Reading does the most glorious things for my spirit and soul. Mysteries and thrillers and teen fiction and chick lit and existentialist nonsense that makes my head hurt. It all works so beautifully in restoring a sense of balance. Especially that gigantic book that contains four books all in one.
Nearly 2 years ago I made a really intense personal decision to take a massive leap forward in my relationship with God, and in my spirituality. Last Fall I kind of found myself in a situation of stagnancy, and finally, after about a year of being frustrated and lazy, I'm pushing myself out of it. And it feels glorious.
This is a teaser of sorts. There's something I really want to share with you. I just wanted to prep you to see more sensitive things about faith again. It's not that I've lost it, or questioned it, but rather been quiet. Sometimes, however, things happen that you simply can't help but want to shout about.
To be continued.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
gilded amber.
Whenever I speak about where I'm from, I always feel mildly deceitful, because where I feel I'm from hasn't actually been my home in years. It has the prettiest seasons - each one begins wonderfully and goes through the full phase before transitioning, unlike Utah where the seasons are bipolar and you're left to wonder what time of year it actually is. Spring is usually really wet, summer is really humid, fall is really crisp, and winter is really cold. They're that perfect sort of balance where the humidity makes everything a little more intense, and yet you don't feel as though you're going to die from the temperature extremes (granted you have a long puffer coat because that humidity seeps through your bones).
I'm like the vast majority of women. I like fall. I like leaves and I like them when they're orange and yellow and amber and I like them when they fall into delicate patterns around the trees. Connecticut has the most glorious Fall colors and air - they say springtime is renewal, but to me Fall is far more renewed.
Part of explaining to everyone why Connecticut feels like home is a long, expansive explanation that requires going into my backstory and family history and long, sad tales. So whenever I say, "it's this quaint town in the very southern tip of Connecticut," I hope and pray they'll take it and not say, "but wait... you've been in Utah for ten years!"
There are all of those cheesy sayings about how home is where the heart is or where the hearth is or some variance of the word heart, and while I see the value in trying to quantify that sort of feeling, I know that I feel it...but can only describe it in strange terms. Because home is where I felt the most at ease with what home is supposed to feel like, and I'm willing to bet it's not what you expect in the slightest. My upbringing was pretty strange. I was the epitome of the over-programmed kid, home schooled and awkward and all. I was a figure skater and a ballerina and a pianist and a singer and I devoured every book I could get my hands on from the library where I volunteered. Summers were always a tad frustrating because I didn't have the same schedule I was so used to, so I always relished when my birthday came around. Not because my birthday was ever anything exciting (I didn't really have friends, so I never had parties), but because the end of August always started smelling a little different. And with that smell came new piano pieces from Yoshie, a new school year regulated by my mom, new leotard colors for the next level in my progression, and a new schedule to grow accustomed to.
I sincerely hope my parents never feel sadness in the reality that I don't associate home with family activities or dinners, because we just didn't have any of those. My family is what it is, and I love it for its dysfunction and oddities, and I love those who are my family (a list I expand to more than just blood relation these days). But that doesn't change the truth that to this day when I think of home, I feel the presence of the ballet studio where I spent hours upon hours trying to get my feet to be better. The living room in Yoshie's house where I spent hours upon hours trying to convince her I'd practiced when I hadn't. The small, winding roads where I spent hours upon hours gazing at how beautiful our landscape was.
Each time I drive to my pilates class, I pass through a little curvaceous, wooded area where the traffic lights and roads aren't in perfect grid, and for about 6 seconds or so, I feel like I'm home again. It's strange, and maybe even mildly pathetic, but I love those short seconds where Salt Lake City turns into New Canaan in my head.
As interesting as my family life was and has been, my version of home also includes a family that's still basically together. I never say that to anyone, because I definitely don't crave any form of pity - I have an amazing life and family, and there are so many more who cannot say that - but there is a measure of completeness that I associate with Connecticut. It was where my parents were married and my siblings came to visit. It's where I fell in love with ballet and classical music and books. It's where my testimony was cultivated. It's where I found joy in reading a book in a wooded area surrounded by fallen leaves. It was before the pain and angst of depression and divorce and dying dreams.
I don't think I'll ever be able to go back, because I doubt it will live up to my memories. Memories are distorted, particularly after difficult life experiences, and it's become so romantic in my head. Magical, even. It's not fair to hold it to those expectations, and while I'd love to raise my children in those same surroundings, it's probably more realistic to just love those images I've stored away, and find a new place that will cultivate love and calm in a different way.
But what will never change are those glorious, perfect fall leaves. So maybe there is still a little bit of home left there, after all.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
inflect.
When I was 14 years old I started journaling, without any sort of lock or password, on LiveJournal. I don't remember how I found it or why I even started doing it, but it's fun (and funny) for me to look back on who I was 14 and a half years ago, and what I thought of the world around me, and who I was trying and hoping to be. My story at fourteen is sort of a strange one, because I turned fourteen in California with my mom in this little house with a garage that didn't really work and a life away from the one I had felt more comfortable with. In fact, I even went to an Art's high school. It doesn't always feel like that was me - the nerdy girl with blondish hair and bad teeth and really long, lurpy limbs. Who went by Jenny (or was it Jennie at that time? I could never make up my mind). And glasses. That was an important factor. One of my best friends at that high school was ALSO named Jennie G. So I was Jennie G. with glasses.
The next year I moved to Utah and became Jen and got contacts and quit it with the blonde highlights.
But at OCHSA (Orange County High School of the Arts) I was awkward and strange and was lucky enough to have Mrs. Todd as my English teacher who taught me how nice it was to have a notebook and a pen with which things could be resolved... or at least understood a little bit better.
Maybe it seems strange to you, but when I had that pen and that little hardcover journal that I think had pale green stripes, I felt like the pen gave me a way to connect to home. There's a little piece of me that still wants to connect to that girl, the one who would run up the steps to her dance studio every day, and who would practice for hours (even if begrudgingly) at the piano, and who would live for the church activities on Tuesdays or Wednesdays (especially if it meant seeing a Mr. Alex Ohrn on whom I had a MAD crush forever). Sometimes I see her living in a different dimension that's stuck in the year 2000 or 2001, happy and content with the humid summer changing into the fall leaves. And I like to think that she's always happily doing developes and working on her turn out and learning more Bach and Chopin.
Because the girl who lived to see September 2001 lost a lot and never really got it back.
I don't like talking about that day because it makes me sick. Literally. It makes me feel things I don't like feeling. Shame and depression and panic and anxiety. It reminds me of my mom screaming and early morning seminary and family members who worked on Wall Street and being forced to go to school despite not speaking with those family members. I also feel silly because it became this ridiculous cross I bore visibly every day at school: I wasn't willing to face the pain and agony of losing my identity back in Connecticut, and I certainly wasn't ready to look at what had just happened to my family, so I used a terrorist attack instead. I looked at all of those tanned kids in California with what was certainly the same sort of fear I felt, and I hated them because of geographic location. I despised the house in which I lived, and the school I attended, and that haughty anger became my coping mechanism.
Looking back, it was a dumb way to respond, but I've never been great when it comes to dealing with pain. And yes, I have just managed to turn a national tragedy into something about me - sadly my narcissism knows few bounds.
These days I struggle with the openness with which everyone addresses it, not because I think I'm above anyone's form of grieving, but because I look at how much hatred still exists and how backwards we can be when it comes to other religions and ethnicities, and it sickens me almost as much as those smokey images do. The way things were sensationalized are gross and even crude. There have been movies made and politicizing and fear mongering and it makes me crazy. There are literally millions of stories and perspectives with regard to that event, and to pretend that my life story is more important than someone else's, particularly one that lost a life, is selfish and unfair.
But then again, human suffering is kind of selfish and unfair, and regardless of how you were affected or where you were or how you remember it, it was a turning point. For me it was a kind of cliched loss of innocence, as it made the numerous separations surrounding my situation more real and solid and tangible, and when the haze lifted, and I saw what the world was capable of, I began to really understand fear.
Luckily for me I had that pen and notebook.
The next year I moved to Utah and became Jen and got contacts and quit it with the blonde highlights.
But at OCHSA (Orange County High School of the Arts) I was awkward and strange and was lucky enough to have Mrs. Todd as my English teacher who taught me how nice it was to have a notebook and a pen with which things could be resolved... or at least understood a little bit better.
