There was a time

There once was a time when I had dreams of becoming a veterinarian.

Now I'm not so sure.

I used to be absolutely, one hundred percent certain that that would be the path I would take. I thought I loved it. But recently I've been noticing a trend. Simply put, it makes me unhappy.

I love being involved, and being a part of the thrill and the bustle that is a veterinarian's life. I love the animals, and I love the puzzles that are presented with an animal case. But am I in love with the profession? I don't think so.

Whenever I come home from working at an office, there are a few things that I know:
-No one really wants to know what I've done that day (even though there's no such thing)
-My back hurts (from stress).
-I'm cranky.
-I'm starving.
-I usually hate humanity for neglecting their animals.

Does that mean it's something I want to do for life? I don't know that it does. I'm still trying to figure it out.

What do I really want to do?
Be a wildlife rehabber. But that doesn't pay in real money.


Marriage it is.

In Theory..

Anna and I had plans for this time around. Well, perhaps not so much plans, as expectations for a fantastic semester. Last semester turned out to be close to perfect--we all became a family, we were undeniably happy--and this semester seemed like it could only get better.

So far, January has taken all those expectations and smashed them to bits, then ground them into a fine powder to blow away in the icy wind.

My mother says it's just January. All January's are like this. I hope she's right. I think it's probably God's sense of humor. And all my fault.

And before I'm struck with lightning, I'll explain. I've been struggling with motivation to progress, lately. I haven't been doing anything wrong. I just haven't been doing everything right. I haven't wanted to progress, quite frankly, because that's more responsibility, more work. more time spent, more accountability, and more uncomfortable all around.

I was in church one day I don't even remember when someone mentioned praying for help in finding motivation to progress. Not just to "help me progress." So I did, because really I figured that is something I should do--for the mere fact that I didn't actually want to do it.

I must be extremely dense, however--because only through breaking my bones has the Lord been able to get through to me. And although it still hurts like a broken bone, yesterday I found myself being grateful. I am grateful I broke my foot. Right now I'm learning so much more about myself and those around me than I ever have before. I'm learning how to communicate, how to rely on people, how to trust them. How to let things go, and how to know my own limits. I'm learning about how kind people can be, and how chivalry is very much still a thing.

And as Anna and I are pulling ourselves forcefully out of the hole we've metaphorically fallen in (with the help and hands of many around us), I'm progressing. We've started roommate scripture reading and I can't believe how much I can learn just from talking with our little family about gospel principles. It's really quite amazing, and I hope we keep it up.

Well, that's my theory anyway. I prayed myself a broken foot. That, or, I broke my foot in a meaningless way playing a meaningless game and I was an idiot.

I'm gonna go with the first one.

An Octopus of a Tale

Once there was a boy. And once there was a girl. And once she built an octopus out of clay. And once the window replacement people shattered it without a second glance.

This Octopus (or Ringo, as she calls it) had sat broken on a shelf in her apartment for an entire semester, waiting for his moment. The girl didn't know how to fix Ringo, and life got in the way of her goal to put Ringo back together again. When she left for home it was on the long list of things to do when she got back. In fact, she had plans to do it before the semester even started, and had the gorilla glue to prove it. Luckily for her, she had the surprise of her life waiting for her in her kitchen upon her return to her humble abode.

She walked into her apartment after a long, tiring voyage, and first relieved herself of her carry-on burdens (for the airport did not have her checked bags and would be sending them right off). The second order of business was to create a meal akin to one she'd never had before --a quesadilla, a delicacy among those of the collegiate lifestyle. Upon entering her kitchen she remained oblivious as her best friend looked on--only when she turned around did she notice, in the center of their grand table, a gift as could counter no other. A gift she only dreamed somebody else would give her, and never dared to hope would come true.

There, sitting unobtrusively on the kitchen table, was Ringo--topped with a big blue bow and as whole as could be.

Now back to the boy. The boy and girl were friends. Great friends, even. The boy made the girl laugh. The boy convinced her to join the VPLCT. The boy drove girl to the airport so she could fly home to her family for Christmas. Unbeknownst to her, he went back to her house and took the broken octopus parts to his home to fix. T'was no easy task, to be sure, for the octopus was in many different pieces, and an attempt to fix it had already been made by the girl with little success and poor results.

The girl stood in the center of her kitchen as her eyes welled up with tears. "Who did this??" she asked her best friend. "Ryan," she replied, and the girl was overcome.

The moral of the story is that I, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Ryan Hansen (and those who helped), for giving me back something that I truly love and worked so hard for. It means so much more now than it ever did. I couldn't have asked for a better friend.

St. George

Anna and I do a lot of things together. Then Anna blogs about them. This makes me not want to blog about them. So I'm stealing her blog, once again.

"Thanks to Martin Luther King Day, we had last Monday off from school. Three day weekends are an absolute joy to college students and a group of us took advantage of the extra day of rest. I believe it was on the Thursday afternoon before MLK Day that I received a text message from Becca saying we would be going to St. George for the long weekend; the friend of two of our good friends has a house there, or rather his family does. I agreed instantly at the time but later ran into a bit of trouble.

Come Friday I was all ready to go. I'd gotten people to cover my hours at work; my backpack was full of clothes; I'd picked out what to read for fun; I'd chosen what little homework to bring. But about 30 minutes before we were supposed to leave, I started to re-think my weekend. That was the trouble. Staying at home and relaxing was just so much easier than driving three hours to St. George that night. I suddenly had the great desire to be alone. Luckily, I have a group of persuasive friends who wouldn't let me stay in Provo when the sunny skies of St. George were so attainable.

And so I went, somewhat begrudgingly.

The drive down that night wasn't bad at all. Five of us journeyed south that night: Nathan, Trent, Erica, Wee Nathan and myself. (Yes, we had two Nathans on the trip. That became quite entertaining.) Wee Nathan and I talked a lot about football. We also watched "Get Smart," a movie I remember surprisingly well even though the last time I saw it was probably when it came out. The drive went by quickly and arriving in St. George felt great, mostly because the temperature was well above 30.

The next morning started out great. The night before we planned out our meals for the weekend and bought everything we needed. That meant a delicious breakfast of orange juice and french toast! Nathan made it for us and he did a fabulous job. We lounged around a lot that morning and afternoon. Both the Nathans, Trent and I eventually made our way outside to play volleyball. It was over 50 degrees that day and it felt spectacular. Going out in a long-sleeved tee and shorts seemed like a miracle. After a bit of volleyball, we just ended up lying in the grass talking. The only thing that drew us away from the sun was the thought of all the ice cream we had in the freezer. (Ice cream was on sale so they bought four half gallons. It was perhaps the best decision anyone made all weekend to buy all that.)

After the ice cream we played cards and some other board game I can't remember the name of. It was quite the competitive time, though. I felt quite good about myself as we played the card game scum on account of how during all but one round I was either in the top spot or the the 2nd spot.

Eventually we decided to break out all the bicycles. Trent was quite enamored with the tandem bike. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I rode a bike so the short ride to the park felt like a dream. Once at the park, we decided to test our disc golf skills. I'd played a fair few times before but my skills aren't all that enviable. I don't quite have the precision needed to putt in disc golf, at least from really close to the baskets. I can throw decently far and with general accuracy so that's what I ended up doing most on my team. However, it turns out I'm excellent at putting from mid-range. Put me within a few feet of the basket and I'm terrible, but put me more than 10 feet away and it's game over: I won't miss a shot. Disc golf is definitely a sport I could see myself really getting into.

