Work

Today was a great day at work. Just to give a little glimpse of some delights I encounter daily, here are a few experiences from the day.

First, there are these apartments where I read meters. I have to go inside each building, three buildings total in the complex. Each has a door with a keybox, a wonder that never ceases to thrill me. Only my special key will open that keybox, revealing another hidden key inside, which then opens the door. I always feel like a spy when opening these, with my cool skills that get me in secret places, yet I also want people to see me and think, "wow, who's that girl? What's she doing here? Don't know, but it must be legit, she can get in the locked door!" My mind is an amazing thing, I know.

Anyway, I open the door which, at this place, is loud enough to wake the dead. Each door sort of BOOMs open, then attempts to slam closed on me. I try to keep the doors propped open, just in case, then descend the stairs and enter what I can only imagine used to be a prison. The building is so creepy. A basement, with cement floors and walls, and all these doors with locks on them, and then all these other rooms with no walls, just bones of structures that seem so much like cells that I can't fathom what else they could be. Then I snake around this labyrinth trying to find meters, and pass walls with spray painted words like "silence=death" and "freedom" on them. The windows located towards the top of the walls are broken and dirty. Can you appreciate the creepiness? Every time I'm down there I see myself getting strangled or something by some half-human who's never seen the light of day...except what comes in the broken window, but you get the point? goo.

Moving on, I later entered a yard where about five or six kids were playing. They looked at me, I explained what I was doing, they followed me to the meter and watched me, then as I was leaving I think one girl asked, "what if she was a bad person?"
To which one little boy replied, "Then I'd kill her."

Uh, what? I walked out of the yard silently repeating the words "then I'd kill her"? Is that really what I heard? Slightly disturbing, yet touching too. Protective little git.

Lastly. I was walking down center street, almost done with my route and feeling pretty happy about that. Let me describe the sexy outfit I was wearing. Grey sweat pants that my dad can fit in, over yoga pants. I look like a little blimp at work. Tennis shoes. A blue sweatshirt that is also rather large, just like I like sweatshirts. Blue. With an orange vest over it, albeit it was billowing alluringly in the wind. A green beanie. Wearing hobo gloves that have the fingers free. Are you getting excited? Well, as I sauntered down the street, I hear this woofing from across the way. I look over, expecting to see a dog, but instead there's just one old gentleman walking the opposite direction. My gaze lingered a little, still wondering if there was a dog in the proximity or if it was only the man, when I hear these romantic words uttered at me:

"I could get you pregnant. Three times a year."

I had passed him by this point, and allowed my face to register the shock I felt at hearing such tempting banter. Indeed!

What would I do without these little gems? I jus' don't know.

Christmas Exploits

Getting the Christmas tree!! It's always a little tricky getting the tree to stay up cause we're too cheap to buy a stand. But the cinder block/pitcher combo has worked quite nicely. Well, after we taped the tree to the wall.


Putting on Christmas lights, decorating, good good.


A tree wouldn't be complete without its star! Smalls made this beauty out of a cardboard box and tinfoil.


Isn't it homey?


My friend Derek came to Provo and we hung out a bit. He apparently felt he would miss me so much he had to take my poncho, and my spongebob. Yes, I believe he is interdigitating with Spongebob!


No Christmas would be complete without Christmas goodies! I went all out this year, and they were delicious. All of them. I know, because I ate every single one of them.


This year was also particularly hard to keep the candy in the calendar. I mean to say, it was gone within two days of buying the calendar. We had this brilliant idea that we would refill it with junior mints, a much superior chocolate then what comes in the thing. But, upon refilling we promptly ate all of those candies, so all in all not a festivity for those with no self control.


Teaching Smalls the violin! She's a natural, when she'll play, but its tough getting this one to practice. She learned "The Drummer Boy" here, and played it magnificantly.


To spread the joy of my Thanksgiving celebration, I broke out my hackeysack and the two of us did what we could. I suck at being coordinated.


We love this new park by our house. And we loved even more that on this beautiful night, the snowmen had come to visit!


They didn't like to go too high, of course, but these snowmen babies were pretty hefty. They really got going.


Roomate Christmas Party! Jess made all kinds of delicious food, we played skipbo and "Basil", watched a movie...a great night. I love my roommates!


Jess is so cute.


Oh, back at the park. Little baby chicken! Someone got very creative over there.


So someone brings shopping carts from smiths and leaves them all over provo. at least, they're always in front of our house and it angers us. So we've taken to pushing them away from our apartment and into this parking lot. Well, on our way home from the park we saw these blasted carts over by Pip's house, and we were outraged. I wish I could say that on this night, we moved the carts away and cleared the sidewalk for our good friends. We didn't though. We just got the picture and left the cart. Its hard to push me in the snow!

That's a small taste of the fun that is to be had here at Christmas. Pretty sure it will all cease now that Smalls is leaving. :( Tomorrow. :( I'm thinking this will be harder than I anticipated.

Full Circle

It is 6:45 on a beautiful Sunday morning. I woke up at 5, felt like I should look outside, and after a little delay, did. Only to see a wonderful snow covered world, with thick snowflakes still falling. I turned on the lights on our Christmas tree (and Tuga's light cause I woke her up), and sat on the couch watching the peacefully falling snow. Ah world, how beautiful you are.

The reason I woke at 5 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep is not beautiful, however. The comforting thing about being really stupid is that everyone expects you to be so. I did something, and its a joy to think that when everyone finds out, they won't be horrified and surprised at this ridiculous act of insanity, so unlike my normal character. No, everyone will just think "Shena!", with head shakes and chuckles, knowing perfectly well I'm only doing what I do.

