If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out

More So Than You Thought

2009-11-23T23:45:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been wanting a baby. More than usual. Sometimes, when I'm wearing one of those baggyinthebelly shirts, I'll lean forward and let it droop down and then pull the bottom of it tight against me, and imagine what my pregnant belly would look like. Sometimes, I do the same thing with salad bowls. My roommates say, "You're so weird," but then they try it too.

Once, my old roommate Kristen, found a wedding dress at the D.I. for $25 and bought it. Everyone told her how weird that was and she made us promise not to tell anyone (which is funny that I'm writing about it on the internet). But what I didn't mention as we were all pointing and laughing at her tarpy gown is that I've owned a diaper bag since I was 17. It's sitting in the top of my closet right now.

Babies give my heart this longing feeling stronger than all my past Christmases combined.

I know you already knew that I'm eccentric, and now with all this salad bowl/diaper bag business, you see that I'm more so than you thought.

The New Place

2009-09-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

Aly and I live somewhere new. It's loud here. There are two bunk beds in this room--four girls. The bunk beds squeak incessantly. When I lean against it to say my prays, it squeaks. When I climb in to bed. Squeak. When I roll over. Squeak. When I hit my alarm. Squeak. And they do the same for Kim, Whitney, and Aly. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. My first night here I tried to not to move because I didn't want the squeaking to annoy anyone, but around 3:00 AM I gave up because I realized no one was doing me the same courtesy, so I flipped over. Squeak. Sometimes I think the beds are intuitive and squeak when they know that you're even thinking about getting up. So from 6:00 to 7:00--constant squeaking.

Not only are the beds talkative but so is the ceiling. I imagine that the people living above my bedroom wake up in the morning and in three or four hops, are planted in front of the sink, where they run in place as they brush their teeth. I think they only stop jumping once they are out of their apartment. I see them walking to their cars in the morning. Sure, you're walking now, but I know that stepping has no place in your private life. Liar.

It's also lonelier here. Kim in leaving for her mission soon and living in Montana with her family. Victoria is interning in Washington D.C.. Mary is getting married in two weeks. And Mark is. . . not here. This morning, in my prayers, as sort of a whim and just to see if it would work, I prayed that I could make just one new friend. I didn't talk to anyone at church really and I stayed in my loud house all afternoon and into the evening (so did the people above me, practicing the long jump it seems). Then, when everyone was at stadium singing and Aly and I sat in our room, there was a knock at the door. "It's probably that guy for Kim", Aly said as I walked to answer the door.

It wasn't that guy for Kim. His name was William and he said he just wanted to know who lived here. He sat on the couch and said he couldn't stay long. After fifteen minutes of awkwardness I excused myself to finish homework and shut my bedroom door behind me. Aly came in a few minutes later and left William to talk to our other roommates who had just gotten home. Aly and I exchanged the thatguyisweird look and as she squeaked onto her bed and I sat on the floor and leaned against mine. Squeak. I thought I should explain. I confessed that I had prayed to make a new friend that day. When we had quit laughing long enough to speak, Aly leaned forward on her elbows and exhaled a pleased sigh, "God is funny", she said. But I think that was just plain mean.

You Can Run. . .

2009-06-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

My high school was a two-storied building and as such there were three stair cases in it. Regularly, during class breaks, when students were more like cows being herded, someone would slip and fall either down or up the stairs. People would laugh. The faller would blush. And that'd be it but it always left me pleading with the high school gods that they'd never make me a faller. The idea mortified me and I made it my high school goal to never fall down the school stairs. I never did either. I walked up and down those stairs like ten times a day and never so much as a stumble. When I graduated, I congratulated myself for never falling on the stairs and praised the high school gods for keeping me out of harm and humiliation.

Today in the McKay Library I fell on the stairs.

Ok World

2009-04-17T23:34:00.000-07:00

I have so much to say and no idea how to really say it. Alright. The summary is this.....................................................................................................................................Does that make sense? Please someone help me sort my mind out

Just as few more

2009-04-09T13:53:00.001-07:00

Franz Schubert

Laramie's Painting

Starbucks Signature Hot Chocolate

BIG Libraries

2009-04-08T17:00:00.001-07:00

Country Living Magazine

Freshly dusted furniture

This photograph I took of a window of the tabernacle

2009-04-07T18:25:00.000-07:00

Dove Shampoo. The yellow one.