Right when we came back from discing, Ben and Becca arrived! Once they were situated in the house, it was time to talk dinner. We ended up toasting some bread and making sandwiches but for people who didn't eat any lunch (Nathan, Erica, Trent, Nathan and myself) they were extra great. Once we'd had our fill, we actually just sat in the dark in the living room for quite some time. Eventually Trent roused all of us from our slightly comatose states, going on about how it was only 7 on a Friday night and we were in St. George and it wasn't freezing outside for once so we had better go out and actually do something. All seven of us climbed into the Honda Pilot and went for a little drive with no real destination in mind.

We ended up pulling into this parking lot that apparently led into some small park full of red rock; it was hard to tell because we only had a couple flashlights and we were away from the city lights. So we took a little hike, even with Becca in her broken state of a walking boot. It ended up being a great decision as we climbed up just a little bit and looked out over the city.

Once we returned from our little hike, we watched the movie "Secondhand Lions" and eventually everyone made their way to their respective rooms/couches to sleep.

Sunday morning all seven us were up and ready to go in enough time to make it to 11 o'clock church; this is what we planned to do so it was great. After that we went to the St. George temple and visitors' center. It was a lovely way to spend our Sunday afternoon and it was such a beautiful, sunny day.

 All that walking around sure made us hungry, though. Immediately upon our arrival back at the house, we all changed and started making our late lunch/early dinner. For Sunday dinner we'd planned to make grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and some vegetable. Friday night after shopping the boys decided the chicken should be marinated so they concocted a marinade/sauce from a variety of things in the refrigerator. This included but was not limited to barbecue sauce, Arby's sauce and mustard.

The best thing to occur as we prepared dinner was the "dare" given to Ben by Nathan. He handed Ben half a head of garlic and said, "I'll give you a dollar if you eat that." And without hesitating, Ben popped that garlic into his mouth and started chewing despite great protest from Becca and me. While Becca was protesting the actual eating of the garlic, I yelled at Ben for doing such a thing for only a dollar; such a challenge was worth way more than that. He chewed that garlic for quite some time before it began burning his mouth and throat and he had to spit it out. Then he brushed his teeth a fair few times and according to him at least the first time he did it he "couldn't taste the toothpaste."

The rest of the dinner preparation went swimmingly and we sat down to a wonderful looking meal around 4 o'clock. Nathan did a marvelous job with the grilling and the boys' marinade turned out great, despite the fact that it had the most random of ingredients. We knew the food was good because we talked so little during that meal.

Following dinner it was time for another bike ride to disc golf. After all, Ben and Becca hadn't gone with us the day before. The teams were Nathan, Erica and Becca; Ben and Trent; Wee Nathan and myself. We were generally pretty even through all the holes until the last three of the second round we played. Wee Nathan and I dominated those last three holes. He threw off first, getting somewhat close to the holes but not close enough to be considered actual putting distance. From well over ten feet away on each of those holes I absolutely nailed it. It was kind of funny considering how at the beginning of the games I was quite vocal about how disc golf always frustrated me and I never could throw accurately. Then somehow I always managed to turn things around and throw the discs perfectly. When we got home Nathan (pictured below as the disc model) said he never wanted to play with me again unless I was on his team.

Nathan: America's Next Top Disc Model

Ben can fly

Disc golf pro, broken foot and all

The only way to pose as champions

Look for us in your next edition of Disc Golf Monthly

Following the disc golf, I'm not entirely sure what we did but eventually we watched the Ravens/Patriots AFC Championship game. And by "we" I mean both the Nathans and myself. Everyone else was there but a lot of people fell asleep. Oh, I'm pretty sure there was a bunch of shake making in between the time we got home and started watching the game. (We seriously ate so much ice cream on this trip.) Once the game was over and everyone was awake again we had to once again choose which movie we were going to watch. Sometimes it feels like we spent more time talking about which movie to watch than actually watching a movie. The Sunday pick ended up being Jurassic Park.

And so came Monday, the day we had to return to cold and wintry Provo. Breakfast was once again french toast, this time made primarily by Becca. It was a pretty slow morning; everyone sort of lounged around and relaxed before our 3ish hour trek back to the more northern quadrant of Utah.

Once we'd all had our share of delicious, sugary french toast, we cleaned up the house. That didn't take long with seven of us working together. The final activity of the trip was writing in the house's journal. Anyone who stays there is supposed to write about whatever they did, a pretty neat thing really. Nathan gave me the job of writing what we did since I'm quite talented with putting words together, or so I'm told. I made everyone sign their names at the bottom of our entry and then it was time to go.

The drive back was a bit melancholy, mostly because we watched the temperature drop over and over. Our days of sunshine and 50 degree weather were gone before we knew it. The farther north we drove the sadder I became that it would be months before I could wear my Chacos again. That was one of those little things that made me incredibly happy: wearing Chacos in January. Hopefully whatever my friends and I do over the next three day weekend will be conducive to wearing sandals. It was quite the weekend and I'm sure glad my friends dragged me along. While this post is particularly long, I haven't even mentioned most of the stuff that really made us laugh, the stuff we'll always remember. There's just some stuff that doesn't need to be written about, the kind of stuff that just had to be experienced and will always be remembered.

And so that was my three day weekend. It's hard to believe that a week ago today I was lounging around a beautiful house in St. George. The first three weeks of school have absolutely flown by. Once again the semester hasn't been anything like I expected it to be, as if they ever are, though this one has been especially surprising. "  We're coping, however--probably even better than expected. :)

http://wendtanna.blogspot.com/2013/01/st-george-sunshine.html

You might be a Mattson if..

Your love of adventure is only slightly outweighed by your love of home
Your vacation requires you take a vacation from your vacation
If your vacation doesn't require a second vacation, you've done something terribly wrong
Pain is inconsequential when it comes to SCUBA or Disneyland, but otherwise it's a serious problem to be dealt with ASAP
You get dangerously cranky when you don't sleep
You never get a drink at any type of restaurant other than water
You love nature to no end
You watch almost exclusively Syfy, NatGeo, Animal Planet, and USA Network
You're a fan of Doctor Who
You're a huge Disney freak, even if it is illogically expensive
You have awkward dance moves to be used in awkward public places
You are always extremely, ridiculously busy (and yet still should be getting more done..)
You love Swedish meatballs
You know what S's and O's are
The phrase "But don't get excited, I love monkeys too!" means something to you
You know the second verse to the bed bug poem that nobody else seems to
You can drive a manual car
You have a hard time admitting when you're wrong
You window shop for real estate--constantly
You dream of one day building and/or remodeling your dream home without hiring anyone
Your #1 dessert choice is most definitely ice cream
You never yell, but sometimes people may confuse your regular, conversational voice with a yelling voice
You're too stubborn for your own good
You can recognize (and most likely point out) Santa Lucia in the Christmas-ified "It's a Small World"
You cry during most Hallmark commercials (and anything else remotely sad)
You have to eat an apple before any candy on Christmas morning
You often have asthma attacks from laughing too much
You have to be careful about who walks behind you, because they're definitely probably trying to trip you in some way, shape or form

The Fab Four; The Elements; The Aviary

I've never liked or really even appreciated those people who fawned over their roommates. It annoyed me. I didn't always love mine, so how could they be so happy with theirs? I did always love some of mine, but it wasn't ever a connection that would make me write Facebook statuses or even in fact entire blog posts about them.

