Creative title? I don't got one.

Hey there folks. I am not dead! Whoop! I survived today. I did almost get sick at therapy, but I survived. It turned out to be just fine. There is now another girl in the group, which was really nice. She barely talked at all. She must have been freaking out. But she came! And she's coming back next week! Hopefully we can be friends. I like friends.

I have to put in a plug for the band The Lumineers. They are amazing. I have been listening to their CD on repeat for the past couple of days. Here is one of their songs (Flowers in Your Hair) :

Pretty much amazing.

Aaaaand tomorrow is Friday. This week went by really, really fast. This has been a really strange week. I've been happy and sad and all over the place, wishing and wanting and failing and trying over and over and over. I'll do better next week. I do get to go home this weekend, though, and see my family. I think it's been a couple of months since I was last home 0.o  I miss them after a while. Lots can happen in two months.

Today is the very last day of February. Tomorrow is March. And do you know what March means? MARCH MEANS ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!! MY FAVORITE HOLIDAY EVER!!!! *cough*

Sorry, I feel like I'm rambling and don't actually have anything to say. Y'alls are stellar. Bye.

I'll Take Death By Velociraptor, Please

How do I feel about tomorrow and the coming week:

TERRIFIED

I am so scared. Therapy again tomorrow. Our task for the session is to write out the history of our problem and share it with the group. If I hadn't already committed to going every week I would chicken out of this one. I don't want to tell people! Heck, I don't like to think about it myself! What is said cannot be taken back, and they will judge me and I hate being judged. I like people to think that I am at least a half-way decent person. I'm not in real life, but it would be nice if people thought that. So. Talking about that with a bunch of men tomorrow.

Ha ha. That sounded super awkward. And I know I've not told you what my problem is, but, quite frankly, you don't need to know. And you don't want to either. I like that there are some people out there who think I'm nice. 

On another sour note, I am doing so wretchedly in school it makes me want to vomit. I have a final for BoM next week, and even if I get 100% on it, I'll only get 84% in the class. Disgusting. I really, really hate myself sometimes. I need to cop on and do my flipping schoolwork, put forth the effort that is expected of a BYU student, and use my brain like I used to be able to. If I ever make it out of here alive, I darn well hope it was all worth it. And that I deserve it.

Life. Lifelifelifelifelife. Death by velociraptor sounds really good right about now. Or perhaps I could just turn into a velociraptor. The go straight to heaven, right? Sweet. Velociraptor it is.

I am trying to scrounge my brain for something happy to talk about. Um, the sun was shining today? That was nice. I ate lots of cookies. That was kind of happy. I'm listening to Death Cab for Cutie and remembering last summer. I listened to the "Plans" album while I drove to and from work at Thanksgiving Point. Gosh, that was so nice. Just being able to drive about with excellent music and the warmth from outside. Memories. I love the stuff. Right. That's about the happiest I can get right now.

Oh, and, Dean? This is me reciprocating. Because being mentioned in someone else's blog is pretty much the greatest thing ever. You have a fabulous morning/day/evening/night/whatever it is when you read this :)

Short Post

T'will be a short post.

Did you see my status about being hungry and tired? Well, I have the greatest roommate ever, because she generously donated minestrone soup and a slice of cake to the Feed Danie Foundation. THOSE ARE TWO OF MY FAVORITE FOODS. Jamie. Is. The. Greatest. And her mom makes fabulous soup.

Secondly, update on the best bunny on the face of the planet--she appears to be doing quite well :)

(This is my very first upload to youtube...whoot whoot! Thanks momma for the vid.)

Also, this was a really crappy weekend. Horribly so. It is my goal to make this week better than this weekend by going to class, doing my homework before netflix, and cancelling my netflix account like I should have a looong time ago.

I love you all!

Attending Class, Group Therapy, and Paralyzed Rabbits

So I was going to go to bed....and then I was going to do dishes....and then I was going to take a bath....and then I was going to stop eating chocolate covered caramels. But, looky here. I'm writing a blog post. Really late at night. 'Cause sometimes I do that.

I am rather proud of myself--if I go to both of my classes tomorrow, I will have gone to class every day this week. That will be a semester accomplishment. I know, I should be going to every class every single day, but it has been a real struggle this semester. Just counting the small victories over here, hoping one day I'll progress to some big ones.

I went to my first group therapy session today, and let me tell you, it was flippin' scary. Talking about my issues in a group full of people I don't know or trust? Freeeaaaaky. But it actually turned out to be a good thing, even though we were basically told that everything we were trying to do to combat our problems was no use, and they didn't bother to give us any solutions, just a lot of metaphors. Knowing that there are more people struggling with the same thing is helpful, I suppose. And they were nice people, too. A little strange, but who isn't? I know some people think that therapy is a really wussy way to dump your problems on someone else and avoid sorting them out yourself, but it takes an amazing amount of courage to go. I'm not joking. I almost made myself physically sick waiting for everyone else to turn up for the session (because, of course, I was so early I was the first to show up and got to sit there, anxiety-ridden, hoping I was in the right place). Anyway. Therapy. Good stuff.

In other news, the family rabbit became paralyzed after running into a rubbish bin. Poor Skippy. If you are morally opposed to praying for rabbits to get better, don't feel obligated to, but otherwise...it'd be great. She really is the best bunny ever. And I think I've dealt with all the death and unhappiness I can handle for one week.