Cadbury Eggs!

Funny couple fights.*

*Will explain upon request.

Britt Loves:

2009-04-06T15:42:00.001-07:00

Riding Bikes and sticking my feet out

Galatians 4:6

Fat-free Jell0 pudding

Also, moments like this:

Me: Hey JJ, do you want to go to the gym with me?

JJ: No, I'm too cold to go to the gym.

I'm still laughing about that one.

More things I love

2009-04-05T23:47:00.000-07:00

My red journal

Watching children find and eat candy off of grocery store floors

Pablo Casals. Pablo Casals. Pablo Casals.

Cont.

2009-04-04T23:32:00.001-07:00

When I see guys holding their girlfriend's purse at the mall

parking lot birds

clear nail polish

Here are some of my simple (and guilty) pleasures:

2009-04-03T18:42:00.000-07:00

Tire swings

Sunflowers

"Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard"

Let's All Learn From the Huge Guy's Mistake

2009-03-27T18:32:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I just cannot fight the urge to sing along and that's okay because usually it's when I'm in my car or around my house so it's okay to sing along. However, there are times when I get this urge when I am at the gym and I have to fight my natural instinct with all of my might. Last Tuesday, I was at the gym and I was peddling away and this Griffin House song that I love came on on my ipod. I suppressed the urge to sing along but it only got stronger. Then I thought to myself, "What if this urge to sing along is like coughing or sneezing or something? Like, what if it's actually good for me and my body needs it in order to sustain good mental health?" Then I had this battle in my mind: if I start singing along to my ipod, then people will think I'm weird. Who cares? I don't have any friends at the gym anyway and if I did then they would probably just sing along with me and it could be like a real life musical where everybody just breaks out into song and we all know the words and the choreography. Live for today! I almost gave in. I ever cleared my throat. I'm still not really sure what stopped me. I think I just looked around at all of the normal people and knew that my musical idea would never work out. So I didn't do it.

Then, yesterday, I was on the bikes again sitting between these two guys. The guy on my left was probably in his thirties and he was Middle-eastern. The guy on my right was like mid-twenties and he was huge. Not fat huge but just huge huge. Anyway, so I'm sitting there cycling and listening to my ipod and I can hear this laugher. I look over and the huge guy is cracking up. I looked around to see if there was something funny going on or if there was something funny on TV. There wasn't. I figured he was listening to Brian Regan or something on his ipod. So I just sort of shrugged it off, figured he slipped and forgot he was in public. About a minute later the huge guy starts cracking up again and not like little chuckles under his breath. No, this was seriously like he was just laughing to his hearts desire and didn't care who heard him. This went on for the next twenty minutes. Every minute or so the huge guy would start laughing. Once he laughed so hard that he put his head back and gave the bike a smack with his hand. After that happened I looked over to my right to see if the Iranian guy was noticing. When I turned my head the Iranian guy was leaning forward on his bike, mouth open, staring at the huge guy. This made me laugh, then the Iranian guy started laughing, and the huge guy was already laughing so it was just the three of us cycling in a row and laughing. But here is the thing that makes this whole post come together. You would think that a huge guy laughing raucously at the gym and making a fool of himself would be really funny but it was only sort of funny. It was mostly creepy. Every time the huge man laughed I felt like he was part of some joke that I should know about and it gave me this eerie feeling. I'm not really sure why it creeped me out but it definitely did. But then, I realized that if I would have started singing the other day it would have probably been just as creepy. So here is the lesson: when you start joining in with something that nobody else can hear besides you, it's creepy--not funny.

Hi Dad

2009-03-25T22:55:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday! You are forty-five. For the next forty-five days I will buy you Frogurt!