But now I'm one of them. I've found people I just absolutely love. I feel more at home there, with them, then I do while I'm currently sitting in my home in California (probably because my sister is in my old room, and I'm in the exercise room). Home is where the heart is, after all. My heart happens to be in Provo.

I know I'm writing this for all to see, but...don't ever remind me that I said/wrote that. It goes against all I believe.

I'm pretty sure this all started with Anna. My first memory of her was during freshman orientation, August of 2009. She sat across from me in our Y group circle on the grass by the Clyde, and told the group of how much she loved Harry Potter. This wasn't a regular love, you see. This was a full on, intimate love of Harry Potter. Perhaps intimate isn't the correct word, but full blown nerdiness ensued. I'd never heard of anyone loving anything (ex. a show/movie) so much. It was weird. But what I most admired is that she didn't give a rats behind if people thought so. She was my neighbor that year. We didn't exactly hang out, either, or really become friends--we just talked on Sunday nights at hall meetings and then bonded over Chinese food, Heath Ledger & naked buttocks. I think that's the true beginning of our story. We just got each other. Simple as that.

Now it's been a full semester of living together. Let's just say, we're perfect for each other. I think we just sort of grew together. Wind. Anna's ability to communicate baffles me--I never have the words, yet she always does. Even now, I'm at a loss to describe her. Anna listens. I can tell her anything and she won't think it's dumb. She'd tell me if it was, anyway. Brute honesty is our best combined feature. She tells me things even when I don't want to hear them. Her fearlessness is definitely what I admire most about her. She'll do whatever she pleases, wear whatever she pleases, and go wherever she pleases, armed with knife and pepper spray--and not afraid to use it. I'm mostly glad she laughs with me, at all the dumb things I say. Or at me, it's hard to tell sometimes. Crunk.

Then there's Lorraine. Fire. Lorraine I've known of for the same amount of time as I've known Anna, but never got to know better than a hello at the door. Now we're roommates. And I love it. We've found our niche together through baking. Decorating cakes is our MO. We're opening a bakery. It's called The Osh Kosh Ganache Cakery --oh my gosh!. You're welcome, world. Lorraine's passion is something to behold. Her love of math has always confused me, but her wealth of knowledge about so many more things is astounding. She loves to run, too--there's just something about serious runners that inspires a sense of awe anyway, but add the flaming red hair and you've got a wowzer there. She's heading off to Paris, France come April. She'll be Soeur Hilton to them, as she's serving a mission for the Lord out there. Basically, the best missionary the French field has ever seen.

And Stacy. Water. Dear Stacy. I knew of her, but not much more when she lived with Anna & Lorraine previously. She baked wonderful banana bread, that's for sure. But now it's more than that. Stacy will blow things off with me just so we can dance the night away to terrible, yet lovely songs. She thinks she's boring, but I think she's hilarious. We never fail to have a good time, even when we're practically doing nothing. We love the strangest, oddest things. Dinosaurs, Slavic techno bands, and crappy Christmas movies to name a few. Stacy's kindness and thoughtfulness blows me away. That's probably what led her to be the new Relief Society President, which we tease her about nonstop of course.

We all just work. As a family. We're a family. Anna, of course, said it best on her blog. She wrote, in regards to the night of Lorraine's mission call opening, "As the four of us shared a group hug just moments after she opened her call, the joy and love I felt regarding all of them was simply awesome...Becca talked about that moment later. As we were all getting ready to finally go to bed, she said that tonight was the time we went from being friends to being family. There is something to be said for a group of people who just get each other. "

 And there you have it, folks. I'm a member of a family in Provo, Utah. I miss them very much, but I love being home with my other family as well. It's different types of love, yet the same love. Really, if you want a better description than that confusing one I just gave, ask Anna. She's the one who makes sense.

What She Said. Plus a few additions.

I should have posted about Idaho awhile ago....but here's the thing. I'm choc full of things to do. So here's what Anna wrote about it....(She's a journalism major & loves writing, so read that one.)

I would just like to add a few tidbits.

Ryan was driving, and I was co-pilot. I made him give me the entire history of the VPLCT and Chick-Fil-A...turns out he basically instigated the whole thing. We have him to thank. I had been up since 6:30am that day, and stayed up until 3:30am, so although we had some great conversation, I can't say I remember a whole lot of it.

After Cameron woke Anna up with a Russian voice, she left and went to the bathrooms whilst I refused to move for a bit--a little like hitting snooze on an alarm clock. But alarm clocks don't steamroll you until you get up...which is what then happened. Cameron, my dear Cameron, steamrolled me several times before I begged for mercy and promised to get up. He is a man with few limits, that one. I love him to pieces.

My number was 43. :)

My favorite part about this trip was the people. I ADORE seeing Lorraine let loose--it's one of my favorite things about this entire semester actually. I love how our group interacts. We sang, we talked, we laughed (snorted), we slept. Benny and I sang the Circle of Life like the epic people we are--and the last three seconds were even caught on video. The group sang the Chick-Fil-A song together around the heat lamp (because it was very cold, although not as cold as it could have been, and for that I'm grateful.) Although, the cold was also one of my favorite parts, because we would all form cuddle huddles.....and who doesn't love cuddle huddles with attractive people?  The best thing that was said around the "fire" happened to be a conversation about the girls all leaving next semester on missions. All the boys are lamenting this fact, but when it was said this time I just put my fist in the air and said "YESSSSSSS." Ryan looked at me and said "Hey! You're value just went up!" because I won't be leaving on a mission and I'll still be here next semester--the perfect age, and with much, much less competition. I think I'll be highly valued next semester.

The road home may have been uneventful for Anna, but as for me it was anything but--since I had to help Ryan survive through the fog and snow and rain. Actually, I am super surprised by how calm I was during the entire road trip--the last time I went up to Idaho with Fish boys driving I really did hold the door handle for dear life. I didn't really grip the door handle at all. Ryan & I started to feel like parents after a bit though, with our kids asleep in the back....I believe it even went so far as mentioning "How cute they are when they're asleep!" and "That's the only reason we haven't killed them yet." And finally, on the way home, we got another perfect Ryan quote. Lorraine was talking about a boy who just wanted to kiss her without any commitment--there were mixed feelings about this subject in the car, but Ryan's was the best. "Lorraine! Your body is a temple. Don't let his lips touch the front door!"

In all, we just had a wonderful time.

A touch of Humanity

A lot of times in college I get caught up with ME ME ME & oh, me.

Quite frankly, I'm sick of it. I hate when I become this way.  I want to serve, but I often run into the questions of how, when, what type of commitment will it be, will I be able to get schoolwork done? Will my grades suffer because of it? Can I still perform my job? Can I put this on my resume?

I'm so, so sick of it all. And/or, I wish I was superwoman who could perform all of these things awesomely while still making people's lives better around her.

