According to Facebook . . .

it's high time I reconnected with my good friend, Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

I mean, we even share the same birthday. With a bond that close, you'd wonder how I ever lost touch?

Now the question is, does reconnecting mean simply reading some more poetry or will it require holding a seance?

Decisions, decisions.

The benefits of mindless work

These past few days at work, I've been doing a lot of copying, pasting, and editing--important but not very mindful work. In order to keep myself going, I've been listening to BYU devotionals from bygone years. And, I must say, this site is changing my life.

I've thoroughly enjoyed listening all of the Hollands' devotionals from the time with Elder Jeffrey R. Holland was president of BYU. I may post more on these later.

I even listened to a devotional today given by my thesis chair. Very good.

Another highlight, which I re-discovered today, was a devotional given by Arun Gandhi, grandson of Mahatma Gandhi.

You should probably listen to it right now. He tells some great stories about his grandfather.

Enjoy.

"A vacation from my problems!"

Many months ago, probably whilst bemoaning our lack of funds for real traveling, my sisters and I had a brilliant idea: why not vacation in Provo? We could walk around our own city, act like tourists, take pictures, and see things we've never seen before. Yesterday, we set out to fulfill our plan of vacationing in Provo. Other than the obligatory hike to the Y, we tried to go places and do things that at least one of us had never done before. We also attempted to do things that didn't cost any money (besides some minimal eating out). Unfortunately, this meant that canoeing the Provo river, hiking to the Timp Caves, or doing things at Sundance were ousted from the itinerary.

We had to be more creative.

We (one brother, two sisters, me) started our morning out with a hike to the Y--a good reminder of why this is not my favorite Provo hike. I much prefer hiking in Rock Canyon or Provo Canyon. But it was fun, nonetheless.

Nice day, eh?

After our Y hike, we headed to Ripple's for lunch. For those of you who don't know, Ripple's was the actual filming location for the LDS classic film The Phone Call--which classic film was the inspiration for cult favorite Napoleon Dynamite. Yep, Provo is a pretty rockin' famous place like that.

Trevor joined us for lunch.

Mmmm, yummy. Look at those fries with good old-fashioned Utah fry sauce.

Lunch was followed by a trip to Brigham Young University campus--for which, of course, Provo is most famous. Since I'm heading into my sixth year as a student at BYU this fall, touring campus seemed a little boring. But I'd never been through the exhibit in the Gordon B. Hinckley Alumni and Visitor's Center . . .

. . . so we checked it out.

After that, we swung by the HBLL so I could pick up some books I had on hold, and, while there, checked out the Florence Nightingale exhibit (which, by the way, ALWAYS freaks me out when I walk by it because it includes a life size wax statue of Nightingale).

BYU was followed by a trip to North Park which, incidentally, was formerly a baseball field and the site of the Western Boys Baseball Association's 1961 Little League World Series. Yeah, I know. Provo is pretty awesome like that. The reason we went to North Park, however, was to check out the Pioneer Museum there, which I'd never before explored. On display at the Pioneer Museum are lots of old things that belonged to Provonians, like this trunk:

Easily my favorite part of the museum was the label on this trunk:

The excitement of seeing SOMEONE's well-worn trunk was almost overwhelming. Nothing in the rest of the day could top it, but these Pioneer Rules for Eating were also quite exciting and enlightening:

Also on display was this Alice in Wonderland collection which belonged to a children's librarian in Provo. Lovely.

After the museum, we headed to the Pioneer Village next to the museum which was supposed to be open until 4:00pm, but was locked and closed at 3:30pm when we got there. Laura's shock and sadness over this is evident below.

To assuage our disappointment, we headed to Stan's for some more good Provo eatin', since we were hungry again and needed a late afternoon snack.

Yes, the only authentically Provo food available is diner food accompanied by fry sauce, so we had some more of that. After which, we headed to see the Provo City Veterans Memorial.

At the park with the memorial, we came across this pretty awesome world map next to the playground . . .

. . . which meant Laura got to visit Mexico as well as Provo.

Other events of the day included checking out the Cherry Lane Boutique, trying to go to Startup's Quality Candies (which was closed), and walking up and down Center Street in Provo's Historic Downtown.