I feel kind of bad, because this is just another post talking about my rather uninteresting life. And you were lovely enough to spend a few minutes of your own life reading it. Do I need to give you a profound thought so it's worth your while? Okay. Lemme find one. How about a poem?! Here it goes:

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
   It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes and oh, my friends--
   It gives a lovely light.

     --Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)--

And interpret that as you wish! Goodnight to all!

This One's For Carmody

You died today, Carmody. You really did. Up and left us when I was so convinced you were going to get better. I feel like it was partially my fault. The bishopric asked us to fast for you, but I didn't. I forgot and I ate and I didn't try again. They asked us to go to the temple for you, but I can't go to the temple, Carmody. Not yet, not until I sort out all of my problems. The day before you went to the hospital I saw you crouched in the sunlight outside of our building. I asked you what was wrong. You said nothing, but you looked sad, so I double checked. Again you said you were fine. And that was the last conversation we had. I shouldn't have worried so much about catching the shuttle. I should have given you that hug I was debating whether or not to give you. If anyone deserved a hug it was you. I didn't even know you that well. We weren't best friends. But we were friends.

I was so naive. I was so, so sure that God would never take you back. But I know why he'd want his Carmody back. Your sweetness filled every crevice, every crack in a sad heart. Your kindness made us all feel safe and welcome. Your laughter was the medicine for every sickness. Perhaps the angels were getting lonely without you.

Do you want to know my favorite memory of you? It was that night that Jamie and I got locked into our apartment. Our door was always really stupid, but this time it just wouldn't open. You happened to be outside, so we called you over through the window and you climbed right in and had a go at it. It wouldn't budge, but we laughed and laughed and laughed like being stuck in an apartment was the funniest thing that ever happened to anyone. And then Mike came and tried it, and it still wouldn't move. Eventually we called the police, and they called the little Asian locksmith, who was sleeping at the time. You were there with us as we waited for her to show up with her toolkit and change out the doorknobs. You were there with us when we found that the door opened if we shifted it a certain way. You were there as we told and retold the story to each other, knowing full well that we'd already recounted it three times--but we were in hysterics. It was wonderful. A broken old door blessed us with a memory and a few laughs.

And now I'm sitting here in that same apartment, the door to my left and the window right in front of me. And where are you, Carmody? You're up there with all of those lonely angels, making them laugh. Mending their hearts. And you're down here somewhere, too, with all of these lonely angels. Mending our hearts, whispering to us that you're just a memory away. Be safe up there. Don't ever cry, because the other angels need your happiness. I know that you know how much we all love you, Carmody, and I'm sorry I didn't show how much I loved you while you were alive. But thank you for the cleaning checks and the building meetings and the laughter and the memories and the service and the love. You are wonderful :)

The Illusive California Problem

Yesterday in Mission Prep I started falling asleep. One of my ways to combat falling asleep in class is to write, whatever happens to come to mind. I found it interesting that I wrote about what I did. Here it is, slightly edited.

"I'm falling asleep, so I'm going to keep writing because it keeps me awake. One day I will do something great. Something astounding. Something for which I will be know by my grandchildren, and they will want to tell their friends all about me. 'My grandmother lived with the Himba when she was 19,' or, 'When I think of bravery, I think of my Nanny. She was her own person in the face of opposition.' As Helen Keller said, life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

"California was the adventure I wasn't crazy enough to do alone. I had it planned, every detail, and did not so much as consider asking permission. Adventure was never had with the approval of the opposition. Neither was greatness. And so I found my flight at one in the morning, after hours of looking, agonizing over the decision. But the agony turned into crazed excitement that wouldn't let up. I didn't go to sleep that night.

"I have always stayed inside the lines. I have always wanted to make other people happy. But this time I didn't care. I didn't care about a degree. What worth was a piece of paper? To which fate would I resign myself with the pursuit of knowledge? I would get a low paying job, pining after a man to save me. How did I get in this hole? I would ask. My time and effort and tears put to use for money to settle down, buy a house, set up a retirement fund. My youth spent slaving toward a distant life that was, perhaps, worth living. Because that's what we do. That's what would make my family, society, proud. They would have me believe God found only acceptable a life in a house in the suburbs, depending on a husband, being able to provide for myself if he ever left me.

"Stability. Because that is how it is done.

"I. Am. Tired. Of. Stability. Never have I ever been stable. Not my life. Not my mind. Not my feelings. I want bravery. I want craziness. I want everything to fall apart and to pull me through the cracks so I can, for once, see myself for who I am. We only truly see ourselves when we are full of cracks and are throwing little pieces of ourselves out to the world. They may do with me as they wish.

"And running away from school and my mother and my friends was how I wanted to fall apart. California was where it would happen. The unbearable freedom of the planning and the running and the journey would eat me up, and I would welcome it with my entire being. It wasn't stable. It was insane. For the first time in my life, insane was achievable. Insane was all I wanted, all that mattered.

"I don't think I was ever meant to be a normal one. Perhaps I am going to settle down and have a family, a backup career, participating in PTA and obeying a husband--but I will never be happy with any of that until I have had my great adventure. It is not me, not yet. I was created to be pulled from my limbs, to be thrown into the eyes and mouths of those who know me. I will pursue my California until I am so full of cracks I become invisible. After that I will choose to be stable, to put back the assured smiles on all of your faces, because I'll know what it's like to be nothing but cracks."

Maybe I'm right. Maybe I'm wrong. Either way, those were my thoughts.