Tantalizing Tartarus

Blonde Tails: Mortified with Men

2010-05-05T22:08:00.003-07:00

Do blonde's really have more fun? Really?
No, I don't think so. But we can tell one heck of an embarassing story. Or more than one.
Perhaps because obliviousness invites all sorts of odd spectacles into one's life experience, we become magnets for trouble, ridicule and the extraordinary. Which most people consider fun.
Most people aren't blondes.
The only fun from these tales is in the telling of them, trust me.
So enjoy

The other day I was finishing up my run on the Salmon Creek Trail when I espied a familiar face from my institute class emerging from the tree's with a group of rather large and muscular friends.
This particular young man had recently struck up a conversation with the line "You have the most amazingly beautiful eyelashes."
Viewing the meeting through the lens of my past experience with the generally shy breed of young mormon males, I immediately considered him rather eccentric, dashing and debonair. (The beautiful accent helped-though I can't pin down its origin). Here was someone I could easily play along with. A genuine flirt-so to say. So I smiled and playfully batted them at him and we passed a few notes back and forth during class.
I saw him a few times at random events in the weeks following and he would wink and wave or join me for a short conversation.
So, winding down from my run it seemed only natural to me that I ought to say hello my friend. I pulled my headphones out of my ears and ran to join him.
I had noticed the groups of young men in orange suits and vests cleaning up the weeds and debris from the path and really, in the back of my mind, I knew what such groups were.
It never once occurred to me that his group of friends was wearing these vests as well...or that he himself was.
No. The only possibility that entered my oblivious, endorphin happy mind was that I had missed the notice that there was a YSA volunteer group going to clean up the path today-like the one I had joined in on two years ago.
So, jogging up to this group of buff, sharp-eyed men I jovially called out-
"Hey! Is this a volunteer group?"
Completely valley girl style.
Like I said-lots of endorphins.
The group halted as one and turned toward me with dubious and amused expressions.
"Yeeeaaaah..." said my friend, looking me up and down through the corners of his eyes.
There were a few titters from the group.
Then the compatriot closest to my friend coughed loudly into his elbow.
"Cough***we're criminals***cough, cough, cough***"
I quickly continued on with my jog-my pulse racing far faster than before, and fire from the toe of worn out sneakers to the tips of my too-tiny ears.

One afternoon after a trying day of finals at University, I wearily wandered into the Hart Physical Education building, thinking to pound my stresses out on the gym equipment. My head was down and my thoughts were still racing. Every person I passed was possible critic, a hidden foe I had not considered.
I looked up as I entered the locker room to find a face peering intently at mine, as if to divine meaning from the twitch in my eye. He looked at me as though I were a bug squashed on the lense of his glasses. Irritation, confusion, surprise and suspicion-all were present.
"Humph," the noise came out of me of its own volition. I had already had enough. I tossed my head for extra effect. My finals were over-I didn't have to take any more criticism from anyone this day. And I wouldn't. I turned my eyes from his overzealous gaze and marched intently into the locker room. Agrily I stomped down the dark hall, thinking mutinous thoughts as I turned the corner to open my locker
...And froze.
For there in front of me was a rather large quantity of men, in varying degree's of nakedness. My face flushed the color of a cherry tomato as I turned and fled back down the dark hallway to the entrance.
But before I reached the exit I came to an abrupt halt. The boy whom I had snubbed still stood under the frame of the door, looking up at the 'MENS' sign with a bemused and concerned expression.

He did not see me. I tiptoed slowly and silently back into the black hall.
I was not going back out there to face Mr. Critical glare. No siree. No way. Not happening.
But how could I stay in here?
What if another boy needed to leave?
What if they found me here?
What would I say?
I began to pace restlessly.
I stared at the ceiling, hands tangled in my hair-considering yanking it out by the roots.
How did I get myself in these kinds of predicaments?
Why is it that these strange sort of embarrassments seem to happen so constantly to me?
I was muttering frantically to myself when chilvary and concern seem to have taken the better of the boy and he came after me.
I spun around to find him looking down at me with a nervous and somewhat pitying expression.
"Um...are you lost?" He asked.
I couldn't speak.
Shock had me completely wrapped within its icy talons for a full minute before I could embarrassedly choke out a pitiful,
"ya."
"Can I...escort you to the ladies room?" The previously scorned boy graciously offered.
"Please?" I whispered to the ground.
He didn't try to touch me, thank heavens-I may have melted like the wicked witch I had apparently been impersonating. He turned and walked slowly out of the Mens locker room and led me silently to the womens down the hall, glancing back at me cautiously as if afraid I were going to attack.
I released a chagrined 'Thankyou' as he turned away and left me at the door. I ran a full ten miles that day.

See Surrendering Stories-the tale of The Haunter, and From Rock-A-Bye Baby to A Goddess of Chaos for more examples of blonde fun with men. ;)

Kissing Frogs

2010-03-10T09:05:00.005-07:00

Over the past few months, since the release of the movie The Princess and the Frog, I have experienced a distinct feeling of unease about my own relationship with the little amphibians. You see, every time I talked to a little girl about whether they liked the movie or not I got a response along the lines of:
"It was so funny, but I would NEVER kiss a frog! That is sooo gross!!!"
or
"Ya, but why did she kiss the frog if she wasn't a princess? Why would you do that if you didn't have to? Frogs are icky. Only princesses should have to kiss them."
Both answers disturbed me, and one of course prompted the age old lecture that every girl is a princess...of course this led the child to ask 'Then why did the girl turn into a frog instead of the Prince turning into a human like he was supposed to?'
Now riddle me the answer to that one.
Anyways, as I mentioned before, I was beginning to become uncomfortable. So I started asking people my own age. Nonchalantly, of course.
"So hey, uh, have you ever actually kissed a frog?"
I threw the question out in the middle of conversations, in hopes that the answer would be a mild-'Of course! Who hasn't?' and we would continue with the previous subject.
No such luck.
The answer was usually a burst of laughter and then the curiously dubious face 'Have you?'
I suppose you have already guessed what my answer is.
I kiss every frog I meet.
Every. Single. One.
First I have to chase them down of course, but I have had a lot of practice with catching small slippery creatures. I have the usual conversation with them, wonder out loud if they'll actually turn into my handsome Prince this time, then close my eyes and wish.
The frog is usually stunned for a moment or two and then begins to croak loudly and squirm desperately out of my grip. I sigh and let them go.
I have kissed many many frogs in my time. But I have never found my Prince.
Perhaps I am believing in the wrong fairy tale?
Yet Prince Phillip has yet to sweep up behind me and finish my song of dreaming, As much as I would want to I unfortunately did not grow up under the Sea, I'm not to eager to convort with the Beast, I'm not trying to escape the pressures of a Palace life or the bullying of a step family, and I most certainly do not turn into an ogre at night-though my brother might argue that point. So where do I fit in?
I'm thinking perhaps I have been looking in the wrong places. Like Stitch, I've been trying to steal stories that are simply already taken.
I'm thinking perhaps it's time to write my own.

