Thursday, July 29

Hard Questions

Sometimes I step back and survey my life. And - contrasting all and every rule I've ever heard - it's perfect. In every way that possibly matters, it is pristine.

Why was I given this opportunity? We're told that we are to be tested to the edge of our ability - into the realm where we can only exist with Heavenly Father's aid. And sometimes I feel weak - untested. As if I'm not able or meant to handle difficult things. This isn't to say I'm asking for them, by any means. I am grateful for the life I live and the opportunities I am blessed with. But at the back of my brain there's a nagging - almost like a hook.

Why me? For what reason?

Lol, I'm already starting to feel guilty for questioning it. I have no reason to...

Hope ya'all know how much you bless my life...

Tuesday, July 27


So today I registered the first car to really be *mine*.  Lovely experience, I have to say.  I approached the DMV thinking grumpily that I hadn't remembered to bring a book.  However, like a dream, I strolled into the office, explained what I needed to the smiling ticket lady, received my call number, and, waiting not even five minutes, strolled up to the counter.  The woman was very kind.  She happily asked for the things she needed to do the deed (all of which I had remembered to bring), and within moments I was clutching - not only my registration - but my plates and stickers - which didn't need to come in the mail after all.

Smiling dreamily - about 10 minutes after I'd entered - I left the building and proceeded towards my car, thinking amiably about the hour or so I hadn't expected to have to study that evening, fumbling for my keys, wondering what I'd have for dinner when - it hits me -

My keys.

I walked towards my car, and - feeling utterly foolish - peered inside to see them smiling happily at me from the passenger seat.  Next to my phone.


Anyways.  As most do in my situation, I pounded the window a bit and asked the heavens grumpily why I couldn't win.  Then came the slow, steady realization that - despite having all the worlds technology and my plump American fingertips - it still sucked to be locked out of your car while I began the recognizable process of recovering access.

Contact random stranger, call home, no answer, contact another random (foreign!) stranger, call home (yes, the only phone number I have memorized besides like... Erin's or summat), no answer, check all doors for random miracle left unlocked door (none), walk home (stupid summer weather...), break into apartment (questionable security.  The girl sitting by the pool looked vaguely entertained), searched room, found Leslie's phone - managed to get through to Steph - phone died.  Couldn't find charger.  Had to run around and borrow ANOTHER cell phone, call home again.  Someone answers.  I get the phone numbers I need to contact the people who can help me, and then wait while William (angel he is) comes and picks me up after hauling his poor baby daughters out of the house when they're sick.  He drives me to the DMV where - thank HEAVENS - my timed-parking spot hasn't elicited me a boot.  Yay!

And that's my story for the day.  Aren't you proud.  ;)  Whenever things like this happen, I will spend the first few minutes grumbling.  Then, inevitably (my family hates this) I will begin to play the Pollyanna game.  For instance, I will think to myself gratefully, today might have been a work day.  If I was needed at Zubs I'd have been late!  Or, for instance, wasn't I so very lucky to have the extra key in such close proximity?  Or also, I'm so lucky to have a car to get locked out of!  I had much time to talk to myself as I walked home, and I talked up quite a storm of 'whys' and 'hows' and 'I'm so very blessed'... Sometimes I can't help but despise myself when I'm upset - about anything.

Wednesday, July 21


Recently I had a reasonably deep discussion with my sister (as we were brushing our teeth. Which means, it can't have seemed that deep or even managed to BE that deep. Foaming mouths and lengthy pauses in conversation as individuals vigorously spit do not allow for such. Feel free to argue this point, I will not acquiesce.)

People are spoken of having "bubbles". Comfort zones, 'mormon' bubbles, safety rings, what have you - boundaries in which they reside that exist simply because they have a lack of communication or experience with the other side. These can be expanded, manipulated, or carefully maintained. But all in all, we recognize they exist and - often - are ashamed to admit them. Especially where morality, etc are concerned.

I am one of these ashamed people. This is one of the reasons I dislike sports so much (yes, there are ability bubbles.) I am very VERY ill at sports and at competition in general. I get anxiety out of the wahzoo and I despise every minute of it... But these bubbles are some that I am unwilling to expand.

I am fully aware of my Mormon-girl happy family comfort bubble, and I admit I often feel silly when my 'wiser, more educated' friends discuss something outside of that bubble. I feel foolish and - depending on the subject matter - usually seek to educate myself subtly so as to be fully involved in the conversation. I'm pretty good at this.

But what about comfort zones that we feel like we have expanded - that really still exist in reality? For instance, in a movie we watch people brutally murder each other, we play video games where we hack and slash creatures apart or shoot each other point-blank, etc etc. Yet any number of individuals who experience such violence will faint at the sight of blood, freak out at the sight of injury, spook at the sight of a spider. What are these semi-permeable reality zones that have been created? I can calmly discuss multiple ways to kill someone with toilet paper with one of my friends, and yet the idea of going hunting with my dad and killing/gutting an animal makes me shrink away. I can refer to Erin as a pedophile, discuss rather lengthily with her all the ways in which our ward perceived us to be Lesbians, watch and enjoy movies like Moulin Rouge, etc. Yet I hear of someone raping a child, or hear news of a prostitution ring in Utah Valley and feel sick or horrified. What is the difference between these two realms?