Voices

2009-03-24T22:42:00.001-07:00

The title I've chosen sounds sort of creepy and because of that I think it is a bit misleading. This post won't be creepy at all so you can relax. I was aware of the creepiness of the word "voices" and I know the connotation that is has, ghosts and that sort, but I chose it anyway because it fits. It fits my subject exactly. I've realized lately that I'm addicted to voices, I think that most of us are. And most of us are probably unaware of it just as I was. Because I've chosen to major in English Literature I'm constantly having to read. I've practically majored in books, and since books are always written in someone's voice I've practically majored in voices. The voices of every major author from early American literature have been streaming into my head since I began my lit class in January. Tonight, I sat on my bed and read "Travels with Charley" I put my book down so I could drive Mary home. We talked all the way home as is usual for most everyone to do when they are with someone. As I backed out of Mary's driveway I reached for my radio dial but stopped myself before I could turn it on. I thought, "why I am compelled to always have some sort of voice surround me?" "Why can't I just be alone with myself for a minute?" So I tried it and found it extremely difficult. I was unable to make myself shut up. In my mind and sometimes aloud I would be thinking in sentences as if I were addressing another person. I hope that isn't weird. I talk to myself, doesn't everyone? But the thing is, I just wanted to be quiet and I couldn't do it. Is that what meditation is? Are you just quiet inside and you just listen to things whether they be actual sounds coming from actual objects around you or things that come from something spiritual? I've always thought meditating was weird. I put it in the same category as Yoga and camomile tea and a soft spoken voice. But I think I'll try it. I think it'd be nice just to be quiet inside--sort of Feng Shui my mind and find a way to shut myself up and just go deep within me and discover things. I'd like to break my addiction to voices and find comfort in the sound of nothingness because I think that nothingness can sometimes teach us more than voices.

My Favorite Portmanteau

2009-03-23T21:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Mary and I were talking. I meant to say, "I'm very pleased." But at the last second I changed my mind and wanted to say, "I'm very happy." What came out was, "I'm very plappy." And we laughed and laughed...and laughed. Mary kept doing little hypothetical situations like referring to your wedding day as the "plappinest day of your life." and things like "Plappy New Year!" Meanwhile, I was doubled over doing my old man laugh (you know, when nothing is coming out but this dry wheezing). Anyway, maybe this isn't funny to you but it happened yesterday and I still find it hilarious.

I WIN!

2009-03-22T22:57:00.000-07:00

The funny thing about blessings is that you never deserve them but you always get them cuz you try. That's how I feel about my life right now. Thanks for reading.

I'm terrified of cancer but not death.

2009-03-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

I have this fear of diseases. It's not huge and I'm not weird but it's still a fear I have. I'm terrified of cancer and osteoporosis and diseases like MS. Why? It's not because these things can kill you it's because they kill you slowly and take your life away before you're dead. I think my biggest fear is still being alive but not being able to live, still being on the earth but not being able to experience it fully. One of the things that gives me the most joy in life is being able to wake up in the morning and say, "Hmm...I think I'll go for a bike ride today." This is my idea of the worst life ever: waking up in the morning and saying, "Hmm...I would love to ride my bike today but I can't because I have cancer and I'm tired all of the time and I can barely get out of bed." I'd much rather be shot in the head, or drown, or burn alive then get cancer or diabetes or any other of the debilitating diseases. Today I added another fear to my list. Blindness. I was lying out in Mary's backyard and I looked over at this tree. The tree was blossoming in white. The background was blue because of the sky and then there was white again because of the clouds. I don't think I can explain how beautiful it was. I just laid there and stared a this tree with the sky and the clouds. And that is when I decided than I don't wanna lose my sight. I wouldn't want to live without it. So, I am now living my life in such a way that prevents cancer, diabetes, osteoporosis, MS, and blindness.

These Are Sound Ideas

2009-03-18T21:18:00.000-07:00

I'm having a great day, I really am. But I was just thinking about how much better of a day I'd be having if the following people were exiled:

1. Alice Walker

2. Whoever keeps buying candy around here.

3. Whoever (I think it's Mary) keeps making little splash marks on my bathroom mirror.

4. The inventor of faux leather. Seriously.

Or better yet, let's make a trade.

1. Let's get rid of Alice Walker and get more writers like Willa Cather (both of which are lesbians, I might add, so this isn't a clandestine attempt to get rid of gays).

2. Let's get the candy person to start buying yams.

3. Let's ditch the person who keeps splashing on my mirror and get more friends like Monica of off Friends.

4. Let's channel the creativity and scientific ability of the faux leather guy into something cooler like finding a way to get a Starbucks up in Rexburg.

See? Now don't you want to vote for me for Queen of the World?

