"Republican" vs "Democrat" a.k.a. "Romney" vs "Obama" aka "Us" vs "Them" aka "Good" vs "Evil" aka "Right" vs "Wrong" aka "The Nastiest Divorce I've Ever Seen"

I'm kind of/sort of a huge news junkie.  I'm constantly checking ksl and reading the free newspapers provided by my school.  As a news junkie, I feel like I'm constantly getting flooded with political "stuff". And with the upcoming election I'm getting flooded with even more political "stuff" from "friends" statuses.  I know "stuff" is such a vague term but I feel like vague is a good description of our current politics. It's not specific political arguments about how the city, county, state, or nation should be run.  It's vague finger pointing blame.

Election year 2012 is the nastiest divorce I've ever seen. (Except with most marriages the couple starts out liking each other, I don't think either political party ever liked the other political party.)  You know the ones where when the Mom and the Dad are just arguing because that's all that they do, it's not about whatever the argument was originally about.  They start arguing and they just throw every little grievance over the years and they throw the kitchen sink into the argument and they get so off topic from the original argument.  Those divorces where the couple is fighting years after the divorce is granted.  Those divorces where the parties involved believe that nothing is "their fault" it's all the other person's fault.  Yes the divorce is ugly but if the "other person" would just stop fighting, they would stop fighting, but heaven forbid they should be the one to stop the fighting first.  Those divorces where there is absolutely no possibility of the couple agreeing or compromising about anything.  Those divorces where everyone who knows someone involved in the divorce has to "pick a side".  Those divorces where both sides thinks "I'm right and they are wrong" or "I'm a good person but the other person I'm pretty sure is the devil in a thinly veiled disguise".  And everyone involved in the divorce, but especially children, which is in this case the country, gets hurt.

What makes me even sadder is when politics spills into everyday life and even relationships between friends.  For some reason people seem to think that if they post an angry Facebook post about how whatever political party/politician that they disagree with is the devil himself sent to destroy the country will convince their friends/family/acquaintances that support that devil  politician that the politician they support is actually evil.  Because of their angry and contentious Facebook post everyone is going to vote for the politician/party that they think will save the country.    But what really happens is that they just tick off their friends and start arguments.  And all the while the country becomes more and more polarized and incapable of compromising.  Compromise is exactly what this country needs.

I'm just going to say it.

Democrats aren't evil.
Republicans aren't evil.
Mitt Romney isn't evil.
Barack Obama isn't evil.

Honestly, we need Democrats, Republicans, and Independents.  We need people who think differently and who value different things.  But we also need people who able to work with people they don't agree with and who are able to compromise.  Even if they could just pretend to get along the country would be taking a step in the right direction.  Extremism causes problems.

Please research the candidates, national, state, and local, and vote for whoever you think will be the best for the country.  But don't hate people who vote differently then you.  Honestly, the world isn't going to end because of who is elected.  (The world is going to end because the Mayan calendar ends, duh.)

It's just like Miranda Lambert says in "Only Prettier"

"If you wanna pick a fight, I'm gonna have to say goodnight.

I don't have to be hateful I can just say "bless your heart"

We don't have to like each other but it's sure fun to pretend.

If you just smile and behave you can always get your way

It's a universal plan that'll get you where you can in all societies.

So let's shake hands and reach across those party lines

You got your friends just like I got mine

We might think a little differently but we got a lot in common you will see

We're just like you, only prettier.

I'm just like you, only prettier."

That's all I have to say about that.

Quick Post

It's been a long time since I've blogged, and my life's been pretty crazy.  Here's a quick recap of the past month or so.

• EFY prep has been really cool.  I've learned a lot.  I'm a little overwhelmed at the thought of being a counselor, especially because I've never really done anything like it before.  It's another one of the many "first's" I've experienced this past year.
• I've got a new job.  I will no longer be calling U of U alumni asking them to donate money to the U.  Instead I will be working with special needs people helping them to get jobs or to work effectively in the job they already have.  I'm excited and nervous for this opportunity as well.  It's going to be another learning experience because I also have never done anything like this before.
• I've started volunteering with a hospice.  The little lady I help is so adorable and funny.  The hour that I spend with her on Sunday's is probably the highlight of my whole week, every week.
• I got a scholarship!  (woot woot!)  Yay for free money for school.
• I got to visit my family over spring break.  :)
• Community is back on NBC!!  :)
• Other than that my life has just been lots of school, homework, visiting teaching, volunteering at Primary's, vampire's stealing my blood (blood draws), roommate drama, and more homework.

Blog Stalker

I’ve made this confession before, but I feel it’s time for me to make it again.

I’m a blog stalker.

Some blogs I don’t feel too bad/creepy about stalking, because I know those people, their friends, family, and acquaintances I met once upon a time.  So I don’t feel so much like a “stalker” per say, more like I’m just keeping track of what’s going on with them.

But then there are the people who I’ve never met in my life who I blog stalk.  They’re kind of my guilty pleasure.  They’re the ones with perfect lives: beautiful, funny, and loving husbands; the cutest kids you’ve ever seen; who are so cute and crafty.  Some of them live in big cities, the kinds I’ve visited and fallen in love with.  There are some who live blissfully in happy valley.  There are some who live perfectly imperfect lives, the one’s who have had to overcome incredible challenges with their own health or with their children’s health, and manage to show the imperfection yet still make their lives seem perfection.  There are the one’s who wear the cutest clothes.  There are the one’s who can and do pull off red lipstick or fake eyelashes.  All the blogs I read have a faith component to them, most match my own faith but some are different.  I’ve never met these ladies.  Most are a little (or a lot) older than me.  All are in a completely different place in life than I am.  They all epitomize what I hope to become someday in a different way.  And I want to be all their best friends.  

