Happy belated 4th of July

It's late. I know. Can we just get past this?

I wanna talk about my Independence Day experience. I hope that's OK.

First of all, I got to experience the CRAZINESS of Provo the night before. Who knew people camped out? It was like a gigantic block party all along University Avenue.

I got to watch the parade from the comfort of my own kitchen.

And what did I do to celebrate 4th of July? I worked.

Well, mostly I sat around for 11.5 hours. But some of that time I worked.

The rest I sat in a room with my beloved coworkers, avoiding the crowds and waiting to get called to clean up a "code blue" otherwise known as a "combo spill" otherwise known as throw-up. My job is soooo glamorous.

Bright side: I got paid to watch Stadium of Fire. The Beach Boys came this year. I've never been particularly crazy about the Beach Boys. But it was a good show. Cell phones were waving left and right. They've still got it.

I got paid to watch an amazing firework show (and to clean up the shrapnel after the fact).

I got to get paid to go to the dance party held outside the stadium after the show. Specifically, I got paid to be pulled into a dance circle and twirled around by a stranger. It happened. And I liked it.

I got paid to eat Carls Jr. at 1 a.m.

And I got paid to hang out with the people that I probably would've been hanging out with anyway.

My 4th of July was a lot of fun. But the importance of it wasn't lost on me. I want to express my gratitude to everyone who has ever fought for this country, and who is fighting for us now. Our freedom isn't free, and I know that God has blessed this nation so that we could enjoy many privileges that we take for granted. I'm proud to be an American.

Somethin' kinda philosophical

I like things that will make me better.

It's why I like working out. It's why I like going to school. It's why I like having a job and providing for myself as much as I can stand to. It's why I prefer reading books to watching tv.

And. It's why I like to run.

It's why I like to run far. Sometimes farther than I've run since, oh, about a year ago when I did my half marathon. Yeah, haven't run much more than 6 miles at a time since then.

And sometimes, when I run that far, I stop before the last 3 miles of my run and sit under this big tree that i love and I collect all the thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head this whole time, jostled out of the far reaches of my brain by my steps, and I let them organize themselves into something coherent.

 Actually always. Always when I can trick myself into running that far, I do this. It's my peace ritual. It's my quiet place in Provo.

Today I ran this far. And as I sat under this big tree that I love, I thought about how imperfect I am. My Heavenly Father created me, and all His children, with an awe-inspiring potential, one He expects each of us to reach eventually. And today I thought about how depressingly not even remotely close I am to reaching that potential.

Specifically, I thought about how mean I am sometimes. Often, when my feelings are hurt, I lash out, usually at whichever unfortunate soul has managed to upset me (whether intentionally or not), and want them to feel my pain. Sadly, these people are usually those closest to me, because those are the people who have the power to hurt me. But hurting them back ultimately just makes me feel worse. I often can catch myself, and force myself to bite my tongue. But I'll be honest, sometimes I don't.

I was thinking about this nasty habit of mine, and I couldn't help but notice how carnal of an instinct it is. I think it is the natural human response to being hurt--you want to see justice met. It's wrong to hurt people, and you want to see them punished for doing something wrong. And who better to do the punishing than you, the victim who has suffered this injustice?
It's natural. But that doesn't make it OK. It is so far from the example Jesus set, and so animalistic and beastly in nature, and I realized it's a characteristic I have to learn to overcome if I ever expect to achieve my potential.

My mom always told me that anger is a secondary emotion, usually brought on by grief or disappointment, or some other variation of sadness. And so I set for myself a little goal. Every time I get the urge to say something mean to someone, something that I know will make them feel as bad or upset as I am feeling, I will take a moment for introspection and ask myself, what is the real reason I am upset? What is it about this thing that they have done that has made me angry? Because what I've found so far is that when I get down to the core of it, whatever action has been taken against me has conflicted with some selfish, egotistical interest of my own that actually is not fundamentally crucial for making me happy. And so, at this point, rather than take it upon myself to administer justice, I am able to admit that I'm really only mad because I'm self-absorbed. This provides me with the opportunity to humble myself and leave it to the Lord to chasten as He sees fit, release my anger, and forgive. Because punishment is God's job; forgiveness is mine.
Don't know if this will be helpful for anybody else, or even if it made any sense when written down, but it's what I've had on my mind.