Maybe it seems strange to you, but when I had that pen and that little hardcover journal that I think had pale green stripes, I felt like the pen gave me a way to connect to home. There's a little piece of me that still wants to connect to that girl, the one who would run up the steps to her dance studio every day, and who would practice for hours (even if begrudgingly) at the piano, and who would live for the church activities on Tuesdays or Wednesdays (especially if it meant seeing a Mr. Alex Ohrn on whom I had a MAD crush forever). Sometimes I see her living in a different dimension that's stuck in the year 2000 or 2001, happy and content with the humid summer changing into the fall leaves. And I like to think that she's always happily doing developes and working on her turn out and learning more Bach and Chopin.
Because the girl who lived to see September 2001 lost a lot and never really got it back.
I don't like talking about that day because it makes me sick. Literally. It makes me feel things I don't like feeling. Shame and depression and panic and anxiety. It reminds me of my mom screaming and early morning seminary and family members who worked on Wall Street and being forced to go to school despite not speaking with those family members. I also feel silly because it became this ridiculous cross I bore visibly every day at school: I wasn't willing to face the pain and agony of losing my identity back in Connecticut, and I certainly wasn't ready to look at what had just happened to my family, so I used a terrorist attack instead. I looked at all of those tanned kids in California with what was certainly the same sort of fear I felt, and I hated them because of geographic location. I despised the house in which I lived, and the school I attended, and that haughty anger became my coping mechanism.
Looking back, it was a dumb way to respond, but I've never been great when it comes to dealing with pain. And yes, I have just managed to turn a national tragedy into something about me - sadly my narcissism knows few bounds.
These days I struggle with the openness with which everyone addresses it, not because I think I'm above anyone's form of grieving, but because I look at how much hatred still exists and how backwards we can be when it comes to other religions and ethnicities, and it sickens me almost as much as those smokey images do. The way things were sensationalized are gross and even crude. There have been movies made and politicizing and fear mongering and it makes me crazy. There are literally millions of stories and perspectives with regard to that event, and to pretend that my life story is more important than someone else's, particularly one that lost a life, is selfish and unfair.
But then again, human suffering is kind of selfish and unfair, and regardless of how you were affected or where you were or how you remember it, it was a turning point. For me it was a kind of cliched loss of innocence, as it made the numerous separations surrounding my situation more real and solid and tangible, and when the haze lifted, and I saw what the world was capable of, I began to really understand fear.
Luckily for me I had that pen and notebook.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
only the young.
It's becoming a bit of a habit for me to write up a little blurb for my birthday, and let's face it, I love routine and tradition and nostalgia, but while the years before have been a little more humorous, I'm a little more subdued this week. I'd blame it on old age, but seeing as the only thing I wanted for my birthday was the Bloomsbury Harry Potter set, I don't think that's it. If anything, on this day upon which I hit that quarter of a century, I feel really young.
Recent events have had me quieter than usual, pondering how everything has come about and what my involvement has been, or in some cases hasn't been.
Yesterday was an exhausting day as I left Provo early in the morning with college friends and roommates to go help our college roommate and friend say goodbye to her beautiful and sweet husband. His death isn't one I feel comfortable writing about, but I will say that it was tragic and happened far too soon for this world. I sat marveling at the remembrance of such an extraordinary human being, and then marveled further at my friend's remarkable courage and strength.
I felt a lot of shame, too. I've not always been the best sort of friend. I don't always keep in touch, and sometimes I let my selfish desires get in the way, and there are times I'd rather be alone than cultivate those relationships.
It was humbling.
My 25th year was relatively easy. I found a job that I love, made new relationships that I cherish, and rebuilt the support system that has been so integral to my functioning as a normal human being. The mistakes I made were a little bit different than those I'd made before - to the extent where I feel as though I actually am beginning to grow up and be an adult. In a lot of ways I feel as though I've come full circle. My hopes used to be along the lines of finding a husband and making money and improving my makeup collection and learning how to do new things, and in a lot of ways I still hope for those things (although I don't have any room left for more makeup), but my desires for the year during which I say I'm 25 are different.
I'd like to become the person you can count on. I want to be someone you can reach out to when you're troubled, or when you need a listening ear. It means I need to stop talking so much, and I need to stop being so selfish, and I need to be a more charitable human being. I want you to feel confident in your trust of me - that you know I will always be genuine and real. I want to be more aware of my surroundings and those within the vicinity, that I can be an emotional force for good in the lives of those who might need it.
Don't you worry. I'm not entirely just solemn today. I bought myself new Pilates reformer classes and I got to help a girl for a pageant (and people, she's going to be a force to be reckoned with) and I ate a cupcake and I'm tempted to go take a nap and I get to see my unique and wonderful version of family later tonight.
Because in short, life is good.
Recent events have had me quieter than usual, pondering how everything has come about and what my involvement has been, or in some cases hasn't been.
Yesterday was an exhausting day as I left Provo early in the morning with college friends and roommates to go help our college roommate and friend say goodbye to her beautiful and sweet husband. His death isn't one I feel comfortable writing about, but I will say that it was tragic and happened far too soon for this world. I sat marveling at the remembrance of such an extraordinary human being, and then marveled further at my friend's remarkable courage and strength.
I felt a lot of shame, too. I've not always been the best sort of friend. I don't always keep in touch, and sometimes I let my selfish desires get in the way, and there are times I'd rather be alone than cultivate those relationships.
It was humbling.
My 25th year was relatively easy. I found a job that I love, made new relationships that I cherish, and rebuilt the support system that has been so integral to my functioning as a normal human being. The mistakes I made were a little bit different than those I'd made before - to the extent where I feel as though I actually am beginning to grow up and be an adult. In a lot of ways I feel as though I've come full circle. My hopes used to be along the lines of finding a husband and making money and improving my makeup collection and learning how to do new things, and in a lot of ways I still hope for those things (although I don't have any room left for more makeup), but my desires for the year during which I say I'm 25 are different.
I'd like to become the person you can count on. I want to be someone you can reach out to when you're troubled, or when you need a listening ear. It means I need to stop talking so much, and I need to stop being so selfish, and I need to be a more charitable human being. I want you to feel confident in your trust of me - that you know I will always be genuine and real. I want to be more aware of my surroundings and those within the vicinity, that I can be an emotional force for good in the lives of those who might need it.
Don't you worry. I'm not entirely just solemn today. I bought myself new Pilates reformer classes and I got to help a girl for a pageant (and people, she's going to be a force to be reckoned with) and I ate a cupcake and I'm tempted to go take a nap and I get to see my unique and wonderful version of family later tonight.
Because in short, life is good.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
kick in the pants.
I've needed one.
Because I'm annoyed with the way things are right now. I'm annoyed with how things have turned out over the last little while and it annoys me to realize that all I can do is just keep living and having faith.
It's annoying.
Especially because I can't stay a melancholy mess for too long. It started with my little kick into gear a couple of weeks ago. And then, because of a silly little song tonight, I want to be alive again.
I'm sick of being frustrated with the stagnation I experience here. There's nothing I can do right now about the state in which I live, so I'm just going to embrace it and move forward and hope that I can learn a few things in preparation for moving away from this place. And I need to remember that I love my family dearly, and someday I won't get to live in the same house with all of them, next to a perfect pool, playing with my nieces during my spare hours.
So tomorrow I'm going to try to get my large butt out of bed and to the gym and back to living. Because holy hell I'm turning 25 this year, and even if I'm not going to meet a man here, I might as well have a rocking body just because.
But really though. I'm not going to tell you what the song is, because it's a little embarrassing, but it reminds me how lovely my life could be. I just need to revel in the promise of inspiration, and live with a little more hope.
Because it's going to happen.
aaaaaaand ending awkward entry.
Because I'm annoyed with the way things are right now. I'm annoyed with how things have turned out over the last little while and it annoys me to realize that all I can do is just keep living and having faith.
It's annoying.
Especially because I can't stay a melancholy mess for too long. It started with my little kick into gear a couple of weeks ago. And then, because of a silly little song tonight, I want to be alive again.
I'm sick of being frustrated with the stagnation I experience here. There's nothing I can do right now about the state in which I live, so I'm just going to embrace it and move forward and hope that I can learn a few things in preparation for moving away from this place. And I need to remember that I love my family dearly, and someday I won't get to live in the same house with all of them, next to a perfect pool, playing with my nieces during my spare hours.
So tomorrow I'm going to try to get my large butt out of bed and to the gym and back to living. Because holy hell I'm turning 25 this year, and even if I'm not going to meet a man here, I might as well have a rocking body just because.
But really though. I'm not going to tell you what the song is, because it's a little embarrassing, but it reminds me how lovely my life could be. I just need to revel in the promise of inspiration, and live with a little more hope.