Becoming Peter Pan

I’ve heard it said that people my age are walking around like “a bunch of twenty something year old Peter Pans.”  I never was a huge fan of Peter Pan as a kid.  I wanted to grow up.  Grownups got to do so many cool things.  And my life was going to be perfect, of course.  Like a fairytale.  Why not grow up?  I could eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  I wouldn’t have to go to bed.  I would have so much independence and freedom.  I couldn’t wait to grow.

But the older I get the more I feel like I’m becoming Peter Pan, stuck in Never Land.  In some ways it’s my decision.  As I’ve grown up I’ve found that all those adults who told me not to grow up to fast were onto something.  And I’d always just thought they were crazy.  Why wouldn’t I want to grow up?  There was no such thing as growing up too fast.  But now I’m wondering where the past twenty years of my life went.  Now I’m wishing I could go back to the innocence and the simplicity of childhood.  And I do sometimes.  I eat foods I loved growing up.  I watch The Lion King (I still know most of the words).  I sleep with a stuffed animal and my “security blanket”.  I occasionally listen to the Backstreet Boys and my Touched By An Angel CD.  Sometimes I feel much younger than my twenty years.  I wonder when I became old enough or responsible enough to drive, pay rent, go to college, and feed myself.  When did I become old enough to have friends my age who are married and even starting to pop out babies?  I don’t feel old enough, mature enough, or prepared at all for anything like that.  I’d say the older I get the less I feel like I’m ready for those responsibilities.  

I feel like Taylor Swift’s song “Never Grow Up” says everything I would tell myself when I was younger and how I feel right now.

                I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone

                So here I am in my new apartment

                In a big city they just dropped me off

                It’s so much colder than I thought it would be

                So I tuck myself in and turn my night light on

                Wish I’d never grown up

                Wish I’d never grown up

                Oh I don’t want to grow up

                Wish I’d never grown up

                It could still be little

                I don’t want to grow up

                Wish I’d never grown up

                It could still be simple

Miranda Lambert’s song “The House That Built Me” make me feel the same way.

                I know they say

                You can’t come home again.

                I just had to come back one last time.

                I thought if I could touch this place or feel it

                The brokenness inside me might start healing

                Out here it’s like I’m someone else

                Thought that maybe I could find myself

                If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave

                Won’t take nothing but a memory

                From the house that built me.

                You leave home,

     You move on

    And you do the best you can

                I got lost in this old world,

    Have forgotten who I am

                If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave

                Won’t take nothing but a memory

                From the house that built me

In some ways it is our society that is keeping me and my friends in Never Land.  I almost have a bachelor’s degree but that doesn’t mean a lot anymore.  I’ll have to go on for my Master’s degree.  Which means more school.  I have a job, but I can’t pay for everything on my own.  It’s a frustrating to still be financially dependent on my parents but I know I’m not alone in this.  I’m actually doing better than most kids my age because I’m not in debt at all.  We want to grow up, but there are so many hoops we have to jump through first.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is this:

 It's hard to grow up.  

"I Don't Care For Your Fairy tales"

Honestly, 90% of the time, I love fairy tales.  I'm a sucker for any good Disney movie with a princess and prince and a good old fashioned happy ending (I mean, how cute is Tangled?! Seriously!)  And I love Taylor Swift fairy tale songs with happy endings as well (Is it possible to find a better song than "Love Story" or "Enchanted" or "Mine" or "Fearless" or any happy T. Swift song?)  I love Jane Austen novels which don't get much more fairy tale.  And I'm probably the biggest romantic day dreamer that I know.  But sometimes I get to the point where I'm like "Forget this!  It's overrated anyway. Boys are dumb. Guys are gay.  And real men don't exist anymore.( Go here for a refresher on the difference between boys, guys, and men.)  At times like that I listen to Carry Underwood's "The More Boys I Meet" and Sara Bareilles "Fairytale".  And occasionally I'll go for Broadway tunes like "You Can't Get A Man With A Gun" and the ever classic "I Hate Men".

"I'm Not Crazy, I'm Just Sensitive"

So you remember when I told you all that I had found a new obsession in Alex Goot.  Yeah it's a true story.         As a matter of fact I'm going to share another one of his music videos with you all.  Because I'm just kind like that and want to introduce you to amazing music.  I've had his song "Sensitivity" on replay today.  I don't know what it is about a gorgeous, nerdy guy who has a beautiful voice and sings sensitive, melancholy songs, but he absolutely melts my heart.  And the lyrics to this song are how I would describe my life this past week or two and how I hope it will go in the future.

"I don't even know the real me anymore
I can't even show how I feel
I hit the floor
I'm talking rock bottom
My feelings I fought 'em
I can't believe it's come to this
Cause I need a grip on reality

Now I wanna feel some sensitivity

I've been doing fine in my misery
Not crazy
I told them not to worry about me"

The Days of Singer/Song Writer Melancholy

Lately I've been listening to a lot of melancholy music by singer/song writers like Dia Frampton (my pick to win The Voice), Alex Goot (swoon),  Sara Bareilles, and Ingrid Michaelson, just to name a few.  Dia recently came out with a new CD and her single "The Broken Ones" is one of my new favorites.  I'm not going to lie, the music video is a little weird and I'm not a huge fan of her extensions, but the song is great and her voice is amazing, like always.

"I can't help it,
I love the broken ones,
The ones who need the most patching up.
The one's who've,
 Never been loved

Maybe I see a part of me in them.

No your not alone
I love the broken ones."

That Awkward Moment When You Realize That You're Holding Yourself Back

(This is another post I wrote a few months ago and never posted.)


