've never heard them, they're beautiful!)

Tiles of the Unexpected

It is strange to think that my first semester of college lessons is complete and a new one has begun. Change is inevitable and that fact is liberating. I never have to be the same person I was yesterday, a year ago, ten years ago; I can be a new person, built upon my experiences every new day of my life. At times in your life, you are compelled to reminisce about how much you have learned over a particularly set amount of time or period of accomplishment. This semester shift summons my attention to the amount of growth I have gone through in a period of a few short months. I realized something while playing "Tiles of the Unexpected" yesterday (The second epiphany I have had via this virtual oracle). Epiphany 1 (as recorded in my journal "Bliss" 4/29/10):
"Life is "Tiles of the Unexpected". No matter how much you try to plan out your next move, only the master games-man knows what lies beneath that first level. You try to match horse-cow to horse-cow and maybe a red smiley crashes in between. Sometimes you just have to learn to let the games-man show you and you'll end up smashing out a whole row where you thought you were stuck. Real life application... stop worrying about finding an occupation, sometimes God just makes things fit together when you're stuck on your own between a ninja and a horse-cow."
This next epiphany reflects everything I've learned this semester. I realized that until yesterday, I never knew how to play Tiles of the Unexpected. My previous strategy had been to get rid of the top layer first with as little movement as possible from the under-level so I could clear my visible path without disturbing any formation. I realized yesterday that by doing this, I got no points or extra bombs in my storage (and in life, no learning experiences)! Only when you allow the formation to change and cancel itself out can you earn points! Before last semester, I was scared of all life had in store for me; it was too unpredictable, uncontrollable, and uncomfortable. I have learned this semester that change is the reason we are alive. It is a tool to refine us, to make us stronger. It allows us to see ourselves as we never could have before and to observe our opportunities with fresh eyes and an open mind. Even though the tiles may shift, you need to go with it, and all the tiles end up canceling themselves out... life will work out; God knows your formula for refinement until he can see His image in your countenance. The question is, how much will you let the refinement do its work?

A list of major things I have learned this semester:

1) My honors life science class taught me how to be critical of things around me. I now know how to not take things at face value, but to research, form my own opinions, and continue researching for the rest of my life. I am now an individual with my own formed opinions, and I am grateful. I learned how to challenge myself.

2) My Archeology class taught me how to rely on the Lord first, and everything will work out. I learned how to exercise my faith and to not run away at the first sign of conflict, but to trust and do. I learned how to trust myself and the spirit.

3) My Psych 1220 class taught me that it is okay to be myself and that there are endless possibilities that will coincide with the person I want to become. It caused me to really think about who I am, what my aspirations are, and who I want to become through my future experiences. I learned how to be myself.

4) Tai Chi. Oh Tai Chi... Tai Chi taught me that it is okay not to be perfect and to let go. When Master Kao told me that I was failing at mid-terms, I went mental; I almost dropped the class because in my mind, it would be better than to learn the lessons and possibly fail at something. I'm so glad I didn't. By sticking it out, I proved to myself that I can do hard things. I learned that once you let go of that needless tension and "need" to be perfect, life can flow, you can be one with yourself and your decisions. I learned of my own strength. I learned how to know myself.

5) In vocal lessons, I discovered my self worth. I realized that there is no such thing as competition, there is only improvement and those willing to do so. I learned that I don't need to give everything away to be excepted, that trust must be earned. I learned how to share myself.

6) Being in the Relief Society Presidency has given me so much strength, and I have learned how to feel the spirit. I have learned how to work for what I want. I have learned how to be a lighthouse. I've learned how to separate my emotions from Heavenly Father's promptings, and I will be grateful for that eternally.

7) With my roommates, I have learned how to cry on a shoulder, and how to be the shoulder for someone to cry on. I see how much I've grown from their influences and how much I have grown for learning how to compromise and communicate.

8) Lastly, I have learned that I am a daughter of God and that I am worth positive things. I now know who I am and will never allow myself to be demeaned or mistreated because I am worth more than that.

For those who would like to know what Tiles of the Unexpected is: http://www.gamesgames.com/game/Tiles-of-the-Unexpected.html

An Intro To Summer

Summer has been spectacular!... and is going by so fast. It is almost August and I still feel like a pre-schooler not quite ready yet to take the huge leap to elementary. I thought that by now my Fairy God Mother would have come and given me my readinesscollegea potion and I'd be magically transformed into a brilliant university scholar, but I'm coming to learn more and more that there is no wing-ed mythological figure to take away my fears and uneasiness, only preparation and reliance on the Lord for strength.
The school year couldn't have been more successful, I did everything I wanted to in High School in a single year, no regrets. I was the lead in the play, I was a sterling scholar, performed in the talent show, I was in many clubs and associations, and more. The best part of this picture perfect year though hasn't been the accomplishments or the worldly success I've acquired, but more the self-discovery I've undergone and the amazing friends I've come to know and love. My mom told me something at the beginning of the year that has changed my whole mentality of living, she said, "Life isn't about what you do or your accomplishments, it's about how much you love and how much you are loved," and I know that I love my family and friends, and I know that I am truly loved not only by them, but by God, and that makes all the difference.

The Weekly Sunday School Lesson

Every Sunday, without fail, if I listen closely to my Sunday School lesson, it answers a prayer. This week was no exception. The lesson was on how if we humble ourselves, we are open to the Holy Spirit's direction finding. My teacher said, and I quote: "There are countless places to go and directions to choose, but if we are humble, Heavenly Father can take our hand and guide us to where our talents and passions come together, you just have to reach up your arm. The Holy Ghost is a direction finder." WOW! Similarities to my "map" analogy in the Graduation post, I think YES! The Lord has answered my prayer of HOW to locate his map to follow, and I am grateful.

Graduation

I can't believe I'm graduated! It feels alien to not have some higher authority saying "this is where you have to be and these are the requirements you must accomplish to succeed", strange and disorienting.
The motto of high school: Try to succeed at as many things as possible.
Philosophy of college: Pick a direction and run with it.
My problem lies in the mental transition. I almost have all my generals done from high school AP courses and concurrent enrollment and I'm being asked to pick a direction and take off running, without a map. The pressure is on to find a major that combines my loves and talents along with the ability to make a living once I graduate... no small task. After multiple freak-outs and breakdowns I have come to realize that I can't do this alone, and it's time to turn my life over to my Heavenly Father.
Mission statement for year 1: Try many things, trust God, take off running with HIS map.