Here We Are Together Again

Life is so fast. I've wanted to keep up with this, I really have, but everything happened and I was so busy experiencing it that I forgot to write it down. So, I'm starting again. Mainly, because I've got the "itch". Anyone that enjoys writing knows what I am talking about- the point when you have so many words that you can't hold them in anymore. To you non-writers out there, here's the way I think of it: I believe that everyone has words that they hold in their head. They collect them throughout the day; things to remember and things to feel and things they want to sing but they don't have the words for, only the emotions, but somehow music is words too. Eventually, if you don't let them out, the words build and build and build until they press against your forehead, and your heart starts to ache and your mouth starts to open and your fingertips get what I call the "itch". It's that need to write, to write everything, and maybe its all just for yourself, or maybe not, but you just have to let the words out. 

That's been today for me. The last few days, really. Sometimes when this happens I can just pull out my old guitar, which has many more stories than I do, I'm sure, since Alice is older than I am...but those are her words, and I don't know enough of them to tell them to you yet. Alice is a great help, though, for me, to get all my words out through singing the words of others. But sometimes she isn't enough, and I have to let the words out another way. I wish I could hand write them all, like I used to do in high school, but I don't have the time, and the internet is just so much faster. 

I'm engaged. I'm getting married in almost an exact month, and the time is going so fast. I sometimes still feel like a little girl, sitting on a swingset and dreaming of this moment, right now, when I've found my person and everything in life makes sense.(Everything in life does not make sense right now, but does it ever really?) My little girl self could never have imagined this, though, this place that I am in, emotionally and physically. It's so much more than the idea of what love is like when we are children. 

I'm living with my fiance's family, which is incredible and strange and exciting all at once. I love them. The first time I met them it felt like coming home. I got incredibly lucky to have future in-laws that are so accepting of me, the Mormon girl. They have taken me in and made me their own daughter...it's an odd feeling, to adopt a second set of parents. They give me hope for Dylan and I, for our future together, and they have been a blessing to have in my life. 

And then, sometimes it's hard. Dylan and I have opposite work schedules; I work in the day and he works in the evening. Some days, most days, I don't see him until nearly midnight. Some days I feel like I spend my whole life waiting for him to come home.  I never get tired of talking to him...usually he gets all of my saved-up words. Having been in a long-distance relationship for so long, we have given each other so many words that sometimes I wonder how there are still words left. Sometimes there isn't, and we just look at each other and laugh for no reason. It's basically my favorite thing about our relationship...all of the laughter. He makes me laugh until I cry, until my sides ache and my face hurts and I can't breathe. It's a glorious feeling, and I hope it never ends.

And then there's me. There's so much talk about "us" lately, that sometimes I forget that I'm a person too. As I write this, I am wearing a blue bracelet that reminds me that "I am Somebody". I'm not trying to say that I am selfish, or that I want to be. I just think it's good to remember that I am an individual as well as part of a bigger whole. Dylan fell in love with me as an individual, and sometimes I forget that. It's been interesting, finding the balance between myself and someone else. 

Marriage is much more work than I thought it would be. (Ha, and I'm not even married yet, technically.) It's all about sacrifice and love and work. It's a life's work, and one that I want to be proud of at the end of it all. I am so excited to make memories, good and bad, because the bad ones make us grow, and the good ones make us happy. It will be an adventure. 