Because it's going to happen.
aaaaaaand ending awkward entry.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
on discipline and trust of the female persuasion.
Every once in a while I have a dream about Laura McLean, or about Yoshie Akimoto, and often they end up in the same dream. They're usually pushing me at the barre or at the piano or they're at my place of work telling me to sell more and be the best and keep pushing even though my feet hurt and my fingers are tired.
It's a little bit strange, but it's also a little bit comforting because when I need that extra boost to really move forward through the pain and frustration, they are the ones that somehow get me moving, even after all these years. I haven't seen Ms. McLean since I was seventeen years old, haven't even trained under her since I was thirteen. The last time I worked with Yoshie was five years ago. And yet these women have this remarkable influence in the person I've become and continue becoming, regardless of the time and the distance.
These two women made me reach my limits, and more often than I liked I felt a lot of shame in their presence knowing that I hadn't achieved what I was capable of. When they have such intense faith in your abilities, and you screw around or let the practice waste away or ignore the task set before you, you can't help but feel as though you've disappointed those who believe in you most. But in those times when I had a break through, when they guided me to create something of value, I felt such a genuine love and connection with them that I can only describe as motherly.
Some of my fondest memories are sitting at the piano in Yoshie's front room, angled slightly toward her as she would tell me an anecdote from her youth, or as she would discuss the gospel of Jesus Christ with me in musical terms, or as she would complain about how much the democrats were ruining this country. We would talk politics and life, and during some of my more difficult moments in my teen years she would let my eyes well with tears while she discussed my parents, and then she would tell me to move past it by putting my faith in God and in the piano. And to stop crying because there was Bach to be played.
I have no doubt that the difficulty I had in high school is directly related to Yoshie's absence from my life.
Ms. McLean quite literally yelled at me more often, perhaps more than anyone else. Yelling at my feet and my arms and my fingers and my tush and my knees, but not the kind of yell that hurts. Instead she yelled at their temporary inadequacy, yelling reminders of potential not quite formed. I will always remember this one evening in the mid-winter that changed the way I viewed how I worked. I couldn't tell you which year it was, or which day of the week, but I can tell you that I was feeling so inadequate and aimless and lost. Looking back I think it's pretty clear that my family's instability was starting to take a toll on my emotional health, and I probably should have been working with someone even at twelve years old, because I remember feeling a complete slump in every area of my life. I had plateaued and couldn't find my way out of the hole. I had been such a strong dancer, and quickly, and then suddenly I wasn't improving and I was frustrated. More than anything else, Ms McLean wasn't yelling like she once did. Somehow I found a way to talk to her, and express how every single class left me wanting and a little empty, and that I was no longer feeling motivated or pushed to improve. The next day she let me take the upper level class with the girls who were five and six years older than me, an evening that helped me realize what I could be capable of. I worked harder than I'd worked in a class for a long time. All I wanted was to prove to Ms. McLean that I deserved to be in there, and that I was deserving of a little yelling again. To this day I quite literally remember the adagio we did at the barre - the ENTIRE exercise, to the point of feeling the pain in my arms and shoulders from pushing that barre so hard in order to make my attitude higher and my bevel more pronounced in my pointe shoes.
The first time I ever sat down and had a conversation with Erika was in my house in Provo. I was sitting on Grandma's red velvet couch and she was sitting on that stiff-backed chair that had needlepoint work on it, and she explained the benefit of competing at the national teen pageant. What started as a director-titleholder relationship evolved bit by bit each year. Back then, 7 years ago, I didn't want to disappoint her because of how much she was investing in the person that I was presenting myself as. There came a time when I didn't want to disappoint her because I wanted to be like her. And now I don't want to disappoint her because she may know me better than anyone, and therefore she knows who I can be. Even scarier, she knows that I know who I should be. To not live up to that would be so painful for me, and it wouldn't matter if she knew what I was doing or not. Just the simple fact that Erika would expect more is enough for me to second guess some decisions I might make. She may not have been the one sitting at a nearby piano or wearing teaching ballet heels, but she's been the one to ensure that the discipline and perseverance I learned in those arenas have transfered to the individual I am. She was never afraid to tell me when I did wrong, like that one time in June 2007 after I'd had a meltdown after talent. And I hope that I've learned from those experiences, and her love and support have given me the chance to rectify wrongs and be better.
Sometime soon I'm going to start writing publicly about what happened in the early spring of 2010, but until then I will just say that Leslie Tanner had the inspiration to be the person who checked up on me, who offered the advice over dinner, and who gave me the encouragement to see a doctor about finding my way back to being the person that these other women have helped me to be. Not only did she birth girls who I consider to be sisters (and one of whom who is the most wonderful best friend I could have), but she is an extraordinary friend who I know I can count on.
Finally, I don't know how well you know my own mother, but she is a fighter. Last night we went to my niece's dance recital and I felt such overwhelming gratitude for the woman who gave me life, who fostered my innate talent, who found such remarkable teachers to harness that talent, who put me in that teen pageant that changed my life. She never let me quit, even when I begged and begged. She drove me everywhere, and she put up with my whining and crying, and she encouraged me to be the best. She had the vision to put me with individuals who understood foundational principles in education and the arts, and these women who have had motherly influence over me were a part of my existence because my own mother chose them.
God has blessed me with extraordinary women in my life. Women who work every day, with monetary compensation or not, who produce amazing results in their careers and their families and in how they serve outside their homes. I'm not sure if my experience is all that normal, this entire situation where I have so many women to look to as mother-figures, but I couldn't be more grateful that I do indeed have such a blessing.
It's no secret that I want desperately to be a mother. Partially because I've had this weird pull toward playing with and tending to little children, even as a child myself. Mostly because I want to have the opportunity to teach what these women have taught me. My associations of motherly affection with all of them are surely culturally influenced, as the "Mother model" or paradigm in my brain connects a woman pushing me to be my best with my own mom, but I don't see it as a bad thing at all. Indeed, I am more grateful for the moments when these women have pointed out my mistakes, and provided the tools to make them triumphs. It's very spiritual, and perhaps one day we'll have more proof of why it feels so spiritual, but right now I'm not going to worry about why I feel such love and gratitude.
Instead I'm just going to say thank you for being the women I trust.
Monday, April 30, 2012
tristesse.
Remember that little gig I mentioned a few weeks back? The one about ghost writing?
I think I might have been able to write something again that has purpose. It's little and it's short and it's not even me, but then again, it kind of is as these four girls each have qualities I've stolen from myself. But I love writing this one girl in particular because I can tap into who I wanted to be at one point in my life, and it reminds me that while I didn't become the stellar virtuoso I dreamed of being, I developed a few important skills and learned a few things that have quite literally saved me during some of my times of failure or despair.
Music is a powerful thing, my friends, and the study of it is even more of a testament to that.
Finally, I am blessed. Sometimes confused, and often uncertain, but extraordinarily blessed.
I think I might have been able to write something again that has purpose. It's little and it's short and it's not even me, but then again, it kind of is as these four girls each have qualities I've stolen from myself. But I love writing this one girl in particular because I can tap into who I wanted to be at one point in my life, and it reminds me that while I didn't become the stellar virtuoso I dreamed of being, I developed a few important skills and learned a few things that have quite literally saved me during some of my times of failure or despair.
Music is a powerful thing, my friends, and the study of it is even more of a testament to that.
Finally, I am blessed. Sometimes confused, and often uncertain, but extraordinarily blessed.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
there's not much more I can say.
My kind of Mormon you are: a wonderful bundle of contradictions, held together by an inexplicable force we call faith.
-joanna brooks
-joanna brooks
Saturday, March 24, 2012
futurism.
It has been a rough week. I've been working through some serious pain (not emotional or existential, but real, physical, searing pain) and thankfully my manager let me have today to rest. It's given me an opportunity to regroup and gather a few things together for the exciting events in the coming weeks.
It also gave me a chance to binge on George Clooney with The Descendants and The Ides of March. Ryan Gosling is sort of a perfect specimen, you know? But it reminded me that I'm lucky. My upbringing was really wonderful, but some not-so-wonderful things happened, which grounded me in reality. At this point in my life I would be one of two things: jaded or idealistic. Somehow I'm neither.
My mother is a politician. She desperately wants me to work in politics, for whatever inane reason it may be. Remember that one time I worked on a campaign? It was tough for me. It was good to have a job, and something to put on a resume, and there is nothing negative I can say about the individuals involved, but I hate politics. Everyone begins in this idealistic dream state of hope and change and reform and realignment, and then people are people and each idealistic fool realizes that no matter what they want or try for, human beings are fallible. Which is where those idealists become jaded political staffers.