5 or 6 weeks ago I had a very traumatic incident with my hair. I was very humbled. I made vows. I then went the longest I have gone all year without coloring my hair-the above noted time. A couple of weeks ago I began to think about some highlights. For the holidays you know, a little warm glow. I had decided that I didn't want to be blonde. I liked the darker look and it looks better on me. I just wanted a little bit of lightening, a little warmth in my hair. So I thought of going to a stylist-no way was I doing it myself. But I kept putting it off, waiting, thinking, deliberating, wondering what I really wanted and determined not to act impulsively.

Until a fated phone call with my good friend Julie. I'd been looking at her wedding pictures, and wondered about her blonde hair. Then miraculously she called and we talked, which is always delightful, and I asked her about her hair then. She said she had highlighted it herself with those self-kits. Oh? Highlight it yourself, eh? My mind began turning, as only my mind can. That's not so hard. She did it! Maybe I could...

I think we all know the story from here. It's upsetting really. To add a few details, a friend had been in town and while it's always great seeing him, it also always makes me a little crazy, a little upset, a little reckless. I had been thinking about this plan for a day or two when I got the most upset, and that was the end. Went to the store. Bought the kit. Julie, I do not blame you at all. Obviously, I have no right to. She warned me, cautioned, was going to get me details if I would just wait, but I did not. As I was doing it, I felt ill. I kept telling myself not to, bad idea, I liked my hair how it was, why change it? Cause I really have been enjoying the color it was. Why indeed.

That's what upsets me. I knew I shouldn't have done it. I didn't even want to. It wasn't fun. I don't know who I think I am, but I don't have patience enough to dry and straighten my hair, let alone pull it through these little holes evenly and carefully...I didn't do the strand test because it was late and I was tired. I knew that was bad too but I didn't listen to myself.

The result was not a warm glow to my dark blonde hair. If you are curious, I refer you to previous pictures of my bleached hair, but perhaps on a lesser scale. There was less red, and if I had been more precise and covered my head better, it would have worked nicely to give me blonde hair. But I was impatient, and my dark roots were a glaring contrast to the blonde bangs.

I went to bed overcome with more regret that I have felt in as long as I can remember. I honestly looked at myself in the mirror and wished more than anything that I could go back in time and redo. That I could change things. I have to say that, of all the mistakes I've made in my life, I usually don't wish I could change anything. As I lay there last night, tyring to fall into oblivion and forget what I had done, I wondered what else I would go back and change. Or re-live. I couldn't think of anything. Usually I value the experience or lesson enough to make the pain worth it. Not last night, though. Didn't I learn this lesson already? Which led me to the despairing thought that I am beyond change. I am too far gone and will never overcome anything. I get so dramatic at night!

I woke up at 5, as noted, and decided to try one last effort. I would dye my hair. I had a box of medium blonde dye from the last fiasco; we had bought the dye for the developer and then not used it. I had plenty of time, so I did a strand to test it. Test didn't tell me much, but I eventually decided that I had to risk it. So I did it. It's still not dry; 6 in the morning I didn't want to wake everyone with a blow dyer. But from what I can see, its all thankfully one color, and that color is: blonde! Ha! I did it. I got my blonde hair. After all this, effort, mistakes, mishap, pain, regret, I now have what I then wanted.

I felt very philosophical and spiritual this morning. I was thinking about last night's despair, and realized that the first horrible hair happenstance led to a very happy result. I loved that brown color. What had been terrible turned out alright. so I wondered, and I hoped, if maybe once more the end-of-the-world event would turn out okay, maybe even get me somewhere better in the end. It was encouraging to know that. I want to stop making stupid mistakes. But even when I make them, its not over, its not the end. Things right themselves, things continue, it gets better. Always that possibility.

I have also realized that I've come full circle. I am where I tried so desperately to be a month and a half ago. that's cool. And I don't want to be here anymore. I wasted so much money, I ruined my hair, all for blonde hair. And I don't want it. It made me think about other things I want so badly for a time, that I focus all my efforts at getting, that I let consume me in order to obtain, only to find later I don't want it anymore. This could be a lesson in my fickleness, but I think more truthfully its a lesson in how life changes, and maybe we should be careful what we want and how much effort we use trying to force it. Though, if I hadn't gone through the journey, I probably wouldn't know I no longer wanted it. So I guess we need to want, we need to work, and if we end up not wanting it, hm.

Then we have unwanted blonde hair.

Violence

So I had this sort of epiphany/realization last night. About another one of my hypocritical incongruencies that I should probably figure out to be the most me-ish me I can be. It all came about because Smalls I and were discussing The Matrix as we were going to sleep last night. Smalls loves that movie. I watched a part of it over Thanksgiving break on T.V., and was pretty hooked. But its not really surprising, cause I like violent movies.

Die Hard.
Vantage Point.
The Bourne series.
The Matrix.

What's the problem, you ask? I know at the moment I'm not a very peaceful person, but I do have this peaceful idea, philosophy on life. I want to be peaceful. I love Cloud Cult and the always make me want to be more loving. I just watched The Royal Tannenbaums, and Richie's easy-going reactions to things also inspired me to act more acceptingly. Atticus from To Kill A Mockingbird is my all-time hero, and he is so mild and patient. I want to be like these people. I want to accept that we're all coming from painful places deep inside, and that sometimes we do things that aren't great but we need a little love and forgiveness.

Then I think of these movies, and how excited I am when the hero beats the crap out of the bad guy. It all came together in my head when Smalls realized the R rating on the Matrix came after the Columbine shooting. Some argue that we can't be responsible for what people do, can't blame the media and so forth. But this is my blog, and I can.

