Weekly Updates: Chapter One

i've decided that since I have so much time on sundays (church doesn't start until 1:30 (i'm going to die on fast sundays)), that I'll give my blog readers (all 10? of you) a little update on how I'm doing here at college, since I know there are some of you who worry about me.


So far, life's been good. it was hard to say goodbye to my dad, but after he left, things were better. Well, mostly. We arrived just as they closed the main office, and they're only open from 9-5 M-F, so I am currently keyless and stuck here until I get my own key. (Unless I go out with my roommates/borrow someone's key)


Since I've been kind of landlocked, I've found stuff to do. Since homework is, at this point, nonexistant, i've started up crocheting again. I learned how to do it several years ago, learning from the best: my mother.


There was a relief society activity where the sisters were taught how to crochet. I was in Young Women's at the time, and they were invited to join the relief society if they wanted to. so together, my mom and I started on making dishcloths.


Our finished products showed our skill level. My mother's was perfect, years of pracice showing through. Mine was longer, and far from the fished version my mother had. Mine was wider in some parts and skinnier in others. And yet...
Despite its imperfection, i'm proud of that dishcloth. I made, it, all on my own, with a little help from my mom. Now, as I'm making this one, it's much better than my last attempt. So far, it's staying square in shape. And everytime I make a link, i think of how this simple act of crocheting links me to my mother. How small and simple acts bind us together. What once was a crazy craft that my fingers and hands couldn't do, now is something i'm proud I can do.


I think Mom would be proud of me, too.

Back to School

I remember when back to school time was so much fun. There were new clothes, new shoes, and a occassional new backpack. And suddenly, when I got to college it all changed. Maybe it was because I was paying for everything myself...maybe it was growing up, but back to school became scary. Before, not a lot changed. The people were mostly the same in class. the school itself was the same. Except for in Junior high and high school. And then college came, and back to school became terrifying.


Everyone was new and different. Every year I would live in a new place. Nothing was the same. The joy of back to school stuff is lost in the dread that I am moving out. I am leaving home and all I care about. Not even the joy of being on my own can fill that void of being away from home.


sure, the people make a house a home. And I want to feel at home. To know I'm loved, and wanted and safe. I want to be home. Be home no matter where I am. No matter where the road of life may take me. I want to be home.


There's no place like home.

The Miracle of August 19th/20th

I was in my first car wreck last night. My friends and I were dropping off one of our other friends. We realize we're about to miss our exit. As we get to the off-ramp, we lose control. All I remember is left, right, and then I was upside down. I see the outlines of my friends unbuckling themselves and dropping to the roof of the car. As I'm hanging there (seatbelts work! wear them!) my first thought is, "We just crashed." My next thought is, "What do I do now?"


I was expecting pain. Lots of pain. And blood. yet there was nothing. All I know is that I'm hanging upside-down in car that just crashed. My friend releases me and I am free from the car. We crawl out the doors, and we start checking for injuries.


There are none. None of us are injured. We have a few cuts from getting out, but other than that, we're all fine. the driver breaks down into tears. My friends and I hug each other tight. All things considered, we should have been in much worse shape. We were going freeway speed (a little faster actually) when we lost control. I'm in shorts and flip-flops and there's no glass embedded anywhere in me.


My defense mechanism for stressful situtations must be humor. Or maybe it's me being optimisitc, who knows? But I start listing off the positives that have occurred. I start babbling how cool it is that we're sitting on an off-ramp. Further more, I'm grateful I don't have to be rushed to a hospital where they stick an IV up my arm and..ugh...can't even think of that right now. None of us have to go the hospital.


I consider texting my dad at this point, when I realize that I need to hear his voice. So I call, tell him I'm okay, my friends are all okay, and that I love him. As I hang up the phone, I start to cry. But it's gone quickly as, maybe subconciously, I need to be optimistic me.


The cops show up, legal business ensues, and as I'm riding home it hits me: I could have died. The thought never crossed my mind as we clambered out of the car. Not once in that space of a hour and a half did I think my life might have ended. At this, I start to cry, grateful for the fact that I'm alive, that I get to go home and hug my dad and tell him I love him.


I think my mom was there that night. I didn't have any visions or hear any voices. My life didn't flash before my eyes. But, considering we all got out of that car unscathed (well physically. Emotionally it was a ride for all of us), and that the car's airbags didn't deploy which probably would have trapped my friends in the front seat (I was in the backseat), we had to have had heavenly help.


So, a thank you to my Heavenly Father for keeping me safe that night, and sending me divine help when I needed it most. And thank you for knowing exactly which people needed to be there when the accident occured. Had it been just me, I don't know what I would have done. Also, to whoever decided to invent seatbelts: Thank you. You probably saved all of my friends lives that night.


You wanna hear something funny? As we're going into the crash, i plug my nose. Because I don't want ot get a bloody one. Or like, i'm going into a swimming pool or something and that's gonna protect me. yeah, my survival insticts are weird.

Change

I have never been one to change something about my life. Yet the old saying goes, "The only constant in life is change." Why though? why can't things that are good enough stay that way? Why do we have to lose something so great? Even if we get something better in return, we still look back on the past because...well, it was good.