I wouldn't be good at it because I've never been an idealist in the way so many my age are, at least amongst those who believe that we can change the world SOMEHOW. See, a lot of them put their hope in another person who seems to be able to lead more effectively or speak more coherently or inspire more profoundly. They hope that this person, whose ideology is gorgeous and packaged perfectly, will bring about the reform that will end poverty and enable education and encourage peace. They hope that this time will be different, and that no matter what, this beacon of integrity will remain true.
Unfortunately it does change. Every single time. I've seen it happen in my family members who have been given an office or sought an office. I've seen it in individuals I've voted for. I've seen it in individuals I thought were golden. There's a reason we complain about politics in the workplace or in schooling: politics is a game and by virtue of competing in the political arena, you have to play.
So no, I'll never be able to be in politics, whether behind the scenes or in front of a camera, because I'd rather not pretend that I'm always going to make all of the right decisions and do right by you.
I put my faith and trust in a God who allows us the opportunity to repent and change our behavior, because He is merciful and kind. I also put my faith and trust in the hope that we as a human race can change, not by a political mandate or an individual by whom we can rally, but by human interaction, and by love, and by refusing to let a system run this show.
I believe in God, and I believe in classical music, and I believe in 5 inch heels. And I believe in the power of the pen and the influence a piece of writing can have on a person. So while some will get caught up in the rhetoric of a promise for political reform, I'm going to do my very best to help enable young people to find confidence and hope within themselves, a self-worth instilled by a loving God. No promises - just an honest effort to help someone who may feel lost as I once did, and to remind them that the most important thing is to do what I describe as being like Jesus: loving and forgiving and bridging the gaps built and erected by politicians through human empathy.
Jeez, Ryan Gosling. Look what you and that smirk inspired.
Friday, March 23, 2012
sup.
Just a quick hello. I'm staying busy with work, and my social life, and some other really neat things that are happening. Like, suuuuuper neat. I am working on a couple of really interesting projects that are inspiring and exciting and I cannot wait to share them with you. But before then, I'm just extra pleased with life right about now. I mean, I found this amazing pilates reformer class up here in the SLC that rocks my world (and I like it so much, I'm cool with getting only four hours of sleep tonight so I can go before work tomorrow!), and I'm going to see The Hunger Games tomorrow, and this weekend is the 3rd Rachmaninoff piano concerto at the symphony. Life would be just too perfect if I were in, say... the Bahamas right now, so I'm willing to take a little bit of a downer here and there. To remind me that good things are on the way. Besides, no one wants this to turn into a crazy faux happiness blog less than I do, so I'll take a few disappointing events in my favorite sort of 5-inch heel stride. I'm pretty sure that's just called life.
This thing called life is grand though. Good and bad. But let's face it, I'm getting really good at being okay with the occasional bad - a little perspective is a good thing.
I admit - my shoe collection helps me get through the rough patches. Well, that and this really great thing called faith.
I'm lucky. Not much more I can say.
This thing called life is grand though. Good and bad. But let's face it, I'm getting really good at being okay with the occasional bad - a little perspective is a good thing.
I admit - my shoe collection helps me get through the rough patches. Well, that and this really great thing called faith.
I'm lucky. Not much more I can say.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
tales.
Sometimes after work I get really sleepy, and that gigantic bed that I have seems too inviting, and my junk drawer and never-ending supply of DP in the garage fridge provide adequate sustenance, and the computer and big screen on the wall keep me entertained... and I pass out. At 8 pm. Only to awake around 2 am with my contacts in and my clothing all on and makeup smears on the pillow and drool everywhere.
Yes, it's gross. But when sleep happens, drool happens. It is what it is.
That is sort of what happened tonight. But it was more along the lines of taking 6 ibuprofen so the pains in my tummy would go away, and sans food or drink, although I did watch an episode of PR: Allstars, in which Austin Scarlett was glorious. Unfortunately I wasn't feeling so hot tonight, so Miss Amy (this amazing woman with whom I work who has also quickly become one of my dearest friends) and I couldn't go to the symphony. She was supposed to be my date, but I had to bail, and now I'm a little sad about it.
This has very little purpose.
I've eaten too many fruit snacks to think or write coherently anymore.
Today one of our co-workers commented that I'm going to end up going off to some big city really soon and do amazing things. I sure hope so.
But I'm going to love life while I'm here. My friends, and my family, and my dog who snores so much I don't get any sleep, and my job, and my love for all things fattening create a pretty wonderful existence that I'm extraordinarily lucky to have. So thanks for being a part of it. You're all pretty neat and make my life a whole lot neater.
Neat!
Friday, December 30, 2011
look at your life, look at your choices.
The only prominent New Year's celebration I remember is when I was probably about 6 or 7 years old. We had been living in Utah for a little while (this was in between Dallas and New Canaan), living in a condo in North Provo, up on the mountain above Timpview High School. A lot of the memories I have surrounding that house involve really embarrassing things, like the time I harassed my brother Jim while he was on the phone with his fiance and got in BIG trouble from my dad, or the time I told my brother Erik's date she was ugly, or the first time I ever said the word bitch (how was I supposed to know what it meant?!).
Obviously I have an ability to remember the more traumatic moments in my life. Like the game of Clue we had that New Year's Eve.
One of my brothers had to have said something to scare me so much. Don't ask me why, but Clue freaked me out that night. I was scared for my life as I was going to bed, thinking that Mr. Green was going to come find me and kill me with some non-traditional murder weapon, and that my remains would be stashed in some crawl space in the house that no one knew existed.
I think of this each time I play Clue. And I've never told anyone. Until now. It feels like I'm unearthing what has been a burdensome secret. Because if you can't say it at New Year's, when can you, eh?
As I was playing Clue the other night with the kiddos, I realized what I must have been like as a kiddo myself, trying to be a part of the older crowd around me. My nieces and nephew seem so much younger than I was at their age, and maybe that's the commonplace thought we have as we grow older, this idea that surely we were much more mature or well-adjusted or behaved when "that age". In my head I justify thinking this by reminding myself that I was surrounded by adults; my oldest sibling is 14 years older, so I've never really been in a family with children. But then as I play with these really darling kids who sometimes play the piano too loud in the morning when I'm trying to sleep, I sincerely hope that I was just as naive and innocent as they are now.
It's fun to remember each passing year with a theme, because it's nice to succinctly argue the case for one's maturing. I don't know if I have a theme anymore. 2009 was In Repair. 2010 was Golden Years. 2011 was... what? Another song with a great melody? A catchphrase to boost my good choices and gloss over my poor choices? Let's see if I can find a common thread somewhere.
In January I took a giant step forward in my spiritual journey and progression, one that was completely my own, and one that wasn't even necessary. I did it because I enjoy doing things on my own terms (but you all know this), and because it was absolutely the right thing to do. I also kissed a friend who I will continue to kiss for life, because it is true love.
February was full of relapse and frustration. Like I've said before, I hate February.
I won a crown in March. That was neat.
April brought me a boy after a dance party. It was very BYU, the way it all happened.
May was a whirlwind of road trips, plane rides, and insecurity, capped off with a resignation from what probably would have been a trip to Miss America after finally experiencing that weird and unsettling and intoxicating feeling of quite literally falling in love with someone.
June generated employment, which I now see as the second greatest blessing God gave me this year. If it were not for that job I would have been stuck in the abyss of what happened in the middle of June, when I realized why I should not fall in love with people. I also realized that even the people you love the most, and the people you give the most to will still fail you.
July sounded like Lady Gaga. Also, no more radio show. Sad, but sometimes you have to give your time to that which pays the bills.
August had pool parties and giant sleepovers in the party house and permanent employment and new roommates and new friends and girls in bikinis and boys in euro-shorts.
The coolest part of this second greatest blessing came to me in September. I'm never content with mediocrity (despite what my abysmal blog has shown you this year) or stagnancy, so when the opportunity to be promoted came, I jumped at it. Never would I have imagined myself in retail, and never would I have imagined myself as someone with style, but the opportunities keep on coming and I am one of those lucky people who can say she genuinely loves her job. All because of a little interview with Mama Speters.
I was Black Swan in October. That is all. Actually, it's not. I kissed one of my best friends, which wasn't really the smartest thing to do. Whoops. Oh well. Still love him anyway.
