Dear Sir.
This is not a post about how attractive* you are. (You are. But probably so is your wife.) This is also not a post about how great your style is. (It's great. But probably so is your wife's.) What this is, is a chance for me to say thank you. And to explain to you the depth of my gratitude, something I couldn't have adequately expressed at the moment. Because if I'd tried to, I might have actually started to cry right there in the lab which would've been real awkward for everyone and not at all helpful in articulating how I felt.
You see, I walked into the lab that morning feeling like I was completely and utterly drowning, trying to keep track of T-Accounts, debiting, crediting, bad debt, and I didn't understand any of it. I couldn't even memorize things because just looking at the words, so foreign and unintelligible, overwhelmed me and then they blurred and disappeared.
And then you took the time to write down the formulas on the board and explain them clearly (even though you'd just finished doing the same thing for some others) and finally I understood. It clicked. The problems made perfect sense and I could work them all out. You went back to studying in your corner and I went back to studying in mine and that was that. I said thank you, but really how can you sincerely thank someone from the bottom of your heart in such a casual setting like that? Unless you noticed the desperation leaving my eyes, there just wasn't a way.
So thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.
*Sorry Dalt. You're way cuter of course.
Showing posts with label learned. Show all posts
Showing posts with label learned. Show all posts
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Doggy Paddle
Oh hello there.
Blogging tendencies have been a little bit lax of late, mostly because my brain (AHEM. my cerebral hemispheres, frontal lobe, insula lobe occipital lobe etc..) is crammed so full with other thoughts. There is SO MUCH to learn. I used to write posts in my head for days, first of all because I'm straight up weird. Seriously there's a little voice in the back of my mind that often narrates my life. Have I mentioned this before? Probably. That little voice is unfortunately not very reliable for remembering important things. But ask me to share a storybook style tale about the two seconds on campus where you recognized someone? I'm your woman. I'll have you reeling with plot twists and married with babies before you even finish asking.*
Second of all because did you know sarcasm is a LUXURY? Seriously. All this cleverness that is my wit does not come as naturally as you think. I had the time to compose my thoughts into hysterical sentences as I walked between classes, those moments before I fell asleep. I had days to compose posts in my brain. Now those moments are filled with thoughts about concepts I'm learning, trying to remember things for tests, worries, and often just the bliss of nothingness. I steal times for little bits of nothingness every chance I get, trying to concentrate only on the gorgeousness of the world.
Maybe it's not just BYU. Maybe it's because I'm a junior now and finished with most of my gen eds. And I don't mean to complain, but dang this is hard. I don't just have midterms, my class schedule balanced out so the test are spread out pretty consistently to every week or two. And consistency is really not my strong point. I'm more of a "lay it all in one big pile and I'll make one massive hurdle over it and then be done for a few months." I have a LOT to learn. A lot of habits to change.
But you know what? Thank goodness. Because even though I'm not acing my classes, I'm being pushed. Like really shoved in the pool sink or swim sort of pushed. I prefer that over treading water for the rest of my life. I'd rather be the crap of the cream than the cream of the crap I guess.
That's not to say the days aren't without stress and tension and the occasional bubbling of ulcer beginnings. So before I get overwhelmed with it all, I try to remember what I love this place.
Which I think I'll write about later because I'm really sick of this post. It's been in my drafts box forever and now I kind of hate it. But I'm going to publish it because I want to remember this feeling. This time of just barely keeping my head above water, but loving it. Really really loving it.
ttfn
*Do I make sense to anyone? Anyone? I tend to ramble I know. And SOMEtimes I re-read and edit my crazy thought process for you to follow. But only sometimes.
Blogging tendencies have been a little bit lax of late, mostly because my brain (AHEM. my cerebral hemispheres, frontal lobe, insula lobe occipital lobe etc..) is crammed so full with other thoughts. There is SO MUCH to learn. I used to write posts in my head for days, first of all because I'm straight up weird. Seriously there's a little voice in the back of my mind that often narrates my life. Have I mentioned this before? Probably. That little voice is unfortunately not very reliable for remembering important things. But ask me to share a storybook style tale about the two seconds on campus where you recognized someone? I'm your woman. I'll have you reeling with plot twists and married with babies before you even finish asking.*
Second of all because did you know sarcasm is a LUXURY? Seriously. All this cleverness that is my wit does not come as naturally as you think. I had the time to compose my thoughts into hysterical sentences as I walked between classes, those moments before I fell asleep. I had days to compose posts in my brain. Now those moments are filled with thoughts about concepts I'm learning, trying to remember things for tests, worries, and often just the bliss of nothingness. I steal times for little bits of nothingness every chance I get, trying to concentrate only on the gorgeousness of the world.