Top 25 Lessons of Nannying

2010-03-09T19:17:00.015-07:00

1. ANYTHING can be solved with gummy bears and tootsie rolls. You can have a snit, a fist fight, hurt feelings, general boredom or incooperativeness-and as long as you bring the back up, everyone will go home happy. Even you.

2. The Beatles still rock the world. Try to argue that they're the beginning of the modern downfall of true music and mark the start of horrifying musical commercialism with a seven year old. Go ahead. I dare you.

3. Children will say anything and everything about anyone you both know, just so their opinions are out in the open. And you don't get to be offended on behalf of your friends or relatives. Or even embarassed. Because if they see you react-they WILL pounce.

4. As it turns out, studying history has more than academic benefits. Little boys like WAR stories. Real ones. Detailed ones. And they don't want to read about it. They want you to recite everything you know off the top of your head. Oh-and make it sound good. Boring stories make for a very long bedtime process. Good thing I studied Napoleon's war strategy or I'd be a goner.

5. Entertaining children without electronics is far more difficult than one would originally suspect. Especially when the child refuses to do anything else. Especially when you live in constant rain and can not take the child outside. Where is the Cat in the Hat when you need him?

6. One should make sure the cell phone is hidden is a locked cupboard before any child even knows it exists.

7. Apparently, keys are delicious. So are pennies.

8. One should not assume that just because you have strapped the baby in with five different types of buckles, they are secure. Houdini took lessons from babies. This is especially true if their conniving brothers are present in the room-in which case one should really just give up and feed the baby on the floor.

9. The mothers who are constantly hosting friends are NOT crazy or even necessarily socially assertive. Life is about ten thousand times easier when the friends get the child out of your face and into the playroom, backyard, or bedrooms. Everyone is happier, boredom is generally unmentioned, and you can get quite a lot of other things done while they're distracted. Particularly if the baby is sleeping. Plus there's a BONUS (but only if you're actually the Mom): When you invite other children over to play, your children generally get an invitation to said friends house at a later date. Giving you extra and even more liberating free time.

10. Children like NOISE. A movie in the background, a radio or even playing the drums on your legs will keep things moving and children busy for hours. For some reason, silence makes them listless and crazy--while noise makes the world interesting.

11. Coloring books and utensils are God's gifts to babysitters. Thankyou God.

12. Little girls LOVE it when you sing to them and dance like a crazy person...little boys DON'T.

13. You must be --insert age of child speaking-- years of age to do EVERYTHING.

14. No matter how cool they think you are, or how old you are- you will never be as big or amazing as their oldest brother or sister. Even if they're 12.

15. If you walk into the house of four growing boys and you can't catch a ball-you may as well walk back out. (Thanks for all that training Dad!) Furthermore, if you don't actually know the names and various numbers associated with the players of their favorite sports teams, you must either act well and learn fast, or admit to being a complete and utter loser and failure at life.

16. Mom really is the most beautiful woman on the planet, and Dad is a superhero.

17. Maniacal laughter and the word NOTHING are VERY BAD SIGNS.

18. You think oil's a hot commodity these days? Try walking in with sugar and new movies in a house where they're generally unheard of. The world will be your oyster.

19. Older siblings can be very helpful. Especially when they're being paid.

20. Rocks, flowers, dirt, balls, worms and dogfood are all edible. And I'm not just talking about with the babies.

21. If you think things are going smoother than they should, you're right. You are being tricked. One (or all) of them was supposed to do the dishes. Bed time was half an hour ago. Somebody found a bag of hidden M&M's. There is now a frog or some other sort of lovely little critter in your bag. You are not hearing the baby wake up from her nap because she is perfectly happy emptying her bottle, her diaper, the wipee's, and the batteries from her newest toy onto her freshly washed sheets. You were supposed to serve brussel sprouts with dinner. You read an extra story-it was a large chunk of a chapter book. You forgot to make them brush their teeth or pray. They have found a new way to torture the house pet. Whatever you do-don't go upstairs. It will be worse than you imagine. Trust me.

22. There is no cure for a nine year olds insomnia. Unfortuntely, you can not legally drug other peoples children. Really, you can get in trouble even for drugging your own.

23. The only way to stop the series of questions is to come up with a truly amazing and undefeatable question that has no known answer. The unknown frightens and stumps them.

24. One should never say the words 'I just don't know,' or 'I'm not sure,' or 'Maybe when your mother gets home,' or 'absolutely not,' to a child. Them is fighting words.

25. After all the bumps and the bruises, when your hair hurts from being yanked and pulled, when your arms are tired from holding a cranky baby for hours on end, when your ear holes are three times larger than when you arrived and you are suffering from a headache and lack of nourishment; they will tell you that they love you, climb into your lap for snuggles, give you a sweet baby hug or kiss and say that you're pretty much their amazing older sister-and you'll remember why you love this job so stinking much. That moment is worth all of it. Every time.