I'm sure something cool happened in November, like some sort of life changing event, but all I can really think of right now is that I had a lot of really delicious turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Oh yeah, I had to quit dancing. That wasn't so cool. But a necessary thing to do in order to be the person that I want to be. Mike McShinsky is one of the best people I know - I'm a better person for the time I got to spend with him. It was an honor, Michael. Also, I think my addiction to Dr. Pepper hit full force in November. No turning back.
So how's this last month been? Long. Hard. Exhausting. I gained some remarkable clients, have gone on more formal dates than the rest of the year all-together, went to Disneyland for 40 hours, bought a designer handbag (and no, not the low-end part of a label), and became less of a pansy and a little more bad A all around, mostly thanks to a well-timed haircut. All of the above have been surrounded by a lot of family... a lot more family than I'm used to, and it's been so wonderful.
You know what? This may be the first time that I don't regret anything I did this year. I mean, maybe I regret some of the nights I ate Taco Bell instead of Del or all of the Mr. Pibb I had to drink instead of Dr. Pepper because my employer doesn't carry any. And I did regret a couple of purchases, but I rectified those by returning them. Outside of that, I look at my life, and I look at my choices (I see what I did there!) and I'm really content with how I've allowed some things to happen to me and how I've taken charge when things got a little too far outside of my control.
2011 started really well, and it took a couple of sharp nose dives, but I managed to find ways to pull it all off eventually. Lots of tears and fruit snacks were needed, and I became really grateful for a temple recommend. But mostly I see the common thread of what I know without doubt or insecurity: I have faith in a loving God who enables us with multiple pathways, many of which are good ones. I've been allowed to choose my path, and while some of my choices have been rash, I'd like to believe that even though I'm not always the person I want to be, God knows my heart and what my end game is. And helps me to get there.
In many ways I'm just trying to do what I knew to be true as a little girl - move with faith knowing that I'm loved and cared for. Hopefully my nieces and nephews have the chance to learn that, too, because even the young and innocent deserve to see where faith can take you through the years.
Obviously I have an ability to remember the more traumatic moments in my life. Like the game of Clue we had that New Year's Eve.
One of my brothers had to have said something to scare me so much. Don't ask me why, but Clue freaked me out that night. I was scared for my life as I was going to bed, thinking that Mr. Green was going to come find me and kill me with some non-traditional murder weapon, and that my remains would be stashed in some crawl space in the house that no one knew existed.
I think of this each time I play Clue. And I've never told anyone. Until now. It feels like I'm unearthing what has been a burdensome secret. Because if you can't say it at New Year's, when can you, eh?
As I was playing Clue the other night with the kiddos, I realized what I must have been like as a kiddo myself, trying to be a part of the older crowd around me. My nieces and nephew seem so much younger than I was at their age, and maybe that's the commonplace thought we have as we grow older, this idea that surely we were much more mature or well-adjusted or behaved when "that age". In my head I justify thinking this by reminding myself that I was surrounded by adults; my oldest sibling is 14 years older, so I've never really been in a family with children. But then as I play with these really darling kids who sometimes play the piano too loud in the morning when I'm trying to sleep, I sincerely hope that I was just as naive and innocent as they are now.
It's fun to remember each passing year with a theme, because it's nice to succinctly argue the case for one's maturing. I don't know if I have a theme anymore. 2009 was In Repair. 2010 was Golden Years. 2011 was... what? Another song with a great melody? A catchphrase to boost my good choices and gloss over my poor choices? Let's see if I can find a common thread somewhere.
In January I took a giant step forward in my spiritual journey and progression, one that was completely my own, and one that wasn't even necessary. I did it because I enjoy doing things on my own terms (but you all know this), and because it was absolutely the right thing to do. I also kissed a friend who I will continue to kiss for life, because it is true love.
February was full of relapse and frustration. Like I've said before, I hate February.
I won a crown in March. That was neat.
April brought me a boy after a dance party. It was very BYU, the way it all happened.
May was a whirlwind of road trips, plane rides, and insecurity, capped off with a resignation from what probably would have been a trip to Miss America after finally experiencing that weird and unsettling and intoxicating feeling of quite literally falling in love with someone.
June generated employment, which I now see as the second greatest blessing God gave me this year. If it were not for that job I would have been stuck in the abyss of what happened in the middle of June, when I realized why I should not fall in love with people. I also realized that even the people you love the most, and the people you give the most to will still fail you.
July sounded like Lady Gaga. Also, no more radio show. Sad, but sometimes you have to give your time to that which pays the bills.
August had pool parties and giant sleepovers in the party house and permanent employment and new roommates and new friends and girls in bikinis and boys in euro-shorts.
The coolest part of this second greatest blessing came to me in September. I'm never content with mediocrity (despite what my abysmal blog has shown you this year) or stagnancy, so when the opportunity to be promoted came, I jumped at it. Never would I have imagined myself in retail, and never would I have imagined myself as someone with style, but the opportunities keep on coming and I am one of those lucky people who can say she genuinely loves her job. All because of a little interview with Mama Speters.
I was Black Swan in October. That is all. Actually, it's not. I kissed one of my best friends, which wasn't really the smartest thing to do. Whoops. Oh well. Still love him anyway.
I'm sure something cool happened in November, like some sort of life changing event, but all I can really think of right now is that I had a lot of really delicious turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Oh yeah, I had to quit dancing. That wasn't so cool. But a necessary thing to do in order to be the person that I want to be. Mike McShinsky is one of the best people I know - I'm a better person for the time I got to spend with him. It was an honor, Michael. Also, I think my addiction to Dr. Pepper hit full force in November. No turning back.
So how's this last month been? Long. Hard. Exhausting. I gained some remarkable clients, have gone on more formal dates than the rest of the year all-together, went to Disneyland for 40 hours, bought a designer handbag (and no, not the low-end part of a label), and became less of a pansy and a little more bad A all around, mostly thanks to a well-timed haircut. All of the above have been surrounded by a lot of family... a lot more family than I'm used to, and it's been so wonderful.
You know what? This may be the first time that I don't regret anything I did this year. I mean, maybe I regret some of the nights I ate Taco Bell instead of Del or all of the Mr. Pibb I had to drink instead of Dr. Pepper because my employer doesn't carry any. And I did regret a couple of purchases, but I rectified those by returning them. Outside of that, I look at my life, and I look at my choices (I see what I did there!) and I'm really content with how I've allowed some things to happen to me and how I've taken charge when things got a little too far outside of my control.
2011 started really well, and it took a couple of sharp nose dives, but I managed to find ways to pull it all off eventually. Lots of tears and fruit snacks were needed, and I became really grateful for a temple recommend. But mostly I see the common thread of what I know without doubt or insecurity: I have faith in a loving God who enables us with multiple pathways, many of which are good ones. I've been allowed to choose my path, and while some of my choices have been rash, I'd like to believe that even though I'm not always the person I want to be, God knows my heart and what my end game is. And helps me to get there.
In many ways I'm just trying to do what I knew to be true as a little girl - move with faith knowing that I'm loved and cared for. Hopefully my nieces and nephews have the chance to learn that, too, because even the young and innocent deserve to see where faith can take you through the years.
A toast to more water drinking, gym going, sleep acquiring, Brandon Flowers' listening, money making, and spiritual training in 2012.
Cheers.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
gracias por los Sam Edelmans
I've got a long day ahead of me with lots of people to visit and lots of food to eat, so I'm going to keep it succinct today (shocking!).
The older I get, the more cynical I become. And I sort of hate that. My culture has implanted this chip in me that keeps beeping because it's not been activated yet. The "you're 24 and not married and not having babies what is wrong with you" beep of the "being the right kind of Mormon" chip. We pretend that it doesn't exist, and everyone around me keeps insisting that I'm still so young. And in a way they're right - but the chip is there. It's a daily struggle to remind the chip that paths are unique and plans can change and people aren't meant to assimilate and grow at the same pace.
Last night we had a crisis at work (yes, it's just fashion, but businesses have to keep moving...) and while I was unwrapping article of clothing after article of clothing and trying to get ready for what will surely be complete madness tomorrow, I kept thinking of how strange it is to not be at home watching movies with family.
While that would be nice, I also thought of all of the things happening in my family, and with friends, and with people I don't even know, and I was humbled. Severely humbled.
I have a job. A really good one. That pays well and fulfills me and allows me to grow as a human being and affords me the opportunity to interact with all sorts of individuals. I have the job where you meet a person and two hours later you're hugging because you've become friends.