I really don't like picky eaters

2009-03-02T17:04:00.000-08:00

"Are you sure that's pork? It looks an awful lot like chicken." I say to my sister as I eye her nachos. "Ya, I said "pork" to the guy and I watched him put it on there." "Well why is it white?" "I dunno, maybe it's the stuff they marinated it with." "Whatever, that's chicken. You're just telling me it's pork so that I won't eat any of your food." I say to JJ to which she replies, "I don't care if you eat my nachos, I was gonna throw the rest away anyway." I'm so sure of myself that I pick up a chip and slide it around the bottom of her Bajio tin, careful to avoid the guac--I don't like guac. The "pork" tastes like chicken too, although it's hard to tell because there were so many other flavors on my chip. So, I reach for a few more chips, pound them, and then go downstairs. I'm on the couch for about ten minutes before I have to switch my sitting place to the bathroom floor where I stare into my toilet wishing I could just throw up. "Ok, JJ wasn't lying. It really was pork."

It's been awhile since I've had red meat and I guess my body just can't handle it anymore. I quit about a year ago after I read in an online medical journal that a person who eats a serving size of lamb, beef, or pork a day is 250 times more likely to develop colon cancer than a person who has a serving of red meat monthly. I thought about that and how somewhere in the scriptures it says that you should only eat red meat in times of famine. The two opinions seemed consistent so I gave it up. I have a big fear of cancer.

My mom calls. "Hey I'm gonna stop and pick up dinner so what do you want?" "Oh, I don't care. As long as you can get something that doesn't have any red meat in it--Oh, or dairy--or corn--or white flour." I'm not asking too much, right?

I did a research project once about dairy cows and how dairy farmers pump their cows full of some hormone that makes the cow produce like fifty times more milk than it would on it's own. Then they inject their cows with some other hormone that makes the cows keep producing milk even after their calves don't nurse anymore. I also read that there is a small percentage of puss and blood in the milk. So I figure if God intended for us to drink milk he would have made cows produce it their whole lives and produce enough of it, right? Same with corn. Our bodies can't even digest it. So why would you eat a food that your body can't even digest? Plus, they feed corn to cows, and cows are disgusting. I never really liked dairy or corn that much anyway, it always made me feel kind of sick so I gave it up too. I still have sour cream occasionally though. I love sour cream.

I can't stand oatmeal

or olives

eww, or couscous--but I don't think anybody likes couscous.

I have a hard time with breads too, I usually pick the top piece of bread off of all my sandwiches.

Bananas are gross, same goes for mandarin oranges.

Today I'm with my sister, we're driving around doing wedding stuff and I bring my snack because I need to eat every two hours or I'll starve. I'm dipping my celery sticks into my peanut butter. It tastes pretty good but a half hour down the road I feel gross and I wish I could throw up. I'm beginning to see a trend. I eat peanut butter; I feel sick. So, I decide: No more peanut butter. Then I realize, "Oh my gosh! I'm a picky eater!" I never saw it before. I grew up thinking Nicole, who lived up the street, and didn't like tuna sandwiches was a picky eater and I'm way worse than she ever was. I never really liked people who were picky eaters. They're so needlessly high maintenance. But look, I've become one. But as the shock of my epiphany withers I realize that I like eating this way. I feel better than I used to and I don't miss any of the foods I've given up (except sugar, I'm still crazy in love with sugar) and all that stuff about cancer and cows sits well with me. So yes, I'm a picky eater. I've accepted it. I just have one request. How about instead of labeling me as "picky", we say something like "peculiar" or "thoughtful"? You could even go so far as the call me a "body listening eater" or maybe just "abnormally food conscious"?

So Maybe It's a Little Weird But...I Don't Care!

2009-02-24T22:49:00.000-08:00

I'm really excited about something.

Remember Verde, my avocado tree that I love?

Well, he just turned 1 and I thought it was time to expand my family. So, yesterday I went down and adopted TWINS!

They're mini rose bushes.

Would you like to know their names?

The one in the middle is Haches and the one on the right is Bourgeon.

They're French, Haches means hips and Bourgeon means bud. Get it? Because they're roses.

Well I liked it.

Anyway, I realize it's a little weird, eccentric, and possibly neurotic but I don't really care because I'm just so excited!

But don't worry, I'm not just like some crazy plant lady...at least not yet.

Lesson Learned.

2009-02-10T22:34:00.001-08:00

This post is mostly for me. Sorry world. I want it to serve as a reminder that I am extremely susceptible to colds, coughs, and the like.

I wish I could fire my immune system.