Maybe it's not just BYU. Maybe it's because I'm a junior now and finished with most of my gen eds. And I don't mean to complain, but dang this is hard. I don't just have midterms, my class schedule balanced out so the test are spread out pretty consistently to every week or two. And consistency is really not my strong point. I'm more of a "lay it all in one big pile and I'll make one massive hurdle over it and then be done for a few months." I have a LOT to learn. A lot of habits to change.
But you know what? Thank goodness. Because even though I'm not acing my classes, I'm being pushed. Like really shoved in the pool sink or swim sort of pushed. I prefer that over treading water for the rest of my life. I'd rather be the crap of the cream than the cream of the crap I guess.
That's not to say the days aren't without stress and tension and the occasional bubbling of ulcer beginnings. So before I get overwhelmed with it all, I try to remember what I love this place.
Which I think I'll write about later because I'm really sick of this post. It's been in my drafts box forever and now I kind of hate it. But I'm going to publish it because I want to remember this feeling. This time of just barely keeping my head above water, but loving it. Really really loving it.
ttfn
*Do I make sense to anyone? Anyone? I tend to ramble I know. And SOMEtimes I re-read and edit my crazy thought process for you to follow. But only sometimes.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Generic Name Boy
Dubbed so by none other than our very own Ry Guy.
My mom thinks I have a thing for fall flings. Possible. Two out of my last two relationships happened and ended fall semester. Dalton and David. Same initials and everything. I swear that's a coincidence.
I met David because I had a massive crush on his roommate as a freshman. Honestly, I should probably include that squeeb in the category of "people who influenced me in Cedar City." But I can't just yet. I don't quite have the words to cover that fiasco. It didn't work out, that's the main point. But David did, for awhile.
Despite being hopeless over his roommate, I remember meeting David and thinking he was a cute, fun guy. We talked a few times but summer came and we both went home - opposite directions. Then I ran into him at the bookstore during the first week of school and stopped to say hello. I walked away from that conversation disappointed; he didn't seem very responsive and I figured he just saw me as that pathetic girl chasing after his roomie.
But then he got my number (probably from same said roommate) and called me. And he planned, hands down, the best dates I've ever been on. We went roller skating at this funky old roller rink on the outskirts of town for the first date. The next time, he took me to the DI. Stop right there. Marriage? Absolutely. Done and done. He took me to the DI, we picked out something for the other one to wear, and went to dinner. RIGHT up my alley. He picked out this shirt for me, and I tried to pretend it really was hideous, while in the back of my mind laughing because it was something I would have worn normally. I picked out a bib for him. And was so impressed because he wore it like it was the latest fashion, no shame.
We had a picnic on his roof, played people bingo at Wal-Mart, and he taught me how to cook authentic southern style fried chicken. I loved every minute. Six dates to hold my hand. Nine until he kissed me. Yeah I counted. For the first time, I could picture myself really falling in love, and even marrying someone. He was grown up. A senior, applying for grad schools, sharing an actual house, growing vegetables and splitting wood in the backyard. Plus he sweet talked me with biology talk. That may have clinched it.
He had impeccable timing. When I had to move out of my residence hall, he came over to help me pack, and after days of worrying about everyone else, I finally had someone to worry about me, and listen to my fears. At the end of the semester I was moving yet again, dragging suitcases down the long cement walk dimly lit by the broken street lamps. I felt worn out and on autopilot. He showed up just as I was reaching the stairs. I looked up and he was standing there, backlit, so it took me a minute to register who it really was. If it had been a movie there probably would have been a hallelujah chorus in the background.
I would have seriously considered marrying him and moving to where ever he went to grad school. But I didn't love him. I wanted to. So much. I could see everything working perfectly. He was so solid, steady, and kind. But I didn't love him. After almost four months, I didn't feel any different than I did after our first couple dates. I wanted it to work, but I knew it wouldn't, and I knew I was wasting his time. So after the break, it was over. We never really discussed it, somehow he just knew, and that was it. Didn't see him again for a few months. I took his blood glucose levels for my research project. Sufficiently awkward.