If we don't want to live in a world like those movies, why do we like those movies? If we don't want a society full of rapists and killers, then we gotta stop making movies where people rape and kill, movies full of sex and violence. I've seen what it does to kids. I guess we've all seen it. So why do I wanna watch it? Why do I enjoy the fighting and the glory over the loser?

This hit home very hard last night. I thought about Jesus. Funny right, but it is December. Would he ever bash someone bloody and senseless? Prob'ly not. Then should I want to, or want to see someone else do it? I thought of how death isn't even enough anymore. It's not satisfying enough to just watch someone die. Over to quickly, not enough intensity. So we create these superhumans. Bourne, matrix, transformers, anything that can cheat death for a long enough fight scene to fill our cravings for violence. Yet we don't understand the connection with this and the rising generation, playing videogames all day and watching these movies...I don't know. I don't like it.

But am I gonna stop watching these movies? I don't want to. They are my favorites. And I like connecting with people. You know, we all get a little worked up, just like with sports. Hockey is my favorite sport. "Bash him", cheering when they knock someone down, a great sack in football. I think if someone actually got hurt, I wouldn't enjoy it. But would I? Cause at some point the crowd does turn from thinking, feeling human beings, to bloodthirsty animals pounding victims without mercy. that seems extreme but history has shown it.

So when do I start living my ideals? Change my life to fit my philosophy?...

just not today.

Cookie Jar ~Jack Johnson

I would turn on the TV but it's so embarrassing
To see all the other people I don't know what they mean
And it was magic at first when they spoke without sound
But now this world is gonna hurt you better turn that thing down
Turn it around

"It wasn't me", says the boy with the gun
"Sure I pulled the trigger but it needed to be done
Cause life's been killing me ever since it begun
You can't blame me cause I'm too young"

"You can't blame me sure the killer was my son
But I didn't teach him to pull the trigger of the gun
Its the killing on this TV screen
You can't blame me it's those images he seen"

Well "you can't blame me," says the media man
Well "I wasn't the one who came up with the plan
I just point my camera at what the people want to see
Man it's a two way mirror and you can't blame me"

"You can't blame me," says the singer of the song
Or the maker of the movie which he based his life on
"It's only entertainment and as anyone can see
The smoke, machines and makeup and you can't fool me"

It was you it was me it was every man
We've all got the blood on our hands
We only receive what we demand
And if we want hell then hells what we'll have

I would turn on the TV but it's so embarrassing
To see all the other people I don't know what they mean
And it was magic at first but let everyone down
But now this world is gonna hurt you better turn it around
Turn it around

Input

Okay, for all of you who know Smallcomb, I need your input. Please tell me your favorite things about her. Keep it simple, but I just need a couple of highlights of her. There are so many things, I know, but you're favorite things that set her apart. If you want to be recorded saying these things, get in touch with me secretly too, cause that would be a nice addition to my little project. thanks all!

What Color Are You?

Who's heard of the color code test? There are four colors: red, blue, white, and yellow. They correspond to your personality, apparently, not so much on your behaviors but on the motivations behind the behavior. I studied it a little in my class and then got hooked. If you know your color, tell me! If not, this link takes you to a free site to take the test. Just click on "Try our personality test" and then click on the free test button. So I just took it and am having problems getting the results...if I find out more on that I'll let you know. Or if you know how to see the results, let me know. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm a blue with some white in me. What are you?

I see I didn't put the link. How interesting. it did work on a newer computer too. Here it is:
http://www.colorcode.com/

Rediscovery. Again.

Today is a new day. Thank heavens. And I learned something last night that has set me free. The sad thing is, I have learned it before. Repeatedly. I learn it somewhat often, actually. Every time I go into a frenzy, and the "depths of despair," it forces me to see what I'd purposefully been blind to, and then to realize the truth and the beauty of that truth. And then I'm happy until I forget, slowly at first and then increasing in speed, till I'm back at the bottom of that pit needing to climb out again. Well, last night I climbed out and I'm so glad. And I thought of this that I wrote a year and a half ago when I climbed out of the same pit, and wanted to post it. So here it is




9/30/08

"The Tumbleweed has taught me a great lesson today. It blew into the lake-I didn't see when- and has been effortlessly flowing through the current of the wind. It is now softly floating in the middle of the lake. It has travelled far, covering a great distance with no effort at all. No resistance. If we would let ourselves flow with the current of life, where would we go? It seems that in the end, no man chooses his ultimate destiny. For all our attempts at control, life cannot be controlled, won't be contained. Things happen out of our reckoning, catalystic events or small bumps in the road. No man ever saw the end of his road from the beginning.

The insane part is that we try. We visualize our destination, and then fight with all that is in us to make our road take us there. It never does. So why fight? Why not simply follow the road, blown by the wind, without resistance, to our inevitable end? Or perhaps a much more beautiful end than the one we're left with after forcing all the detours by our attempts at power.

Goals yes. Goals that are from the drift of life, goals that are and come into being. But allow for them to change; to change completely if necessary, without resistance, anger, fear. No matter what caused the change. Accept that the change is, and therefore should be."

Quite the key word here: resistance. Denial. Avoidance. Whatever you want to call it. The thing is, life is so beautiful when we get in the moment of it, enjoy each day and all it brings, and not think about the future, the fear, the unknown. So I've learned yet again that life does not hold in store for me some things, and if I had accepted that before I would have lived more fully, would have felt this wonderful lightness, this giddy anticipation of what life does hold for me. Alright friends. I'm steppin in that riva.