I have a car. It's crappy at this point. But it gets me from point a to point b, and since I'm planning to move to New York within the next two years (SURPRISE!), I'm a happy camper.
Have you ever seen my condo? It's amazing! Even better though are the girls inside of it. Cassie and Chrisi have been unexpected and completely necessary blessings this year. The truth is that I'd be really lonely and a recluse without them.
My family is unconventional, and my definition is almost assuredly different from yours. But I've got my mom and my dad who bring such unique parenting styles to the table, and who I'm blessed to have. My mom is a force to be reckoned with, and I wish all of you the best of luck if you run against her for office. My dad has become famous on the second floor of Nordstrom (haven't told him this yet). EVERYONE knows he's my dad, and they all love how often he comes to just give me a hug and say hi, but mostly they (and I) love how proud he is of me. My brothers are so smart, and it's hard to live up to that, but they've become really great support in a way I couldn't have anticipated. Most importantly, they married my favorite people in the world.
And why don't we talk about what makes my family so unconventional. Like the Tanners. My second family, as long as they'll continue to have me. And Erika - my angel. I risk becoming sappy when discussing what a miracle she is for me, but it is all sincere.
Finally I have faith, and I have a lot of it, and for whatever reason I've never lost it. I was dating someone earlier this year and his family remarked on how surprised they were that I hadn't wavered in my faith because of the things that I've faced in my life. This is my ultimate blessing and this is where I express the most gratitude. Thank you to a loving God, who is truly a Father in Heaven who has always been there, even in the most uncertain, dark moments. When others have been unavailable, He's been there. It's not something I can express right now in writing - maybe someday I will find how to do such a thing - but the peace exists and I feel it daily.
I can be a snarky beast, but I know what is true - and that is that I am blessed profusely.
Thank you, readers, for visiting. I hope you're feeling the gratitude as much as I am. Happy Thanksgiving.
p.s. not so succinct after all. also, no comments about the Natives in America who we basically stole food from in order to survive, but oh well. another time!
The older I get, the more cynical I become. And I sort of hate that. My culture has implanted this chip in me that keeps beeping because it's not been activated yet. The "you're 24 and not married and not having babies what is wrong with you" beep of the "being the right kind of Mormon" chip. We pretend that it doesn't exist, and everyone around me keeps insisting that I'm still so young. And in a way they're right - but the chip is there. It's a daily struggle to remind the chip that paths are unique and plans can change and people aren't meant to assimilate and grow at the same pace.
Last night we had a crisis at work (yes, it's just fashion, but businesses have to keep moving...) and while I was unwrapping article of clothing after article of clothing and trying to get ready for what will surely be complete madness tomorrow, I kept thinking of how strange it is to not be at home watching movies with family.
While that would be nice, I also thought of all of the things happening in my family, and with friends, and with people I don't even know, and I was humbled. Severely humbled.
I have a job. A really good one. That pays well and fulfills me and allows me to grow as a human being and affords me the opportunity to interact with all sorts of individuals. I have the job where you meet a person and two hours later you're hugging because you've become friends.
I have a car. It's crappy at this point. But it gets me from point a to point b, and since I'm planning to move to New York within the next two years (SURPRISE!), I'm a happy camper.
Have you ever seen my condo? It's amazing! Even better though are the girls inside of it. Cassie and Chrisi have been unexpected and completely necessary blessings this year. The truth is that I'd be really lonely and a recluse without them.
My family is unconventional, and my definition is almost assuredly different from yours. But I've got my mom and my dad who bring such unique parenting styles to the table, and who I'm blessed to have. My mom is a force to be reckoned with, and I wish all of you the best of luck if you run against her for office. My dad has become famous on the second floor of Nordstrom (haven't told him this yet). EVERYONE knows he's my dad, and they all love how often he comes to just give me a hug and say hi, but mostly they (and I) love how proud he is of me. My brothers are so smart, and it's hard to live up to that, but they've become really great support in a way I couldn't have anticipated. Most importantly, they married my favorite people in the world.
And why don't we talk about what makes my family so unconventional. Like the Tanners. My second family, as long as they'll continue to have me. And Erika - my angel. I risk becoming sappy when discussing what a miracle she is for me, but it is all sincere.
Finally I have faith, and I have a lot of it, and for whatever reason I've never lost it. I was dating someone earlier this year and his family remarked on how surprised they were that I hadn't wavered in my faith because of the things that I've faced in my life. This is my ultimate blessing and this is where I express the most gratitude. Thank you to a loving God, who is truly a Father in Heaven who has always been there, even in the most uncertain, dark moments. When others have been unavailable, He's been there. It's not something I can express right now in writing - maybe someday I will find how to do such a thing - but the peace exists and I feel it daily.
I can be a snarky beast, but I know what is true - and that is that I am blessed profusely.
Thank you, readers, for visiting. I hope you're feeling the gratitude as much as I am. Happy Thanksgiving.
p.s. not so succinct after all. also, no comments about the Natives in America who we basically stole food from in order to survive, but oh well. another time!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
prettiest thing I ever did see.
When I was a kid, I was home schooled. A few of you probably didn't know, and those who didn't know could probably guess - at the very least it helps everything make sense (oh, that's why she's so awkward). It's because I was the over-programmed child, always singing or dancing or piano-ing or figure skating or babysitting.
Yeah.
Babysitting.
For reals.
Somehow, this amazing family entrusted me with their children when I was eleven. They basically needed someone to watch their kids each day, and I was cheaper than a nanny, and I didn't have to be in school (honestly, my childhood sort of rocked, now that I think about it), and for nearly three years I watched their children in the mornings while doing my studies, or in the evenings while they were at Yankee games, or even overnight. I remember their first apartment, their house next to the church building, and then when they rebuilt it. I still remember the first time my mom told me Sister Humphrey had called looking for someone to watch her youngest son the next day.
That son is now a teenager and tall! The oldest daughter recently got married! The middle son is getting ready to serve a mission! They have like a bajillion more siblings that I don't even know!
Where did the time go?
Five years ago I figured I'd win Miss Utah in a few months, do the Miss America thing, get married, and probably have a kid somewhere around the year 2010/2011.
Yeah.
That didn't happen.
Part of what I love about my job is seeing old friends and acquaintances whom I've not seen for long periods of time - and then boom, suddenly they're right there with shoes or sweaters and instead of working, we reminisce and relive some of those joyful memories. Truthfully, it can be hard telling them of the failures I've had. I try really hard to not see certain things as failures. Being an educated 24-year old with a wonderful career ahead of her isn't anything to be ashamed of, but there are just all of these what-could-have-beens. So when someone asks about my pageant goals and dating life, and I tell them something along the lines of, "well, after five tries I finally got it in my head that I wasn't going to be Miss Utah County, and I obviously wasn't going to be Miss Utah, and yeah, I ended up being Miss Henderson, but then I actually dropped out of Miss Nevada for Reason-X and Reason-Y and now I've aged out, and nope, sadly he and I didn't get married, and that one got married to a cute girl who is nothing like me, and that other one and I definitely didn't get married, and the first one is now marrying someone else".
.....
It's sort of a lot, right?
It's a lot for me to take in when learning about my friends who have the opportunity to be married and start families. Because even though I love my job, and I love the idea of always working, and I love providing for myself, I would give anything to be a mom.
I loved babies when I basically was one, and I loved babies when I played with them at church, and I loved babies when I got paid to play with them, and I loved babies when my siblings started having them, and I loved babies all the time and I've never stopped.
Being married, and being a mother, and being on that path is in my future. I'm sure it is. I have faith it is. And I'm happy - whether I need convincing or not... I am happy. I'm determined to have a positive attitude, especially because I don't understand why I'm on a path that seems so utterly foreign to everything I thought I'd have. I don't understand why most of the things I dreamt about are now beyond me. I don't understand why God defined this particular lane of the highway for me.
It's okay. I don't feel bad about being a little sad tonight, as I look at my friend's sweet families - even with all of the things that I know they endure (as we all must endure), mostly because I do have that faith.
A sweet friend I ran into at work reminded me that it'll make sense when it is supposed to (I'm a writer - I should remember that). Luckily she also said that I've got a glow... so maybe I am going to be okay.
Yeah.
Babysitting.
For reals.
Somehow, this amazing family entrusted me with their children when I was eleven. They basically needed someone to watch their kids each day, and I was cheaper than a nanny, and I didn't have to be in school (honestly, my childhood sort of rocked, now that I think about it), and for nearly three years I watched their children in the mornings while doing my studies, or in the evenings while they were at Yankee games, or even overnight. I remember their first apartment, their house next to the church building, and then when they rebuilt it. I still remember the first time my mom told me Sister Humphrey had called looking for someone to watch her youngest son the next day.