This summer, I witnessed something that will never leave me. I was heading towards my car in the parking lot after a routine blood draw at the doctor's. In the parking lot was a woman, sitting with her knees together flat on the ground, legs splayed beneath her on the asphalt. She was clutching her stomach like it was the only thing keeping her alive, and crying hysterically. I couldn't really process what was happening, and I didn't know what to do--many people were already going to her aid, and we were in the parking lot of a doctor's office. A woman was on the phone with 911, and I overheard part of the conversation before I started once again heading for my car. "There's a woman here, and she thinks she's having a miscarriage. She's in a lot of pain. We're in the parking lot of..."  While I'm sure there was a lot of physical pain involved, it wasn't that that made me leave. I could hear, through her hysteria, the pain of a woman losing her child. I don't think I could have held it together had I stayed. In fact, as soon as I was in the car I lost it, and drove home crying.

Sometimes I regret leaving, but then I think she wouldn't have wanted all these people gawking anyway. But mostly I wish I'd stayed and done something. I often run through the scenarios. Would I have been on the fringes still, not knowing what to do? Would I have had my knees on the asphalt next to her, comforting? Could I have been in action, giving orders, telling people to run and get a doctor from the office? I've taken the courses. I'm certified in CPR and First Aid. And yet I felt inadequate. I felt young and inexperienced. I was uncomfortable, and humans are definitely not my element.

But I am grateful. It's a reminder; a reminder to do my best with what I've got, because it can always get worse. A reminder than the world doesn't revolve around me, and there are bigger things than papers and tests to worry about. A reminder that one day I'll be more like superwoman. A promise that one day, I won't be the one getting in the car and running away. It was a touch of humanity.

Cheated

I'm feeling a bit cheated nowadays. I work really hard, I promise. And I sorta want to be able to bring my kids back to BYU and show them all the places that I've done things, and how cool this building was, and all the nooks and crannies.

But the Widstoe will be torn down right after I graduate. Seriously almost as soon as I set foot outside the protective embrace of BYU's undergraduate-ness. Even if I take an extra year than I should. I spend my whole life in there. I've changed my frog lab more than anything. I have a legacy already! And it'll be gone.

And let's not even mention my freshman dorms. My parents both lived in Heritage. My sister lived in my exact dorm. My brother lived around there too. I leave the place, and they tear it down within a year. It's gone. A hole right now, really. Not that my freshman year in those dorms was really something to celebrate and pass on, but it was Heritage, IN my heritage! How cool is that?

My existence at BYU soon won't exist.

Also, not that this has any affect on my decisions thus far in life, but the new age for sister missionaries? I turned 21 on September 29th, 2012. Literally one week later, on October 6th, 2012, they changed the age for sister missionaries from 21 to 19. Then when I thought I'd have potentially a year at BYU with my 18 year old little brother, they changed the mission age for boys from 19 to 18. He could now leave before his freshman year of college.

It seems I am exactly the wrong age.

Pip the Squirrel

I realize I haven't thoroughly done justice to my summer of late.

I didn't mention anything on here about my darling Pip, the orphan squirrel I helped raise & release into the wild.

I must also mention that I didn't take a single photograph of him--seeing as I don't have anything to take a photograph with-- and therefore you must imagine just how adorable my darling Pippin was.

I take it back! Here's one of me syringe feeding him. Anna took it. I also have my dog scrubs on so I think that's a nice touch.

Squirrels are little troublemakers. They're full of energy (when they're not dehydrated and malnourished like he was when he first came to me) and they make lots of messes.

He loved me though. He would "bark" at me when I walked in the door to make me come play with him. He would grab my fingers and try to crawl onto my arm and around the back of my neck (because that was his favorite place of all) entangle himself in my hair.

The first day I took him home from the rehab center, I had him in my shorts pocket all day. I even took him to ceramics class with me and we made sculptures together. Everyone there loved him, of course, even though I wouldn't take him out of my pocket because he was cold & needed to warm up.

Generally everyone loved him. My roommate wasn't so fond of him since he's small and rodent-y but Ash loved him and Nat didn't mind so much....however, my new roommate, Stacy adored him and vice versa. It was a beautiful relationship.

Now, however, he is somewhere out in the wild having oodles of fun with his new found squirrely friends. I hope. Missin my Pippin, but I'll be alright. I'm sure I'll come up with something new to raise sometime soon. A fawn? Just kidding. Mom.

VPLCT

That stands for the Varsity Parking Lot Camping Team.

Yeah, I've camped in a parking lot. Well technically we set up the Duchess (the tent) in front of the Wilkinson Jamba Juice doors, but it was close to a parking lot.

Most of us in the tent, ready for HBL

I can't even describe what a fun, sleepless night it was. We had too many people even for that 10man tent (read 15 or more people)  so we were squished as squished can be. Ryan got there at 2pm so we were as FIRST as you can get. (Last year the VPLCT was behind 15 people so it was not tolerated this time around.)

Here's a little of that night's schedule.
I arrived with Anna at 7pm
Homework/not really doing homework at all until about 9pm.
Phase 10 for two rounds until there were too many people for the deck.
Zombie run until I got asthma/hurt my heels running on bare feet and the zombies ate me.
Tent setting up
Watching HottieBoombaLottie (HBL) (2:30am)
Being creeped out by the box people who showed up
Waking up (5am)
Moving into the WILK (6am)
Getting in the real line (7am)
Watching Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog
Napping on cold cement
Doors open and chaos insues (9am)

5am: Ryan: "Did anyone hear that dog outside the tent?" Cameron: "You said that at least 5 times in your sleep. You were dreaming."

Basically, the whole thing was hilarious. We slept hardly at all. We laughed most of the night. We quoted movies (mainly HBL). We ran. We danced. We ate. We conquered.

Seriously, it was madness.. 

Guys, the VPLCT isn't messing around. We had strategies. We had trash bags, and we went around the circle and said what we wanted, and then we had our responsibilities and we grabbed anything that was a maybe and stuffed it into the bags.

I'm super into the strategy Cameron is proposing. Anna is apathetic. Bronwyn  I couldn't explain. 

Then we congregated back at the meeting spot and picked through whatever we wanted. I got a 100% leather jacket for 3 dollars. Eliot told me I look like the Black Widow from the Avengers in it (even after I'd slept in a tent on concrete all night). He can stick around. The vultures started prowling around after a little while because everyone knew we had the best stuff--so they were waiting around the fringes of our piles hoping for some scraps.

We have our own gang signs. 

So here's to us. Cameron Asay, Ryan Hansen, Eliot Wood, Trent Heiner, Ben Romney, Nathan Weatherford, Angela Robinson, Anna Wendt, Bronwyn Bent, Jennie Smithson, Taylor Teeples, Natalie Fuller, Erica Mueller, and myself. The VPLCT. We're so cool, you wish it was summer so you could heat up a little bit.

It's really not my birthday yet.

This all started in July.

Seriously, people--it's not my birthday. Miss Lauren Claspell, soon to be Sister Claspell, decided that it was my birthday in July. It's in September. She forced me to go to some ice cream joint that made me dance, yodel, and eat three huge bowls of ice cream. We (Karina, Lauren, and I) finished them. In case you wanted to know.

Next thing you know Jenna's fixing to take me to blow glass for my birthday in August. That one didn't end up working out so well though, so that's alright. And then we're making plans for mine and Lily's combined birthday party in September (ACTUALLY my birthday) so that we can celebrate together.

Still in August, however, I am up at Teri's house and celebrating Maren's birthday (ON her birthday). I pick up a postcard I think is funny, turn it over, and see my own name with a Happy Birthday banner and an iTunes gift card. "Oh yeah, that's for you," she says. "Happy Birthday!" she says.

