...you change your name to Gertrude.

I feel more comfortable sharing my personal life on here rather than on Facebook, particularly since the audience is significantly smaller.  I feel like a blog is more of a journal anyway...which is why I'm going to pour out my deep thoughts here for my seven followers to sift through.

Almost a year ago, I left for college at BYU-Idaho, leaving behind a great guy.  Jake, being the wonderful person that he is, left for a mission a month after I left for school. We were both each other's first loves and hadn't seriously dated anyone else, so consequently, we both had talked about and planned on me waiting for him while he was on his mission.  My family and some of my friends counselled me against it, but since I was a teenager and knew everything, I didn't listen.

It's kind of funny how things turned out.  I would watch The Best Two Years before Jacob left and think about how selfish the missionaries' girlfriends (and essentially all Dear Johners) were.  How could they completely forget the person they pledged their life to?  Why are they throwing away years of dating for a sleazy RM they met three weeks ago?  Two years isn't that long.  I'm going to be able to do it.  Easy-peasy.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen...

I was doing fine with waiting for the first month of Elder Siler's mission...then my sleazy RM came along. ("Sleazy" isn't a good word at all to describe Eric.  "Persistent" would be better.) He swept me off my feet with his charismatic and wily charm (that's a story for a different post and another day), and before I knew it, we were dating.

When I returned home for the break, I knew that I had a major decision to make.  I could keep waiting for Jake and hope that he would forgive me for what, at the time, seemed like just a "fling" with Eric, or I could write him off, join the dreaded Dear Johner club I despised only months before, and date other people.  I honestly was planning on the former.  After all, I had invested a good three years with Jake.  Why throw it away on a person I dated for a month?  But my thinking changed.  I kept in touch with Eric over my break.  We talked, skyped, and texted the entire four months.  In fact, there wasn't a day that we didn't contact each other in some way.  The more I talked to the kid, the more I realized he was going to be more than just a fling.  I really started liking him...a lot.

And so, being the selfish young lady that I am, I wrote Elder Siler off.

Lately, the question I've hated hearing is "So how are you and Jake?" Well, I'm doing fine, but he's suffering from a broken heart because I decided to dump him.  Thanks for asking.

I hate that I've hurt him.  The guilt of it all has been tough.  Last semester while zoning off in my Shakespeare class (Henry IV:  Part I didn't excite me at the time), I was skimming through Hamlet when I thought, Oh. My. Goodness.  I'm Gertrude.  When her husband died, she only mourned for one month before she found her new main squeeze.  Jacob didn't die (obviously), but he was only gone for one month before I moved on.  "Frailty, thy name is woman Emily."

Sometimes I find myself nit-picking Jacob's flaws in my head, but then I stop myself and wonder why I'm thinking this way about a very good person.  I think it may be my coping mechanism.  If I feel like he is a worse person than he really is, I won't feel as guilty.  I've been trying to get into the habit of thinking in a different way though.  When the guilt comes, as it does daily, I think to myself, Self, it will all work out.  He'll find someone that will be better and will make him happier.  Then, you won't feel so guilty.  Is it weird that I actually hope this?  Elder Siler is still one my closest friends.  I still care for him, and I want him to be happy...even happier than he was with me.

I feel guilt for my decision everyday, but I don't feel regret.  I only regret getting serious with him before his mission.  A whole world of hurt could have been avoided. What makes me feel better about the situation is that I'm no longer distracting him from the work he needs to be doing.  He can now focus completely on his mission.

The moral of the story:  Admitting you're a hypocrite is part of life.  I never expected to Dear John a missionary, but I'm going to take this experience and make the most of it (as cliche as that is).  When faced with circumstances in life, you always have a choice:  to get stuck or to move on.

...you run like heck.

For a class that I took this spring, I had to exercise three to five times a week.  I decided to focus mainly on running.  I made it my main goal to be able to run up the hill in Rexburg that the temple is on.


Sadly, it took me a while, but once I made it all the way up without stopping, I decided to go onto bigger and better goals, such as being able to run a 5K.  Well, I made it!  Looking back, it's crazy that I used to think it was a big deal to be able to run a mile without breaking.  Now, I don't feel like I've had a good enough workout unless I do at least three miles...with hills.



This has to be the worst photo of me (especially since I'm showing off my Relief Society arms...I mean, guns), but I feel accomplished looking at it. A few weeks ago, I particpated in the Hurdles for Hope race.  Because it was an "extreme" race (furnished with a mud pit, army crawl, and river), I only did the 3K.  Even with the short distance, it was intense.  I'm proud of how I did, nonetheless.  I'm proud of how far I've gotten in my running ability and endurance.


Ok, bragging over.

...you keep it chill.

My music keeps me sane.