That son is now a teenager and tall! The oldest daughter recently got married! The middle son is getting ready to serve a mission! They have like a bajillion more siblings that I don't even know!
Where did the time go?
Five years ago I figured I'd win Miss Utah in a few months, do the Miss America thing, get married, and probably have a kid somewhere around the year 2010/2011.
Yeah.
That didn't happen.
Part of what I love about my job is seeing old friends and acquaintances whom I've not seen for long periods of time - and then boom, suddenly they're right there with shoes or sweaters and instead of working, we reminisce and relive some of those joyful memories. Truthfully, it can be hard telling them of the failures I've had. I try really hard to not see certain things as failures. Being an educated 24-year old with a wonderful career ahead of her isn't anything to be ashamed of, but there are just all of these what-could-have-beens. So when someone asks about my pageant goals and dating life, and I tell them something along the lines of, "well, after five tries I finally got it in my head that I wasn't going to be Miss Utah County, and I obviously wasn't going to be Miss Utah, and yeah, I ended up being Miss Henderson, but then I actually dropped out of Miss Nevada for Reason-X and Reason-Y and now I've aged out, and nope, sadly he and I didn't get married, and that one got married to a cute girl who is nothing like me, and that other one and I definitely didn't get married, and the first one is now marrying someone else".
.....
It's sort of a lot, right?
It's a lot for me to take in when learning about my friends who have the opportunity to be married and start families. Because even though I love my job, and I love the idea of always working, and I love providing for myself, I would give anything to be a mom.
I loved babies when I basically was one, and I loved babies when I played with them at church, and I loved babies when I got paid to play with them, and I loved babies when my siblings started having them, and I loved babies all the time and I've never stopped.
Being married, and being a mother, and being on that path is in my future. I'm sure it is. I have faith it is. And I'm happy - whether I need convincing or not... I am happy. I'm determined to have a positive attitude, especially because I don't understand why I'm on a path that seems so utterly foreign to everything I thought I'd have. I don't understand why most of the things I dreamt about are now beyond me. I don't understand why God defined this particular lane of the highway for me.
It's okay. I don't feel bad about being a little sad tonight, as I look at my friend's sweet families - even with all of the things that I know they endure (as we all must endure), mostly because I do have that faith.
A sweet friend I ran into at work reminded me that it'll make sense when it is supposed to (I'm a writer - I should remember that). Luckily she also said that I've got a glow... so maybe I am going to be okay.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
wrap up
I really need to be in bed. Really really really need to be in bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and I still need to figure out what I'm going to wear and ugh tomorrow is going to begin in about 6 hours.
So rather than put together a real essay for all of y'all (embracing my Texas roots here - yes, I do have some. not many. but some.), I'm going to give you bullet points of why my life is really awesome or why my blog would be nauseating (and mostly fake) if I did this all the time.
+ First, I had an amazing weekend. I went to Cornbelly's with my nieces. They are adorable when they pretend to be scared, and even more adorable when we bond over mildly traumatizing experiences. I'm so lucky to be close to them. I wish I knew my brother Erik's kids better, but hopefully in time.
+ Second, the weekend got even more amazing when I bailed my roommate out of jail. It's a true story. Which merits its own essay complete with photographic evidence. We picked her up and then went dancing in Park City. It was a really good time. Serious.
+ Third, I think some really great things are going to be happening soon - reconciliation and new territory and some awesome snacks to go along with both.
+Fourth, it feels really good to look at someone who wants desperately to matter and know that they are entirely insecure. Hmmmm, that sounds really mean. Someone tried to give me some relationship advice and the entire time, all I could think of was how utterly ridiculous this life philosophy that was being presented was. What's more ridiculous is that I let it get to me, and thankfully I've got friends who ground me in reality. Meaningful relationships don't come of the superficial, but of the deep and intense. You say sixth date material, I say hour 2. I mean, neither of us are married, so who knows who is right, but what I do know is he's fifteen years my senior and still dating girls my age sooooo.....
+ Fifth, the joy I get from my job probably isn't fair. I never thought I was all that stylish, but I'm loving the creativity that I get to express every day when helping individuals feel great about themselves. This is also deserving of its own essay, but the quick version is that I've got a serious complex about doing something worthwhile. I'm not sure where it came from, be it parents or siblings or entertainment or my own strange psychosis, but I am fulfilled in knowing that I'm doing something that means something to someone. However, there was always an extra caveat that spoke in the recesses of my brain saying, "but you need to be doing what everyone expects you to do and what everyone expects of an intelligent woman."
I never saw that as anything but a career that is high profile or impressive or hard to attain. Because, naturally, that means I've arrived as a human being of extraordinary worth, right?
I sell clothes, you guys. I sell high-priced fashion, some trendy, and some classic, to all ages of individuals. I get hit on, I clean up your messy dressing rooms, I deal with commission drama, I literally have conversations about the importance of a tank versus a camisole.
This is not what I imagined.
I also didn't imagine that I would love it. Some days I'm just selling designer denim to douchebags who flirt with me when their girlfriends are in the dressing rooms and some days I'm just selling 32 dollar t-shirts to girls looking for something for date night. But some days I work with people and I learn who they are. I discover why they're buying the item, and what role it's going to play in their lives. I realize what's important to them, and if we're lucky, we actually become friends. Some days I have people who come in and ask if I'm there, just because they trust me with their secrets and their frustrations and their exciting news. Some days I pick an outfit and have a conversation and instead of leaving distraught and frustrated, they leave feeling a little bit better about themselves.
It's kind of crazy how life happens.
Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but knowing that I get to do something that I love, and knowing that I get to come home and write, and knowing that I am happy is really becoming enough.
This guy that I dated, he was always worried that I needed something to fulfill me. I think he wanted family and life to simply just be enough. And I have really successful family members that I need to live up to.
Like I said, being happy is becoming enough. I'm still convincing myself, and it might take a little while, but for now I'm just going to love the joy of what I get to do.
So rather than put together a real essay for all of y'all (embracing my Texas roots here - yes, I do have some. not many. but some.), I'm going to give you bullet points of why my life is really awesome or why my blog would be nauseating (and mostly fake) if I did this all the time.
+ First, I had an amazing weekend. I went to Cornbelly's with my nieces. They are adorable when they pretend to be scared, and even more adorable when we bond over mildly traumatizing experiences. I'm so lucky to be close to them. I wish I knew my brother Erik's kids better, but hopefully in time.
+ Second, the weekend got even more amazing when I bailed my roommate out of jail. It's a true story. Which merits its own essay complete with photographic evidence. We picked her up and then went dancing in Park City. It was a really good time. Serious.
+ Third, I think some really great things are going to be happening soon - reconciliation and new territory and some awesome snacks to go along with both.
+Fourth, it feels really good to look at someone who wants desperately to matter and know that they are entirely insecure. Hmmmm, that sounds really mean. Someone tried to give me some relationship advice and the entire time, all I could think of was how utterly ridiculous this life philosophy that was being presented was. What's more ridiculous is that I let it get to me, and thankfully I've got friends who ground me in reality. Meaningful relationships don't come of the superficial, but of the deep and intense. You say sixth date material, I say hour 2. I mean, neither of us are married, so who knows who is right, but what I do know is he's fifteen years my senior and still dating girls my age sooooo.....
+ Fifth, the joy I get from my job probably isn't fair. I never thought I was all that stylish, but I'm loving the creativity that I get to express every day when helping individuals feel great about themselves. This is also deserving of its own essay, but the quick version is that I've got a serious complex about doing something worthwhile. I'm not sure where it came from, be it parents or siblings or entertainment or my own strange psychosis, but I am fulfilled in knowing that I'm doing something that means something to someone. However, there was always an extra caveat that spoke in the recesses of my brain saying, "but you need to be doing what everyone expects you to do and what everyone expects of an intelligent woman."
I never saw that as anything but a career that is high profile or impressive or hard to attain. Because, naturally, that means I've arrived as a human being of extraordinary worth, right?
I sell clothes, you guys. I sell high-priced fashion, some trendy, and some classic, to all ages of individuals. I get hit on, I clean up your messy dressing rooms, I deal with commission drama, I literally have conversations about the importance of a tank versus a camisole.
This is not what I imagined.