Now I have friends here wanting to plan a party or some such. Here's the thing--I don't really like celebrating my birthday. It makes me a smidgen uncomfortable. I don't accept service well, perhaps, and I seriously don't like people spending any money on me. I'm not a partier, either, and what I hate the most is a party centered around me. I don't know how it's going to pan out....BUT, if there's anything I do know, it's that my friends and family are the best. Period. Even if they are going to/already did try to kill me with a birthday party or something like it.  I couldn't be luckier.

Maren Booth

Or, to be more precise, Maren Elise Booth Price.

Oh she'll probably take her maiden name as her middle just as many women before have done (plus, everyone needs to still have the name Booth, who doesn't love a Booth?). But it's the point that counts.

My Maren is married people. To a wonderful man, might I add--but there's a certain feeling of an ending for me, just a bit. I don't easily take change in stride, but I try (most days) to adjust. I only cried a little at their reception.....but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love them both! It's just getting weirder and weirder that everyone I know and love will be joining the ranks of family wards at some point or another. Myself included?  That's the weirdest yet.

But here's to Maren, and all of our crazy nights. Cabin nights, where a boob grab can make us laugh until we can't breathe. Cabin days, where we crack open crabs (because Jacob is too squeamish) and when we get stuck on the trampoline and Maren has an urgent need to use the restroom. Here's to senior pictures, scrapbooking, Psych, and camping trips with Harry Potter when Maren didn't realize what she was getting into. Here's to ice cream snuck into girl's camp, naps for Becca when she's cranky, and strange birthday parties where we were in a random tent in some girl's back yard singing to some game console or another. Here's to Pride and Prejudice, every single version we could find. Here's to being each other's happy place, goat jokes, and a love that goes beyond being "cousins." Our nights sleeping next to each other may be gone, but oh, it will NEVER be over.

Maren & Jacob--I wish you every kind of happiness I possess. I wish you the happiness of Jane and Bingley, because lets be honest - that's exactly what I see when I see the two of you. I can't wait for all of our new adventures. Let's make them the best ever.

Lily Lou

L: Knock knock! Me: Who's there? L: Lily Fletcher! Me: Lily Fletcher who? L: Just Lily Fletcher!!
L: Knock knock! Me: Who's there? L: Daddy Fletcher! Me: Daddy Fletcher who? L: Daddy Daniel Fletcher!!
L: Knock knock! Me: Who's there? L: Mommy Fletcher! Me: Mommy Fletcher who? L: Mommy Jenna Fletcher!!
L: Knock knock! Me: Who's there? L: Becca! Me: Becca who? L: Auntie Becca Fletcher!! (Although she was referring to me, she really does have an Auntie Becca Fletcher.)

We watch a show named "Eureka." Whenever we want to turn it on we ask Lily if we should, and she says "YA! MY-reka!" "Okay Lou, we'll watch Your-reka." Then when we turned if off one day and told her there was no more My-reka, she says "Now watch YOUR-reka?"

The rocks in the backyard alternate between just plain collection rocks to dinosaur eggs on the verge of hatching.

When I first got here I didn't know the right way to phrase questions to a two year old. We were playing with the rocks in the backyard and there was a sparkly whitish one, so I asked her "Lily, what does this rock look like?" intending to get a description of it's physical characteristics. Instead, she looks at me, and with an air of one condescending to answer says, "A rock."

A popular incentive for Lily is going to the toy store. She says "foy" instead of "toy" but says the 't' in "store" just fine. We were bribing with the toy store once upon a time and she kept saying some particular type of toy store. Neither Jenna or I could understand the word she was saying before "foy" and we told her so. After repeating it several times, slowing it down for the obviously slow people she was dealing with, she gives a sigh of exasperation and looks around the room. Rory has a bouncer with fish toys on the top of it, so Lily goes over, points to the fish on the top and says "WHAT IS THIS?" It was written on her face that she obviously thought we were real big idiots.

Lily and I watch Animal Planet together. There was one show where they rescued baby raccoons from the roof of a house and she's fixated on that. She says she will now grow up to fix baby raccoons, and I couldn't be happier. My little mini me! She also watches all the grisly Animal Cops shows and says she will fix all the doggies (with the help of the dog's mother). I love this kid. When Papaya shredded my hands and arms, she was right there patching me up with Neosporin and Band-Aids.

Rory was acting up (as usual) and Jenna suggested we should throw her away. Lily hears this and says "SHE NOT TRASH!"

This kids a keeper.

Sleepless in Seattle

Mothering.


I get it now. I really do. You don't get it until you do it, but it's the hardest job anyone could have. I'm pretty sure. It seems so commonplace to those of us who don't have children.

People raise kids all the time, right?

 Easy-peasy, right?

Wrong.

It's a mental game...with yourself. It's not even the fact that it's physically draining that's hard. Even though that quadruples (times five and a half million) the effort you have to put in to win the mental fight. It's the struggle to remain optimistic while your 5 month old just won't stop screaming. When she wakes up 3 or 4 times in the night, even though she really should be sleeping longer. When she won't sleep anywhere but in your arms, while you're sitting up. When your two & a half year old won't listen to a single thing you say. When she's crying hysterically over you not turning the car light on and off (which I admit, was my bad...what harm would that have done?) Etc. You get the point.

Despite the fact that it takes about five hundred times as long to get out the door and go somewhere with children than when you're on your own, the couple of nights I've had Rory and got less sleep than I'd ever had in my life (and I'm in college!), the car drives of misery when she won't stop crying (read: screaming her guts out), and arguing with a hysterical almost three year old about the dumbest things, I'd never have this summer a different way. I'm the luckiest aunt in the world.

I'm so lucky I want to publicly, brand-new-mom-ish-ly gush about my nieces. Actually I do that anyway, just walking down the street when people tell us how adorable they are. I have the absolutely most hilarious two year old of a niece ever. She can make me burst out laughing harder than I have ever laughed. Her obvious love of life is so infectious sometimes it's annoying. (But not really). She adores animals of all kinds, and she's convinced she will grow up to fix baby raccoons and baby ostriches (score for Auntie Becca!). She says the darndest things, and her misuse of grammar is hilarious and adorable (even though I try to correct it anyway, much to Jenna's chagrin). Making her laugh is basically my goal, every single day. It's not hard to do, which is the best part. She screams (which scares the baby) but I almost enjoy it...they're screams of pure joy, most of the time. And Rory. I can't imagine a baby cuter than her. When she's not screaming or sleeping, she's full of smiles. She wants to walk like big sister so much, it makes her cry. Which, admittedly, is not a rare occurrence, but the smiles and giggles make me want to die of joy. When I kiss her cheeks she giggles like only a baby can, and her curly mop of hair makes every other mother die of envy. She just absolutely wants to smile at you whenever she sees you (unless she doesn't have her way in one aspect or another, of course.) Also, how in the world can baby heads smell so good?

Basically, leaving my babies (and yes, Jenna, you did all the work but I'm still claiming them as mine) in less than three weeks will be the most heart-wrenching thing I've had to do in awhile (read: ever). Tears will be shed, I'm sure. Mine, Lily's, Jenna's, or Rory's I'm not quite so sure yet, but I'm sure we can get at least 2 out of 4.