The other day I was watching this TED talk about this girl who's leg's got amputated. And she was talking about how that was a good experience for her and how she learned to use her limits (not having legs) to propel her and make her into a better person.  I thought it was a nice heartwarming talk and then went to bed without thinking much about it.

And then I woke up the next morning and I had an epiphany.  I had a thought that hit me with so much force and made me want to jump for joy and caused me to hold back tears.  I thought "Why are you holding yourself back?  You say that you don't use your blood disorder as an excuse but let's be honest, you do.  You tell yourself 'I'm a slow runner because of my blood disorder.'  You tell yourself that you can't get fit because of your blood disorder.  You tell yourself that you don't get asked out on dates because of your blood disorder.  You say you're shy and introverted because of your blood disorder.  You tell yourself that you're a control freak and you get anxious because of your blood disorder.  And sometimes it's not even that you're using the blood disorder as an excuse, you just look at the world negatively and it's holding you back.  You tell yourself you can't.  You tell yourself it's too late to change.  It's not to late to change.  You're still young.  Tell yourself that you can.  Stop using excuses.  Think positively.  You're holding yourself back."

All those thoughts raced through my mind in an instant and I knew they were true.
And I knew that I needed to change.
No more excuses.

In the title of this blog post I used the word awkward.  But awkward could easily be replace with the words liberating, terrifying, or "no-duh!".  Because it's a freeing moment.  It's a moment when you know that you're accountable for your agency.  And it's a moment when you know that you knew all of this information all along.  Now the problem is motivating, disciplining, and controlling myself to reach those goals.  It's going to be an uphill battle.  I'm going to fall sometimes.  I'm going to have to learn to forgive myself when I make mistakes.  But I can do this.

Sticks and Stones

(I actually wrote this post a couple of months ago and never posted it.  I think there's been enough time that I can post it now.) 

"Words can break someone into a million pieces." - Taylor Swift

I've never taken criticism very well.  Even if it's constructive criticism and I know that logically, I have always had a tendency to take criticism very personally.  It's a weakness I've been trying to work on.  When I was younger I would never let anyone read anything I had written that meant anything to me, because even if they were just correcting grammar or spelling I felt like they were ripping my work apart and in essence ripping me apart.  I hold the things that I do, the things I believe in, the things I have experienced, the things I dream about, the things that make up who I am very close to my heart.  It takes a lot for me to open up my heart, my mind, my thoughts, and my words.  And when I do finally open that deepest part of me one thoughtless word, one small line on a paper, can cause me to close them off to others forever.

I've had people the past few weeks tell me what they really think of me.  It has all been with the best intentions.  And I know that.  None of them were trying to be mean.  Some were just absent mindedly commenting.  Some were trying to help me improve.  Some think they know me well.  Others know that they don't know me at all.  But they all still felt that it was appropriate to tell me exactly what my problem(s) is(are).  And I took all their words to heart.  Every. Single. Word.    Some I tried to apply and improve on.  Some I wondered at.  Some I ranted at.  These people with their words have no idea how they tore me apart.  They have no idea that I have been torn apart from every angle the past few weeks.  They don't know how many other people have also felt like it was their place to comment on my life.  They don't know how every word makes me want to crawl under a rock, never speak again, never try again.

I wonder why I give off such a terrible first impression?  It's not intentional.

I wonder when it's appropriate to take someone's criticism to heart and to use it to make you become a better person?  And when is it appropriate to scream in their face "Screw you!  You don't know my life!  How dare you?"  When is it ok to tell someone who is a consistently negative force in you life to get out? When is it ok to tell someone who will never think you're good enough to back off and get on with their own life?

"You, with your words like knives 

And swords and weapons that you use against me

You have knocked me off my feet again

Got me feeling like a nothing

You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard

Calling me out when I'm wounded

You picking on the weaker man

Well you can take me down with just one single blow

But you don't know, what you don't know

Someday I'll be living in a big ol' city

And all you're ever gonna be is mean

Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me

And all you're ever gonna be is mean

Why you gotta be so mean?

....

You have pointed out my flaws again

As if I don't already see them

I walk with my head down

Trying to block you out 'cause I'll never impress you

I just wanna feel okay again

...

And I can see you years from now in a bar

Talking over a football game

With that same big loud opinion

But nobody's listening

Washed up and ranting about the same old bitter things

Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't do [anything]"

***

"I don't need you to worry about me cause I'm alright

I don't want you to tell me it's time to come home

I don't care what you say anymore, this is my life

Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone

I never said you had to offer me a second chance

I never said I was a victim of circumstance

I still belong, don't get me wrong

You can speak your mind

But not on my time

Keep it to yourself, it's my life."

(I don't own the rights to either song)

Too harsh?  Yeah probably.  I meant every word of it. I'm sick of hearing everybody's opinion of me while I am nice and don't say what I'm really thinking.  Trust me, you don't want to know what I'm really thinking.  And it is my life and I really don't give a damn what anybody else thinks.  Especially people who don't even know me.  I try not to pass judgement on others.  Please give me the same courtesy.  Even if I'm not living my life exactly the way you think I should be.  Even if I'm not perfect.  I'm trying.  And believe it or not, I really do try to make everybody happy.  And I'm shooting for perfection.  So I'd rather not have my flaws pointed out to me.  Because I'm probably my worst critic.  So yes, I actually am aware of my flaws.  I am aware of what is not perfect in my life.  In all aspects of my life.  Nothing that anyone has told me the past week or two has surprised me.  But having it pointed out and elaborated on hasn't helped me at all.  