It seems like with all of my classes this track, I can barely keep up with assignments.  It's impossible to keep up with readings.  I wake up around 6:30 every morning to spend two hours studying before my first class.  From then on out, until 11:00 at night, I only spend a few hours of the day (if I'm lucky...or procrastinating) not in class or preparing for class.

I have found a very useful technique to keep from screaming right here in the middle of the library. (Ha, like blogging is going to help my stress level.)  I've made a playlist on my iTunes called "Relaxation."  92.6% (rough estimate...it may be wrong.  I'm an English, not a math, major.) of the songs are instrumental hymns.  It's amazing how much more I'm able to accomplish when I feel peaceful and relaxed.

The past month has given me a new respect to my parents.  For most of my childhood, they were in school, working, and dealing with their four crazy chitlins.  Now, I'm having a hard time being just a student with only myself to deal with.  How they were able to handle all of life and school is beyond me.

...you throw them back at life in frustration! And then type whatever comes to mind.

Life for the lucky is stunningly  clear.  Life for the rest of us suckers is stunningly ambiguous.

...but that's what makes it real.  In a way, it's how we can look at our surroundings and not have to pinch ourselves to know whether we're alive or not.

What exactly constitutes someone as being "alive"?  Medically speaking, anyone with a heartbeat is alive...but on a deeper level, is it just that?  Where exactly is that deeper level?

Want to know my thoughts?  Of course you do!

Being alive is being active.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said in "The American Scholar", "The one thing in the world, of value, is the active soul. This every man is entitled to; this every man contains within him..."

The active soul...the active mind...the active heart...

Exercising agency goes with not only things of the gospel but also learning and thinking.  It's a matter of acting versus being acted on.  Inspiration comes through action, though the creation of thought, and the active soul is constantly in tune for inspiration.

Inspiration isn't only for religious matters, so why do we only seek for the help of the Spirit in our sacred studies?  Hasn't God commanded us to gain knowledge in anything "lovely, virtuous, of good report, and praiseworth"?  I've started making it a habit to ask for inspiration and enlightenment in all of my studies, to ask for a desire to learn.  I'm amazed at how my views and my attitude towards learning has done a complete 180 turn.

I now keep a "thought journal."  I value it above my normal journal.  In it, I keep the only things I have private in this crazy world, my thoughts.  When I have a "noble impulse," as sweet Camilla Kimball described inspiration, I write it down.

My little band of followers (Hi, mom.), I will give you the opportunity and reading one such impulse.

4-25-12
During FDEnglish201:  As I see, recognize, and value the beauty around me--in words, in art, in nature--I see more beauty in myself.  


When I see God's creation, see what beauty He gave them, I am more able to look in the mirror and see what beauty He gave me.

I've matured...but I'm still immature.  I see that.  I see that I have no opinion in most clear-cut and uncertain things in life. Life is complicated.

...but that's what makes life beautiful.

...you celebrate Pi Day!

3.14 = an excuse to make a pie!
In commemoration of the Greek symbol and the 100th birthday of the Oreo (100 years of bliss for Americans and other citizens of the human race), I made an Oreo pie!
Check it.

Here is recipe for this triple layer Oreo Pie.

I had left over Oreo middles when I made the pie, so I was inspired to follow in the steps of Balloonshop and make a twenty-stuff.  Awesome, huh?  I wanted to add a pecan...because well, it just adds!  But alas, all I could find in our cabinets was almonds.

Oreo--Balloonshop

...you declare a major.

Yep.  I did it.  B.A. in English Education.  I'm not entirely sure it's what I want, but I'm taking this leap of faith and going for it.  If I end up hating it, I can always change my major.
I decided to go into English education because...

• I want to go into something that I can do while simultaneously raising a family.
• I decided that I would rather stay at BYU-Idaho for a full four-year degree than stick with my original plan. I was planning on only doing a two-year degree and then returning to Arkansas, but I'd go crazy if I stayed here during this time in my life.
• I tried to pick something that I love/will possibly learn to love.  While helping me figure out what I wanted to do, my mom would ask me, "What do you love doing?"  I thought about the few college classes I've taken, and what I enjoyed most about my fall classes was the literature I was required to read.  Also, when I was in junior and high school, my guilty pleasure was doing sentence diagrams. (I was a nerd...I'm still a nerd.  At least I accept it now.)
• I love English jokes. (courtesy of Pinterest)

...you balance it out with a happy post.

I don't want to be a Debby-downer all the time, so I'll do a happy post to balance out that last, angsty one. Opposition in all things, right?
I will now proceed to list 15 things that make me happy/smile/want to melt (not necessarily in any particular order).

Let's start with the basics...

1.  My Heavenly Father and My Savior.  The two greatest people who love and support me (in my good efforts) like no one else.

2.  My Family (Maggie included).  They drive me crazy when I'm around them, but when I get breaks away from them, I miss them like crazy.  Either way, they're crazy.