So it didn't work permanently. But it was a step in the right direction I think. He wrote a song for me; I touched (and cooked) raw chicken for him. These are not equal actions of devotion obviously. But hey, he tried his best with that song.
But it was worth it. I finally had a first kiss when my hair was clean.* I finally dated someone older than me. I finally pictured a future, albeit only for a few months. Good luck David. You were wonderful, ideal even. I hope you find someone equally as wonderful.** Thank you.
*This was a big deal. Both of the last guys got dirty hair first kisses. I was determined to break my streak and I ducked out twice until I looked dang good.
**As long as she's not prettier than me.***
***Joke.
My mom thinks I have a thing for fall flings. Possible. Two out of my last two relationships happened and ended fall semester. Dalton and David. Same initials and everything. I swear that's a coincidence.
I met David because I had a massive crush on his roommate as a freshman. Honestly, I should probably include that squeeb in the category of "people who influenced me in Cedar City." But I can't just yet. I don't quite have the words to cover that fiasco. It didn't work out, that's the main point. But David did, for awhile.
Despite being hopeless over his roommate, I remember meeting David and thinking he was a cute, fun guy. We talked a few times but summer came and we both went home - opposite directions. Then I ran into him at the bookstore during the first week of school and stopped to say hello. I walked away from that conversation disappointed; he didn't seem very responsive and I figured he just saw me as that pathetic girl chasing after his roomie.
But then he got my number (probably from same said roommate) and called me. And he planned, hands down, the best dates I've ever been on. We went roller skating at this funky old roller rink on the outskirts of town for the first date. The next time, he took me to the DI. Stop right there. Marriage? Absolutely. Done and done. He took me to the DI, we picked out something for the other one to wear, and went to dinner. RIGHT up my alley. He picked out this shirt for me, and I tried to pretend it really was hideous, while in the back of my mind laughing because it was something I would have worn normally. I picked out a bib for him. And was so impressed because he wore it like it was the latest fashion, no shame.
We had a picnic on his roof, played people bingo at Wal-Mart, and he taught me how to cook authentic southern style fried chicken. I loved every minute. Six dates to hold my hand. Nine until he kissed me. Yeah I counted. For the first time, I could picture myself really falling in love, and even marrying someone. He was grown up. A senior, applying for grad schools, sharing an actual house, growing vegetables and splitting wood in the backyard. Plus he sweet talked me with biology talk. That may have clinched it.
He had impeccable timing. When I had to move out of my residence hall, he came over to help me pack, and after days of worrying about everyone else, I finally had someone to worry about me, and listen to my fears. At the end of the semester I was moving yet again, dragging suitcases down the long cement walk dimly lit by the broken street lamps. I felt worn out and on autopilot. He showed up just as I was reaching the stairs. I looked up and he was standing there, backlit, so it took me a minute to register who it really was. If it had been a movie there probably would have been a hallelujah chorus in the background.
I would have seriously considered marrying him and moving to where ever he went to grad school. But I didn't love him. I wanted to. So much. I could see everything working perfectly. He was so solid, steady, and kind. But I didn't love him. After almost four months, I didn't feel any different than I did after our first couple dates. I wanted it to work, but I knew it wouldn't, and I knew I was wasting his time. So after the break, it was over. We never really discussed it, somehow he just knew, and that was it. Didn't see him again for a few months. I took his blood glucose levels for my research project. Sufficiently awkward.
So it didn't work permanently. But it was a step in the right direction I think. He wrote a song for me; I touched (and cooked) raw chicken for him. These are not equal actions of devotion obviously. But hey, he tried his best with that song.
But it was worth it. I finally had a first kiss when my hair was clean.* I finally dated someone older than me. I finally pictured a future, albeit only for a few months. Good luck David. You were wonderful, ideal even. I hope you find someone equally as wonderful.** Thank you.
*This was a big deal. Both of the last guys got dirty hair first kisses. I was determined to break my streak and I ducked out twice until I looked dang good.
**As long as she's not prettier than me.***
***Joke.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Diplomatic and Adventurous
Have I ever mentioned that here at SUH* they take their Resident Assistants very seriously? Actually I know I have. They do not kid around. While some of my other friends went to their schools a day or two early for training, I left weeks early. August 2nd, a good twenty days before my first residents would arrive. I arrived and looked around at a room full of people, with no idea what to expect. From earlier classes I thought I liked most of them, but really I was clueless.