Decisions

Jobs I've Had:

Babysitter- Jr. High
Paper Girl- Jr. High
File Clerk- right out of High School
Custodial Widstoe bldg. and Marriott Center- Freshman year
Cashier in Cougareat- Second half freshman year
Wal-Mart cashier- summer between freshman and sophomore years
Custodial Marriott Center- Sophomore year
House Cleaner and at-home-job-scam-believer-summer between sophomore and junior years
Custodial Marriott Center- Junior year and spring/summer after
Walkabout Field Staff- Fall 03 (instead of going back to school) to March 04
AM/PM (gas station)Cashier- April to June 04
Missionary (kind of counts)- July 04 to January 06
Cashier and food prep Dans' Delicious Drive-In- February to May 06
Chinese Food Waitress- February to May 06
Custodial Marriott Center- Spring/Summer/Fall 06, Winter 07
Outback Field Staff- Summer 07 (homeless)
Outback Transporter- August and September 07
Homeschool Warehouse Worker- Fall 07
TA Geography of Natural Disasters- Winter 08
Waitress Los Hermanos- February to March (ha, really?) 08
Meter Reader Provo Power- May 08 to present
Staff at Residential treatment center- May to September 08
Boys and Girls Club staff- October 08 to May 09
Outback Transporter- June 09 to August 09

whew! Why the boring list you ask? Because I'm in a crisis and don't know what to do. I don't know what I want!!! One little thing sways me so easily. Look at these jobs. You know how I got them, how I picked them? Someone else told me about it, it was easy and flexible so I got the job and stayed, fate sort of led me to them...really none of them required much effort, and I dont know if any reflect desires that I had or simply just happened.

I want to move. I had this wonderful plan to move to Salt Lake, get a place all by myself, get a cat, get a real, full-time job, and meet some new people. I wanted to escape Provo and all its stigmas, the lack of diversity in people, and the memories of certain people (you can't escape memories when you keep running into people). So I've been half-heartedly looking into jobs and apartments in Salt Lake, getting excited about the prospect but not sure how it would ever work out. But still, the goal. Also excited about the thought of not working at Provo Power for another winter. It can be miserable out there!

And then in class last night, the one friend I have made, keeps telling me I can't leave. So in an effort to make me stay here, she's planning on setting me up with a guy. Lest you get worried right now, I do not plan to stay in Provo for a blind date. But then she threw out that the school she works at may have an open position, being a sort of coach for kids who are at risk, getting my foot in the counseling arena and working at a school. This came on the very day that I'd been talking with my boss and feeling like I didn't want to leave the meter reading. This school job is part time so I could keep both jobs. And now I am swayed. Real jobs, as opposed to the imaginary ones I will acquire sometime soon? Cheaper rent, where I could still get my own place but for half the cost? One little conversation and I'm having a melt down.

I feel like a kid. A baby, who will never grow up. I feel, somehow, like if I moved to Salt Lake I'd be an adult. But if I did the same thing in Provo, I'm stuck in student mode, transition, and I have this fear somehow like it'll land me in Utah for the rest of my life, rather than just the next two years. And yet...so much easier. Jobs right there, still around friends, in a safe place where I can run outside, walk around alone, feel more free I guess. Aghghhh. If only I knew what I really want.

The saga continues. Or, Lesson learned

Well, something finally got through for me. Even after the disastrous results with my hair, I still hadn't learned my lesson. On Friday night I thought...I can fix this. I know I can fix this. I'll give it one more try and if that doesn't work, I'll go see someone to have it fixed. I had no intention of seeing someone. I went to the beauty store, asked for help, was directed away from what I was going to do and given other advice by one baffled by my hair, and also having her own hair issues. On top her hair looked a lovely brown; underneath, purple grey. So I wonder at my listening to her so faithfully and heading home excited to solve everything. I was even imagining myself calling everyone, telling them I'd done it, I'd make everything right. I'm so proud.

The dye was beautiful. This wonderful, purple-silver mixture. It ran out of my hair into the bathtub in such sparkles. I looked at my hair, excited and expectant, only to find it was dark brown, frazzled, and green/grey. It looked like the hair of a dead person. Charcoal is all I could think. And in that moment, I admitted defeat. Went to have it fixed by a professional. I spent so much money, just to have my hair the same dark brown but uglier and very damaged. Great.

This is it now, after she dyed it with a red brown dye. Red!!!! I've been trying to get rid of the red!! anyway, there it is. I threw away my gloves and vowed to never touch my own hair again. Not to be impulsive. not to pretend I know what I'm doing. Humility. Help-seeking. That's me.

This is my hair after I dyed it. You can't really see the hideousness, because you probably think its the lighting. Its not. That white overall tint is from my hair, not the wall.

But despite the ugly color, you know what I realized? I think I look better with dark hair! After all this, really? Leave it dark? I don't know. Ha! I don't know. But though this was stupid and at times I want to cry thinking about it, I just have to buck up and think-learning experience. Not that important. Hair and money, transitional things that don't matter. nothing to get down about. So I won't. But I will do things differently in the future.

James 1:8

"A double minded man is unstable in all his ways."

That about sums it up. I've been struggling lately. Well, for a long time, I guess, though it gets worse in stages and better at times, but overall a general downward trend that has of late worried me. I have doubted my beliefs and the way I live to an extent I never would have imagined possible. I can't say how it started exactly, though i wonder sometimes. I know a couple of really hard things happened, and I kind of questioned God a little bit. But it wasn't so much the questioning as the fact that during those times, the gospel hurt. I didn't want to read my scriptures or go to church, because somehow those things got wrapped up in the pain and became painful to me. So I read less, and I went to church a little less. Then I would have times of searching; I'd go seek answers, solace, comfort, alone where I could stare at the stars and commune. And I always felt answered. Loved. I felt God's presence and recommitted. Good waves, bad waves. Sometimes I think I would rebel, do something wrong, and then in attempting to justify it or rationalize it, I would turn away from God. Question why we have to live certain ways, and if I really believe I need to live this way. If I really believe it will make me happy.