Spending all day in the sun driving and walking around VERY familiar streets wore us out by the evening, so we headed to Macey's grocery store for a few items, went home, made dinner, and relaxed the rest of our evening away.

Yay Provo.

Lesson learned: Provo has lots of free things to do and lots of little things to see, but money makes vacations more fun.

Washington, DC, here I come. Two more months!

Oh, the bus stop

So every day after work, I wait for the bus at a stop that seems to attract a lot of interesting people. Today, as I was minding my own business and probably looking depressed (not because I was depressed, but because I'd just gotten out of work and was tired and staring into nothingness), a middle-aged man approached me. He was tall, wore tan pants, a short sleeve striped collared shirt, glasses, and a straw hat.

"You made me feel really good today," he said.

I wracked my brain, trying to figure out how he had confused me with someone else or how I had unwittingly performed some act of Christian service while looking depressed, when he followed this comment up with, "You look so cute. It brought back some memories for me and made me feel good. Have a nice day."

Then he walked away.

I was wearing no make-up and my hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

Go figure.

This experience was almost as bewildering as what happened last week when another man (this one short and also middle-aged and probably not completely sane) approached me and said, "Did you put that outfit together yourself?"

I answered in the affirmative.

"It is so cute! You should go into business."

So, there you have it, folks. Apparently, I don't need to wear make-up or do my hair. And I can drop out of graduate school because I have a promising career in coordinating clothes.

I love crazy people.

Life is good

After talking to many lovely library people who couldn't figure out what was wrong with my account, a simple password change has finally restored my interlibrary loan privileges.

Thank you, lovely library people.

Now I have no excuse for not getting some good work done on my thesis this month.

Wahoo.

Good things to come

This video comes from one of my favorite talks by Elder Holland. My trainer gave me a copy of it on my mission, and I read it often. Enjoy.

Identity crisis

Recently, I've come to a stark and disturbing realization about myself.

It's rather surreal when you discover that the person you thought you've always been is not actually the person who you are, and that the person who you actually are is a person you don't really like and might even disdain and definitely wouldn't room with if given the option.

If that was a little foggy for you, perhaps this highly legitimate psychological diagram will help:

You see, I've always identified myself as someone who squeezes from the bottom of the toothpaste tube. I've held this delusion about myself to the point that I've often become irritated with siblings/roommates whom I assumed were squeezing my toothpaste from the top and thus indirectly ruining my life--or, at the very least, my morning routine.

Squeezing from the top is illogical and annoying (hence it's an indication of a stubborn, slow-witted personality). There's no way around this fact, even though there are hoards of people on Facebook trying to convince themselves otherwise.

Imagine my horror, then, when I noticed one morning that my toothpaste tube (which I don't currently share with anyone) was squeezed real tight right around the neck. At first, I refused to believe the evidence, but the next morning, when I caught myself actually squeezing the toothpaste from the top, I had to accept the truth.

I belong in that odd Facebook group full of people in denial. I am part of that stubborn, slow-witted demographic. I am not thrifty or logical as I so long believed. And the fact that I'm 25 and only just discovering this simply serves to confirm the sad truth about my dim wits.

Yes, I squeeze my toothpaste from the top. The only time I squeeze from the bottom is when I have to because weeks of squeezing from the top have trapped all the toothpaste at the bottom. Once I let the toothpaste escape from where I've consigned it to, I start squeezing from the top all over again.

I don't even know who I am anymore.

Nightmares

So when I'm stressed, I tend to have a lot of nightmares. These nightmares usually involve being stalked, kidnapped, or attacked by criminals, or, when things are really bad, they involve getting poor grades.

Last night, my nightmare was of the stalked/kidnapped/attacked variety.

In my dream, two scruffy-looking men from Louisiana were chasing me. Why Louisiana? No idea. But in my dream, I remember saying, "Oh no, it's those guys from Louisiana"--as if that explained everything.

I'm still not sure why they were chasing me, but it seems I had some sort of top secret insider information that the person they were working for wanted. (Why is it that everyone is always working for someone?) And these people wanted that information and then they wanted to hurt me. Badly.

So I wanted to run from them. Obviously.

They were chasing me at night, and we were all ducking in and out of the shadows of my apartment complex. For those of you who don't know, my apartment complex looks freakishly like a prison, which makes it a good setting for a nightmare.