Nobody Said It Was Easy . . . No One Ever Said It Would Be So Hard

I hate making decisions.  I hate the finality of it.  I love keep my options open.  I hate closing the door.  I hate the whole process.  The not knowing.  The wondering "Am I sure this is right? Am I sure I'm not making some huge mistake?"

Of course I'm not sure. Most of the time there is no surety. If I was sure this choice would be super easy.

And I hate it when the choice is between two good things.  Why can't it always be black and white, good and bad, right and wrong, yes and no?  Why does it always have to be between white and a slightly different shade of white?  OK and OK?  Right and right in a different way?  Maybe and Maybe? How are you supposed to choose?

And why is it always feast or famine?  I pray for a long time for something, doesn't show up, doesn't show up, doesn't show up . . . wait and wait and wait . . . then BOOM! I get two (or more) good choices as an answer to said prayer.  I only needed one answer!  Two answers just complicates my life even more! Life's never that simple is it?

I know, I know.  It's a learning, growing experience.  I'll be thankful for it later.  It's life.  It's adulthood. Sometimes everybody has to choose between two good choices.

The Trouble With Being An Introvert And Slow To Warm Up

I've always liked being alone.  True story. There were many times when I was little and my brother wanted to play with me and I was mean to him because I wanted to play alone.  It wasn't anything against him (usually (sometimes?)) I have just always liked my alone time (ok I was a brat when I was little but that's not what this post is about). I always loved it when I could hang out at home all by myself . . . turn up my music and party by myself in my room.  I even get overloaded by socialization and then I have to take a break from the world and recoup in my own little world. 

So why do I feel so lonely?

I've felt this way before.  I remember when I was in the first grade and my only friends during recess were the "lunch duties".  I sat out and watched the other kids play for a year, not quite feeling included and sad because my best friend from kindergarten was in another class.  And then there was seventh grade.  That was a rough year.  I didn't even want to feel included that year because I just wanted to go home to all my friends and family and to have everything go back to the way it was before my 12th birthday.  I made three friends that year - one at school, one at YW's, and one in the car pool. 

I guess I'm just a little confused because it wasn't like this two years ago.  But it was different then, it was easier then.  I know that it's going to get better.  It always does.  I struggle alone for a year and then it gets better. People don't always like me at first, aparantly I put out a vibe of hatred. I don't mean to, but I've been told that I do.  And I'm not completely alone.  My roommates are alright and I have one friend at school. 

Sometimes when I'm walking by myself or waiting all alone at the doctors office I wonder why I'm so alone.  But then I realize that I'm learning to be independent and self relient.  I only have myself to rely on out here.  Except that's not really true.  I have a lot of family, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, who have been so supportive of me while I've been out here.  And I always have the Savior to rely on.  I'm really not alone at all, there are always people around me, at school, at church, everywhere I go.  I'm not as alone as I originally thought I was.

Playlist:
"Dancing With Myself" - Glee
"On My Own" - Les Miserables
"The Outside" - Taylor Swift

I Hate When My Guitar Starts Weeping Gently

Warning: Random Rambling/Ranting Post

The theory of evolution is just that a theory.  Do you want to know what else is a theory? Gravity.

The word "believe" is not synonymous with the word "agree."  "I believe in Santa Claus" would be the correct way to use the word believe.  "I don't in the Occupy Wall Street movement" would be the wrong usage of believe.  You may not agree with the Occupy Wall Street movement, but you still believe that it exists.

Stop judging.  All it does it make you seem mean.  And yes, I know that since you talk crap about everyone and their dog behind their backs to me, that you're talking crap to everyone and their dog about me.  I'm just smart enough to figure that out.

I'm not mad at you, I don't hate you, I'm not mean, and I'm not depressed.  I'm just an introvert.

When I Feel Fine I'm Dying And When I Feel Like I'm Dying I'm Fine

At least, that's what some doctors (who were treating me at the time) told me the other day.

I went to my routine doctors appointment.  My blood was drawn like normal and then I waited for a shot of medication and to hear if I was going to be bled today.

I waited for an hour.

Then a lady in a white doctors coat called my name.  I walked over to her thinking that she was just going to take me to get my shot like she was supposed to. Her words stopped me cold "We're admitting you to the hospital right now."

"What? Why?  I don't even feel sick." You know, except for the strange sinking sensation in my stomach, but I think that was just from the information I was hearing.

"Yeah your billirubin doubled and we think your kidneys are going to fail."

"Oh.  Ok."  I know, great response. She walked away to arrange me going up to the hospital while I walked, dazed, over to the window while reaching for my phone. I called my parents, still confused. "Hey I'm getting admitted to the hospital.  Just thought you might want to know."

"What?  Why?" (My response exactly!)

"Um, apparently my billirubin doubled in the past two weeks and my organs are going to be failing or something. I don't know, something dumb like that.  Honestly, I'm kind of confuzzled about the whole situation."

"Ok well let us know what's going on and we'll get there when we can."

"Alright."  A few minutes later I was ushered into a patient room and told to wait.  You see they had already filled out all the paper work to get me admitted to the hospital there just weren't any available beds.  I was ok with this because I felt fine so I wasn't really in any sort of rush to get up to the hospital.  The way I saw it, they should probably save those beds for someone who was actually feeling sick.  But apparently I would be feeling sick soon.  At least I assumed that I'd feel sick if my organs started failing.  But what do I know?  Apparently my organs have failed before, but I don't really remember those moments, but I assume I felt sick before said organ failure.  But we all know what assuming does.

So I waited some more in the patient room.  I texted my parents, my roommates, surfed the internet on my iPod, and I even took pictures on my iPod. This nice skinny little brunette nurse practitioner came into the room and introduced herself to me.  She said I was being admitted to the hospital, which I already knew.  I could tell she was super nervous, like hyperventilating nervous. She asked me how I was feeling.