The Resident Assistants are an exuberant bunch. Very very exuberant. A roomful of them is more like a roomful of fifty energetic puppies. They have that kind of awkward air that says "I know I'm being being loud and laughing ridiculously at dumb jokes, but I take pride in this. " Think Jr. High students at their first dance, secretly feeling awkward, but acting real big to hide it. Bless their hearts. I really do enjoy them, just in small doses. Baby aspirin doses.
Not all RA's are energetic puppies, some are normal people. After all, I was one right? (ahem) Madi was in charge of the hall two above me, the lovely C300. Every month had massive programming requirements, so typically everyone teamed up with each other to plan. And we couldn't just plan a program, we also had to creatively advertise. No one would really punish you for just doing a poster, but the disdain in the eyes was apparent. Thankfully, Madi has the ability for the most creative advertising I've seen. We did an MBTI program and how the heck do you advertise for that? With massive paper brains of course. Massive brains hung all over the hall and connected with string until it looked like a ropes course. Duh.
So in my search for friend-able people, I found Madi. She never ceases to surprise me. One minute she's all soft spoken, eloquent and insightful, "You're a monkey Michael? And what kind of monkey are you? And what do monkeys eat?" And then she'll let loose with, "And what sound does a monkey make? This: OoOOooooOooOOOOOOO- AAHHA - AH AH" a perfect imitation, loud enough to call George of the Jungle's monkeys all the way back from 1997 and send them storming to her house, ready to do her bidding.
One time I had the opportunity to go on a snowshoe-ing trip for a few days. Did I have any idea how to snow-shoe? Nope. We were also supposed to sleep in a yurt. Had I ever even heard of a yurt? Hell no. Did I desperately want to go anyway? Oh yeah. But tentative as I am, I needed SOMEone to come with me. Luckily Madi was good with only twenty four hour notice for a spontaneous trip up the mountains. She took me to her house, outfitted me with snow boots, snow pants, a flashlight, a sleeping bag, basically making it possible for me to go. To the yurt we went.
It's like she has no inhibitions but at the same time is completely aware of others and diplomatic. She can go from a sincere, "Sierra you look beautiful" to the best the BEST zombie dance walk I've ever seen. Never mind it startled the boy next to her so much that he almost needed a change of pants, and caused the rest of his group to stare in astonishment and then laugh in delight.
She has a story for everything. "Did I ever tell you about the time a boy turned me down after the second date because I wouldn't convert to his religion?" "Did I ever tell you about the time I tackled a snowman to avoid a kiss?" They never get old.
And she's responsible for this fantastic quote, "Star Wars 1 through 3 are liked the desperate housewives of the galaxy."
Amen.
Madi. I will miss you. One of these summers we really will make it to visit Idalina (one of the people we met on our yurt adventure actually) and go to Floyd Fest.
Also. You have awesome hair.
(I might miss you the most)
*Not it's real name. Just how I pronounce it.
The Resident Assistants are an exuberant bunch. Very very exuberant. A roomful of them is more like a roomful of fifty energetic puppies. They have that kind of awkward air that says "I know I'm being being loud and laughing ridiculously at dumb jokes, but I take pride in this. " Think Jr. High students at their first dance, secretly feeling awkward, but acting real big to hide it. Bless their hearts. I really do enjoy them, just in small doses. Baby aspirin doses.
Not all RA's are energetic puppies, some are normal people. After all, I was one right? (ahem) Madi was in charge of the hall two above me, the lovely C300. Every month had massive programming requirements, so typically everyone teamed up with each other to plan. And we couldn't just plan a program, we also had to creatively advertise. No one would really punish you for just doing a poster, but the disdain in the eyes was apparent. Thankfully, Madi has the ability for the most creative advertising I've seen. We did an MBTI program and how the heck do you advertise for that? With massive paper brains of course. Massive brains hung all over the hall and connected with string until it looked like a ropes course. Duh.
So in my search for friend-able people, I found Madi. She never ceases to surprise me. One minute she's all soft spoken, eloquent and insightful, "You're a monkey Michael? And what kind of monkey are you? And what do monkeys eat?" And then she'll let loose with, "And what sound does a monkey make? This: OoOOooooOooOOOOOOO- AAHHA - AH AH" a perfect imitation, loud enough to call George of the Jungle's monkeys all the way back from 1997 and send them storming to her house, ready to do her bidding.