A brief and silly example-when I was in junior high, my best friend and I wanted to start a band. I remember one day sitting on this bridge after school, planning out our future. We would move to Seattle, be in a band, spend our nights drinking and smoking and partying, jamming on stage, that whole "Rolling Stone" identity. I wanted that. Kind of.

But then another part of me was disappointed in that. And as I got into the church, gained the firstlings of a testimony, and decided to change my life, I remember the struggle to give that up. Specifically I remember sitting outside, looking in my kitchen window all lit up, and thinking-I want that. I want a family, I want a home, peace, stability, righteousness. (Not that my family was righteous, but you know. That's the mormon ideal). And I had to decide:which do I want more?

I chose the gospel. I chose the family life. And ever since I've been wanting that. I've been wanting a husband, and kids, and a home, and cozy Christmas' dancing around the tree in pajamas, etc. My testimony has grown since then. I had it tested many times, and I always stuck to my beliefs. In California, where I was just a big goob with no friends cause I was scared of the church kids (they used to judge me and I never could be friends with them), and avoiding the druggie types that I was naturally drawn to. Through college, with various temptations, tests, questions. During my mission, where I experienced miracles and unquestionable proof of God's existence. And even after, in my struggles, in my dealing with hard things, I stuck to my guns. And then, recently, as I get older and my dreams are just as far away as they ever were, and the allure of the world and certain pleasures it offers call, I looked back and wondered at that decision.

I'm ashamed, but I had this thought. I was looking through facebook, and some of my old junior high friends have befriended me. So I looked at their profiles, their lives, and honestly started crying. I'm such as selfish jerk. They're married! They all have like three kids, married, homes...they weren't good! They did the drugs, they had the sex! They rebelled, and they got what I want! Isn't this awful? But I just thought, why did I change? Why try to live right, to just be stuck old and alone, and now, at this stage of my life, wanting to join a band, travel, make music because its the only thing that fills my soul.

That was my battle, and I seriously started wondering. Maybe I should just go live that life. Maybe, deep down, I never completely gave it up. I don't believe that, even for a second, and yet here I am, back where I was, on the fence and trying to live a double life. Am I doing it for other people? I don't know. Is it my search for identity? Probably. I'm taking a developmental psychology class, and as I learn about identity development in adolescence, I think I never really developed mine. And now, as I struggle to find myself, I realize that the church was just inherently a part of this lack of person that I was, and I think that's why I'm questioning it. I'm questioning everything, trying to find what makes up me and what are elements I've adopted throughout the years because I was supposed to, or because it was cool.

What I want to get at before you worry too much about me is that I'm on an upward swing. As I questioned, I also realized that without a doubt I know the gospel is true. I've never heard the Josef Smith story without feeling it was true, even when I've listened through the ears of an incredulous investigator who didn't believe a word of it. I know I've been inspired, and I know Heavenly Father has talked to me. I know it! And as I've recommitted once again to read my scriptures every day (that's where it all falls apart-not reading), I've found an identity that I am comfortable with. Not a mindless follower, brainwashed into a belief I don't understand, but a girl, honestly trying to live right, to be kind, to love and serve and build, who needs the help of an understanding Father to teach me the right way.

So it's time to get off this fence. Even now, part of me is thinking...am I really ready to give this up? Am I really committed to living this way forever, no doubts, faithful and true, etc? And I hesitate, and I think I need some more time to think about it, to make sure I mean it, to stay on this fence a little longer. Do I think I can see better from up here? Looking at both sides? I don't know. I don't know. But I know James told me that I'm unstable, and will be until I pick one side or the other. Frustrating really, to travel on one side for so long, walking away from that darn fence, only to find at some point I circled back and made my way to that same fence again, only to climb aboard and wonder. But you know. Such is life.

"Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded." James 4:7-8

I just wouldn't listen

Okay, so I know I've been a little extreme with my hair colors this year. I honestly don't think I've waited more than a month to dye my hair this whole year, which means a new color a month. That's not so bad, right? Well, lately, I've been feeling like I needed to get back to my roots (ha ha), go back to blond and show my true colors. Oh gosh, I can't stop. I just mean, it's been significant to me somehow to stop pretending to be someone else, and be me, and the hair was symbolic of that process/transformation. So I wanted to go blond, but somehow got roped into having it dyed darker than I've ever gone before on my own. That was a month ago, and after a month of feeling tricked and angered at my hair, I decided to do something about it.

You would think, dyeing my hair as often as I do, I would know a thing or two about it. Like how you can't really go blond from super dark brown. With mahogany. But really, was that knowledge likely to stop me? Especially with what I've come to accept is an addiction-a once the thought is in my head there's no turning back mentality. Nope.

I took this beautiful color, and with the help of my mother- who was equally clueless in this process, despite many years of hair coloring experience-we began to strip the color down.

We got to this point and realized we didn't know what the heck we were doing. I'd bought a colorzap kit at the beauty store, and we put it on, despite realizing within two seconds that there wouldn't be enough. And despite living in Montpelier, a city with no resources at all. So there I was, watching the color fade from some parts of my hair quite nicely.