You Know What They Say About All Good Things

Ah, Sundays. One thing I love about them is the feeling of renewal. Sunday for me is the transition period between the old week and the fresh adventures ahead. It symbolizes a reconciliation, and in a very real sense, forgiveness.Before you ask, I spend my Sundays at church. Instead of shopping or cleaning or having parties or anything you would expect an independent college student to do. And here's the shocking part: I do this of my own free will.
 If anyone has been wondering why I would choose to go to church every Sunday, let me explain. I believe that when I was baptized, I made certain promises to God that I would do everything I could to be like Him. To love like He did, and to do as he asked. However, being only a human, and prone to mistakes (like, all the time) I tend to fall short on keeping those promises. I go to church every week to make those same promises, over, and over, and over again. Sometimes I forget that. But when I remember, when I really think about the purpose of church meetings, I feel so...renewed. Even though my stress and my hardships and my problems don't disappear, they get lighter. Like someone is literally taking a burden off of my shoulders.
Sometimes people judge me before they know me, just because I'm Mormon. This can be both good and bad. I admit, I've gotten the question, " I thought Mormons didn't believe in doing this or that?" To that I can only say, I'm not perfect. I don't always do everything the way that I believe I should. But that's the whole point of my religion. It isn't a church of perfect people who think they're better than everyone else. If someone is acting that way then they're doing it wrong. This is merely a church of sinners who are trying to do better. Who believe in the power of forgiveness, and have experienced firsthand the healing that comes from it. I don't believe in condemnation, but I do believe in growth, and progress, and peace. I believe in acceptance.
 I'm not saying repentance and forgiveness is always easy. I'm not saying being Mormon is always "easy", especially when a lot of the core values I have are completely opposite to today's norms. But it's worth it.  I help people who need it, I try to be honest and compassionate, I'm happy. Like, actually happy. 

I wish I could fully explain to you everything that I believe in. I wish I was good enough with words to help you understand, even a little bit, of why I am who I am and why I do the things I do. I have spent so much of my life trying to find a way to make everyone happy, and still be happy myself. The only way I've found that works, time and time again, is this: live like Christ. I'm serious. You may think I'm being a religious fanatic. But I am honest when I say that when I am in harmony with God, then my life is in harmony with me. I have test scores and job offers and a wonderful sweet boyfriend and multiple otherwise unexplainable things to prove it.

Okay, last thing before I go. In less than a month, I will be back home, after spending seven months at college. While I'm excited to see my family (and even more excited to see that cute blue eyed man of mine that's more home to me than any single place) I am going to miss Idaho every second that I am gone. It's changed me. I have had the privilege of living with amazing women that have become my sisters and my best friends. They have no idea how much they have changed my life, and how strong and beautiful and wonderful they are. We have had so much fun together, and I'm going to miss them like crazy until I get to come back. I never thought I would say it, but this has been one of the best years of my life. I have grown up and grown stronger.  I have found hope and faith and love in some unexpected times and places. I am content. Until next time, happy adventuring.

Sometimes I Screw Up

Editing: it sucks. I didn't mean to hurt anyone by my last post. I really didn't even expect anyone to read it. Honestly, I know exactly how many people actually look at this thing, and I can count them on one hand. Also, one of them is my boyfriend, so that doesn't even count. But anyways, that's not really the point. The point is that last time I wrote I said some things that I shouldn't have. I was frustrated and upset and I needed to give myself a pep talk. My intent was to show myself that I had changed, not to make others look bad. I love my parents. I do. My mom is my idol; I love her and respect her and I want to be like her. My dad and I are already too much alike; sometimes our mutual stubbornness gets in the way of trying to communicate. Even so, my dad is a good man. There are qualities that I have seen in him that my future husband wouldn't be able to get away with not having. When I said they made sure what I had done was public, I meant that everyone knew that I was being punished, that I was "grounded". Considering the way I acted, obviously people put two and two together. Or something. All I knew was that no one wanted to be around me anymore. They knew I had done something, something serious, and therefore I was a liability. They didn't want to get involved in whatever I was. Look, I don't even know that for sure; you can deny it if you wish, and I will believe you. All I know is that I was alone, and I blamed myself for it. That's what led to everything else that I have already mentioned. I never blamed my parents, because it was always my fault. If I ever hated anyone, it was just a projection of how I felt about myself. I couldn't stand myself. I would have given anything to get out of my own head, and I almost did. I am sorry if my words didn't come across that way.

Honestly I'm still figuring out who I am. Life is hard. Being a grown up is not the shining freedom that it appears to be to a child. It comes with a lot of tears and a lot of decision making and a lot of failure. Or maybe that's just me. Things that used to be easy for me are now much much harder. School was always supposed to be my forte, what I was good at; I was never athletic, coordinated, I didn't grow up rich. I don't even have a driver's license. But I'm smart, even though college makes me feel very stupid sometimes. There's so much I don't know. I didn't grow up living and breathing music. I've had to start from the bottom, and fight and fight and fight every second until I'm exhausted and out of breath and beaten.