One time I had the opportunity to go on a snowshoe-ing trip for a few days. Did I have any idea how to snow-shoe? Nope. We were also supposed to sleep in a yurt. Had I ever even heard of a yurt? Hell no. Did I desperately want to go anyway? Oh yeah. But tentative as I am, I needed SOMEone to come with me. Luckily Madi was good with only twenty four hour notice for a spontaneous trip up the mountains. She took me to her house, outfitted me with snow boots, snow pants, a flashlight, a sleeping bag, basically making it possible for me to go. To the yurt we went.
It's like she has no inhibitions but at the same time is completely aware of others and diplomatic. She can go from a sincere, "Sierra you look beautiful" to the best the BEST zombie dance walk I've ever seen. Never mind it startled the boy next to her so much that he almost needed a change of pants, and caused the rest of his group to stare in astonishment and then laugh in delight.
She has a story for everything. "Did I ever tell you about the time a boy turned me down after the second date because I wouldn't convert to his religion?" "Did I ever tell you about the time I tackled a snowman to avoid a kiss?" They never get old.
And she's responsible for this fantastic quote, "Star Wars 1 through 3 are liked the desperate housewives of the galaxy."
Amen.
Madi. I will miss you. One of these summers we really will make it to visit Idalina (one of the people we met on our yurt adventure actually) and go to Floyd Fest.
Also. You have awesome hair.
(I might miss you the most)
*Not it's real name. Just how I pronounce it.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
To Popcorn Thursday
Bailey.
Bay Girl
Big Girl
Big Earl
Bagel
We have a disgusting lack of pictures together.
You made not just my first year, or my second year, but both years so much better. On the days I felt homesick, there was nothing quite like seeing your face. As much as I love the new friends I've made, something special exists in a friend who's known you for longer than a semester or two. We go back to 10th grade and I loved feeling like someone knew me. Not just the me I'd introduced to people at college but the me with some history. While I was still meeting people and doing the awkward chit chat (my other seventh level of hell) we were having real conversations, talking about thoughts and ideas and a variety of topics.
I like you because we share the same opinions about things overly "cutesy." While some things may leave certain people gooey with dreaming and longing, you appreciate my eye roll and mimic of vomiting. Childish? Yes. Get over it.
I like you because you like yourself and don't need the attention of other for validation
I like you because together we laugh at incredibly tacky Christmas decorations together. I meant to post about that one. The pictures don't quite do the horror justice, but it was a very fun night.
I like you for all the abbrevs you've into-ed to my life. Sers. Abbrevs are just totes the best. You are totes adorbs.
I learned from you to find my passion and throw myself into it. I so admire how many things you've been involved in. From the newspaper, to several leadership positions, to giving tours, and talking to prospective students, you've about done it all. It makes me want to try new things. In a word, you are BOLD. I admire your confidence in getting up in front of a crowd, and the way you conduct yourself.
I learned from you the value of poise. Yes you joke and goof off, but without a bit of show-offy-ness. (I'm sure there's an actual word to substitute in there. But I don't have my dictionary currently with me.) Sometimes I expect a little more glory than I should from my actions, but you inspire me to be a bit more humble and accomplish tasks for the sake of getting them accomplished.
I learned that I have to work to keep relationships that I value. Since we never saw each other on campus, we deemed Thursday "Popcorn Thursday," from our mutual love of air-popped corn and desire to catch up. With some slight struggles, we kept it up for four semesters.
And now after pounds of popcorn and a plethora of Modern Family episodes, here we are nearing our last popcorn Thursday.
We're going to have to find a new substitute. Perhaps Skype Saturdays? Phone call phwednesdays?
I think of you as kind of a classic. Steady, not sailing around in need of pleasing the newest trends and fads. Thank you, for that influence.
Let's stay friends. I need your good taste in my life.
Bay Girl
Big Girl
Big Earl
Bagel
We have a disgusting lack of pictures together.
You made not just my first year, or my second year, but both years so much better. On the days I felt homesick, there was nothing quite like seeing your face. As much as I love the new friends I've made, something special exists in a friend who's known you for longer than a semester or two. We go back to 10th grade and I loved feeling like someone knew me. Not just the me I'd introduced to people at college but the me with some history. While I was still meeting people and doing the awkward chit chat (my other seventh level of hell) we were having real conversations, talking about thoughts and ideas and a variety of topics.