We got online to see if we could maybe use some bleach at home to get the color out, or plain developer. And thus I saw the thousands of horror stories of people attempting to bleach their hair themselves. Stories of hair falling out, frizzing into nothingness from the burning, hair going all sorts of bizarre colors. Now I'd heard from many people that this was risky. Even Lindsey, a fellow hair-dying fiend, said she had hers professionally done when she went blond from red. Was that going to deter me though? No way! Not when it would mean waiting a while and paying money...(I think i paid the equivalent by the end).

Anyway, the result: spotted cheetah Shena. And so I would remain until the next day when we could bleach it again. Sidenote: despite having only two days at home I spent the bulk of this day bleaching my hair and then driving to Logan to buy more bleach for the next day. real stuff, from the beauty supply store. This was poor planning.

Here is another great shot of my color. My dad said he was pretty sure I've dyed it this color before; I'm thinkin not.

Not quite.

Another proof of my poor planning. I'd had this great idea that to feel more like a band, I was gonna sing and play the base in Rock Band. See, this works for real bands because they actually know the songs they're singing, and they know the guitar parts they're playing. When you don't know either the words, the melody, or the guitar, its a bit more tricky. I got through two songs this way, then went back to a one instrument style.

Ahh, the result of my second bleaching attempt. So it was supposed to all go white. We had some issues getting it on my head, so part had had bleach for like two hours, and the other part not as long, and we didn't know if we should leave it and risk my hair falling out, or rinse it and leave me spotted still. We eventually chose a partly spotted method in favor of keeping my hair. But seeing my white head and those white roots-freaked me out! Oh my gosh. At this point I thought we had really gotten in to something we should never have delved into. And I felt more firmly the need to get this situation under control so I would not have to dye it ever again.

Very stylish, no? This is pre-dyed hair.

dyed hair looked little different. I wanted to cry when we finally dyed it the blond, and it was this straw, reddish, hideous and completely fake blond color. I gave up at that point. Wore a hat and drove back to Provo. \

Where, the next day, I began thinking I couldn't live with it like that, and it was already so fried, maybe one last treatment wouldn't hurt that badly. So I bought an ash blond dye that would hopefully take out the red and be better. Usually these colors go so much darker, which is what I want, so the result is still not great, and not the darker I was expecting. But less red. Still red, still ugly, but less. And i guess what I'll have to have for a while.

The moral of the story is: when everyone is telling you something, and they could only be telling you it for you're own good, and not there's, listen to them. I do, however, have quite the experience now for other would-be bleachers who may need some help deciding what to do with their hair. So if you know anyone, send em my way.

Friends

Yesterday it rained a lot. It rained during the night, and around the time I went to work, 'bout 11:30, it started raining again. I thought I'd work a little and if it got to much, go home and finish the next day. I got soaking wet in the first half an hour, but then it started lessening and I figured I could finish. Right at the end of the rain, and the height of the mud, I went to get a meter at the far end of this gravel driveway. There's a mean dog out there, and a gate that is usually open. Yesterday it was closed, so I parked my car outside the gate and ran in to get the read. Then I ran out, got in my car, and attempted to turn it around. There was a little pull out that looked perfect for just such a maneuver.

What I hadn't counted on, however, was the mud. The road was lifted a bit above the rest of the fields, which means the turn-around point was on a bit of an incline, and after pulling forward a little bit I tried to back out and turn around, and found my car wouldn't move. Curses! How silly. So I went forward a bit more, thinking, perhaps, that if I got more momentum I could blast out of there. Well that was even more silly, and I just got more stuck. I had a moment of panic. Who can help me? I wondered. Smalls was gone to class in Salt Lake, and my dad and brothers were no where near. It was very ridiculous thinking, but for a moment I felt like I had no friends and nothing to do. Looking through my new, very small contact list in my new phone I felt like most of my friends have moved away and are nowhere near Provo now. But then I found lots who are here, and who I have counted on time and again to get me out of my silly pickles. I calmed down, asked Dan to help when he could, then went to work while I waited, confident that it'd all work out and we'd get my car out.

He came with smalls and it took two minutes to get the car out, less really if I hadn't been trying to get a picture with my phone (unsuccessful). Then they hopped back in Small's car and drove away, and I went back to work. What I wanted to stress here is how grateful I am for good friends. You're out there, my good friends, all over the world. Friends who listen to me when I need to talk, cheer me up when I need cheering, give me advice and perspective when I feel hopeless or in panic, find numbers for me to call when I'm locked out of my car, encourage me in whatever endeavours I'm undertaking, and push my car out of the mud when I'm silly enough to get it in. (Dan, I need to point out that I know the log doesn't go in front of the tire, I had it under the tires and it helped on one side, but the other kept slipping down, so then I tried it in front of that tire, and it did help, just not enough. I had moved that log around from side to side and tire to tire about ten times before I gave up, getting thoroughly muddy and disgruntled, and so I left it there in its seemingly useless place. But I just need you to know I'm not that much of a girl. I knew what I was doing. Sort of.)

I feel very blessed to know I have you. To know I can count on you, trust you to come to me. And I wanted to apologize for all of you I haven't been there for. To all of you I have let down. I know I have, and I'm sorry for not being as good of a friend. I hope I'm better in the future. I love you all and can't even express how glad I am to have you in my life. Thanks.

A peek

Ha. Written a couple years ago, just a ramble in my head at night.

Is it me? Can it be, deep inside, where the words can hide, where the thoughts align, the soul alive.

Try to speak, with the pieces, with the center, few can enter, to see the feelings, feel the soul, barely even I know.

When its quiet, when I lie awake at night, and try to think, try not to sink, but to hear the silent whispers of the heart.

Whats it say? Guide my way to the path, try not to laugh, I know its in me, go on and feel free to point me better than my soul.

Happiness from harmony, of you and me, of him and her, of body and soul, we work together, I work together, come and see the unity of a mind and heart at peace.