By the way, I got my first car ever :)

Memorial Day Weekend

I was gonna post. And then I wasn't. And then I decided I need to, because it's been entirely too long since I last did.

Probably because I've been enjoying my summer, but what right does that give me to keep my adventures all to myself, and away from you fine people?

The truth is, it's not just because I've been enjoying my summer, even though I have. I really have.

I mean, pruning shrubs has its rewards, definitely. Like hand-crafted leaf hearts of love. What's life without that? Nothing.

And bachelor sandwiches consisting of nothin but Pringles folded into a slice o' bread being enjoyed by the most ravishing girl on the planet. I certainly can't think of anything to top that. 

Except maybe a personalized bouquet to the day's MVP (Most Valuable Pruner).

This is the life I lead, people. If it's wrong to live a life this amazing, then shoot, I don't wanna be right.
And this year, as opposed to frying myself, I've gradually been spending more and more time in the sun, and gradually become more and more tan. Honestly! I'm the tannest I've been since 5-ish years ago when I went to Hawaii! This is such an accomplishment for me.

Like I was saying, the truth is I haven't posted in a while because I haven't been feeling very witty lately, and let's be honest, most of the reason people read blogs is to entertain themselves.
But sometimes things just need to be documented. That was this weekend.

This weekend was Memorial Day weekend, meaning we had Monday off. So a bunch of people from my ward took off to Cedar City to stay in some sweet cabins belonging to the family of a girl in our ward, and made a trip to Zion National Park out of it.

There was lots of eating involved

And even though plans for repelling and cliff jumping fell through because of the unfavorable weather, the hike up Angel's Landing was supreme.

I know it doesn't seem like much, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. I got out of my comfort zone, got to know some new people, learned some new games, gained a few pounds, and saw some neat sights. And I don't wanna forget it. So now it's immortalized on the internet, and I can now rest easy for another month before I post again.

Just kidding ;)

Musings of a little Mormon girl.

Today I was thinking.
I was thinking about how blessed I am.
I'm blessed because my life is so good even though so many things in it have and should have or could have gone wrong so that it didn't turn out this way.
I'm blessed because I was somehow born into, out of the millions of families on this planet, one that has a knowledge of and lives by the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ.
I'm blessed because even though they weren't the best at teaching me the significance of this as I was growing up, they made sure I'd be put somewhere where I could learn.
I'm blessed because even though I didn't work all that hard in high school, I somehow got into BYU.
I'm blessed because even though I didn't want to come here at all, my parents saw the importance of my being here and they made any and every argument they could muster to make it the most desirable option I had to choose from.
I'm blessed because even though when I got here I didn't make friends with the best people, the best people to be my friends saw something in me that they liked, and they reached out to me at JUST the right time.
I'm blessed because for some reason, every person I needed to learn something from was placed in my life at exactly the moment I needed them.
I'm blessed because through this series of incredibly fortunate (too fortunate to be merely coincidental) events, I was able to gain an understanding of the atonement of my Savior and use it to become someone better than I ever knew I had the potential to be.
And I don't know why I, out of the billions of people on this earth, received all of this divine intervention, so that somehow MY life could be so good and so meaningful and so bursting with joy and happiness when I know so many people who are struggling or miserable or lost.
I was thinking it's because maybe I needed the help more than those people. Maybe they're stronger than I am.
But I'm not so sure that's it. I'm pretty sure it's more about the expectation God has for me to use these blessings I have been given to help others.
And I want to help make other people as happy as I am. I really want to.