"Fine.  I don't feel sick at all."

Yeah.  She didn't believe me.

She listed off symptom after symptom.

"Nope I don't have that symptom."

"Haven't noticed that symptom."

"I feel good.  No complaints."

 She asked me "So when did you first notice you were jaundice?"  Well that's a tough question for me to answer, you know, considering I've always been yellow.  So I told her that.  "Well when did you first notice you were getting more yellow than usual?"

"Umm, I didn't."

"Well had anyone mentioned it to you?"

"Well my mom did tell me I should ask what my billirubin is today..."  Ms. Nurse Practitioner laughed so hard.

I asked her "So exactly what are you guys going to do to get rid of the billirubin?  And how long am I going to be hospitalized?"

"I don't know on either count.  They (the doctors upstairs in the actual hospital portion of the building)are looking on the internet to try and figure out what they're going to do with you. And I don't know how long you'll be in the hospital. Oh and your doctor is out of the country . . . actually I don't know where he is or when he'll get back or how to get a hold of him . . . so you'll have a different doctor."

(Why are my doctors always out of the country whenever anything exciting happens to me?)


"Oh.  Ok." (Don't I have just the best responses?) Ms. Nurse Practitioner continued on to see if she could feel my spleen.  That was actually my bad.  I always forget to tell people that I'm missing a spleen.  And they always freak out when they find out.  And Ms. Nurse Practitioner was no exception.

"Oh ok.  I did see these scars over here (pointing to my gall bladder surgery scars) so I wondered."

"Haha actually those scars are from when my gall bladder was removed."

"What?!?!  No spleen or gall bladder?!?!  You've had a lovely life haven't you?" She continued to comment on just how jaundice I was looking - even the inside of my mouth was yellow.  "The good thing about being yellow is that you already have your Halloween costume." She laughed and then continued on to tell me about the time she had to put leeches on a guy who had his big toe surgeically removed to replace his toe. Yeah.

Then she asked my favorite question "Why are you in such a good mood?"

Hmm well let's think about that for a second.  Maybe, just maybe, it could be because I don't feel sick. Maybe.

Maybe it's because this is kind of a funny situation to be in - feeling fine and being admitted to the hospital.  I mean, it's a little bit of a weird situation.  Maybe it's because I was either because I was going to cry because I was nervous about being in this odd situation, or I was going to laugh about it.  I'd prefer to laugh.  Or maybe it's because every time I go to the doctor with my dad and he's nervous he makes jokes and laughs about it.  It's his coping mechanism.  I think it's mine too now. I'm used to laughing in weird situations like being at the emergency room from midnight until 3 am.  The only way I know how to deal with it is to laugh through it. Maybe it's because I was kind of bored and again, I'm like my dad in the fact that when I get bored I start making jokes and laughing.

I always find myself nervously smiling/laughing at my new doctors office.

Soon I found myself going upstairs to the hospital and to my room.  The room was completely dark and the nurse who took me there just left me in the dark room.  So I set down my purse and started looking for light switches. You wouldn't think it would be that hard.  It was.  I swear they were all hidden.  The one light switch I could find was painted bright red.  If there is one thing I've learned in my life it is that you NEVER flip the RED light switch.  It's just the rule.  Any TV show or movie you watch nothing good comes from touching/flipping the red light switch.  It's just common sense. If you flip the red switch something bad has to happen.  It's like inviting armageddon to begin, right there in your hospital room.  Or there is going to be a drop door that will appear the second you flip the red switch and you're going to fall to your certain death.  Or a pack of wild dogs will be released and start attacking you if you flip the red switch. Or (probably more likely) there will be a loud alarm that will sound and I'll be surrounded by security or maybe doctors and nurses in a panic who think that I'm dying right that second, if you flip the red switch.  So because I knew nothing good could come from flipping the red switch I decided to search the room for another switch.  I didn't find one before the nurse came in saying "You must be so bored you're wandering around here."

Don't Flip It!

Light Switch Of Death!

"No, actually I just can't figure out how to get the lights on."

Yeah, all I had to do was flip the red light switch.

Eventually, my hosptital doctors came in. They reiterated the fact that my doctor was in some undisclosed/unreachable/unknown location and then they asked me what was up. I explained the whole situation, they listened. After deliberating why I had been taken off some medication last month, deliberating about my cold the previous week, and asking me about my (practically non-existent) "glucose-diet" ("You mean the one where I'm supposed to drink soda - which I hate - and eat candy bars - which I love?") They determined that I probably wasn't going to die (whew!) but that they wanted to keep me over night - you know - so that they could watch if I did die (but they weren't going to do anything to prevent me from dying).  Thanks to some smooth talking from my parents, I was able to break out of there and not stay over night.  (YAY!) My parents are way better at talking to doctors than I am.  I think I'm going to have to work on that.

Dear Zombies Occupying Wall Street:

I can't put my thoughts on the zombies occupying wall street (and salt lake as of today) any better than the Beatles did in their song "Revolution". So here's the lyrics (which I don't own.)

You say you want a revolution

Well you know

We all want to change the world

You tell me that its evolution

Well you know

We all want to change the world

*********

You say you got a real solution

We all want to see the plan

You ask me for a contribution

Well you know

We're all doing what we can

*********

(for the tea party, just for fun)

You say you'll change the constitution

Well you know

We'd all love to change your head

*********

Don't you know it's gonna be alright

Basically I don't think zombie occupation is going to help anything.  I don't even think it's addressing the real problem. In the words of Forest Gump:

That's all I have to say about that.