Peace you say, there's no real way to find the core, to fight the war inside.

But I say there is a way, when we stop resisting, give in to listening, open our ears and face our fears, to realize livings so much more, so much giving.

Not just happy or sad, but happy and sad, or hard and good, and if we'll just focus on our souls, not on living our roles, we'll hear the answers come from within.

I want one

So Friday afternoon I met up with Kyson to take him down to Green River, where we met up with Sara, Liz, Kaden, and Sadie. We all carpooled from there to Colordado for a wonderful trip of apple cider making, animal rumping, kid wrangling, and face stuffing. This isn't about the trip though; this is about my fear of the drive with Kason. An 8 year old boy. What in the world was I to do with him? What would he want to do? What was he interested in? How could I entertain him? Where should he sit? And could I listen to music? What kind of music? I was going bonkers.

So after some helpful advice from Lizi about putting Kyson in the back seat, and after a trip to the grocery store to pick up the only form of entertainment I know of that works for all ages-food-I felt a little more prepared. I can handle this. I can do this. I'm 27 years old for petes sake. You know? I was feeling confident, and once I met him and his dad, saw the computer his dad was giving him to keep him occupied, I knew we'd survive.

And then. We headed out on the road, Kyson in the back, me driving so carefully, and I thought of my dad driving me down to the MTC. He said he felt so worried, like he had to be super careful because I was precious cargo (I'm sure I always am to him, just sayin') and he thought I needed extra protection of some sort. That's how I felt with Kyson. Like everything mattered and I needed to be so careful. And I felt this concern for him. It was weird. And I didn't even really talk to him, cause he had his computer and I really don't know how to be around kids, or what to say. But I was there, and he was there.

And then. I heard his little hands get into the bag of food I'd put on the back seat. Something odd happened, some weird joy deep in my heart filled me as I heard his little crunch of the dorito. I have never in my life enjoyed sharing food so much. I usually love food. I get a little protective of my food. But this was different. This was for him, and it just swelled inside me to hear him eating it.

This sounds creepy, and all I can say is that biology is to blame here, and though I don't know what to do with kids, I want them. I want to care for a little person who depends on me, I want to experience that complete selfless giving. I want it all the more because it seems so far away and unlikely. But it was delightful to be around these little people for the weekend, to see their personalities and hear their perspectives. Maybe I just need more contact with kids.

Shoot Dang!

Well, I officially give up on posting videos on the blogger. I will never in my life be able to do it. that may be extreme, but there it is.
The gist is, I wanted to show everyone my banjo and my skills, but I couldn't get the video up here so check out my facebook if you want to see it.
for the back story, once upon a time I had my heart broken by a boy. I was sad. I tried to find hope in life, some form of comfort and definition, and salvation came in the form of a banjo. I was at my friend John's house, and some delightful people came over with a guitar and banjo and started playing the bluegrass. Light shone down from heaven, and I felt inspiried, comforted, guided, a source of new hope and life. It was the banjo. I knew right then I needed a banjo. But its taken me six years to act on that prompting, until last month I finally realized that I needed to get my life in order and do what I was destined to do. Play the banjo. And viola. Life makes sense again.

True Love (Banjo Style)

This is a project I did for a Humanities class my freshman year, written 10/17/2000. We had to take the balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet and re-write it in a different setting. I think my setting is somewhat predictive of my future aspirations. Or at least of the secret love I have of the banjo :)

Setting: A deserted banjo shop at night. Jim Bob had entered the store earlier that day and instantly fallen in love with the sight of Banita, a beautiful banjo. Desperate to see his sweet love again, he sneaked into the banjo shop after the owners had locked it up and sought out his forbidden love.

Banita: Twang!

Jim Bob: Why, I recognize that beautiful music! Let me hear it again, sweet darlin': the sound is like the very angels of heaven singing praises to God Almighty. I can pract'ly see them feathery bein's just a soarin' overhead with each twang of your glorious strings!

Banita: Twang! Oh Jim Bobby-why ain't you a banjo like me? If you'd only throw out the stuff that makes you a man, not a banjo, we'd be so happy. Else, I'll say I'm no banjo an' act s'though I'm a...a...lady. Twang!

Jim Bobby: Well I'll be! Listen to that! Do I sit on my haunches and listen to s'more or do I grab my banjo now, I say?

Banita: Twang twang twang! It's only because you're a human that things won't work out. You've got the soul of a banjo, and it don't matter none what you look like, it's what's on the inside that counts. The strings and body, why, they don't matter a'tall. An' sure, that funny frame of yourn does look unusual, but there's something about that round head and long body, with it's arms and legs pokin' out of it..something so...human...why, you're just irresistible! Jus' say you're a banjo and we'll hie to the chapel an' get hitched straighway. Twang.

Jim Bob: Sweet Banita, I'll say whatsoever you please an' do what cha want, s'long as you say you'll have me.

Banita: Twang! How's that? Who are you-what are you doing here? Twang twang!

Jim Bob: Why, who am I, darlin'? Weren't it me you was just harpin' for? I t'won't say who I am e-zactly, meaning of course my name, cause I'm not jus' sure what you want me t'say. Let me know, little stringy, an' I'll say it just as you please.

Banita: Twang! Though I only jus' met you today, I'd know your voice a green mile away. But say, aren't you a human, here in this banjo shop? Twang?

Jim Bob: Not if you say I ain't.

Banita: Twang. But however did you get in? The shop's all locked up for the night and there's no one here to let you in. Why, what're you doin', breakin' and enterin'? You could go to jail if anyone catches you here! TWANG!