What do you do when...

You might remember the bridal fair I mentioned attending in February. While I was there, I submitted my name into several drawings for soon-to-be brides. (I was expecting to soon become a soon-to-be bride, mind you.) Tuesday I got a call from a woman informing me that I won.

What did I win? you ask.

Oh, nothin. Just a pair of engraved champagne flutes.

Oh, and for my name to be entered into another drawing for a Harley Davidson and a 4-day trip to Jamaica.
Oh, and $1000 in coupons.

OH, and a FREE pair of wedding bands.

OH! And I almost forgot. Also an all-expenses-paid 3-day 2-night vacation at a resort in the Bahamas, the Dominican Republic, or Mexico.
All for the low, low cost of sitting through a 90 minute demo of Royal Prestige nonstick cookware.

Ahh, the poetic justice of life. I get dumped and win every broke newlywed's dream. How fortunate am I?!
So what do you do when you win such an awesome prize that you can't really even use? You take your ex-boyfriend to the demo and pretend to be engaged, get suckered into buying an individual piece of impressive but exorbitantly-priced cookware, then sell the prizes to make up for it.

Therefore, I'm giving the trip to my parents, but if any engaged couples need to buy wedding bands, I'm willing to sell the pair of rings for $400, which is way cheaper than they're worth. If you want to look at the options, go to JVLjewelry.com
I'll also sell the champagne flutes if anyone wants them, but I haven't researched how much they're worth yet. Let me know if you're interested.

Last week

Ryan and I went snowboarding for the first (and probably only) time this season. It was beautiful. I got arctic circle, multiple pictures, several videos, and a gnarly bruise out of it.

Last Saturday, my roommates, Ryan and I went to Festival of Colors. I hadn't been before but I was eager to see what all the hype was about. It turns out all you do is pay $2 to get colored and scented cornstarch thrown at you and another $3 for some to throw at other people, stand in a big crowd of sweaty strangers and listen to some hippie talk about peace and love until it's time for you throw the last of your color into a big cloud and come out of it all brown. Oh, and your new blonde hair is green, purple, and pink (but mostly green) for a week thereafter. It was worth it for the experience and the Facebook pic, but I don't think I'll be going back next year.

Before...

Roomates!! Minus Caroline :(

This kinda shenanigans was happening all over in that mosh pit. It was a death trap.

After. Nothing like being completely brown to bring out your pearly whites.

Uh, 9 days of class left. Then reading days and finals, which I fully intend to be done with by the 16th. I've already gotten my first pruning sunburn. Hello, summer. I'm ready for you.

Wrote this about a week ago.

Sunday night, 2 days after our 8 month anniversary, Ryan and I broke up. Nothing terrible happened to cause this. There were no irreconcilable differences. Neither of us was unhappy or dissatisfied. We simply felt it wasn’t the right thing for us to take the next step (marriage, probably) in our relationship at this time.

I can say without a doubt that this has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was being stared in the face by the end of the source of the most happiness I’ve ever felt in my life. He has become my best friend, and we had become so accustomed to spending every spare moment together, sharing every detail of what was going on in our lives, every meal, every thought, and every secret. Now all of that was no longer appropriate, and it became apparent that these activities would have to end. And slowly but surely, so came the realization that the intimate bond we’d created would inevitably fade. Everywhere I went and everything I looked at was a constant reminder of things we had done together, and if we hadn’t done something there together, it was a reminder of things I had planned to do with him that I now would never get to. The most random things would cause me to be overcome with sadness and spontaneously burst into tears. You’d think he had died, the way I was mourning.

I still miss him. I miss spooning. I miss wrestling and being tossed around. I miss our quirky interactions and inside jokes. I miss cooking for him at every opportunity. I miss having a designated companion for watching useless movies and tv shows. I miss holding his hand. I miss hanging out with him while he did his homework. I miss giving him foot/calf/back/shoulder/neck/ear/head rubs. I miss groping his biceps and nuzzling my face between his massive pecs. I miss watching the skin crinkle around his eyes when he smiled and falling in love with him all over again.