Last Saturday I skipped out on working out. That was the fist time in months. I didn't floss either (my dad always tells me that germs that make you sick can enter through your gums). Monday morning I woke up to scratchy throat syndrome and a head made out of rocks. Man, I only missed one day. Tough town.

So, coincidence? I'm not buyin. The next time I think it's okay to slack on my health endeavors I'm gonna remember the germs that make you feel like you're coughing up sandpaper and if that wasn't bad enough, breathing even feels abrasive. For now, I've moved the tissue box from the bathroom to my bedside table and I'm living off of herbal tea.

Note to self: keep your guard up.

Soupcon?

2009-02-08T01:29:00.000-08:00

I have this desire to write on my blog, but not much to say. I don't want to be one of those blah-blah-blah people but here I am, blah-blah-blahing.

I'm having trouble finding a medium.

I don't want to fill this with frivolous whatevers, but I want to be a little more light-hearted than I have been.

Perhaps pictures would be a good idea.

Or maybe that is stalker incentive.

Hmm...

...

........

...

Ok, I'll try it. But I'm going to start small.

This is a photograph of the most beautiful ring in the world.

I could not be more in love with it.

It's on Overstock.com for $600.

Some man is going to be very happy.

If You Are a Return Missionary, You're Obligated to Read This

2009-01-14T22:07:00.000-08:00

I need some advice. The other day I was flying home. It's been a long time since I've flown all by myself and I was a little nervous but I figured -Hey, it's a flight in to SLC, chances are it'll be full of Mormons and I won't feel that out of place- However, while I was at the gate, waiting to board, I looked around me and could see that I was one of two Mormons. I looked down the row of passengers: coffee cup, mini skirt, huge tat, more coffee [I was in Seattle], and I had Gordon B. Hinckley's Biography out like a red flag. I felt like everyone was staring at me and I think they probably were. I struck a little conversation with the woman next to me and felt everyone inch forward on their seats. Maybe I was just being paranoid. We chatted a little about this and that as we boarded the tiny plane. There were two seats on either side of the plane with an aisle down the middle. I was smart enough to reserve the window seat, the only problem with this was that when I got to my seat, the aisle-seater was already there, forcing me to either crawl over him or ask him to move. Of course, I chose the latter because I'm not a complete imbecile but I could only get, "Oh, sorry, um..." out before the aisle-seater was up and out of his chair, apologizing, lifting my carryon into the overhead storage, asking me if there was anything else I wanted to put up there, and back down in his seat with his hand out for me to shake. Ian. Ian....something...it started with an F. I introduced myself and by the time our plane left the runway I could tell you his occupation, how many children he has, their temperament, where his wife went to college, and all the details in between. Don't be mistaken, he wasn't a me-monster either. He asked plenty of sincere questions about my life: school, family, and the like. I found his company extremely pleasant and his kindness went well beyond rudimentary common courtesy.

I suppose this is where my bigotry shows itself. When I first saw him I figured he was a Mormon, parted hair, clean shaven, plaid shirt tucked neatly into his khakis and big, friendly grin. Definitely a cookie-cutter Mormon man, probably in the bishopric. My eyes were opened a little when we started talking, I mean, he said he only had two kids and he was in his forties, said he and his wife waited a long time to have kids, I figured that wasn't typical Mormon behavior and maybe he wasn't a Mormon. Then when I told him I had four sisters he used an exclamation that set it in stone. He definitely wasn't a Mormon. That was okay though, I like him. As instantaneously as I took a liking to Ian, I felt the desire to talk to him about the Gospel. I really wanted to talk to him about the Gospel but I couldn't think of any way to bring it up. The conversation dwindled a little, I brought out my ipod and book, and Ian pulled out a manila folder of "stuff [he'll] never get paid for." After a while, the stewardess came. I pulled out my ipod so I could politely listen to the peanuts-or-pretzels bit and then choose nothing. Ian ordered something from the mini-bar which he then mixed with tonic water, turned to me and asked what I was listening to. This sparked a conversation about music, he brought out his iphone and we flipped through his albums while he showed me all of his favorite alternative and indie bands. The conversation ended with Ian saying, "you can go ahead and listen to anything you want on here" tapping his iphone, "it's a great way to get a taste for new music." I should have said something, anything about the Gospel.