Some changes i like. LIke, new nieces and nephews and friends. Some changes...I don't know how i feel about. Friends getting married, for example. Yes, i'm happy you all found your one true love. I just worry the flames are gonna die sooner than you think. And then you'll get into an argument and someone will say something that kills the relationship.


There's just so much change in my life right now, I almost can't stand it. Friends are getting married right, left, and center, making me feel like I have to do it too. I'm getting ready to move back to school and I have new roommates again. And I'm nervous. Nervous that a repeat of last year is gonna happen again. Where I'll get so close...and then have it all ripped away from me again. I don't want that to happen. but, once bitten, twice shy. And i know change is a good thing sometimes. Emphasise on the some of sometimes.


Then again, you're looking (metaphorically, of course) at the girl who didn't want to get her bangs cut in the first place. And now I don't want to change them to anything else.


I just don't understand why people want to change something when it's already so good. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Enough

I don't normally get mean and angry about things, but this is something I despise. I hate how, no matter what the actual weight is, girls call themselves fat. And it's as if this three letter adjective erases all other qualities about them. Never mind that their smart or clever, it's all nothing because they're fat. Never mind that they have a gorgeous smile and their laughter is contagious because they're fat. I hate how girls who are in great shape go to the gym because they think they're fat. (this may not be the case, but you have to admit, it goes through your head when you see those skinny girls working out). And if that's the skinny girls thinking they're fat, what do the girls who are a little larger feel? That they're morbidly obese?


And where do the girls get this idea that they're fat and not worth anything? Stupid magazines with photoshopped pictures. Yes, girls, those skinny models you see there, looking like they're slightly constapated? I'll bet you 9 of 10 photos are photoshopped. there are people who are paid to make people look skinnier. and you know something? It's ridiculous.


Beauty is found within. Even the prettiest girl in the world is ugly if she's a stuck up brat. But you know something? Being pretty isn't really worth much. So what if you've got the looks you've always wanted? What about your personality? That's what's the most beautiful about you. Not your weight or your hair color or style. That should all be a reflection of the girl inside. No, the woman inside.


Enough is enough. Just smile and list your talents rather than say, "I'm so fat."

Fixing my tower on the rocks.

I'm going to tell this metaphorically, so bear with me here.


Once upon a time, my life was pretty much perfect. My family loved me, i had great friends, and the worst thing I'd ever gone through was trek. My tower was tall, beautiful, and there was nothing wrong with it.
And then the storm of life began. My foundation for my tower was built on three rocks, my family, my friends, and of course, the Rock. The Rock of my Salvation. But, well, I didn't trust that Rock as well as I should have. Maybe though, in the back of my mind, I knew I could count on that Rock. It wasn't about to fail me.
My family rock suddenly developed a huge crack. And the best we could do was fix it. But the crack kept getting worse, until finally, a huge piece slipped into the sea. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.


A huge part of my tower had been on that rock, and so my wonderful tower tilted, and a lot of it fell into the sea. what made matters worse is that I was now in charge of piecing my tower back together on my own. My other family members had their own towers to fix.
So as the storm raged on, I started building again. I moved everything away from the broken rock and rebuild the foundation further in. My biggest supports though, were coming from my friends, and of course, the third Rock.
Suddenly without any warning, I heard the sound of the rock breaking. Prepared, I grabbed mortar and tried to fix what had gone wrong with my friend rock. But the mortar wasn't strong enough, and my tower collapsed further.


And then, after some time of fixing and repairing and doing the best I could, I was given more things to be placed in my tower: finding a job, getting a college degree, paying for school, getting on my own, growing up, getting married, finding a boyfriend, getting my life in order...and as I tried to shoulder all of these extra unneeded burdens, I collapsed in tears. I realized my tower wouldn't ever be perfect again. I was fed up, tired, and the extra burdens weren't helping at all.


So I plunked down to the third Rock, and started talking to it. "I can't do this. I can't make my tower go back the way it was. I have too much to do. Too much that I can't handle right now."
To my surprise, the Rock spoke back. "You haven't trusted me enough. The other two rocks are good, to be sure. But they are susceptible to the elements, to decay. They will not always be there to support you when you need it most. Trust me. I will never collapse on you. You will be able to get through your burdens, and they will become your greatest gifts. Build your tower on me. Though it won't be quite perfect, it will never fall into the sea."


So I take what I can and start over. Right now, I'm trying to trust myself to trust that third Rock. With that Rock, I know that it will support my tower in all I do. but I'm scared, because...well, that Rock is invisible. I know it's there. It has to be in order for my tower to stand at all. but part of me is scared that the Rock won't be there. that the support beam will just slip right into the ocean, never to be seen again. But the truth about the Rock is, that during the darkest, most terrible storms, that is when it is the most visible. When the sky clears, it fades away, but is still as solid as ever.


So right now, I'm trying to rebuild. Given my current standing in life, it's not easy. the memory of the rocks collapsing into the sea is still very fresh and sharp in my mind. yet, I know it'll be okay. That third Rock has yet to fail me. And so do the other two...in their own ways.