Powerful Notes

2010-02-10T23:40:00.005-07:00

Today I read the second half of a novel that greatly inspired me. About a mother who loses her entire family in Hitler's occupation of Leningrad (St. Petersburg) during the reign of Stalin. It was horribly depressing, and I cried through the whole thing. It was, however, not about tragedy. It was about the nature of love and forgiveness and moving on in the face of the impossible. It made me take a very hard look at myself, things that I've done and ways I've reacted to the things done to me. This author gets more into the mind of women than any I have ever read. Immediately after finishing (literally, I read the last pages in the car on the way) the story I went to Institute, where we talked about the nature of God and ourselves as His children. Needless to say, I had a LOT come to mind. I don't want to turn this into an essay, or elaborate in detail because I feel the true significance would be lost or twisted. But I thought I'd post the notes I took during this institute class, because it's something I want to share. Something very powerful.

'Steel in the blood.' 'The -insert chosen nationality or occupation-in me.' 'Her -insert chosen strong relative-'s relation.' So many sayings that boil down to the same thing. The God in us.

The part that continues to want to live, to create, to endure. The part that CONTINUES.

God is love. Love is all that endures. Love is all that creates. Love is a force in every dimension. Physical, emotional, spiritual. It is everywhere, in everything.

Every action is caused by or fueled with love. It is the origination of everything.

I have seen depravation, horror, death, hate. Lives ruined by every type of sin imaginable. I have not seen nor heard any thing to negate the evidence of God's love and power in all beings, in everything around me.

People are choosing to deny love, to deny and defy God. They deny themselves. They choose to separate themselves from the forgiveness and joy that comes automatically with love. I can not deny myself-my Savior-my love-my God. I am a child of God. God is love. I am love.

We have only to see and feel our own reactions to hate, anger and pain to realize we are made of love. It hurts us and we protect ourselves however we can.

I am sure that God is real and of His love for me through a thousand tiny little things that he shows me each and every day. For the guidance that I recieve, the spirit that I feel, the questions I am asked and what they make me think. I can feel His love in the hug of the two year old girl I nanny, and see it in the eyes of my friend who thinks she is beyond redemption and yet holds onto hope. I see Him in change for the better, in flowers among the thorns, in nature that continues to heal and rebuild-no matter how many times it is destroyed.

The tree of life in the vision is the love of God and the seeds are grown inside of you! You taste it only when it is grown and bearing fruit. When you have become and are able to issue to others the true love of God.

A Venture to Remember

2010-02-01T13:06:00.002-07:00

A Venture to Remember

Tonight I went walking in memory lane,
Picking flowers from tree's most reminiscent to me.
First blown in with the scent of fresh fallen rain,
Came visions of growing, which taught my closed eyes to see
Lost dreams and lost passions that time has proved vain,
Which had sprung up behind me in the cracks of the lee
Whose shelter I crawled from, and yet I left fain
To explore the forgotten held in my memory.
For then I saw blossoms of laughter and game
And among glowing branches I danced joyous, happy
To remember their shining moments of flame.
My dancing brought me to the shores of a great black sea
Into which I careened with no thought of pain
Until crashing down on my heart and mind came the key
To rememb'ring why I'd no love of the lane
And why stayed so many years in the safe little lee
Hidden, forgetting, with no venture to diegn
Tempt me from imagined invulnerability.
Yet then I was trapped neath the waves of my bane
And suffered full punishment for the things I let be
That could have been succored with a righteous aim
If only I had listened when called upon to see.
A hand reached to grab me from waves that would maim
And laid me upon sweet smelling florets so softly
That I wept from the sudden absence of pain.
I looked up for the savior passionately
And tears stung my eyes for the unforseen gain
Of a friend I'd forgotten lived here in memory.
His smile angelic, he called out my name
And told me he had always been and always would be
The force I could lean on to keep my soul sane
To keep me from wallowing in my own misery.
He took up my hand and together we came,
Through long meadows of flowers each more precious to me
Home by the trial of my memory lane.

Battle

2010-01-10T00:06:00.001-07:00

How do you fight a battle when you don't understand your enemy? How can you win a war when you're fighting on both sides? How will I defeat my foe if every step I take pulls me in two directions so forcefully that I will soon be split in two? How do I fight a battle when my enemy is me?

Searching Stars

2009-12-29T11:07:00.004-07:00

Searching Stars

Sitting in the cooling sand,

While the gloaming settles round us.

Wavelets whisper against the land

As if to still the world with trust.

Here I tell my secrets,

My dreams and all my soul.

Here are all my doubts met,

By a private, comforting lull.

With the sun set all my worries,

Burning rays that brought no peace.

In the silence there's no hurry,

This night to struggle brings a cease.

The stars map out my future

As they appear in the gentle light,

To promised happiness they lure,

Leading me carefully into soft night.

Night that brings tomorrow

With hopes and dreams I've not yet seen.

Night that brings a new day,

With beauty that has not yet been.

...But now I watch it coming

And my heart cries out for yesteryear.

The pain in truth is numbing...

The future should not bring me fear.

But the sun comes in the morning

And sheds its light on all my days

...There's no hiding from the mourning.

It will find me no matter where I stay.

And those daylight hours will burn me,

Though my mind stays in the night

And I can only pretend to be free

When surrounded by the twilight.

Yet sit in cooling sands I will

And let my troubles seep

Out of my mind and fingers til

The night takes me in sleep.

-KristiAnne Atkinson-

Talking with Tarantula's

2009-12-15T21:41:00.005-07:00

The Tarantula's name is Killer. He's as big as my fist with more eyes-that probably see much more-than I care to think about. He's covered in thick brown hair and he moves a little slower than frozen molasses. You see, he is very shy. You would be too, if you were his size and lived in a house with four sporty, rambunctious young boys--Who happened to find it entertaining to shake your cage to see if you would move.

He became the newest member of one of the households I work at last week, when the six-turning-seven year old's father presented him as the paramount birthday gift.

As I mopped up the waterfalls pouring from my eyes while I chopped onions at the house this morning, I happened to glance down at my elbow to find him watching me with all those beady little eyes.

"Well," I spoke in nasally tones, trying not to sneeze, "it's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence sir." I nodded at him cordially, "Those boys have been awfully keen on pulling you out of your reticence. Not that I blame you for hiding really, I'd be frightened if someone put their face that close to me as well."

His little hairy body bobbed slowly up and down. I was reminded irrestibly of Harry Potter's first encounter speaking parseltongue to a python in the London zoo. I couldn't resist.

"Can you...understand me?" I asked slowly.