 I spend hours of my life in a practice room, learning how to sing in various languages on pitch and with proper breath support and accurate rhythm and energy and stay in character and maintain posture and hope, HOPE, you evoke some emotion in your audience because, oh, yeah, you have to do all this in front of people. I spend some more time in a practice room learning to sight read and write chord progressions and inversions and melodies, making it all sound pretty and clean when just a few weeks ago I was struggling with the circle of fifths, and can we please go back to that? I'm learning diction, English diction, because it's incredibly complicated and yet so simple to sing words correctly, you're not just singing the words, you're singing each individual letter sound and then they make a word together, like a lovely little family of language. I have concerts I'm required to go to, papers to write, notes to memorize, and project after project after project. I barely have time to sleep. And I could still be doing more, learning more, giving more. But I love music, and I'm determined to be a music therapist, and help people, because that's all I've ever wanted to do. I just want to give and give and give of myself until there's nothing left. I admit that I am selfish more than I should be. But deep down all I want is to contribute at least something.

Last but not least. I'm tired. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. I am a creature of emotion; I feel so much so often,and I don't know how to not be that way. I don't want to change. It's hard sometimes, but it's what makes me compassionate, empathetic, and plainly, human. I don't see it as a bad thing, and I never will, I hope. Sometimes I wish I could satisfy myself with feeling nothing, with not caring, with not being stubborn and just giving in and becoming Ophelia. But I've tried that, I've tried it many times, and I'm never happy at the end of it. I need to be myself. I sometimes disappoint people. Okay, more than sometimes. Sometimes I surprise people too, which is kind of fun. My point is that I'm young, and I'm working on it, and you just have to be patient with me. Watch and see what I become. It may not be what you expected, but then, it probably won't be exactly what I expected either. Let's just wait and see, shall we?

Mountains Out of Molehills

Aha! You thought that I had given up on this project, didn't you? Well, surprise! You were right, almost. College life is busy, and I am struggling to keep up with it all. But today I need to write. Mostly because I can't fit my feelings into a facebook status, and really, who would read that? At least here, it' s a little more private, a little more me. My thoughts need room to breathe, and the interweb has plenty of that. So here we go....again.

Today, I got the final grade back on an English paper. Now, that sounds pretty boring, I know, but let me explain. This paper was about me. Not the trivial things like my favorite color or what particular brand of cereal I absolutely despise. (That would be Corn Pops, by the way. Sugary popcorn in milk just doesn't appeal to me for some reason.) No, this paper was about the most difficult time in my life. I used to be a drug addict. As much as some people would like to deny that, it happened. I abused prescription drugs and spent a year and a half trying to get over it. That included withdrawals, depression, self- harm....and attempted suicide. I sat in a room with a blade against my wrist for hours wondering what it would feel like to  stop existing. Luckily, I am far too much of a coward to go through with anything like that. But the thought was there.
Not like when you have a bad day and wonder why you even want to go on, and then a few days later you're back to your normal self. No. I spent nearly every day trying to convince myself why suicide wasn't a good plan, and then the other days I was convincing myself that suicide was the ONLY plan. And nobody knew it. I got very good at pretending to be happy. Pretending that I cared.
 I should also mention: during the first few months of going cold turkey off the pills, I had no contact, really, with the outside world. The only place I went was church, and my parents made sure that what I had done was very public. Everyone knew about it. So I was pretty much left alone, aside from a few curious glances and whispers. I felt like a pariah. All of my supposed friends found other people who were better. Who knew their place and  were actually good people.
 My point is that I know excruciatingly well what it feels like to be left out. I know how much it hurts. And I'm sick and tired of people telling me that exclusion is okay, even right. Some people are dangerous, to be sure. I wouldn't  go and hang out with a serial killer. But sometimes good people are found in places you would never look. Sometimes the girl in with short black hair and a pound of make up really just needs a good friend to help her realize her inner redheaded tomboy. Ha.
But making that change doesn't happen overnight. Like I said, it took me a good eighteen months to get to where I am now. And I still have to fight, every day, to prove that I'm not the person that I used to be. And even though I fight, it still isn't good enough. Some people still see me as the girl in black and steer clear. I feel sorry for them. I can't change their minds, I know, but I sure can change mine. I'm not the type to judge. Your opinions are your own and I respect them. Just as long as you don't try to make them my opinions too.
Here comes the rant, so prepare yourself.