So here's to mothers. Holy crap, I don't know how you did it, but congratulations for not killing us all. And thank you, for your obvious, selfless, generous love we probably don't deserve, and won't deserve for a long while yet.

Best friends with a 13 year old.

So since one of my most passionate posts (perhaps) was recently about Doctor Who, I'm sure you all know I love him. I love the Doctor.
Anna, Cameron Asay, and his roommates have all been watching the entire series (since it's return) this last spring semester. I watched 6 seasons within 2 months. I couldn't have wished for a better past time or a better group of people to enjoy it with.
That being said, I went with Diana one day to her Annie rehearsal since afterwards we were going to play a nice round of scary game. Well while I was waiting for rehearsal to be over, a little red-headed girl came over and sat next to me. I had a book and was reading, so she sat there without saying anything for a minute..and then she opened with this questions. "Do you like Doctor Who?"
I just about died. When I looked at her for real, she had bright red curly hair, a TARDIS tee, and three figurines of Doctor Who characters in her hands. Matt Smith as the Doctor, River, and Amy Pond.  We talked about Doctor Who for about the next half hour at least, if not more. She knew about as much as I did and she even knew episode names (which I've never done before with any other show, but now I know just about all of them in six seasons of Doctor Who).

I still to this day don't know how she knew I loved Doctor Who. Had she been asking everyone that day or did I really have it written on my face? Either way, I was immediately best friends with that fiery red-haired 13 year old.

Great Basin Wildlife Rescue

I can't believe I haven't actually blogged about Great Basin before now. I've mentioned it a couple of times, but never a blog post about it. So here it goes.

Great Basin Wildlife Rescue is a non-profit organization run completely by volunteers that takes in mostly birds of prey (raptors) and bear cubs. I absolutely adore it.

So what we do in a typical day is feed all the birds, run to get new birds on calls, clean, re-wrap an injury, hand-feed, clean, clean, and perhaps do a bird show while we're at it.  I was a part of this organization from January-June, and I'll be returning in the fall for sure.

Here are some of the highlights:
I have attended high class parties on the top of Sundance Resort, got into the Sportsman's Expo for free, talked to numerous people about birds of prey, gotten many strange compliments from strange old men, told kids that owls have ears on their chin, releasing Ravens, Harris Hawks, Barn Owls, doing an MRI on a Golden Eagle, hand-feeding numerous baby birds, taking care of an orphaned baby squirrel, being in numerous local newspaper articles, and so much more.

I can't even explain how much I love this experience. I love working with these people, and working with the birds. Patti Richards, the director, is hilarious and a hippie through and through. The rehab center is in her backyard. Dean is the eagle handler. He's hilarious, and makes fun of me for attending BYU, and tells me all sorts of stories that I really probably shouldn't hear. Janet, Andalyn, Ken, and everyone else make this an amazing experience.

Sorry for the exceptionally boring post, but I needed to journal a little something about such a big part of my life!

Mountain Biking

So, about a month or so ago, I went mountain biking for the first time.

A boy in my ward goes quite regularly and said he had a beginners ride going and that I was definitely invited. So I went.

What I didn't know (or perhaps, I didn't quite care when he told me) is that he had a few people from BYU Broadcasting there filming a mini series on cheap things to do in Provo.
Basically, I got made fun of the entire time. Mocked, laughed at, and all the while the cameras were rolling.

Not that I wasn't enjoying it. I actually was loving it. It was hilarious. The team from broadcasting was hilarious. I was just rather terrible at mountain biking. Well, no. I felt terrible, but I think that's just how mountain biking is. Except I should probably try harder to keep my feet on the pedals as we go down the hill, but whenever I'd go over a big bump (which was frequently) I would balance with my feet not on the pedals, making me therefore look ridiculous and be subject to ridicule. In fact, I just found this. Enjoy. I look like an idiot.

I fear I will forget everything!

I've come to the realization that I have a terrible memory.
I'm the queen of "out of sight out of mind" and need visual stimulation to remember events that have happened, i.e. pictures and/or a journal entry of it.
However, I don't have either a camera or a journal. This and my private blog are my journals. As every one of you knows, I suck at this blog. Hence, I suck at my other blog too. Journaling has never really been my thing, but I need to make it my thing.

Any advice for someone who is not exactly motivated and doesn't really have the time to write in her journal? I suppose I just need to make it a priority? Screw school.
Let's just have fun. And journal about the fun.
Deal.

So here are the things I remember right now that I need to journal but can't right now because I smell bad and need to shower after my bike ride:
Mountain Biking
Great Basin
Doctor Who Nights
Ward Water party
13 year old BFF
Bike fixing
Surgery
Gramps
Ceramics
Manti Pageant

A special thanks to my dear Lauren, who remembers things from our childhood/California life that I really can't. And who made a blog especially for those things. So I could remember them too.

OY!

Possible spoilers for Doctor Who fans.


I couldn't tell you what makes me love a show. Absolutely, unforgivably, fall in love with a flipping television show. I'm sure the producers know. I'm sure they're doing it on purpose. But it happens. And this spring, it happened.

I fell in love with the Doctor.

It makes me laugh. It makes me nerdy. It makes my heart ache.

Lets focus on that third one. For any of those who have seen Doctor Who before, I just watched season 4, The Stolen Earth and The Journey's End. And here's where I'm going to write in all capital letters to emphasize my current feelings.

I'M SO SICK OF LOSING THE PEOPLE I/THE DOCTOR LOVE! And its not just death. Oh no. It's not. It's worse. SO MUCH WORSE.

In the event that someone or anyone who reads this blog becomes an author of some shape or form, hear this. If you want people to sob uncontrollably here's the secret recipe: make people love them, then take away the character's memories of it all.
Easy peasy.
Lemon squeezy.

(You could also leave them stranded in a parallel world when they love each other-with absolutely no way of contacting them ever, ever again. Until they show up when the universe is about to end. But that's old news.)

Either way involves heart-wrenching, gut-clenching sobbing. (Especially for a sympathy crier like me.)

So here's to Donna. The most beloved companion. The one I identify with. I've even been told she's a lot like me (Anna). The best. My favorite. I wish it didn't have to end. Especially not this way.

I don't even want to watch The Next Doctor, because even though I love Matt Smith, giving up David Tennant will be even worse than losing Donna.
I promise I won't blog about that one though.
I probably won't even be able to see my computer by the end of it.

Disclaimer: For those persons reading this blog who don't understand, just know this. First of all, its 3am. Second of all, it's the Doctor. Thirdly, stop reading if you don't like what you see. Fourthly: I'm insane.
End of story.

People

I'm an animal person. Animals are so forgiving, so easy to please, and easy to read. They want their food, then when you give it to them, they love you in return. Generally.

If only people could be like that, I'd know how to please them.
I've been told multiple times that I have a way with animals. Usually it has to do with a specific animal I'm working with closely. "You have a way with cats." "You must have a way with horses, did you grow up with them?" "You certainly have a way with dogs. I have never seen him act that way!" "Wow, she must REALLY like you! She never acts this way!" And the most recent, from Patti Richards, "You must have a way with corvids [Crows, ravens, etc]." "You're the baby whisperer." (Babies count as animals in this instance.)

It's a natural ability. But for some reason, no one has ever told me I have a way with people. Because I don't. You can't just sit silent and wait for a person to come to you, hand outstretched. You can't just assume that food will automatically make them like you. You can't spend all your time with them to prove to them they should trust you. You can't confine them to a small area to make them know who you are. You can't even tether them to you with a rope or a leash. It's against the rules to grab them, hold them, and stroke them to soothe their nerves, and feeding them by hand is out of the question.