Killer simply stared at me unblinkingly. Can tarantula's blink I wonder? Hmmm...but perhaps that is a question for another time.

"Hmmm." I said. "You know Mr. Killer, the more I see you, the less frightened I become of you, and the more sympathetic I grow. It seems you enjoy a quiet conversation as much as I do. I notice you only come out now-when it's just me humming along here in the kitchen."

At this point the four year old and his playmate came running into the room screaming.

"I'm gonna spank you-I'm gonna Spank YOU!" They bellowed at each other.

My legs became a mighty fortress and the kitchen an endless track. Killer quickly retreated into his coconut home.

I fed the boys their lunch of slightly warmed hot dogs with apples and cheese and sent them back to their upstairs playroom/battlefield.

I turned to the plastic cage next to the sink.

"That was an adventure wasn't it, Mr.Killer? Goodness those boys are silly. I do wish I had that much energy, don't you?"

Killer stuck one leg out of his coconut, and then another.

Eventually he re-emerged from his hidey hole and we spent the afternoon having a lovely conversation about the best methods to cook stew, how to entertain children without electronics, and what Santa might be bringing the boys for Christmas. After all-how do you top a tarantula?

I got to thinking after I left this afternoon-that perhaps I will never be cured of my inexplicable desire to speak to little furry critters. Of course, it could be an even worse sign that I seem to be under the impression that they understand me, and are communicating back to me in whatever various sundry ways they can.

This realization hit me when I was dropping off dinner at a friends house, and I was mid-conversation with a perversely mean cockatu who takes particular issue with human females. What am I doing? I wondered. This bird probably thinks I'm insane. Of course, that thought just proved my issues went even deeper.

I thought back on all the conversations I've had with God's smaller, speech debilitated creatures over the course of my life and it hit me like that crazy flock of sparrows that attacked me behind the outhouse in the middle of Idaho.

I have a problem.

Does this problem stem from feeling that there are not enough humans on whatever brainwave channel I'm using and so I must release myself to the animals? Or am I simply unable to consider that any living creature might not be able to communicate with the world around it?

Now come the deeper questions. Am I right? Am I simply more in tune with nature? Or am I an escapee from an asylum for Disney princesses gone wrong? After all I'm pretty sure the birds in all the movies I've seen sing along with the princess-rather than attack her at every turn.

Did you know I've been attacked by more than 22 different types of birds that I can count? Five of those in flocks?

Perhaps the birds are the more intelligent animals and they can sense whatever it is that is wrong with me?

Head Tenants: Miss Frank

2009-10-18T15:32:00.006-07:00

Do you ever start talking and then realize that everyone in the room is giving you far more attention than anyone else has received...and perhaps more than you should be given? Have you realized that your audience reacts with gasps and enthusiastic laughter-to something you actually meant to be a rather serious thought? Have you ever then realized that it is because what you are saying should really not be said in the company to which you are narrating it?

This is a frequent occurance for me. And not quite a pleasant one. But you know, it is not completely my fault.

There is another head tenant, you see. One with whome I am sure some of you are intimately familiar, but who I have failed to mention so far.

Her name is Miss Frank. She has an opinion on everything, and feels absolutely no compunction to silence when that opinion is offensive, misdirected or even downright ridiculous. So, listening to this woman as a third party in most conversations and all lectures and intellectually inspiring speeches, naturally makes me forget that others have not heard her...and consequently when her shoking words come out of my mouth I become the full recipiant of every appalled (and generally highly entertained) listener's rebuttals, sarcastic remarks, teasing and of course, hilaric laughter.

She has most certainly caused some of the most embarrassing scenes in my life.

For example, when she doesn't understand something she hears, she will insist upon knowing its meaning. Even if it sounds like the definition could be something highly inappropriate. Even if I am in a classroom full of people who obviously know what the word means, and are made uncomfortable at its mention. College lectures were one of her most inspired scenes of devastation. However, no experience truly conquers the time she demanded that I know the meaning of the word circumcision, in a classroom full of highschool freshman. And kept demanding, despite the teachers assurances that she could explain to me later, that I draw out an explanation.

Another of her most infamous tricks is to spit out my opinion on a person before I have fully discovered their character. This inevitably leads to horrible regret. But occasionally, very occasionally, it can get me out of sticky situations in quite a jiffy. I once began a friendship with the friend of a roommate online. I would talk to this boy sometimes for several hours a week, and we grew to like each other rather quickly. He became determined to meet me. Which would have cost him quite a pretty penny, since he lived in Missouri and I in Rexburg, Idaho at the time. He started talking very seriously about a relationship. Miss Frank was terrified. This boy was not mormon. A relationship with him could never really be possible. But for a while she held back her opinion. Then one day he sent me a picture of himself. Oh yes. I'm serious. He then asked my frank opinion. Well-he did ask. Miss Frank told him without my permission that he was rather homely and should definitely shave that scraggly young man beard...but that it didn't matter any way as I could not be attracted to him because he could not be my eternal companion and a relationship would be superfluous. The not-really-existant relationship was then permanently terminated. As you can imagine.

She gives me a lot of cause to repent.

Today she out did even herself however, because I didn't even see it coming. I was proud of myself for actually speaking up in Relief Society in fact (where I am usually quiet and shy-feeling as though I am a mouse in a room of spiritual giants) when she opened her obsidious maw and let out the first thing that came to her socially inept mind.

The lesson was beautiful. It was on how we should treat our spouses and children (and for us of the younger generation, it was a consideration of future relationships, and a look into the manner in which our parents have to have picked up some of their favorite punishments in years past). Everyone shared comments about ways they honored their husbands and ways their husbands glorified them, how they maintained peace in their homes with kind, loving children who never fought.

Miss Frank said to me, "You should say something encouraging, so that the others who are sitting here going 'uh, my children fight all the time, does that make me a horrible mother?' maintain some hope for the future and realize that total home peace is really a non-reality in most situations."

"How would I do that?" I asked.

"Well, you turned out alright didn't you? And growing up in our house was not always a picnic, I remember...share some of the craziness and how your parents solved it!"

"Ok!" I answered, excited. "This will be grand!"