3.  Studying the scriptures...actually getting into them and enjoying them.

4.  Chocolate.  Specifically dark.  I love the way dark chocolate snaps when you break it...because I'm odd like that.

Now for the less general and less common items...

5.  Fuzzy socks.

6.  Climbing into a freshly made bed. There are very few things that make me happier.

7.  Getting a letter in the mail. I'm old school in a lot of my ways.

8.  Outrageously cheesy romance scenes...happening to me.  I dream of spontaneously dancing in the rain or being passionately kissed after an argument about love (thank you, It's a Wonderful Life).

9.  Domestically cultivating myself.  I would have never, NEVER said this even just a year ago, but I feel somewhat accomplished when I learn a new skill.  I've been surprising my family with what I can do food-wise (which isn't much now, but much better than what I was able to do before I was forced to cook for myself).

10. Pearls.  Pearls are this girl's best friend.

11.  High fives.  Gotta love the awkwardness that comes with them.

12.  Going to the temple.  I'd sit in the temple in Rexburg during a hectic week and not let time or homework bother me.  So relaxing and uplifting...I miss it.

13.  Late night conversations.  And I mean late...

14.  Little towns.  I'm not a big city person at all.  Even Fort Smith annoys me sometimes.  Just give me a town with a Walmart, gas station, and frozen yogurt shop, and I'll call it "home".

15.  The way my parents love each other.  If the best thing a dad can do for his daughter is love her mother, then my dad deserves a "#1 Dad" mug, t-shirt, and hat.  (I'm sure he has at least one of those things somewhere).  The same goes for my mom.   I think the reason they're still in love is because they make each other's comforts their main concern.  I want that, but I won't admit it to them because it's sick when they publicly display their affection.

...you want to be beautiful.

Some days, I look in the mirror and wish desperately I could like the reflection.  But most days I don't.  My birthday wish was to feel beautiful.  I even prayed for it.

I look back at my earlier teenage years (I'm in my last one!), and realize, though, that I have come a long way.  It's weird putting all this up here because I've never talked to someone about it in such detail...but whatevs.

When I began junior high, it got to the point to where I refused to look into mirrors.  I was 5'4", 120 pounds (a completely reasonable size, right?), but I thought that I was the fattest person at my school.  I really, truly did.  I hid behind jackets and sweatshirts.  I kept my frizzy hair in a tight ponytail because I felt like it was helpless.  I had horrible acne, and I swear, no one else in my school had any.  It doesn't make sense with all of us starting puberty at that age, but where ever I looked, I only saw flawless skin.  I let what those flawless-skinned-freaks-of-nature would say to me sink in too much.

During high school, it got a little bit better.  I didn't feel like I was the biggest person in my class, but I did feel like I needed to lose 20 pounds.  I still had the acne, but I could look in a mirror...until someone prettier came into the restroom.  I had a boyfriend who would sometimes tell me I was beautiful.  I would believe it, but not much later, I'd be back in my low self-esteem rut.  It's like how Claire from Elizabethtown puts it.  Compliments like that are ice cream cones.  "Something sweet that melts in five minutes."

When I started my first semester of college at BYU-Idaho in September, I was still in the basic mindset as I was in high school.  However, I gained wonderful friends there who were constantly telling me I looked nice and constantly pointing out my good qualities.  I met a guy who somehow thought I was cute, so I quickly snatched him up.  He was another that made me feel like maybe I was at least okay-looking.

I came back to Arkansas in December.  All the feelings of high school have come back in a very bitter bite of nostalgia.  I have no classes, no job, and only a few friends, thus all the time in the world to selfishly dwell on myself.  (I realize that's not my only option, so I'm working on spending that time more wisely.)

So is the key to feeling beautiful having people tell you that you are?  If it is, life sucks even more.  I want to feel beautiful without having to rely on others.  I want to feel like I'm worth something without having someone to tell me that I am.  I'm basically an adult now, an independent person (in only a few ways...but independent, nonetheless).  Why should I have to depend on others to be happy?  It just doesn't make sense.

That's what has been on my mind lately.  I wonder what exactly is considered beautiful.  I almost want to do a survey of what people honestly think, not the "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder," or "Everyone is beautiful in their own way," crap.  Real, honest answers.

I've been on this beauty-kick for a while now.  I've even gotten to the point to where I look up conference talks about beauty.  They say we (mostly talking to women) need to learn to accept and love ourselves, but how that is achieved is beyond me.  What do I need to do to look into the mirror and be able to tell myself that I am beautiful and believe it for longer than an ice cream cone's worth of time?

Maybe someday I'll find the answer.

{Disclaimer:  This is not a call for compliments.  This is me venting.  Nothing else.}

...you finally break.

By creating a pinterest account!  I said I never would for the sole reason of wasting my entire time on it, but now that I have nothing to do with all my time, why not?
My Pinterest Account
Good bye, life.