So how do I connect with the species Homo sapien?

You Wanna Know What Love Is?

http://youtu.be/gVg55U7Ux84
This youtube disabled embedding, but its a great scene from Yours, Mine, and Ours. Henry Fonda explains what love is. It's pretty much wonderful.  Watch it.

Friends

While I'd like to say I'm a really good friend, I get the feeling sometimes that I'm not.

The most common phrase I hear from my friends is "Why haven't you been around lately?" or rephrased in perhaps a "Where have you been all my life?" or "Why haven't I seen you in forever??" sort of way.

Well, to answer a few questions, here's why:
Today's schedule consisted of:
Trying to get up at 6:43, failing
Getting up at 8, showering, getting ready, leaving at 8:45, without eating
Getting to Zumba at 9:00, dancing horribly (but having fun) until 10:30
Climbing the RB stairs (noteworthy), changing, trying not to look as if I'd just been sweating buckets, arriving at surgery at 10:45
Making solutions until 11:25
Cutting up and sewing up Bronco until 11:49
Waiting for her to wake up/studying/cleaning up the frog room/making lists/grabbing vending machine food until 1:00
Microbiology lab until 2:12 (we got out early)
Talking to Grant for a few minutes afterwards about bears until 2:32
Taking two Microbiology quizzes on the new LearningSuite until 3:10
Running into Lorraine on campus for five minutes until 3:15
Fighting the Women's Conference Wilkinson traffic for ceramics supplies until 4:00
Getting to the Marlboro at 4:05
Calling my dad/re-reading notes and writing Cornell notes until 4:25
Microbiology class from 4:30-6:30 (We got out early.)
Running home to avoid the rain until 6:50
Not wanting to see anyone or do anything until 8:39, current time.

And that's just a Thursday. Don't get me started on Mondays.

Honestly, I hardly had time to eat. Then I get home, its nice, quiet, dark, serene, I'm finally full, I put on comfortable clothing, took off shoes...and I'm sort of in heaven. I revel in this, sparingly, but indeed I do. My roommates are gone for quite some time and ...well, living alone has its perks. I don't even feel like picking up my clothes even, because no one else has to see it. That's weird, that living alone can do that.

I should be a hermit.

Dear Change,

Go to a very bad place, please.

I don't like you. And finals brings you with it. Which adds to my dislike of you. You take people from me. You add new challenges. You make me uncomfortable. You make me sweat. You make me crave carbs. You make me leave what I love. All of these things are not pleasing. Could you just cut it out, for once?

Regards, Becca.

Here's the thing. I'm losing a lot of people I love here at BYU, and its not so pleasant. Who thought it was a good idea to get attached to people you only know for a couple months? (Same thing goes for Disney, but it was all so rushed at the end I didn't have time to mourn.) So, for my sake, I'm going to put down their names here so I will remember them when I'm old and grey.

Blake Hansen. Fellow surgeon.
Justin Jones. Oocyte researcher.
Nalani Yamada. Pre-Vet club president.
Jesse Ford Jenny. Pre-Vet club vice president.
Cory Davis. Pre-Vet student.
Eric. He's graduating..but I don't suppose I can count him as being gone quite yet.
Aimee Fresh. Roommate.
Countless ward members. Jeremy, Brodie, Stopher, Tek, Tyler, Ian, Dalan, Ryan, Grant, Trent, Phil
Bishop Clark.
And from Disney, to commemorate.
Katie Hemby.
Megan Sirrine.
Laura Leavy.
Lindsay Bailey.
Josiah Rupp.
Ryan Hallquist.
BJ Thompson.
Chelsea Howell.
Supriya Malik.
Tanisha Prabhu.
Amber Zuniga.
Belle Laotrakul.
Kerati Wu.
Elder Gregson.
Elder Engemann.


And I'm sure I'm missing a few. It's hard to think of the people you miss. Not going to lie, I'm a good compartmentalizer. When I'm not choosing to dwell, I'll be just fine. Which sometimes I hate, because it feels insensitive. But one can't mope forever, can she?
Just for a few hours. Late on a Thursday night.

Some other things I'm going to miss once the semester is over: Ornithology. Plant ID-The class I love to hate. Safety Certification. Little responsibility for the Pre-Vet club. No class on Tuesdays.  Going birding.

To name a few.
But, not to be a total Debbie Downer, I'm actually excited for quite a few things as well. There has to be some balance, eh? And change does do some good, I suppose...I just haven't gotten to that stage of grief yet. Acceptance, they call it?  We'll see how I feel in the morning.

Personal Mantra

I learned it at Disney, and I have tried to live by it, although somewhat failing these last few weeks, but that's another story altogether.

But here it is.

"You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it." -We Bought a Zoo

That's also probably a favorite movie. Which I have plenty of, but really that has got to be a favorite. It's beyond amazing.
So, that quote, coupled with another gem from another movie :

"Every woman has the exact love life she wants."-Wedding Date

Means I go out on a limb, get uncomfortable, and stretch my comfort zone. It worked....at the beginning of the semester. I'll pick it back up come spring, pinky promise.

Pocahantas

I love this movie. And I used to strongly identify with Pocahantas, how she didn't want to get married because there was some new adventure out there just around the river bend, waiting for her. I've always felt that way. Torn between what I've been taught since childhood and my big dreams for myself.

I'm watching Pocahantas right now. And while I was singing "Just Around the River Bend" with her, I can't say that I agree with her anymore. 

"I feel it there beyond those trees
Or right behind these waterfalls
Can I ignore that sound of distant drumming?
For a handsome sturdy husband
Who builds handsome sturdy walls
And never dreams that something might be coming?
Just around the riverbend"

Well here's the thing. Marriage in itself is an adventure, that twists and turns just as much as her own single adventure would. And there's nothing wrong with handsome sturdy walls. But that's my own personal opinion, since I've recently come to terms with the fact that I'm a homebody, and absolutely LOVE staying home.

Maybe it's just the brainwashing of Provo.

But for all that I now don't agree with her in that respect, I still wholeheartedly agree with this song.

Oh the things we can learn about ourselves from Disney. 

I was told to save this for future generations...

Thursday night was the Pre-Vet club. I'm the experience coordinator, publicity officer, and webmaster of the prevet club--rolled all into one we like to call it the Starship Commander.

So we had a fabulous meeting, wherein we learned all the stress and insanity that it is to apply to vet school. Mike and I downed the Dr. Pepper like it was a nice hard liquor. That was fun.

Afterwards, the president and vice president had what they called one-on-ones with their officers. I went first. It was actually kinda fun--an interview type setting, but questions about the club and what you would do in situation A or B...etc. During the interview they told me to write down one piece of information for all posterity to enjoy.

And here it is:
Dr. Roeder expressed her appreciation for me putting up fliers for the Pre-Vet club. 


First of all, Dr. Roeder is an intimidating, 5 foot woman, with a DVM being only her first higher education degree (of many), and she has a love for dairy cows. She's the Pre-Vet advisor. She's the club's advisor. She doesn't really like the club...at all. She withholds praise in general, and doesn't particularly enjoy thanking people. So Nalani and Jesse (Pres&Vice) stressed that she never, ever says anything nice about the club, and that I needed to write this down for progeny. Because its huge.