The Day Technology Died

Steve Jobs died today.  I bet you're wondering about why I'm blogging about this.  I'm not a huge Apple fan; I struggle to work the Macs at school; I don't own an iPad; I don't own an iPhone; I don't stand in line for the latest Apple gadget.  So why am I blogging about him?

Well I love my iPod.  :)

And yesterday, just yesterday I watched Steve Jobs' Stanford Commencement Address.  Do you want to know what stuck out to me from that talk.  "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything - all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.  Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose." Poignant words to hear the day before someone dies. Oh the irony.

The moment I found out about Steve Jobs death the song "American Pie" by Don McLean.  "This'll be the day that I die" played over and over again.  I couldn't help but think that  Steve Jobs had such a huge affect (or effect? I struggle at writing haha) on technology and even though I may not use a Mac myself, I know Steve Jobs helped make the PC what it is today, through competition.  And he owned Pixar which produced "Toy Story", so I'll forever be indebted to him for part of my childhood.  He truly changed the world.

Forget Me Not

At the most recent General Relief Society meeting there was a talk given by Dieter F. Uchtdorf about the forget-me-not flower. It was a beautiful talk, if you'd like to watch it you can find it at lds.org.  It was the perfect talk for me because moving up to this big city, attending a big university, which has a big institute, and being part of a big ward I've been feeling a little bit like the little forget-me-not; small and insignificant. 

I've been trying to look at this experience positively though.  It's a chance for me to overcome my shyness.  And it's not like I'm the only one who has ever felt like I am just one of the ninety and nine and I'm sure that there are other people at my school in a similar situation who are feeling just as lonely as me.  This is a chance for me to reach out to them.  This talk helped me feel better about that.

Besides forget-me-not's are pretty.  What would the world be like without forget-me-not's?

I think I've found a new favorite flower.  What ever happens, just don't forget to remember me.

Maybe Someday I'll Write A Short Blog Post. Today Is Not That Day.

I'm a very introspective learner.  I love it when things apply directly to me and my life.

I loved my biology classes in high school because when they would talk about things like cells and genetics it would apply directly to my life.  I have loved my human anatomy classes because when they get to things like blood, livers, gall bladders, spleens, and medical procedures I'm like "Oh my gosh.  That's my life."  It also made me feel smart because my teachers didn't dumb it down for me like doctors and nurses usually do for patients.

My favorite part of my child development classes are things that apply directly to my childhood.  I liked my parenthood and marriage classes because I could see how they will be applied to my life in the future.

 If I learn something that I've had previous experience with or can apply to my current situation, I'm a happy girl and I learn it much faster and it sticks with me longer. I think that there's almost a sense of validation that I get from all these classes and things I'm learning, a sense that I'm not the only one who experiences things the things I do. I get a certain sense of normalcy.  I also get a chance often to show off my abnormal side and get validation for the fact that I've been through hard things.  I try not to do that too often because if I do I start to just feel sorry for myself, but sometimes it's good to feel like I'm accomplishing the normal while being abnormal.

I'm quickly realizing that the Adolescent Development class that I'm currently taking is going to be one of those classes where I get really introspective and relate everything I'm learning to my life, more than I was expecting it to be.

The past two class periods we were talking about adolescent health, and I wasn't really expecting it to apply to me too much.  I was fairly healthy as a teenager, never hospitalized once.  I was surprised how much of what I was learning I could really relate to.

We watched a movie about teens in hospitals and they talked about the constant poking and beeping machines and losing control and privacy and people coming into your room during the middle of the night and asking you the same questions over and over again.  One of the parts that made me laugh the most was when they talked about the medical students and residents coming in a big group and just like listening and staring at you and taking notes. I can relate to that one.

Then we watched another movie that a kid made to explain to his peers about the accident that put him in a wheel chair so that they would better understand how to react to him.  I thought it was a brilliant idea.

After that we talked about teenagers self image and how that is impacted by chronic illness and all the restrictions that adolescents have when they live with a chronic illness. We also talked about the dual need to feel normal but also to have people understand all the things you have been through and how they can be conflicting.

The whole time we were talking about this I felt validated.  I felt like "Ok, I'm not the only who has felt this way." I remember always feeling somewhat like I was the only one experiencing everything, especially when it came to those nasty little rare blood disorder experiences, even though I logically understood that I wasn't the only one.  I don't know, it's like sometimes it's cool to be the oddity - the unique one - like when you attend your Stats class and you talk about the normal distribution of hemoglobin and your hemoglobin is literally off the charts (like no joke, not even on there in the abnormal area). But sometimes I wanted someone to understand exactly.  I mean people can empathize, and they do and it does/has made me feel better.  My parents have always tried to understand and I think they do better then anyone else I know.  But it's like unless you've actually been through it, you don't really understand.

Some days I feel completely normal and don't even think about my blood disorder.  Sometimes I look at myself and think "Oh my gosh I am yellow! I'm a freak! I'm like a neon sign! I'm pretty sure I should be glowing in the dark at this point!", not as much as I used to though.  Sometimes I would lay awake at night freaking out about what would happen the next time I got sick enough to go to the hospital and thinking that for sure I was going to die the next time it happened.  Sometimes I'd freak out about what I would do the next time I had to get my blood drawn or get a shot or get an IV or have a surgery.  I wouldn't even be feeling sick and I'd worry about these things.  Sometimes I'd even think about what I'd do if I ever got cured or how life would be without the blood disorder.  How different would I be then?