I raised my hand. Before I knew what had happened, Miss Frank was talking for me.

"I would just like to say, there were times in my home growing up that were absolute craziness. There was tons of contention." Imagine now the looks of horror on the Relief Society Presidency's faces. "I remember me and Bri used to tie Traci up in chairs." Now hear the entire room errupt in whispers, a few titters, and a loud half-whisper from the front saying 'Poor Traci!' At this comment I began to realize that perhaps Miss Frank was being just a little too frank. "So my dad came up with a wonderful punishment," I continued, smiling, "every time we thought a negative thought about somebody, or said something hurtful, we then had to come up with 10 wonderful compliments to say to that person." This is where I should have stopped, instead of revealing more of my inner home madness. "Then, we had to kiss their feet." The entire room explodes into laughter.

This is when Miss Frank loses her control over my person and the shy Maiden who usually takes over during Relief Society hours resumes her throne. She is, of course, horrified at Miss Franks behavior and freezes with absolute embarassment, turning me red to the hairline.

Luckily the speaker saved me and quickly adressed another person, changing the subject.

Is there any hope for muffling this mortifying woman inside me?

A Glimpse

2009-10-15T10:41:00.009-07:00

This entry is pretty much for Bri-nana. You commented about some lines of a poem that I put as my status the other day, so I thought I'd post the whole thing for you to read. I'll warn you now though, it's not going to make you happy. Don't read this if you're already sad. In fact, to cheer you up after I'm also going to include a song that I wrote in High School, that I don't think I ever sang to you. Obviously I can't sing it to you now, but maybe I will when you get home. It's very touching though. I had forgotten about it and ran into it while I was reading old poems...it made me and mama cry-but in a good way :) So to start I'll post an old note that you appreciated, which seems rather appropriate for this entry ;)
*Sorry, it wont let me edit properly-so the verses run together :(

Glimpse

Writing to you seems like a dream.

Conversing with one who makes no response,

But gives as much back as I give.

A log of life, of time, of memory.

A dream of a memory of a dream.

The cycle of my dreamer's state.

Pages that mean life, love, despair and hope,

Stories of jokes of emotions,

A record that reaches my spirit.

A thrum by the drum that's the beat of my heart.

Keep my treasure and from it never part,

For in this you glimpse my soul.

Now for the sad one, whose happier lines you read. Take a deep breath. Ready? Ok. Start.

LOSS

I had rather see your smile,

Than a thousand flowers dancing in the sun.

But my sun is gone now,

And the flowers shrivel, their dancing done.

I had rather hear your voice

Than the chimes of a thousand church bells.

But my bells are silent,

And the silence feels to me as death knells.

I had rather smell your scent

Than a thousand sweet perfumes.

But my incense dwindles,

And your scent is absent in these hollow rooms.

I had rather taste your kindness

Than the comfort of a thousand kindred.

But my kindred cry for me,

And by their empty words I am not fed.

I had rather feel your laughter

Than a thousand warming rays of light.

But my light is darkened

And the hard of the cold is as dark as the night.

I had rather know your spirit,

Than the wisdom of a thousand worlds.

But my world gives no wisdom

And the broken mind on agony curls.

I had rather have your heart

Than a thousand lives to live alone.

But I am alone now,

With nothing but old forgotten tomes.

Ok. Right. Depressing. I know. I'm sorry. I guess I was feeling very lonely, and maybe slightly empathetic toward a character I was writing. But now I'll try to add some sweet to the bitter with the old song :)

Lullaby From Heaven

Sleep now my baby,

For death holds no fear.

All shall be well in the end.

When slandered and broken

All trials you've been through

Atonement the Savior will lend.

The days will go quickly,

The years fly right by

...And my arms fail to hold you for a while.

But if faithful you hold out, forever endure,

Then ne'er shall they fail any more!

Peace now my child,

Still fear not decease.

Reunion will not be so far.

If patient, enduring and humble you stay,

Remain ever more as you are...

Then days will go quickly,

And years fly right by

...While my arms fail to hold you for a time...

Be still, Oh my child, push through til the end

And ne'er shall they fail any more!

Rest now, my darling,

With joy in your heart,

For we'll be together again.

Through trials that seem endless,

Keep whispering still,

My lullaby in your head.

So that days may go quickly,

And years fly right by,

Though my arms fail to hold you during life.

But serve Christ, our Savior,

Be strong and Be true!

And my arms ne'er shall fail any more!

Come now, my baby,

Run into my arms,

And know that you've ne'er been alone.

You've passed through all trials,

How much you've endured!

Now joy celestial is yours!

The days have gone quickly,

The years flew right by,

And now I can hold you once again.

So strong, and so faithful,

You were til the end!

Now we'll be together forever more!

See-that's a happy thought right? I think I meant it to be our Heavenly Mother singing to us... or perhaps a mother who died before she could raise her children here. Either way, I guess its a meloncholy sort of happiness.

Well, that's all for now. Just wanted to share those thoughts-they've been swirling around like bees stuck in my head for days. Maybe this will give them away to escape :)

I love you nana!

Welcoming in the Hollow Season

2009-09-13T00:08:00.006-07:00

I keep getting in trouble for wanting to skip the entire space between Summer and Christmas.

Can you blame me for wanting to jump into the holidays so quickly? I mean, that would mean we wouldn't have to deal with this whole school thing (not that I do anyways), we'd all be together again and we'd get to eat yummy goodies all the time! What's so wrong with that? Plus-there's no music on earth to compare with Christmas music. Seriously. What else makes you feel that happy?

Anywho, I thought to put your minds at ease I would prove that I do actually enjoy the inbetween holidays, and honor them in my own special way. Starting with the one that's coming up in just a little while.

Vicious Villians and Gruesome Ghouls,

Creatures of Myth and Royal Fools,

Children who prance with grubby fat hands,

Be ye warned my friends: Halloween is at Hand!

That was just a fun introduction I made up for you. The real tribute is something I wrote around this time in 2006.

HOLLOW

A glaring face of firelight,

On every doorstep sits.

While children run around all night,

Where have they left their wits?

Insanity of every kind

In hidden eyes doth lurk.

In looking behind masks you'll find

Every person has their quirk,

Which to them this night doth bind,

From it, they cannot shirk.