Here's how it happened. I force myself to say hi to her (its a little scary) and I was going around with my clipboard full of fliers when I ran into her. Briefly. So I said hello, and she said hi, then I said I'm just having a grand time putting up these fliers for the Pre-Vet club, and she says : "I really appreciate that. (insert awkward  guffaws and perhaps a "No, I like it!") No really, I appreciate your efforts for the club. It's not easy." Some thank-yous ensued and it was fortunately cut short because of our travel directions, but there you have it. Ladies and gents, praise from Dr. Roeder.

Then I told Jesse & Nalani I'd blog about it. Done.

Mixing Worlds

I have this thing about my worlds. I like them separate, I've realized.
I'm working on it, I promise.

But for now its still weird when the lady I volunteer for in Mapleton comes to my university ornithology lecture and shows the birds. The entire thing was weird, and I was apprehensive almost all day--why? I'm not sure.  The smells were out of place, the sights, her wacky stories, the place I was sitting in the room, the undue attention on me--it was all off. Which is ridiculous. I'm crazy. But it just is.

This goes for a lot of my other worlds. My home, high school friends, mixing with my new college friends--weird. My family meeting my college roommates/friends--strange. My ward friends meeting the professors I work with--super weird. My neighbor friends and my church friends together--awkward. Disney people mixing with BYU people--risky. People coming over to my house (when I was in CA)--uncomfortable. Inviting nonmembers to church--scary.


I don't even want to think about the hardest meshing of worlds to yet come---introducing a boyfriend/fiancee to my family & friends. Talk about TERRIFYING.

And here's the thing. I don't really know why. Why do these things make me uncomfortable? Anna of course wouldn't be uncomfortable, for she doesn't believe in awkwardness, but believe you me...it's all quite awkward.

Which is crazy. I know. I'll get over it. Maybe.

Silence.

So I know I probably owe y'all an explanation for my blogging hiatus.

Who am I kidding? No I don't!

I'm in my apartment right now, alone, on a Saturday night. It hasn't happened like this in awhile. Whereas it used to happen all the time. I'm not sure what is different, exactly, except I suppose I became more social. More personable. I blame Disney.
But I'm reveling in the silence. No music, no people, no sounds (except for when a noisy scooter drives by like just now.) I won't lie, I am at peace, and happy even. At peace with the fact that I should be doing better in my classes, but I'm not. At peace with the choices I've been making, and the ways I'm trying to better myself. At peace with what may come, or what may not. I revel in the small chances I get to sit in silence and think, without any distractions or outside opinions (not that they're unwelcome, by any means).
Here's a snapshot of my thoughts:
Priorities-They're important. Unfortunately, to my parents probable disdain, school has dropped from the top of my priorities and has been replaced with family. Lets talk eternal significance. I don't need school. I do however, need my family. I know you still take your learning with you, but I don't want to regret that I wasn't more social in college because I was studying/stressed/bitter. I'm taking chances, creating relationships, and being happy.  My grades are suffering a bit for it, but I don't quite ...care. This family priority means my already eternal family. I miss them like crazy. I know, we talk all the time. We video chat. But its not the same. I want to be home, and hug my little brother, kiss my niece, gossip with my sister, get advice from my mother, argue with my older brother, be tortured by my father, love my dogs...I suppose some people would call that homesickness. But its not debilitating, by any means, just a longing for home. Family as a priority also means working on finding an eternal companion and doing all I can to make that happen. Dating is hard, but I might be getting somewhere. Learning, always learning. In this world called Provo, away from home & family, dating has become the center of my attention and time. I hate to say it, but its true. I've caught the bug. Marriage is a scary word, but I can't think of a single thing that would make me happier.
Making a difference. I have recently attended the 22nd Annual Hunger Banquet at BYU (with a date, might I add) and I may or may not have shed tears the entire time. I just kept thinking to myself, if I could just make a difference in one of those children's lives...the thought doesn't really have a "then" component. I just want to make them smile, make them happy. See them laugh again, and be healthy. My life would be a fulfilling one if only I could do something to help. As for now, its slightly frustrating, being helpless and powerless to do much of anything.
Friends. I've got 'em. I'm the luckiest girl in the world with the friends that I have, even when I don't pay as much attention to them as I should. I'm sure I'm a terrible friend in return, but I love them all dearly. One night, I prayed for everyone that I loved, and it took a solid 15 minutes. And with a shoddy memory like mine, its more than likely I missed a few. There's never been a time in my life when I've felt more loved than I do now. I couldn't be more grateful.
My wonderful roommates are home now, so I will conclude the ramblings of my head. Love you all.

i should have a positive attitude but...

i don't.

christmas is about family.
if i've learned anything at Walt Disney World, it's where my priorities lie.
that much is clear.

parade crash bang die.

tuesday was a memorable day.

here's the thing: the internationals know parade. no one else does. but the big wigs on high decided that internationals can no longer do parade. cold turkey. in the middle of the holiday season. which means a very, very high volume of people.  with cast members who don't have a clue what they're doing.
we would have ignored the bigwigs but they were actually physically coming to see the internationals dance with the banghra DJ at the yak'n'yeti. go figure.
so we finally got the stanchions up at probably 3:20, after putting one in, realizing the rope didn't fit, and taking it back out again, repeatedly. (parade starts at 3:45, stanchions should be up no later than 2:45.) the coordinator who was supposed to be coordinating at this time had done parade maybe once or twice, and (through no fault of her own) was completely lost. katie & i ended up "taking over", assigning positions, and telling people what to do.

it was all going seemingly well (as well as could be expected from our point...a bit stressful but not too overwhelming) until the fight broke out, just minutes before parade was at our door. thankfully the manager on hand spoke spanish, because the offending family was only spanish speaking and that was fun. its always fun when guests fight. the coordinator was running back and forth between helping the manager deal with them and trying to see how far away parade was.  of course it was hot on our heels, and she was close to panicking but kept her cool.  the spot that the guests had chosen to cause this big ordeal was also idyllic-the tightest spot on my walkway (only barely two ECV's worth), meaning i had a backup going all the way behind tiger tree and unhappy guests in front of me. finally it cleared up (after parade had already hit us) and i assumed the situation was alleviated.

well then we tried to follow right behind parade (like we normally do with internationals) but sans internationals no one knew how to roll ropes that fast or that well. the manager (victor) tried and failed, katie tried and failed, i tried and failed. finally victor just yelled to take off every other rope and don't even worry about stanchions, so as i'm doing that, i start rolling rope in front of the fight family. the family next to them stops me (when i'm supposed to be keeping up with the cart & other parade breakers, but we were so screwed over anyway it didn't matter) and starts asking about the procedure and if there will be a report filed and they'd testify if there was a lawsuit because they were totally in the wrong and they saw the whole thing and they want something to be done and victor said this and victor said that ...all the while i say "yes of course" "right" "victor will take care of everything" while thinking "these people are idiots. what do they think I can do? the parade isn't even good enough to fight over, you morons. get over yourselves and get on with your life. oh good, here comes guests relations." it might have been a "sit down before you pass out from the stress" moment if my favorite manager ray hadn't stopped and helped, then made me laugh at myself in spite of the situation. he's good at that. but oh, the disaster. thankfully, its so not my problem anymore.