When we flew in to SLC and could see the snow-covered mountains all the way to Park City, Ian exclaimed, "Wow, I'd forgotten how beautiful Utah is, I should bring my family here" and I was thinking "sure, If you don't mind Mormons" but I never said it because I didn't know what he would say or what I would say if he did utter something about the Mormons. So I left it at that. We landed, Ian got my carryon down for me, wished me luck with everything, shook my hand and said what a pleasure it was to travel with me, and I was lost for words. What I wanted to say was, "Ian, you're an extraordinarily nice guy, I can tell you are a good person and that you like serving people. I can tell you have peace in your life. I know a way that you can have more. I know how you can be even happier. Will you please let me tell you about my God?" But I didn't, I just wished him luck with his business affairs and thanked him for getting my carryon down for me and now I can't stop thinking about him. He was ready, I know he was but I didn't say anything because I was too scared. Now I wonder what God will say when I die, will He bring Ian to me and say, "Do you remember Ian F...(We'll say Flanders, it's fitting) Remember Ian Flanders? He could have had the Gospel years earlier in his life if you would have been brave and shared your testimony with him on that plane"? Or will He point to Ian in spirit-prison and say, "That's Ian Flanders, he could be here with us now if you would have let your testimony help someone besides you"? And now I don't know what to do. I want to make a commitment to myself that I'm going to act the next time I feel the desire to talk to someone about the Gospel but that fear is still there, I have no idea what to say to someone, I'm not a returned missionary, I'm ill-versed in the scriptures and yet I know that I have a something to share. Does anyone have any advice about how to do that? Maybe when I introduce myself I could just say, "My name is Brittany and I'm a Mormon. Does that interest you at all? Would you like me to talk more about that because I'm itching to. That is what my testimony does. It sits on my tongue and claws at my lips to get out."

Don't Read This: I'm going mad

2008-12-09T00:46:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have something that you need to do but you're not sure how, so you just sit there and find ways to avoid it? But you know that it is a good thing and once you do it you will be so much happier but you still can't make yourself do it. Then you turn on your favorite band (Coldplay) and tell yourself that after "Green Eyes" you're going to start. But after "Green Eyes", "A Warning Sign" comes on and you like that one too so you say -ok after this one I'm going to start- but still more and more songs that you like come on and then you realize that you are listening to your favorite band in the world so of course you like all the songs too much to turn them off. Plus, you know them so well the familiarity is a comfort in and of itself. Because the thing that you are going to do after the entire "X&Y" album is so unfamiliar and foreign that is scares you to death and you realize that maybe that is why you can't make yourself do it even though you know its a good thing that will bless your life. So just knowing where Chris Martin's British accent is going to come through on some words and where it isn't brings some kind of peace your mind, and thats why you can't turn it off. Amen.

Let Me Explain...

2008-11-20T08:28:00.000-08:00

Last night I did something that I haven't done since...I don't know...1995? I don't even remember how it happened. I came in to Mary's room, sat on her bed, and we just started talking. Eventually I laid down next to her. I do remember taking my watch off. Then the next thing I know, its 7:40! I just up and realize that I'm still fully dressed in yesterday's clothes. My panic to get ready for my 8:00 class was dimmed by a little nostalgia as I remembered how I used to do this all the time as a little kid. Although I am not going to make an effort to repeat this oversight, IT FELT GREAT! Thank you life for reminding me what it feels like to defy social norms!

And also, on a completely unrelated note, I learned something about myself the other day that I thought I might share with the world. So as some of you may know, BYU - Idaho students are constantly being hit by cars and as a result I have developed a small complex for crossing the street. The other day, I stood at the cross walk by the Hart building and stepped out into the road. I was a little uneasy as I always am when I have to cross the street now that like 20 students have died. But as I walked my fear dissipated as I saw that the cars coming from each direction were stopping a good ten feet away from me. I was about 4 feet from the other side of the street when I looked down at the pavement and saw that I was now commencing to cross the bike lane. Fear and panic erupted in my mind as I cast my eyes from side to side to make sure that no bikers were coming. I jetted across the 3 feet that were left of the bike lane. Standing on the other side, I had a thought something like this "What the? What was that about?" I kept analyzing myself as I continued walking home. "Why was I ten times more afraid to cross the bike lane than I was to cross the street?" It couldn't be because I am more afraid of getting hit by a bike than I am of getting hit by a car, thats just stupid. Then I realized that it wasn't that I was more afraid of getting hit by a bike, I'm more afraid of annoying a biker than I am a driver. I have more respect for them. In my mind, it was a way bigger offense to obstruct a cyclist's path than to make a driver sit and wait for a few extra seconds. Maybe its just because I know that if I were cycling and someone just jumped out into the bike lane, I would have a fit. Anyway, thats just a weird thing that I learned about myself the other day, hope you found it interesting.