The devils trickery is this

A 'respite' from the ever good.

Mis-takes are the devils kiss,

For it's with these he ever could

Seduce men into eternal night.

But men follow? Never they would,

If they were strong and longed for light.

image from SheridanInternational

Ok. So I lied. As evidenced, I hate halloween and everything it represents.

But on a more positive note, there is something that comes from dressing up and acting a different character from yourself. A sense of security that can help you to discover things you have been bottling up. Thus acting is such a wonderful thing. And writing, for that matter.

So I don't have a problem with the activites of the holiday so much as the ideas and intentions behind them. All Hallow's Eve was never meant to be a frightening experience or a game. I think turning the sacred holiday for the dead into a mockery of them is something commercialism will have to pay for in the end. I do not really honor this false Halloween and I do not appreciate the joke on the deceased. It's cruel and disgusting in my opinion.

This does not mean that I will not be handing out candy to the little children who come begging at my door or lecturing party-goers about their disrespect for the dead. No, I am not a crone. I will celebrate the holidays as I always do, with some concession to a costume, a trip to the church celebration and an indulgent smile as I fill the neighborhood's pillowcases with junk to rot their teeth. But do I enjoy it? No sir, I do not. Except perhaps, ironically, the pumpkin carving. That's good fun. But Honestly, I would rather skip the whole affair.

Thanksgiving is a much more joyful holiday and I do very much enjoy it. It's just that it comes so close to Christmas that I consider it the pre-feast. The welcoming of the true holiday season. The cutting of the ribbon, if you will. I love starting the Season off with that bang of telling my Savior and my family why I am so grateful for them. This holiday inspires much more uplifting poems, such as this:

TWO ROWS OF ROSES

Two rows of fragrant roses

Lead to an always open door.

Sweet-scented, they invite me

To join their midst's and forever soar.

Two rows of colored roses

Show me home by their splendid blooms.

Bright patterns to allure me

Back to home's happy, peace filled rooms.

Two rows of silk-spun roses

Feel like a lane to hallowed walls,

Where all may enter safely

To be loved in her heavenly halls.

Two rows of laughing roses

Softly entice me to their song.

They call to those who listen

Pleading with them to sing along.

Two rows of sugared roses

Sweetly guide me to the inside

Of my haven in the forest,

Where my happiest mem'ries abide.

image from: ecards.alege.net

So while it's a hate-love relationship, I will make it through these months and I will honor the holidays in their midsts. But if you think I'm going to do it without singing 'I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas,' all along the ride, you're as crazy as those jack-o-lanterns. BWAHAHAHAHA

Farewell to Summer

2009-09-09T18:32:00.005-07:00

This was inspired by our end-of-summer family beach trip on labor day. It says more than I could say with stories and memories, so I'll let it speak for me. Read it as a whisper and think of it as the dying summer speaking.

THE OCEAN'S PROMISE

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh...

I'll tell you the secret

Between the Ocean and me

While her waves pull us softly Out to Sea

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssshhhhhhhhhhh...

It's crucial you're silent

If you want to know why

There's no other place I'd have chosen to die

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssshhhhhhhhh...

There's no sound beneath it

And therein lies the key

To understanding the promise 'tween the Ocean and we

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssshhhhhhh...

If you're quiet you'll hear it

The Lady Moon's cry

Whose silver lips tell me never a lie

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssshhhhhhhh...

And you'll understand freedom

That comes without fee

The right to exist, the right simply to be

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSssssssssssshhhhhhhh...

For now comes your answer

Have you figured out why

The Sea is the place I come to take my last sigh?

Pictures from: hickerphotos

The Psychospirituality of Dreams

2009-09-03T23:58:00.006-07:00

Ocean of Dreams by Josephine Wall
http://www.easy-dream-interpretation.com/

In my Senior year of High School I wrote a song. Now people close to me will exclaim that this is hardly a statement, since I play around with writing music all the time.

This song was a little different however. It is a lullaby to be precise, but not in the usual sense of the word. It sort of turned out more like a haunted melody along the lines of an LOTR song or a gypsy ballad. I called it a lullaby merely because I meant it to be sung at night, and because it was mainly about dreams and the unexpected yet revealing things that happen in the night. My father asked me to sing it at a ward talent show next week, and so I have been dwelling on it for the past little while. Now, I can't write out the melody for you to hear here, but I think I will jot down the lyrics, so you can get an idea of what I am talking about.

Dreams

The shores of the moonlight glow soft in the night,

Hiding her wonders just out of your sight.

For who looks in shadows for dreams to begin?

And who knows the night, with all of her whims?

In dreams live the secrets that have yet to be told.

Stories of valor that never grow old.

Memories that time has diluted and dimmed

Become nothing more than their silver rims.

When shadows are banished by breaking of light,

The dreams of the waking are taken in flight.

And few will remember what visions they've seen

They know only shadows that come with the Eve'n.

Of course, in singing it so often and getting it ready for presentation, I have thought to wonder what caused me to write such a song in the first place.

I have always been fascinated by dreams and waht they can tell us about our inner psyche and mortal experience. I don't believe our night visions were meant just as an escape from our worldly struggles or even as simple manifestations of our inner troubles and struggles-though certainly many of them are. I believe sleep to be one of the times we are most in tune with our spirits and our eternal connections. I believe dreams are a way of connecting to ourselves and revealing our deepest destinies, most inspiring stories, our prevailing fears and most troubling detections that we have yet to bring to the forefront of our minds. I do believe that one can see the future in a dream. I have experienced deja vu multiple times throughout my life, though usually I can connect it exactly, not to a past experience, but to a dream. I think dreams can show us those who will be most important in our lives before we know them enough to love them. I believe dreaming is an unproclaimed miracle. One I am most grateful for.

But almost all seriousness aside, dreams can also tell us some pretty disturbing things about ourselves and make us recognize that which we have been denying. I recently started keeping a Dream Diary on advice from a friend who had begun translating my dreams into very believable meanings for me. All in good fun, this experiment was meant to show me what recurring themes were appearing in my subcranium and get me to confront them and work out my anxiety issues. I noticed over time that what it was also doing, was forcing me to acknowledge the recurring variables and as I did so they became more solidified and unchangeable in my dreaming. Is this a good thing however, or is it taking something that's not meant to be taken so seriously to extremes?