There are a few things you should know about me.
1. I am a Mormon. I believe in God and I believe in Jesus Christ. I love them. I'm not perfect though, and I don't live my religion perfectly. And that's okay. I'm trying, and learning. I do NOT live my life with blind faith, and I will not. I have to learn things on my own, in my own way, and at my own pace. All the preaching  in the world will never change that. I love being Mormon, but sometimes I feel like I have a different opinion on what that means than some people do. To me, it means respect, patience, and above all love for every single person, no matter what they believe in. I do not think that we should instantly reject ideas that are new or unfamiliar, nontraditional, or different. To me, our ultimate goal as humans is to become like God. God never gives up on anyone, never stops loving them, never shuts them out. I will not be naive enough to do so.
2. I am not, nor have I ever been, "normal". I have no desire to be just like everyone else. I don't need other people to make me feel special. I know who I am and I love it. ( The drug addict me would never believe that I could be saying these words, but times change.) I am a girl, and yes, I watch anime, and play video games, and list Star Wars as one of my favorite movies of all time, and could list nearly every superhero and his (or her) arch nemesis without batting an eye. I would rather watch an action movie than anything associated with Nicholas Sparks, and just because I'm wearing a dress doesn't mean that I won't jump in a mud puddle. I love vinyl records, and the rain, and I am not ashamed of who I am so please stop trying to convince me that I should be. I have faults, but I don't let them define me.
3. This is the really important one. I don't give up. I am stubborn. If you are important to me, I am loyal and will be there for you no matter what. I will give you my entire life if that is what it takes to help you. I don't ever give up on people, because so many people gave up on me.

I don't expect that you're actually still reading this, so this next part is mostly for future reference. You can't let fear stop you. It's hard, and it's especially difficult when you have no control over what you're afraid of. But don't let that keep you from being optimistic. There is an old quote that says something along the lines of, "If you expect the worst, it will happen, and vice versa." Where did optimism disappear to in this world? Yes, bad, terrible, horrible things could happen. But so could miracles. So could fantastic, amazing beautiful things. Sometimes we find these things in the places we least expect. Sometimes something that looks scary or risky turns out to be a blessing in disguise. You only have to be patient and take the chance.

Sometimes I Make Stuff Up

Well, I have confession to make. I suck at being adventurous. It's actually a little depressing. I went through this entire week, pondering and searching and begging the cosmos to deliver me a glorious opportunity for adventure, and not one thing really exciting came across my path. Not one idea popped into my brain. It's like I'm having writer's block....for my life? How pathetic is that? So, I apologize to you readers who have been waiting with bated breath for my next quest. Or the more likely story, which is you've been praying I would never type another word. I can just hear you now, sitting in your cozy houses with a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, muttering to yourselves, "Homeless people? Really." All I can say is, next week will be better. And if not, well, try writing something interesting about your life sometime. It's harder than it looks, especially when you realize that for anyone to have any idea what you're talking about you might just have to tell your ENTIRE life story, and no one wants to go through that tedious hell. Never fear though, because I have decided to make up a story to entertain your clever little brains, instead of boring you with something from my pointless debacle of a week. So here goes, sweet ones, enjoy:

   

      