Honestly I could go on and on for pages about how much I miss him and how sad it makes me that this isn’t mine anymore. But it won’t change the situation, and it won’t help me move forward. And it wouldn’t be fair, because as sucky as it feels right now, this isn’t bad. I’m thankful for it. I’ve seen God’s hand in my life every day since, comforting me and providing me countless tender mercies to help me get through each day. My faith has increased so much, and I’ve pretty much been forced to rely on my Heavenly Father, because He’s the only one that’s gonna get me through it in one piece. I know this is going to help me grow and make me strong. I know it’s going to prepare me for whoever I’m going to end up with. And I know it’s going to open doors to something better, however difficult it may be for me to imagine at the moment how it could get any better than that. I’m grateful for the experience of the whole thing. When I got home Sunday night, and it became obvious to my roommates that I was not OK, they cuddled me and stroked me and spoke kind things to me. I’m grateful for the experience so that when they are facing something similar, I can return the favor by knowing exactly what I can do or say to make them feel better.

I used to think girls were so dumb when I would hear them say they’re “not ready” to date again after a breakup. I didn’t really understand what was so hard about just sucking it up and moving on. But besides the whole not-being-able-to-be-with-your-best-friend-anymore thing, it’s all pretty terrifying. It’s scary to make yourself vulnerable once you know you can hurt this bad. Besides that, you want to hold onto something that you know isn’t right for you, and you have no way of knowing when you’ll have that security again. I feel like I’m barely afloat, clinging to a piece of ice ( a piece of ice that I’m really, really emotionally attached to), and it’s melting rapidly, and I don’t know how long I’m gonna have to swim before I’ll find land. Now that I know what it feels like to be part of a partnership, I want to be married so badly, I’ll be honest. Just a taste of what it’s like was enough for me to realize that that is what I’ve wanted my entire life. For so long I didn’t realize that being physical with people you have no love for or commitment to is crippling more than satisfying. And to those who spend their time seeking out opportunities for hookups, or one-night stands, or the infamous NCMO, I can say with an absolute surety that as fun as those might seem, they are nothing but a waste. They are NOTHING compared to feeling safe. They are nothing compared to having one person you KNOW you can depend on to have your best interest at heart, because their happiness is contingent upon yours. Making out with someone you don’t even know or care if you see again is NOTHING compared to knowing you are loved. It’s nothing compared to knowing that someone needs you, and that someone’s life is better for having you in it. It’s nothing compared with having someone who understands you, who you can trust not to take the things you say the wrong way. It’s having someone who sees what you can be and gives you the drive to become that. I wouldn’t trade having experienced that for anything, even if knowing how great it is makes it incredibly painful to be without it for awhile.

I used to think being in love was some magical, fairy tale feeling, or dramatic and thrilling like in the movies. It’s not either of those things. It’s a compilation of regular, ordinary, everyday things spent with someone who makes you feel like you can do something extraordinary. There aren’t sparks or fireworks, and it’s not something you feel like you have to prove. It’s sharing and making meager adjustments to your life to make it comfortable for someone else to be a part of, and dedicating your every effort to being a better person so that you can make their life even more pleasant. And when it all comes down to it, it’s not the grandiose gestures or the dinners or the gifts I remember the most fondly. It’s the quiet nights at home, the making food, the rides to school and walking to classes together, the quiet conversations, the games, and especially the laughter. These are memories I’ll cherish for the rest of my existence.

All that being said, here’s to Ryan: the most incredible man I’ve ever had the privilege of dating, and one of the most amazing, admirable, inspiring people I have ever met. Here’s to the man I learned to love with all the capacity I’m aware of possessing. Here’s to my best friend, and the happiest 8 months I’ve ever had.