I also didn't imagine that I would love it. Some days I'm just selling designer denim to douchebags who flirt with me when their girlfriends are in the dressing rooms and some days I'm just selling 32 dollar t-shirts to girls looking for something for date night. But some days I work with people and I learn who they are. I discover why they're buying the item, and what role it's going to play in their lives. I realize what's important to them, and if we're lucky, we actually become friends. Some days I have people who come in and ask if I'm there, just because they trust me with their secrets and their frustrations and their exciting news. Some days I pick an outfit and have a conversation and instead of leaving distraught and frustrated, they leave feeling a little bit better about themselves.
It's kind of crazy how life happens.
Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but knowing that I get to do something that I love, and knowing that I get to come home and write, and knowing that I am happy is really becoming enough.
This guy that I dated, he was always worried that I needed something to fulfill me. I think he wanted family and life to simply just be enough. And I have really successful family members that I need to live up to.
Like I said, being happy is becoming enough. I'm still convincing myself, and it might take a little while, but for now I'm just going to love the joy of what I get to do.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
courageous.
Today was National Coming Out Day. Did you know that? I didn't, until just a little bit ago. I sort of hate that we live in a world where we need to have a national day to remember something, because it's something we should always have with us. Like Easter - we should always remember Jesus' atonement for us, every day. Or Father's/Mother's Day - why are our parents not celebrated for giving us life every day? Or my favorite of all, Valentine's Day - what a marketing waste. You should always express love, and you should express it candidly, not because it's en vogue.
But unfortunately people aren't always good to each other. They forget to be kind and loving and appreciative, and whether or not the holidays are the crutch, a crutch they are for our forgetfulness.
So tonight, I'm thinking about the people that I love - friends - who have to face living in a world that doesn't always accept them. We live in a complicated time and place, and I don't know all of the answers, and I certainly can't give you an adequate reconciliation of everything. But what I do know is that as a Christian, I need to love my fellow man and leave judgment to God who knows far more and is far more perfect than I.
I'm Jen Gulbrandsen. I'm a Mormon. I'm straight. And I support equality regardless of race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation. You're beautiful in your way, because God makes no mistakes.
Rejoice and love yourself today - you were born to be brave.
But unfortunately people aren't always good to each other. They forget to be kind and loving and appreciative, and whether or not the holidays are the crutch, a crutch they are for our forgetfulness.
So tonight, I'm thinking about the people that I love - friends - who have to face living in a world that doesn't always accept them. We live in a complicated time and place, and I don't know all of the answers, and I certainly can't give you an adequate reconciliation of everything. But what I do know is that as a Christian, I need to love my fellow man and leave judgment to God who knows far more and is far more perfect than I.
I'm Jen Gulbrandsen. I'm a Mormon. I'm straight. And I support equality regardless of race, gender, religion, or sexual orientation. You're beautiful in your way, because God makes no mistakes.
Rejoice and love yourself today - you were born to be brave.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
overdue.
Sleep should be happening, but my mind is really busy tonight with thoughts of conference and pageants and frustrations. Sleep will happen eventually, but what I wish I could do right now is go dance.
Cliched as it may be, a partially dark room, and a gorgeous piece of music, and the freedom to just move is such a phenomenal way to relieve stress and work through the various problems and situations that arise. Someday I'm going to have to stop dancing - sad, but true - and I will miss it. For now, however, I'm insanely lucky.
My dance partner is a saint. Anytime someone asks who I'm dancing with, and I say Mike McShinsky, I add, "Yeah - I know... I SCORED".
So Michael, thanks for dancing with me. I'm a bit of a trial to dance with because I'm a workaholic who has insane hours, so practicing can get complicated, but I feel so privileged to dance with you. We've competed once, and performed at the teen pageant last night, and things are still really rough, but I cannot wait to see where our hard work takes us.
And Mayo - we will make you proud. Promise!
Cliched as it may be, a partially dark room, and a gorgeous piece of music, and the freedom to just move is such a phenomenal way to relieve stress and work through the various problems and situations that arise. Someday I'm going to have to stop dancing - sad, but true - and I will miss it. For now, however, I'm insanely lucky.
My dance partner is a saint. Anytime someone asks who I'm dancing with, and I say Mike McShinsky, I add, "Yeah - I know... I SCORED".
So Michael, thanks for dancing with me. I'm a bit of a trial to dance with because I'm a workaholic who has insane hours, so practicing can get complicated, but I feel so privileged to dance with you. We've competed once, and performed at the teen pageant last night, and things are still really rough, but I cannot wait to see where our hard work takes us.
And Mayo - we will make you proud. Promise!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
edge of glory.
Summer of Dreams 2011 is continuing in fine fashion. Bad Decisions Weekend was a great success, and let's face it, the supposed-bad-decisions that we made were actually really great decisions. I'm so blessed, I don't even really know how to adequately express it. The summer had a mild hiccup in the middle that was actually a crater of a hiccup in my life, and thankfully I've rekindled friendships and made new ones that are reminding me that God does indeed take care of us. I always know that - it's just that during the darkest time of our struggles it's easy to wonder why He lets things happen.
Despite my contentedness, I still don't really understand. Out of respect and privacy for the situation, I'm never going to give you the full details (sorry), but what I can say is that I really miss this person and I don't know why they are gone. Other situations have found resolution and I feel comfortable enough with myself and the past to move forward happily, and hopefully as friends (whenever the other party is ready, I am too). This particular friendship has been such a beautiful and rewarding one, and to have its endings still a complete mystery to me is a bit maddening.
Like I said above, God does take care of us. And I don't get it. But to my friend, you know that I love you unconditionally. And I miss you. And I'll always be here.
Readers, I sure hope you're having a great summer of friendship and family and fireworks. If it's not, I hope you're at peace with why it's not. Keep on fighting. You'll get there. And I'm here if you need someone. Heaven knows I rely on all of you; the least I can do is be an empathetic ear every once in a while.
Despite my contentedness, I still don't really understand. Out of respect and privacy for the situation, I'm never going to give you the full details (sorry), but what I can say is that I really miss this person and I don't know why they are gone. Other situations have found resolution and I feel comfortable enough with myself and the past to move forward happily, and hopefully as friends (whenever the other party is ready, I am too). This particular friendship has been such a beautiful and rewarding one, and to have its endings still a complete mystery to me is a bit maddening.
Like I said above, God does take care of us. And I don't get it. But to my friend, you know that I love you unconditionally. And I miss you. And I'll always be here.
Readers, I sure hope you're having a great summer of friendship and family and fireworks. If it's not, I hope you're at peace with why it's not. Keep on fighting. You'll get there. And I'm here if you need someone. Heaven knows I rely on all of you; the least I can do is be an empathetic ear every once in a while.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
btw.
Dear God,
Life isn't very fair. Whoop-dee-freaking-doo. DUH. But then again, you gave me the dreams to prepare me, so maybe it's sort of, kind of, I don't know... halfway fair? In the sense that at least you're giving me warnings, right? At the risk of getting caught in my wallowing (which reminds me, I need some Gilmore Girls), can I just ask something? What am I supposed to be learning here? Another question - why don't you want me to be happy in the way that I want to be happy? Why can't my life be an eighties movie? Did I just answer my own question?
Love,
she who has already lost three pounds.
Life isn't very fair. Whoop-dee-freaking-doo. DUH. But then again, you gave me the dreams to prepare me, so maybe it's sort of, kind of, I don't know... halfway fair? In the sense that at least you're giving me warnings, right? At the risk of getting caught in my wallowing (which reminds me, I need some Gilmore Girls), can I just ask something? What am I supposed to be learning here? Another question - why don't you want me to be happy in the way that I want to be happy? Why can't my life be an eighties movie? Did I just answer my own question?
Love,
she who has already lost three pounds.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
.
I know I don't know all of you personally. I know that some of you don't know me personally. I know that life is hard and we don't always know what is happening to those around us.
Today, readers, you are in my prayers. Today is a day that those I care for need some extra help, and thankfully God allows us to plead for one another, to support and to sustain when we have nothing left. I could single out those that I need to pray for, but I'm just going to say a few individual names, and then say a collective prayer for all of you. Because we have to be in this with each other if we have any hope of making it.
Love to all of you. Really.
I feel so zen.
Weird.
But good weird.
Today, readers, you are in my prayers. Today is a day that those I care for need some extra help, and thankfully God allows us to plead for one another, to support and to sustain when we have nothing left. I could single out those that I need to pray for, but I'm just going to say a few individual names, and then say a collective prayer for all of you. Because we have to be in this with each other if we have any hope of making it.
Love to all of you. Really.
I feel so zen.
Weird.
But good weird.
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