Once upon a time, (yes, I realize the cliche-ness of this opening, but what do you want? "Of three things I was absolutely certain...1. This book is awful 2. I was dating a pedophile..." I didn't think so. Anyways.) Once upon a time, there was a girl, who wanted desperately to be a musician. Disney movies did nothing but encourage this, as they taught her from a young age that all problems can be solved by randomly breaking into song. (And really, it does help.) The girl -let's call her Annie- even had a certain amount of talent, unlike half of those delusional hipsters raised on Disney that think that they have talent because their mom said so. (Sorry, if you are one of them, I'm not saying your mom has no idea what she's talking about. But let's face it, we all watch American Idol. They all think they're amazing. And we all watch with amazement and wonder if who ever, EVER told these people they had a career in performing must have been on crack cocaine.) So one day Annie announced to her family that she wanted to go to music school. She was met with the usual response, which is "Just how do you expect to get a job with a music degree?" Annie had no answer. All she knew was that there was nothing in the world that she wanted more. She also figured that if she got really really good at singing, she would have woodland creatures and a plethora of handsome princes at her beck and call. And really, who doesn't want that? So despite the trepidation of her relatives, she decided to follow her heart and go to college as a music major. It was much harder than she expected. She spent hours of her day in a prison cell sized room with an upright piano, trying to figure out why this high note didn't sound free, or why a major seventh interval gave her the urge to kill herself, or who the sadistic wretch was that came up with 7/4 time. (I mean really, who does that? Surely there is an easier way. My personal opinion is that those composers are just show offs..."HMM, yes, I'll write this song in a time signature that no one but me could possibly ever read correctly. I will be a musical GENIUS!!") Yet Annie persevered. She got a little discouraged at times, and a little lazy at others, and wondered quite frequently if any of this was indeed worth it. She even shed a few tears in that practice room, and probably startled a few other musicians in the rooms next to her with her outcry of "What does this even  meeeeeaaaan?" But eventually, after a lot of failures and a few successes and an emotional roller coaster or two and an adventure of a lifetime,she got her music degree. She spent her life doing what made her the happiest. She met her handsome prince, and although there weren't really any woodland creatures, Annie was okay with that. And she lived happily ever after.

Now, I have another confession. That wasn't actually made up. (Well, except for the last bit, but I'm working on it.) Yes, I did just put you through a story about my awkward and boring life. I apologize, but honestly if you read all the way to this point you deserve what you get. On the bright side, now you know a little bit about me. Possibly more than you wanted to. I promise I don't randomly scream like a hysterical maniac all the time. I hope you enjoyed it. I'm not really sure what else to add to this conclusion without it getting uncomfortably awkward, so I'll just stop here. Until next time then. 

 

 

The Beginning

Today, I decided to become one of those people. The bloggers. I can't help but feel slightly ashamed. I mean, do I really want to become one of a countless number of people who spend hours of their lives typing thoughts, insights, whatever...just to have their irrelevance verified,by the people who aren't reading their blog ,because -gasp- they actually have LIVES. You know, that thing where you go out and talk to people, get to know them the old fashioned way. In fact, I challenge you to try it sometime. Using nothing but your good looks and what I'm sure is your sparkling personality, mingled with a slight amount of healthy stranger danger (hey, if you feel like the homeless guy sitting on the curb with vomit chunks clinging to his scraggly beard is a lifelong friendship waiting to happen, go for it), go out and make a new friend. Without technology. Actually walk up and talk to someone. Say hi. Complement them on their outfit or something. (i.e., "Hey, I noticed you have less vomit chunks in your beard than usual today. Good for you!") Anything. The possibilities are endless. Now, I'm not saying people will be friendly. I'm not promising you that they will even acknowledge your existence. Case in point: today, I decided to have an adventure. I was walking down  the street, thinking, you know what, I want to meet new people. I just moved here, no one knows me, I could make lots of new friends who will like me and respect me and come over to my apartments for movie nights and find out how crazy I am and never come back or answer my calls or texts and then I can start the process ALL OVER AGAIN. Doesn't that sound awesome? I know, I thought so too. So I tried it. I smiled at people as I walked by. And do you know what happened? I have many many more friends! We're all going to be in each other's weddings, and have our kids in playgroup together, and live in the same nursing home when we're old! See?!!!

Now for the truth. I was walking down the street, being all smiley and friendly and sunshine and roses. And NO ONE CARED. They all looked down at the pavement, averting their eyes from me like I meant nothing to them. All my hopes and dreams, vanished away because of the captivating features of the concrete sidewalk. People suck. (No offence, but unless you are an extremely advanced species of dolphin reading this, I assume you are all in fact people) So now, because I know you all are dying to run out right now and start your new circle of friends, I am warning you. You will most likely be ignored. But adventures would not be adventures if they were easy. So do not give up hope, darlings. I will be the first to smile and wave back at you, should I see you on the street. Until then though, keep making every day a new adventure. That's what I have been trying to say all along. That's the whole point of this blog, for heaven's sake. To show you that even ordinary, mundane days can be grand and wonderful. All you have to do is go out and live.