I like you because we share the same opinions about things overly "cutesy." While some things may leave certain people gooey with dreaming and longing, you appreciate my eye roll and mimic of vomiting. Childish? Yes. Get over it.
I like you because you like yourself and don't need the attention of other for validation
I like you because together we laugh at incredibly tacky Christmas decorations together. I meant to post about that one. The pictures don't quite do the horror justice, but it was a very fun night.
I like you for all the abbrevs you've into-ed to my life. Sers. Abbrevs are just totes the best. You are totes adorbs.
I learned from you to find my passion and throw myself into it. I so admire how many things you've been involved in. From the newspaper, to several leadership positions, to giving tours, and talking to prospective students, you've about done it all. It makes me want to try new things. In a word, you are BOLD. I admire your confidence in getting up in front of a crowd, and the way you conduct yourself.
I learned from you the value of poise. Yes you joke and goof off, but without a bit of show-offy-ness. (I'm sure there's an actual word to substitute in there. But I don't have my dictionary currently with me.) Sometimes I expect a little more glory than I should from my actions, but you inspire me to be a bit more humble and accomplish tasks for the sake of getting them accomplished.
I learned that I have to work to keep relationships that I value. Since we never saw each other on campus, we deemed Thursday "Popcorn Thursday," from our mutual love of air-popped corn and desire to catch up. With some slight struggles, we kept it up for four semesters.
And now after pounds of popcorn and a plethora of Modern Family episodes, here we are nearing our last popcorn Thursday.
We're going to have to find a new substitute. Perhaps Skype Saturdays? Phone call phwednesdays?
I think of you as kind of a classic. Steady, not sailing around in need of pleasing the newest trends and fads. Thank you, for that influence.
Let's stay friends. I need your good taste in my life.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tree Nostalgic
Dalton and I met in our dinky little residence hall. It wasn't exactly love at first sight but I remember noticing him and thinking, "I could date that boy." I guess he had the same thought process because he made a mutual friend introduce us. He also made her swear that she wouldn't say anything, so of course she spilled everything to me. "Dalton thinks you're way cute and wants me to invite you to hang out so he can get to know you." I laughed, a little embarrassed, and agreed, wondering if this slightly High School approach was normal for college.
It took a little while before anything happened. I started actually crushing on him around Halloween. Eventually he got my number and invited me to go slacklining.
It took a little while before anything happened. I started actually crushing on him around Halloween. Eventually he got my number and invited me to go slacklining.
Then he escorted me through a haunted house - a perfect opportunity to hold hands. I should probably remember the exact day he asked me to be his girlfriend. This was, after, my first official boyfriend. But I don't. I remember going to a midnight movie, climbing onto an elementary school roof, and a lot of late night walks. But I can't for the life of me remember that official date.
Ironically he was my home teacher. But he never came once. Officially anyway. I don't know if macking counts.
After the first semester he went home to work until he left for his mission. We visited each other a few times over the break, but ultimately I couldn't handle dating someone while I was at school, seven hours away, and he was working towards a mission. Let's be honest, commitment scares the crap out of me. So does actually falling in love.
And I don't think I ever loved him per se. I may have been caught up with the idea of it all. A college boyfriend. Pre-med. An easy transition from, hey I like you, to actual dating. But he was really wonderful, not just an image. Here was a boy who, instead of teasing me about my ACT score (something I was really self conscious about) made me feel smart. We studied together. Here was a boy who, instead of being reluctant to invite me home (because his family hated that we were dating) couldn't wait to introduce me to his family. And I loved his family. I practically would have married him just to marry into that clan. We clicked right away. I was joking with his dad, talking with him mom, and learning about the middle school life of his little sister. It was an entirely new world to me. I felt so grown up, driving a few hours to see my boyfriend - although I never really got used to that word.
We had so much fun together. We went sledding and he showed me around town. I introduced him to my friends back home, and they actually liked him too. Or at least, they said so. I believed them, because they had not been quiet about disliking the last boy.* He made me a blanket for Christmas, one I still use almost everyday and I went crazy over-analyzing and trying to figure the perfect gift for a first boyfriend.**
We stayed in touch after that semester. He's on his mission now in Brazil, and we write on occasion.That first semester was a lot of fun.