Jim Bob: Are you kiddin' me? I got in jus' the same as Robert E. Lee got into that battle-ya know the one, where he beat up all them bad guys? 'Cept, I used all the strat'gy and stealth of love, if you follow me, when he jus' used his brain, an' no love to goad him. Leastaways, that's what I'd figger. But as I was sayin', locked doors an' alarms ain't gonna stop me nohow, 'cause my love is stronger than a real tough root that goes miles down and jus' won't come up, an' my feelings for you, little plucky, are so good's to slip right through a locked door, sorter like the mice slip through our traps every year, so to speak.

Banita: Twang twang. Don't ya know that if they were t'catch you, it'd be off to the jailhouse with you? Twang?!

Jim Bob: Why, you're more dangrous to me than any officer of the l-a-w. B'sides, that sweet sound of yourn'll block out any noise I make and keep me perfectly safe, bless you.

Banita: Twang! I'm just so worried! I don't want them to catch you here! Twang.

Jim Bob: You've jus' gotta calm yourself right down! Don't be afeared for me-I'm covered in the farms darkest mud, just like a soldier in the milit'ry, and you know no one never spies them when they don't wanna be spied. That's all just a way of speakin' though, I'm not really covered in mud. Anyhow, it don't matter none if they do see me, either, if you'll only jus' say you love me. Then I say-shucks if they spy me here with ya! I'd ruther they up and killed me-that's right, shot me dead!-then my clock go on a'ticking without your sweet twangin' t'keep me comp'ny.

Banita: Twang? Oh Jim Bobby, how'd you ever find this banjo shop anyway? Twang.

Jim Bobby: 'Twas my on-going love of ta banjo that first set me a'looking for a banjo shop, an' though I ain't never been outside my own great state, nor even to speak of my nation-that of the US of A, as it were, and known' my great and abidin' fear of travelin' and of water-not ordinary drinking water like we have at t'farm, mind you, I'm talkin' 'bout them great big accum'lations of water; yep, even the great blue sea yonder-why, what were I sayin'? Oh yeah, my fear of travelin' and water-the lot of water all together like-and my fear of them foreign parts and their diplomats and funny ways, not even denyin' the fact that the people ther're so strange and talk only gibberish not even a fool could understand (I'm talkin' 'bout overseas now, see?) Anyhoo, what with all this, I'd a still left my home turf, sailed over the seven seas, and even set foot upon those places with the crazies shoutin' gibberish, for one music store such as this primo place, in especial to find one such banjo jus' as yourself-a most wondrous piece of mer-chan-dise as I ever seen. (Course, that is supposin' I knew aforehand you'd be there, sweet stringy, else what should I go all the way over the ocean and all for, just to find nothin' there...

The End

Home 09

I went home with Smalls last weekend, and here are some reasons why I love my home, family, and town.

1. Pets! I love them. And I love sitting on the porch when the morning sun warms you while my mom rocks in her little swing chair.

2. random cool events that pass through. Like the LOTOJA, a race I'd never heard of but am now quite familiar with. Bikers go from Logan to Jackson in one day, passing through Montpelier!

3. Other random things pass through. Like...airplane wings?

bikers continued. There were soooo many people. We decided we needed to do this race next year. Until we researched it. Now we're thinking about it.

4. Where else could you help drive a team of oxen?

Or make friends with a lovely pioneer and her dog?

5. kids in watermelons. Need I say more?

6. No, not the famous raspberry shakes, a standard Arctic Circle shake you could find anywhere. But really good shakes. Smalls likes the chocolate banana, my favorite is the Oreo with mint.

6. The chance to overcome fears. This slide daunted me for so long as a child. I was terrified of it every time I came to this park with my brother.

Success! I am no longer afraid.

Smalls never really felt any fear, but at least she pretended to.

7. I think 7, I lost count. Yeah, what the heck? What is this creepy spider thing? But I remember it being there from when I was little.

Close up of his happy face.

8. Always water to be jumped into. We didn't want to go all the way to the lake because it was a cold day and the lake is far, so we drove up to the reservoir, braved the moss lining the shore, and dove in.

Surprisingly very cold, but refreshing as always

9. Brothers. Especially great brothers who spread their sauces with Doritos.

10. Delicious food. Always a ton of it too. We got stuffed that weekend!

11. Emma! My mom has given up having a grandchild, and has taken matters into her own hands. this is her baby girl, Emma, who is heavy like a newborn and has only needed a few minor adjustments to her feet...Smalls took to her right away and had to sleep with her

12. Brothers and pets, already stated. But doing ridiculous things such as this!

13. Papas. And plans to go to church that are thwarted by conference. This has happened a large number of times in my life, and I'm ashamed to say I'm always a little glad there's no church..oops!

14. Football!! It has been a long time. I like football! I wanted to watch it when we were done, wanted to get in shape to play, had visions of winning championships...then got so sore the next day I forgot it all.

I was finally on a winning team, when it was me, Shawn, and Chris, against smalls and my dad. We couldn't determine if Shawn's winning powers were stronger than my losing powers, so we had to combine forces to see that I wasn't that big of a loser. thank goodness.

Oh yeah basketball too. I was finishing knitting at this point so I hadn't joined in the fun yet. smalls won though, as always.

15. Cows in the backyard.

16. Doing mean and ridiculous things to my pets. I thought Odie looked good with brown hair :)

Pooky looked better.

Undocumented events were the shopping spree with my mom before getting to Montpelier, eating at Chiles, walk with the dogs, and stopping to visit the Leonhardts on our way home. I love those people, and they gave us two bags full of vegetables from their garden, and fed us not fasule but Lenhardio beans. wonderful.