Or a singles ward.

But I digress.

I could describe every excruciating detail of each terrifying moment of the rest of the dream for you, but my descriptions would not begin to encapsulate the FEAR and HORROR that I felt in the dream. So I'll spare you the details.

Let's leave it at this: It was scary enough that my HEARTBEAT woke me up at 2:30am and kept me awake for at least another twenty minutes. And the mere MEMORY of it prevented me from enjoying my usual morning nap on the bus.

I know, bad, right?

Googling "nightmares" this evening led me to a helpful (?) website on how to get back to sleep after a nightmare. Apparently, I should try to "neutralize" the nightmare by imagining a different, more pleasant outcome. This website contained specific suggestions for how to deal with nightmares in which you are being chased. If you are being chased, it says, you might imagine that "you turn and face the pursuer, only to discover it's a cuddly teddy bear just having fun."

I have no words for this answer, but perhaps it will help some of you.

Best of luck.

I'm just going to stop snacking before bed.

So . . .

when you spend about two and half hours a day on a bus and another eight hours a day sitting at a computer screen working on a website, funny things happen to you. Trust me. I know.

One thing that happens to you when you're in this situation is that the things that wouldn't be funny to you in real life are REALLY funny at work. And life only gets funnier when you COME HOME from work because all that pent up energy has to come out in some way. And it may or may not come out in hysterical laughter over nonsense.

Just sayin'.

Today, for example, when I was at work engaged in my typical daily clicking, sorting, and editing of linkage covering 40 years of LDS.org content, I came across this beautiful poster and, in my desperation for any kind of stimulation or entertainment, thought it was awesome:

I mean it's about punctuation for goodness' sake! How could I not be entertained? Especially in my fragile state of mind?

On a completely unrelated note, the best headline to appear in any news source today was surely the headline for this story.

Okay, you've reached the end of this random it's-Friday-I-just-got-home-from-work-after-a-long-week-and-my-brain-exploded moment. Run along now, children.

Suddenly is a lovely word

I love this poem. I first heard it when Billy Collins did a reading at BYU a few years ago. Enjoy!

Tension

by Billy Collins

Never use the word suddenly just to create tension.

-Writing Fiction

Suddenly, you were planting some yellow petunias

outside in the garden,

and suddenly I was in the study

looking up the word oligarchy for the thirty-seventh time.

When suddenly, without warning,

you planted the last petunia in the flat,

and I suddenly closed the dictionary

now that I was reminded of that vile form of governance.

A moment later, we found ourselves

standing suddenly in the kitchen

where you suddenly opened a can of cat food

and I just as suddenly watched you doing that.

I observed a window of leafy activity

and beyond that, a bird perched on the edge

of the stone birdbath

when suddenly you announced you were leaving

to pick up a few things at the market

and I stunned you by impulsively

pointing out that we were getting low on butter

and another case of wine would not be a bad idea.

Who could tell what the next moment would hold?

another drip from the faucet?

another little spasm of the second hand?

Would the painting of a bowl of pears continue

to hang on the wall from that nail?

Would the heavy anthologies remain on the shelves?

Would the stove hold its position?

Suddenly, it was anyone’s guess.

The sun rose ever higher in the sky.

The state capitals remained motionless on the wall map

when suddenly I found myself lying on a couch

where I closed my eyes and without any warning

began to picture the Andes, of all places,

and a path that led over the mountains to another country

with strange customs and eye-catching hats,

each one suddenly fringed with colorful little tassels.

One of those days

So, this morning I didn't hear/subconsciously ignored my alarm and woke up naturally at 6:15am. My alarm was set for 5:15am. I usually leave my apartment at 6:20am to walk the approximately ten minutes to the bus stop for the 6:30 bus to Salt Lake. So, waking up at 6:15 was not good.

My first thought was "Dang."

My second was "Five minutes."

In five minutes, I half-showered, threw on clothes, pulled my hair back and covered it with a headband, applied a minimal amount of make-up, and headed out the door--only to realize when I reached the street outside my complex that my toothbrush was still hanging out of my mouth.

But I still caught the 6:30 bus.