Everything Starts With A Wish

2009-08-04T22:44:00.006-07:00

"Fall-der-all and Fiddle-ee-dee, Fiddly, Faddelly, Foodle. All the dreamers in the world are dizzy in the noodle!...well I was just wishing, but I suppose that's not any good either....hmmm-Everything starts with a wish" ~Roger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella

I don't think I've ever really understood that song before. What on earth is the difference between a dream and a wish? I used to think. Aren't they essentially the same thing? After all, the cartoon Disney version of Cinderella says, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep..." But I suppose I've demonstrated already that we should not depend upon Disney movies as the source of all wisdom. Rogers and Hammerstein however, are like the ultimate creators of deep thought in theatre production. Ok, not really, but I really, really appreciate their insights. This one hit me today as particularly clever, and true.

I am a dreamer. A very bad one. I am often accused of leaving parts of myself in the dream world and forgetting to bring myself back to reality. I dream of being a successful writer and touring the country, no: the world! I dream of discovering hitherto undetected lands full of ancient artifacts and knowledge that will bring hundreds to the realization of truth. I dream of love and a warm, fuzzy, happily-ever-after with a companion who will never abandon me. I dream of peace and even saving all those little starving children in Africa and China. But do you know what? Not a single one of these dreams does me a lick of good. Sure, some of them have good purposes and intentions behind them, and none of them are truly bad things to dream about. Most of them are pretty good long term goals. But what does dwelling on them day after day and dreaming about what I could do or become tomorrow, do for today? Where does it get me? I'll tell you where. Sitting on my bed wondering why my arms are empty and being caught staring into space with a vacant expression during important conversations and having to rehear everything I missed because I was in lala land for the last fifteen minutes. Not particularly endearing to the speaker. No ma'am.

But a wish. A wish is grantable. Wishes are made one at a time, out of pure intention. If you are willing to get off your duff and believe in yourself and your wish, you yourself can make it come true. "I dream about marrying the prince," is very different from, "I wish to go to the ball so I can meet the prince and fall in love."

Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not sure I'm being very clear. The thing is, dreams are passive. They are vague inclinations of what you think your future might be like, but probably feel it never will be. A wish is a clear and solid demand on reality of what you would like it to become. Wishes establish active intention, they're agressive!

So right here, right now, I'm going to establish some good solid wishes.

#1: I wish for a job. *I will now do the Cinderella-like thing and hunt one down with confidence

#2: I wish I could finish writing a book. *Now I shall work until the Eye is complete.

#3: I wish I could go on a mission. *I can start to prepare now and take the proper classes. I can save up everything I can and then ask for help with the rest. I will let others help me.

#4: I wish I were healthier. *And what kind of Cinderella doesn't clean up well? I'll cut out the crap and start running again. I can conquer asthma! I can conquer aching muscles! I can conquer my stubborn anti-will! Raar!

#5: I wish I were happy. *And what's stopping me? Happiness is a decision right? So you know what, from now on, I'm going to be happy! Try and stop me! I'm going to love my life for what it is and enjoy the ride. I'm going to stop criticizing myself and everyone around me and just love them. I'm going to stop worrying about the things I can't fix and happily solve the things I can. I'm going to walk on the sunny side and ignore the doom and gloom. As the good Lord instructs us, I am going to rejoice!

Love At First Flight

2009-07-28T00:40:00.003-07:00

The other night around a cozy campfire in a good friends backyard I found myself sitting next to a very charming and attractive young man whom I had never before met. His conversation was enchanting, his stories thrilling, his laughter infectious, and his manner attentive. For several hours I was caught up in his spell and when it finally came time for our departure I was sad to see him go, for he lives pretty far away and I was not sure when I might see him again.

We went our separate ways and as I walked to the car with my younger sister she piped up with a comment along these lines: "Thank goodness, I wanted to leave hours ago but I wasn't about to interupt your flirting."

Shock crossed my face. My what?! "I...I wasn't flirting..." I spluttered, "He was just a very interesting guy and had fantastic stories about his mission that I was greatly interested in, thankyou." I harrumphed my embarrassed self into the drivers seat.

"Whatever." Said she, "you "may not" have been, but he most certainly was. He ignored everyone else who tried to jump into the conversation!"

"That doesn't mean anything..." I replied. It was silent for a few moments. "But he was pretty cute." I winked at her and we both bust up laughing.

Later that night as I dithered and dissected the evening in my head, I had to admit to myself that I had indeed been flirting with the entertaining young gentleman. What does that mean? I thought. I've cut myself off from dating and flirting and all of that. I am preparing for a mission! I don't have time for any of it and I'd only be setting myself and others up for disappointment at this point. No, it's no good. I'll just have to avoid him, or not be as friendly if I see him again, or something...

However, it occured to me later that this reaction is not strictly a result of my preparing for a mission. In fact, it's a bit of a trend I've noticed in my behavior that is slightly horrifying. This trend is that as soon as I discern that I have any attraction for a young, datable man who may be interested in me, I panic. I think of ten thousand reasons why it will never work, why it should never work and why it could never work. Then I pound them out into my behavior and attitudes until it becomes reality and I have chased the boy away. Or at least distanced myself enough to make him believe that I do not have any interest. The problem: I do still like them. Then I harbor these secret crushes as little stunted seedlings of something that could have grown but never did because I poisoned them. See exhibit A:

That's all. This story has no ending because I still have not solved this problem. It's a dillema.

Summer Fun

2009-07-20T17:12:00.034-07:00

Just some pictures :) They speak for themselves really, all I have to say is what is better than sand castles and hammocks? Nothing! Yay Summer! *sorry about the sideways ones...dunno why it wont let me fix them :(

Surrendering Stories

2009-07-05T19:55:00.003-07:00

This is a white flag. I am retreating behind it and I will say this once and only once, and strictly in writing. You will understand when you are finished, why I do not often talk about these experiences. These are my comedic, horrific and even somewhat sadly tragic experiences dating (or undating, as I call many of these relationships) at Brigham Young University Idaho.