I remember sitting on my floor in the middle of the night and thinking "You know my doctors are pretty good at treating my physical symptoms.  Everyone is always so concerned about how healthy I am.  Everyone can see my yellow skin.  Everyone knows somethings wrong with me and they are very concerned about the physical effects of my disorder.  But what about the emotional effects?  What about the social effects?  What about how freaked out I am over needles and getting sick?  What about how no guy likes me or will ever like me because I'm like a freaking neon sign?  What about how I'll never get married because who wants to marry a bag of medical bills and that's all I am?  What about how I'll never be pretty again because of the whole neon sign thing?  What about how terrified I am of the whole world because what if it causes pain like the pain I used to feel when I was little and sick? What about how upset I am because I'll always be the slowest and the worst at sports and I always get so tired?" (Yeah I was a little dramatic back then.)  Honestly that's what I used to think, not all the time, but some of the time.  Luckily as I've gotten older I've been able to work through a lot of these issues on my own. But I used to think I was kind of weird and that I was probably overreacting a lot in those emotional moments.  I still think maybe I was a little bit but attending class today I realized that they are actually pretty normal things for an teenager with chronic illness to feel and think - even if they weren't actually in the hospital.  I feel validated and I don't feel so weird for feeling like my disorder affected me more than just physically.  I think my family probably realized this to a certain extent (my parents are super observant like that), but I know I at least tried to keep from them and everyone else just how much I felt that way and I'd like to think succeeded.  I just can't even describe how much better I feel knowing that I'm not weird or overreacting about how my disorder affected me.  This just added another level of understanding in my life.

I'm going to a new doctor, trying new treatments, and in some ways I'm excited. I feel so grown up going to the doctor all by myself, even though I also feel a little nervous.  I can get poked with out screaming, yelling, crying, kicking, and throwing a fit.  I'm twenty but there's still a part of me that wants to act like the terrified two year old every time I go in.  But I don't.  And that's a big improvement for me. I feel more in control this time around.  I don't know, there is something about the knowledge of knowing that I could say no, at any point in this process, and there is nothing my doctors, nurses, parents, or anyone else can do about it. It's a powerful feeling, this feeling of control.  And just knowing that I have that option, that control, makes saying yes easier.  What can I say, agency like that is amazing.  At the same time I'm nervous.  What if it doesn't work?  What if I'm just feeding my hypochondriac-ism?  What if it's more painful than helpful?  What if there are no new answers? What if I've just got to keep putting up with this for the rest of my life?  What if I've healed enough that I don't need to seek healing anymore?  What if this is all just bringing up old emotions that I had already worked through and making me work through them all over again?

I don't feel like I'm looking for a "cure" for the jaundice anymore.  I found that "cure" and it didn't fix everything like I thought it would.  Now I'm looking for a "cure" for the anemia, for the tiredness.  But what if it doesn't fix everything like I think it will?

If I do find a "cure" I'll probably just be handed a whole new set of problems to work out.  That's life isn't it. Do I want to switch these problems I've had forever, that I know like the back of my hand, for a new set of problems?  These problems, these issues, are comfortable and predictable. I can handle these problems.  I don't know if I can handle new problems.

The thing is that I wouldn't trade this whole experience for the world.  If you want a succinct way of how I feel about my blood disorder and everything I've learned from this you can watch this  Stacey Kramer: The best gift I ever survived | Video on TED.com.  Sadly, I obviously can't put how I feel into three minutes or less.  But I have learned so much.  I have learned compassion and empathy.  I've learned I'm stronger than I think I am and that I can do hard things.  I've learned that normal is overrated.  I've learned to ask for help when I need it.  I've learned that I'm loved and that when I can't make it on my own, there is always someone there to help lift me.  I've learned that life is complicated but it's supposed to be that way.  I've learned that as crappy as your life may be, there is always someone that has it worse off. I've found my course for life because of this challenge.  I've learned that challenges are very personal and unique and situated exactly how they are needed for each individual person.  I've learned to rely on the Lord, on the scriptures, and on prayer when I cannot go any further on my own.  I've learned that I have a very personal Father in Heaven who know's exactly what I need and knows that I am a very introspective learner and so He gave me a challenge that would teach me things I couldn't learn any other way and would set me in a course that I wouldn't have chosen for myself. I have learned that with the right perspective, challenges can be blessings in disguise.

Playlist:
"Yellow" by Coldplay
"The Wizard and I" from Wicked
Skin (Sarabeth) by Rascal Flatts
"Lessons Learned" by Carrie Underwood

My Institute Teacher Says That My Generations Biggest Problem Is That We Talk Too Much

I don't know what he's talking about.

Actually - that's a lie -  I do know what he's talking about.  He's talking about texting, facebook, twitter, blogs, and other social networking stuff.  I'll say this though, the "older generation" is always complaining about how my generation doesn't know how to talk (face to face).  Maybe not the best choice of words on my teachers part but I get what he's saying.

I agree with him to a certain extent - my generation is prone to let social networking take over their lives and use it as a great tool for procrastination.  Or maybe that's just what I sometimes allow social networking do.  I agree that we shouldn't let our virtual worlds take over reality. And maybe (just maybe) not everyone wants or should know my opinion about everything or what I'm doing every second of the day.  Maybe my blog posts could be a little shorter (it's not like I write a novel every time I blog. Or post all of my pictures at once in a forever long post.)  Maybe I don't have to record everything through pictures, blogging, facebook statusing, and journaling.  Maybe that's a little bit excessive.  Maybe.