Hannah . . . and waiting

Do you remember that really awkward EFY song from a few years ago (2007, I think)? The one called "And Waiting"? The one containing the tragic story of a fifteen-year-old girl who actually has to turn down a date to the senior prom because she's waiting till she turns sixteen to date like all good Mormon girls should? And the one with the story about the missionary waiting for his call? And how the girl and the missionary eventually get married and are so happy for "staying clean and waiting"?

(Disclaimer: My excuse for knowing about this song is that I was a missionary when it came out and the bishop's son went to EFY and gave us his CD. And when you're a missionary, you listen to EFY. The end.)

Well, this post isn't about that song. But it is about waiting. And it's kind of a serious post, so it seemed appropriate to start out with something that takes itself seriously--like a really cheesy EFY song.

Although some people have yet to realize this, there are actually more painful tests of faith than waiting for a mission call or a date. One such test, I think, is the wait to have a child--the trial of Sarah, Hannah, and Elizabeth in the Bible.

Yesterday in Sunday School, we read the story of Hannah almost in its entirety aloud together. It hit me in a way it never has before. I grew up on the story (my brother is named Samuel after Hannah's son, after all), but somehow, until yesterday, the details of Hannah's pain had escaped me.

First off, she is barren and is one of two plural wives in a culture where a woman's greatest contribution was the ability to bear children. The other wife, Peninnah, has many children and she mocks Hannah's barrenness "year by year" (1 Sam. 1:7)--to the point that Hannah weeps, doesn't eat, and is essentially inconsolable. When her husband asks, "Am I not better to thee than ten sons?" (verse 8), Hannah's unspoken answer is simply no. I'm sure she appreciated the blessing of a good husband, but even that blessing didn't make up for lacking what she wanted so intensely. Verse 9 reads: "And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed unto the Lord, and wept sore."

This isn't the kind of spiritual desperation we typically talk about in Sunday School--which is unfortunate, in my opinion. Mostly, we focus on counting our blessings and being positive and covering up uncertainties. Some of these things are important, of course, but I believe it's also important to understand what to do in those times when we, like Hannah, feel inconsolable, despite our many blessings.

At times, I think each of us feels like Hannah--wondering if the Lord has forgotten us. On the surface, these type of feelings seem like doubts and some would say greater faith is the answer. In reality, I think these deep spiritual questions are the real tests that every person of faith will face at some point. If we never have a reason to question our faith in God, what good would it be to us? Hannah feels abandoned and that her prayers are unheard, and yet . . . she keeps praying. She hangs in there. She passes her test. The real test of faith comes when after years of righteous living and praying, we are often expected to continue to "hang in there" for a time without the reassurances and answers and blessings we feel we need.

A theme I'm fascinated with lately in gospel study is the concept of unanswered prayers. Why is it that God doesn't always grant good, even holy desires to His children?

I can't say that I have answers to this question, but Hannah's story certainly gives me insight into it. I was recently reading a great devotional talk about how the things in life that we think are taking us off course are actually the things leading us towards God's purpose for us in our lives (e.g. Joseph's time in Egypt and prison was less than fun until he realized that it led him to saving everyone else, including his own family, from starvation).

Hannah's long wait for a son led her finally to vow to give her son (if she had one) to God. Ironically, in order to have the blessing she wanted, she had to be immediately willing to give it up--to not have it. And her desperation and pain led her to that willingness and submission. As an adult, the prophet Samuel played a key role in Israelite history. If Hannah had been blessed with children as soon as she wanted them, would she have been willing to give up this son who needed to be given up in order to fulfill his mission?

My guess? Probably not. Peninnah had plenty of children, but (from all appearances) she showed no interest in serving God.

So, ultimately, all this waiting is not just waiting. It's the pathway to becoming who we want to be and, more importantly, who the Lord intends for us to be.

As President Uchtdorf said,

"There is an important concept here: patience is not passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears. Patience means active waiting and enduring. It means staying with something and doing all that we can—working, hoping, and exercising faith; bearing hardship with fortitude, even when the desires of our hearts are delayed. Patience is not simply enduring; it is enduring well!"

Thunderstorms

Tonight, when dark storm clouds gathered over Provo, I got excited. I saw lightning in the distance, and I waited for the sound of thunder that always follows and . . . nothing.