Just curious. And then there are some that cannot be "semi permeated" in this manner. For me, witchcraft, violent, severe mental disturbance and Satanism are some of these. In fiction, in movies, in reality, in anything - these things frighten or disgust me no matter the manner of portrayal. I can't stand scary movies with 'disturbed, dark spirits' that haunt and destroy the living, men who mutilate and torture people, keeping body parts in their freezers or sacrificing creatures or being involved in cults, heresay of people who actively invite Satan into their homes - their lives - so as to further their lives in some twisted manner or other.

Do I sound simple-minded or silly to anyone? A friend of mine suggested a book to me when I was in high school. As I got further and further into the book - which turned out to be an innocent teenage fiction about a Wiccan group of high schoolers and their random adventures - I couldn't finish. There wasn't anything directly spooky or gross or anything. The very underlying concept of realistic witchcraft was too much for me. (Meanwhile I can read 'Angels and Demons' without a problem, happily entertained with a murderous hassassin trailing after and brutally murdering innocent men, and then going to reward himself with prostitutes and power-hungry acts of a similar nature.)

Explanation please? What is the difference between these? What determines these zones - permanent and non-permanent, etc? And how are they different person to person? Almost everyone I know gets a kick out of a film like The Grudge or Silence of the Lambs or Sweeny Todd. Yet these things repel and frighten me more than anything else. By contrast, I will enjoy Gladiator, Taken, 'Wait Until Dark', or Sixth Sense... There are similar elements in all of these. But how and where have I placed the line?

Anyways, this is very much just a ramble. It's on my mind. Feel free to ignore or input. ;)

Friday, July 16


Time is rather silly. As I was doing homework today (for about half an hour but what seemed like four,) I found my mind drifting lazily in the direction of next year's classes as well as contemplating blandly the fact that I have two missionaries out - one that will be home in four or so months (after what seems like maybe half a year) and one that has been out for about six months (after what has seemed like three weeks.) Then I thought vaguely about how I want to go on a mission myself next year and found myself - no joke - glancing at the clock to see how long it would be in months till I could go.

Funny what you catch yourself thinking or doing, eh?

Back to accounting.

An Update, Perhaps?

So... I'm getting good at this disappearing off of the face of the earth thing. ;) How can you measure a person's daily personal interaction level? I suppose it would depend on how long it would take for someone to realize if the person had died. (Morbid, but stick with me here.) Right now (and for much of school) I've been in a rather distant position. Take, for instance, today. If I had been kidnapped/killed/what have you last night as I left Zubs, for instance, let's calculate how long it would take:

This morning - my roommates would likely not notice, seeing as I often spend the night at my house anyways.
KBYU (first job.) - likely as not my absence would generate curiosity in the receptionist who keeps the keys I use, but otherwise, I'm basically invisible during the course of the job. A few things wouldn't get done, but nothing major.
Grounds Crew - I'm essentially a "volunteer" in that regard, so no luck there.
Zubs - I admit, when the time came for me to come in, people would be a bit more frustrated than worried. Steve would likely notice that - although usually punctual - I'd mentioned that the grounds crew might keep me a bit late. He has a good enough opinion of me that I imagine - hopefully - my absence would generate concern. But, with no one able to contact me on my cell, they'd likely find someone to manage for the night and no one would notice.
The next day, however, when I didn't show up for work AGAIN, there'd be some difficulties. However, Zubs has no real way to contact my family - seeing as their only connection to me is a cell phone. (*makes a mental note to include home phone on time card from now on*) So, there'd be nothing to do in that regard.
I'm going on a date tomorrow night. Since I've never met the kid, he'll likely think I just - rudely and badly - stood him up.
Sunday will come. At this point, Leslie will come home from the apartment and - at that point - realize that I've not been at the apartment or at home. Perhaps she'll call a few of my friends and - realizing that they haven't seen me - figure that I've gone to church somewhere random (which I tend to do) and I'll be home that night.
Which, when I don't, I imagine - FINALLY - it will become apparent that I'm dead or dying or whatever. Chaos ensues.

Interesting concepts. :) I bet I could get away with 72 hours... but probably not more than that. No wonder in mystery books, etc, people are always finding random corpses in their bathtubs or whatever. All these lonely people... I'm very fortunate to have so many acquaintances who care about me and wonder where I am...

Wow, I need to get back to work.

Disclaimer: some of you who are paranoid are now wondering if I've started questioning life's purpose and talking about murder. Please please please don't take such indications. You all know I'm happy with life/etc, and I have no reason to write about my own death in such a lighthearted way besides the fact that - ironically - I have no desire whatsoever to die/be killed at this point.