Something Weird is Happening to Me

2008-10-23T20:58:00.000-07:00

Before I start to ramble, may I just say that I'm pretty sure this post won't make any sense. The reason for that is because it doesn't really make sense to me, so that is why I've chosen to write about it. Amyway, with that being said, let me begin by introducing you to two people that I come in contact with on an almost daily basis. We'll call the first person Mr, and Ms will be the second. Now Mr is one of those people that everyone seems to love, except for me. Everyone loves how caring and spiritual he is, but I don't believe all of it. I believe that Mr is caring, and spiritual but that he commodifies these divine characteristic to make others like him. Self-righteousness? YES! Even the way he prays bothers me, which I am sure is revelatory to my character (I mean, most peopled probably don't get bothered by certain kinds of prayers, but as we have established in my previous posts, I do.) He would just use this airy, yet definite voice when addressing the Lord, like he was so in control of the situation. Anyway, that is enough about Mr. Now I have a similar feeling toward Ms, but not only did I sense that she was being ostentacious about her spirituality, but also about her friends and anecdotes about her life. And it was for these reasons that I took a particular dislike to these individuals.

Now for the weird part. The other day I was conversing with Mr and I got an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for him, and I had to restrain myself from wrapping him in my arms and telling him that I loved him. Then it got even weirder, I was overcome with gratitude for the things this person has done for me. But the things is, they haven't really influenced me that much, only about as much as every other person. But I didn't let on that I was experiencing anything, I simply beamed at them as they told me about something that I can't remember now.

A few days later, I was talking with Ms. She was doing her usual recital of whatever happened to her sometime, and it happened again. I was just filled with so much love for her, I wanted to hug her and squeeze her and tell her how much I loved her, and thank her for being a good person and for being acquainted with me. Those seem like weird things to thank someone for, so I didn't do it. I just did that thing where I looked at her with love and I couldn't stop smiling! After talking with her, I had that same feeling for everyone that I talked to, I wanted to hug them and tell them how much I loved them! Please say that you know what I'm talking about. Have you ever experienced this for no apparent reason?

The reason why I describe this feeling as "weird" is really three-fold.

1. I haven't been making a conscious effort to love people more or anything. You know, I haven't been making that my goal for the week or anything. In fact, I didn't really realize I was doing it.

2. I still don't really like those people, but I love them as much as I love the people I do like. I still feel like these people are a little self-righteous and I still don't like that, but it doesn't matter anymore. I just love them.

3. This might be the weirdest part of it. That day as I walked home from school, I was reflecting on the experience and I suddenly felt like crying. I wanted to cry because I hadn't been loving them the whole time, and for some reason that was heart-breaking for me. I wanted to go to them and apologize for not loving them. Kinda weird.

So...if anybody knows what is happening to me, please let me know. At first I wondered if I was just growing up, but then I remembered that I know plenty of adults who don't love others. So that can't be it. I don't know what is going on, but I think I would welcome more changes like this, guilt and all.

For Everyone Who Wants To Know How I Spend My Wednesday Nights

2008-10-15T23:51:00.000-07:00

I have homework. No surprise there. But did I do it? Well that depends on how you look at it. If by "homework" you mean completing the assignments that are incessantly being given to me, well I must say I shrugged that off. But, if when I say "homework" your mind is immediately filled with images of my roommates and I making up a ballet to a Renaissance opera. Then yes, I did my homework. Without going into any detail, I want to tell you something. Today was awesome! And then I danced in the kitchen, and it was awesome. And now all I want to do is watch "You've Got Mail". And then I will go to bed with a smile on my face, wake up tomorrow and be incredibly behind, and not even care because today I was nothing but blessed.

Excuse Me...May I Ask You a Question?