But I was talking to my grandmother the other day and she was telling me that she hates to write.  She told me that when she was growing up if her writing wasn't perfect she'd get a slap on the wrist and so she still to this day feels like she is being judged when she writes anything.  This is a really sad fact for me because the older I get, the more I realize that she grew up in a completely different world then I did, and it's a world I know next to nothing about.  I would love to read her journal and to know what life was like for her in the moment, when she was my age.  The more family history I work on the more I wish that I had the record of their lives out of their very own mouths, not just out of their family members and descendants interpretations, remembrances, and observations. I love and treasure my grandfathers personal history that he wrote about himself before he died.  I feel like it gives me a chance to get to know him even better.  I also treasure the history of my other grandfather that my mom compiled.  But sometimes I think it would be nice to read what they were feeling in the moment when they were my age and what life was like for them then.  I really like reading the journal entries of people in different time periods.  I went to visit the LDS Church History Library and I was impressed how many journals they have available to read.  I read the story of someone who was in Hawaii on Pearl Harbor day.  It was amazing.  I recently got to ride around with one of my grandmothers and she told me all about the people who had lived the places we visited and what they did with their lives.  She even told me some stories about her and her young family riding down that old dirt road years ago.  They were so different from me, and yet they are apart of me. I felt connected to them somehow.  I love hearing their stories.  I guess that's why I don't mind lectures from my "crazy great uncle" about days long gone.

Maybe someday someone will want to hear my generations story.  With how quickly the world is changing, my children's and grandchildren's world and lives will be so different from mine.  If they ever do, they'll have plenty to look at and read to hear our story, to see our world.

First's, Thank You's, and Other Randomness

I've had some firsts this week.

First time going to the gym all by myself at night in the big city.

First time going running. (A result of being scared to death by the above first. Those of you who know me know that I do NOT run.  Ever.  I think my mom thought I'd gone crazy or was sick or got replaced by someone else because her daughter doesn't run.)

First time going bike riding. (In a LONG time).

First time getting on the wrong shuttle. (No worries though, I had plenty of time and eventually got where I was going.)

First homework assignment at the U.

First time class has been cancelled for a football game. (And to answer the question you must be asking, no I didn't go.)

First job interview. (In a long time.)

First time writing a resume. (In a long time.)

First time going up to my grandparent's land and camping. (In a long time.)

First time helping/watching my uncle and cousin figure out how to turn around a horse trailer.

First time waiting until after dark to help pick up my other uncle and cousin from their horseback riding expedition.

First time going up to "the land" without my allergies driving me crazy.  (Thank you knock-off Walgreens Claritin.)

First time going to a church that was so full that I got pushed into the corner of the Relief Society room for sacrament meeting, heard my uncles phone go off to the Steve Miller Band, and watched kids guess what a lady was drawing on the white board and then vigorously erase the drawing.

First time driving rush hour traffic on a Friday evening past a car accident.

First time getting locked out of my apartment.

First quizzes of the new semester.

Not everything this week was a first.  I got to hang out with Grandma H. just the two of us which we've been able to do more often lately.  I really like hanging out just the two of us.  Thanks for inviting me up for the weekend Grandma! And feeding me good food that I didn't have to cook myself.  You're awesome!

I also need to shout out a big Thank You to Aunt Judy for inviting me over to Sunday dinner a couple of weeks ago and again sending me home with lots of yummy, healthy food.  This isn't the first time you've been so kind to me and I'm sure it won't be the last.

I've gotten so many invites for dinner and to help out if I need anything that I know I'm going to be set for a long time.  I feel so loved and I can't wait to hang out with all of my family on such a personal basis.  I feel so blessed.  I know I've got so many people looking out for me.  I think that's probably the only reason my Mom hasn't gone crazy is because she know's I've got such a great support system with my wonderful family who are there in case I need anything.  It's comforting for me too.

Just in case this post wasn't long enough for you, I thought I'd add in a link to Kid History - Episode 6.  I love Kid History and this episode featured some smoothies that reminded me of one of my cousins classic "Green Smoothies" which I love but the kids reactions to them are so funny.

Song for the long weekend:
"Take a Back Road" - Rodney Atkins

I am a Human Development and Family Studies Major

There.

I said it.

And I didn't qualify it.

Every single time someone asks me the inevitable college get to know you question I get a little nervous.  The second I say "Human Development" I get "the look".  I know that look, because I used to give that look.  It's the look that says "What in the world do you expect to do with that major?  Get your MRS degree and then start popping out babies and be a stay at home mom?  What if something happens and you have to provide for your family?  You can't provide for a family with that degree!" And like I said, I used to give "that look" too.  I remember going on a campus tour at BYU and passing the building that they said is where all the family and consumer sciences classes are.  I scoffed and thought to myself "Yeah, all the girls who are counting on getting married, dropping out of college, and being taken care of the rest of their lives. Ha."  Yeah, I was a little judgmental when I was seventeen.  Just a little bit. But I could be because I knew everything back then. I digress.  A few years, a little experience, and a lot of prayers later here I am trying to come to terms with my major.  I always feel like I have to defend what I am studying and why I am studying it.  My answer is almost always "My major is Human Development it's the program that will help me become a Child Life Specialist which is kind of like a play therapist at a hospital." It's a long and awkward explanation. But after that long explanation everyone is pretty much like "Ok, so you actually have a plan for your life." But at the same time I get tired of explaining myself and my life plans in the first five minutes of meeting someone.  And there is a part of me that thinks that I shouldn't have to explain myself and my choice of major to the world.

I was thinking about this today.  I was also thinking about the classes I'm taking and how they relate to families.   I was listening to the Mormon Channel program about families. I realized that this is my way to help families.  It is something that I have control over that will be helping families.  The family is under attack. This is how I can help the family. I realized that I don't have to explain or defend myself and my major and I don't have to feel like I'm pursuing a major that isn't really a good major.  It is an excellent major.  I am glad to be a Human Development and Family Studies Major.