FYI: I really like summer thunderstorms. One of my earliest memories involves dancing in a thunderstorm outside my home when I was about six. My then seven-year-old older brother was frantically trying to get me to come inside because he thought I was going to get struck by lightning, but I ignored him. I just kept playing in it.

When I was a kid, after summer thunderstorms, I liked to make paper boats and float them in the gutter. (Who am I kidding: I still like doing that.)

When I was sixteen, I wrote a poem about thunderstorms for my high school English class. I would type it up for you all, but most of us should forget and bury the poetry we wrote in high school, and it's one of those sixteen-year-old poems that one should keep to one's self.

So, yeah, I like thunderstorms. So when I saw lightning but heard no thunder, I was a little bummed.

I suppose the lightning was too far away tonight for me to hear the thunder, but still. The idea of a summer thunderstorm hitting was almost making up for the weird, odd, somewhat disappointing things that happened today. I was hoping the storm would just burst and make my day better, but it didn't. Just some promising looking wind, dark clouds, and that distant lightning without thunder.

I went inside, took care of a few things, knew I should go to bed (I have to get up at 5:30 most mornings), but couldn't resist going on a quick walk just to see if the storm was growing a little bit. I walked out at about 10pm: it was warm (good sign), almost smelled like a thunderstorm (another good sign), but skies were mostly clear (bad sign).

A minute or two in my walk, however, it happened. Big rain drops. Big loud rain drops. I looked up and saw a star-filled sky with only a few clouds. There were visible stars out, and yet rain was falling! I'm sure the wind was blowing the raindrops off course, but it looked like they were falling directly from the clear part of the sky, not the cloudy part.

It made my whole day.

Unfortunately, the rain never got going in earnest. It stopped completely after about two minutes.

Then the wind picked up, and I had an allergy attack.

But for those two minutes, things were good.

I think I'm in love

Hey, folks, here's some pictures of me with my lovely new (used) 2002 Oldsmobile Alero. Don't be too jealous.

After two years of driving a 1994 stick-shift Toyota Corolla that broke down as often as the weather changes in Utah, I have finally moved on. It was a rough break up (break down?) with the Corolla (it practically exploded on me--seriously, red fluids and all--before it retired to the junk yard), but I feel good about this new relationship. I must say, it's nice to be able to drive some place without wondering when/where the engine will suddenly stop.

Any ideas on names for this baby?

Gender roles according to a two year old

So, a few weeks ago, my sister and my two and a half year old niece, Audrey, visited me at work to have lunch with me in the cafeteria.

On their way to meet me, my sister pointed out to my niece the building she worked in before Audrey was born. She said, "Look, Audrey, this is where I used to work."

Audrey looked at her skeptically and replied, "Mommies don't work."

When my sister repeated this story to me over lunch, Audrey (overhearing) enthusiastically announced, "Yeah, my daddy goes to work!"

I asked her what her mommy did. The reply? "She stays home and plays with me."

Validation

:)

A valuable lesson for us all

This wisdom was displayed on a sign above the printer at work today:

Electronics clipped to your pants are ok only if you are Batman, Superman, and or any other kind of man who needs them to SAVE LIVES, not to send email.

Skyping as a tool for parenting

Stefana Broadbent: How the Internet enables intimacy | Video on TED.com

Watch the video.

So, obviously (as you can tell from this and the last post), I just started exploring TED.com this evening. It is a website that collects talks and speeches from interesting thinkers all over the world. The topics are widely varied. This woman, Stefana Broadbent, explores how the Internet and texting/cell phones are merging the public sphere and private sphere. In the past, when you went to work, you had little to no contact with family and friends during the time you were at work. Now, you can be in constant contact with others through instant messaging, texting, skyping, etc. Our generation is always connected.

On the one hand, this could lead to closer relationships because we are in better contact with people more often (even people who live far away). On the other hand, this could lead to several problems. Aside from the question of decreased productivity at work, one wonders if we are becoming too connected.

After watching this video, I wonder: what does this connectivity do to individuals and our ability to be alone with ourselves?

But now it's too late for me to know what I'm trying to say. So I'll leave that question hanging for someone else to answer.

Why you should be an idealist

Viktor Frankl: Why to believe in others | Video on TED.com

Believing in others more than they deserve makes them better than they are.