Thank you for pleasantly surprising me when it comes to how great a boyfriend can be. Thank you for kissing me in - actually in and not just under - a tree on campus during one of our late night walks. I can't walk by that tree without remembering, and smiling. I'm going to miss that.
(The sign reads: always kiss me goodnight)
And thank you for not actually looking like that when we kissed.
*you know who you are chica
**apparently it's a shirt.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Goodbyes
Three weeks. Three weeks exactly. I'll be officially released as an RA, finished with my finals, and out of my apartment. My dear parentals and I will drive out of this little college city ostensibly (if I'm feeling melodramatic) never to return again. At least, not in the same capacity.
I don't know if I believe in fate or destiny guiding my experiences and leading me to people I had to meet for some grand cosmic reason, to save my soul or permanently alter the direction of my life.* But I do know that what and where I am is not a result of only my efforts. There's a lot of people that went in to the making of this odd, introspective, hard-working, intimidated, bold person that I am today. I'm not the same gal that left Salt Lake two years ago, thank goodness. Wouldn't it be awful if people never changed, never learned confidence, never expanded their world view or thought, really thought about ideas and philosophies? It'd be selfish really if ignored how I got here. Journal keeping isn't my talent and sometimes thank you notes don't do a person justice.
To begin. Janelle. (best said in a really low voice, hhhhhheeey juhhh-nehhhllle.)
My very first roommate - with the exception of my stuffed spotted dog Spot.** I had no idea what to expect. I'd heard my fair share of horror stories about roommates. I believe it was made into a great movie. On the flip side, I'd also heard about instantaneous bonding. The Saturday's Warriors kind, where we knew each other in a previous life.
Janelle was neither. She was on the track team, a thrower I think. Shoot I'm a crappy roommate. Even after two semesters I couldn't remember what the even was called. Just know it was a field event. She was buff stuff.
She was also pretty independent, and disciplined (something I knew very little about.) We didn't hang out every weekend, or braid each others' hair. But we got along and I learned how to share a room, and be considerate of another person. I think that was really my biggest fear, being forced to share a room with someone really self-centered and inconsiderate, to the point where I didn't feel comfortable coming in.
I watched Janelle juggle early morning practices, after school practices, classes, and church and came away feeling pretty impressed. This girl was solid. (Not just because of her rocking muscles.) From Janelle I learned consistency, and the benefits of good habits. She wasn't perfect mind you. Sometimes she snored and kept me up. And after a few failed attempts at ear plugs, I learned to say her name*** janelle. Janelle. Janelle Janelle! until she woke up. Then I'd quickly be quiet, pretending nothing happened and trying to fall asleep before she could. Luckily she has a good sense of humor and we laugh about that now.
We went hiking. And carved pumpkins of the first presidency at FHE together. And saved our change until we could take ourselves to a movie. Yes Janelle dear. You were a very good first roommate indeed.
* Think Wicked song lyrics. BECAUSE I kneewwwwwwwwww YOOOOUUUUUU.......
Janelle was neither. She was on the track team, a thrower I think. Shoot I'm a crappy roommate. Even after two semesters I couldn't remember what the even was called. Just know it was a field event. She was buff stuff.
She was also pretty independent, and disciplined (something I knew very little about.) We didn't hang out every weekend, or braid each others' hair. But we got along and I learned how to share a room, and be considerate of another person. I think that was really my biggest fear, being forced to share a room with someone really self-centered and inconsiderate, to the point where I didn't feel comfortable coming in.
I watched Janelle juggle early morning practices, after school practices, classes, and church and came away feeling pretty impressed. This girl was solid. (Not just because of her rocking muscles.) From Janelle I learned consistency, and the benefits of good habits. She wasn't perfect mind you. Sometimes she snored and kept me up. And after a few failed attempts at ear plugs, I learned to say her name*** janelle. Janelle. Janelle Janelle! until she woke up. Then I'd quickly be quiet, pretending nothing happened and trying to fall asleep before she could. Luckily she has a good sense of humor and we laugh about that now.
We went hiking. And carved pumpkins of the first presidency at FHE together. And saved our change until we could take ourselves to a movie. Yes Janelle dear. You were a very good first roommate indeed.
* Think Wicked song lyrics. BECAUSE I kneewwwwwwwwww YOOOOUUUUUU.......
**He was a dalmation and I was a VERY creative child.
***I also slammed drawers. Passive aggressive I know.
***I also slammed drawers. Passive aggressive I know.
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