2008-10-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

Have you ever used the phrase "at this point in time" in a prayer? If so, then this blog is for you. If there is one thing I wish I could scream at the world it would be this. "WHY DON'T YOU ACTUALLY THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE SAYING?!?!?" Please excuse my rant, but on behalf of all of those who are tired of pat expressions and vain repetitions, I plead with you to say what you are actually thinking instead of categorizing your thoughts into a series of lame cliches. "At this point in time" is a particular bother to me. What does that even mean? Don't you think the Lord knows what time you asking for a particular blessing? Then why are you specifying what point in time you are asking for the blessing? Is it even possible to pray in past or future tense? Now, let me just apologize to the few readers of my blog for being a little negative, but this is something I want to say every time I hear that stupid expression, but I know that what's more important is the actual prayer and the actual blessings that are being asked for. It just touches a nerve, I dunno why. I'm really learning a lot about myself from this blogging thing, so thank you blogspot.com for letting me learn about myself. (and letting me influence a few people to use their own thoughts in their prayers)

If I Were an Asian...

2008-10-14T21:19:00.000-07:00

I would definitely not eat Chinese food for lunch, or at least I wouldn't eat it where everyone could see me. I was in the Nordic today and saw an Asian guy eating Chinese food. Of all the choices he could have made, he chose the one that would give stereotypes some hard evidence. If I were an Asian and trying to destroy all the misconceptions about Asians at BYU-Idaho, I would have been enraged at this guy. Either he was totally oblivious to what his food choice was doing for his fellow Asians, or he knew and didn't care. Either way, I had to stop and stare because it was so cliche, it was weird.

Just A Thought

2008-10-12T21:31:00.000-07:00

Whenever I hear someone say something like, "That person is so kind, they would give you the shirt off their back" it makes me wonder, "ok but seriously, how often is that asked of them?" Has anyone ever asked you for the shirt off your back? Didn't think so. What someone probably has asked you for was the last scoop of your ice cream or the front seat of the car. I'm in the same boat as you. Nobody has ever asked me for the shirt off my back, and I'm sure if they were that desperate I would give it to them. So you could categorize me as someone who would "give you the shirt off my back", but that doesn't really mean anything because there have been plenty of times when I was reluctant to sit in the back seat or didn't take the time to say "thank you". My mother can attest to this. I have been greedy, self-centered, ungrateful, covetous and a whole bunch of other terrible things, and yet, I'm confident I would still "give the shirt off my back". So what kind of a compliment is that? What they are practically saying is, "That person is so kind they would make large, showy sacrifices for whomever asked them." Well thats great and all, but I think a compliment that would say more about the person is something like, "That person is so kind they would let you pick the radio station in the car" And not only would that say more about that persons kindness, but it would say more about your ability to notice small acts of kindness. So I think I am going to delete (schwad) the phrase "the shirt off their back" from my vocabulary and replace it with something else like "return your library book for you."

Hmm..So much to say...

2008-10-06T21:42:00.000-07:00

Here is a really abstract thought...

In the past, I have had things that I was dying to write about, so I wrote them in my journal. That was great, except I would hardly ever let anyone see what I wrote. And that was fine with me. I'm a little different now. I want to tell someone, but there are two problems with that. I can't think of anyone that would totally understand it; plus, even if I could think of someone to tell all of this dribble to, I would be too scared to. Like what if they think I'm a terrible writer and my ideas really aren't original. What if my thoughts are just the same thoughts that everyone else has been having, then they really aren't mine at all. Also, I'm afraid to let people get super close to me, but thats a different story altogether. So I made this blog, but I'm going to keep it a secret. Of course I know that it isn't and that Ivor, Melynn, and my roommates already know about it. But just telling myself that no one is going to read it helps me to say what I really want to.

It's the perfect solution, I feel like I'm branching out and giving the world the opportunity to see my heart, I'm just not going to tell anyone that I put my heart out there. And if some person out there happens to stumble upon my blog, they can see it as luck or the lack thereof.

I would ask only one thing of them. Lets keep it a secret.

Dots Will Do For Now

2008-10-06T21:30:00.001-07:00

This post is for Melynn (and Spence). So i went to that website you suggested and HOLY COW! It's like a ton of work. So i was thinking we should have lil blogging party and you can teach me while i play with madelynn;) As for my present situation, dots will do for now.

I just realized something

2008-10-06T08:23:00.001-07:00

I don't know very much about baseball, but this makes sense to me. So you know how in baseball every once and a while someone hits the ball clear over the fence and then they proceed to jog around all the bases and come back exactly where they started? why? there is like no chance of them getting out, right? Why not just hit the ball over the fence, take a bow, and go sit on the bench. Makes sense to me.