*For the sake of the privacy of those persons involved in these stories names will be changed to epithets, so given at the top of their own particular tales.

The Eager Beaver

It is my very first day of school. I am far away from home, and my closest friend is a roommate who had arrived on the same night as me, with whom I had had a bonding evening with when we were forced to eat ramen (from cup-of-noodle styrofoam containers, we had no dishes, little food, and NO kitchen-only a small microwave) with pens. I am desperate to gain more companions.
I walk into the classroom quietly, as is my usual habit, in hopes of finding a seat near the front or next to a wall. I look up to find it full of students staring balefully at me. I am late. I look around for the teacher but can find one nowhere. Finally a tall blonde man who looks younger than a few of the students says, "Welcome to English 111, have a seat." Horrified at the immediate attention of the entire class gazing at me as though I were a specimen to disect, or perhaps the next subject of a despised research paper, I search desperately for an empty chair, a friendly smile, Anything.
"Here, come sit next to me." A kindly pair of large blue eyes meet mine with a grin. He pats the empty seat next to him. It is next to a wall. I am wonderfully grateful to this handsome young man with the captivating blue eyes.

...Three Weeks Later...

"Alright, everone take your partners and off you go. You must stay on campus and we will meet back here at twenty after the hour." The Professor dismisses us to find flaws in the structures of the school, about which we will write a persuasive essay. "You'll be my partner right?" says the Eager Beaver, who has already earned the nickname from his constant habit of beginning to flirt with me every moment the professor stops speaking. Not to mention the fact the inadvertently shows up wherever I go, to do the same thing. Already he has found me at the Sunday Night Stadium Singings, a few dances, the grocery store, the library and several times just walking around on campus.
"Sure." I don't mind so very much, I'm kind of flattered with the attention. He's twenty three, an RM, and interested in me, an unglorious little eighteen year old fresh from High School. I sense danger as he leads me towards the gardens (given the title 'Make Out Gardens' or 'The Honey Moon Spot' by BYUI students, about which I had been THOROUGHLY warned) and head him off.
"Actually I think I know the perfect thing, its up near the dorms." I say quickly heading the opposite direction from the gardens. He is slightly crestfallen but follows where I lead.
"So, are you dating anyone yet?" he asks casually. That was direct, I think, but hey what do I know about people in Idaho-or college for that matter? Maybe all conversations here are direct.
"Um, no actually. So the place I'm thinking of, it's a basketball court-"
"Really? Pretty thing like you, I was sure you'd be taken by now." His smile is very charming.
"Haha..ha...thankyou...I just, um..."
He senses my awkwardess. "So you're from Washington, right? How do you like it up there?"
"Oh, Oh I love it," I'm just grateful we are talking about something else, "I love the rain and the tree's and the mountains. I hadn't realized it til I'd been here baking in a desert valley for a while though."
He laughs. "Oh Yeah. I'm from Oregon, I understand." Uh oh. "Probably right close to you actually, do you live near the bottom of Washington or the top?"
"Right on the border actually."
"No way! Near Portland?"
"Directly accross from it. Vancouver."
"Nice! Only about an hour away from me then."
"Oh,... that's cool...anyways I was thinking we could write the paper about these enormous cracks--" We really have only a few moments to get all the way accross campus and back, we should be concentrating on our assignment.
"Do you want to live there after you marry?"
"-and people are always getting their feet caught in them...Oh, uh, I guess...I hadn't really thought about it much actually..."
"I do. I want to take my beautiful wife and give her a home surrounded by tree's in the mountains. Not too close to any town though, I like my privacy."
"Hmmm...that's great, it sounds like a good place to raise a family. Really though, I can see the court from here, do you want to see the-"
"How many children do you want to have?" Woah! Ok buddy, this just got WAY too personal.
"Uh, I guess I haven't really thought much about that either..."
"I want a bunch, six or seven at the least. Preferably more like eleven or twelve."
"Uh huh..."
"As many boys as possible. Do you think you'd like raising sons?"
What the HECK?!
"I, uh, I don't know, maybe someday...I'm going to write down some information about the cracks now ok? You can take notes too if you like."
There is a blissful three minute silence, in which I scribble down descriptions of the cracks in the basketball court like mad. He watches me with admiration.
"You're a good student aren't you?" He asks with proud eyes.
"Well, I sure like to think so...we'd better be getting back, we're nearly out of time."
"Oh ya, ya you're right, we're gonna have to run actually." Looking at his watch.
We take off in a light jog and arrive as the last of the students are coming back in from their explorations.

...Fifteen Minutes Later...

The teacher dismisses us and immediately the Eager Beaver is upon me, raving about my ability to write a killer essay with almost no editorial assistance. Is this a subtle hint that I'll be working mostly alone for this paper? Or maybe a not so subtle hint. Hmmm.
Before I know it we've reached the steps in front of the Smith building. He swings out in front of me and turns to face me while I'm still on the steps so our faces are on the same level (He's about 6'2").
"So, Kristi, I'd really really like to take you out on a date sometime."
"Oh, ok. That'd be fun." I try to smile very nicely. Everyone deserves at least one-that's what I've always been told.
He gives me a big smile and walks away. Just walks away. Not a single detail of when, where, or how he would like to do this. Ok, I guess we'll just work it out later. I head back to my dorm, where my roommates celebrate my acheivement of first apartment date of the semester with cheers and a nighttime trip to taco bell (a tradition in that dorm), which I promptly threw up. I really should have recognized it for a sign...

...Temporary Conclusion...

Never again does the Eager Beaver mention that date. For the rest of that week he looks at me expectantly whenever I enter, as though I am supposed to say something. I don't understand. Was he implying that he would like me to plan a date?
The next week he is somewhat quieter as though frustrated with me for not doing something about the whole situation already. His silences are pointed and he stares at me a lot.
The next week he is nearly silent and I can practically feel him simmering next to me.
The next week, he moves seats. He does everything in his power for the rest of the semester to avoid sitting next to me. I can feel him always, in that overly heated English room, glaring at me from the corner of his eyes, looking away whenever I happen to glance in his direction. Finally the semester ends and in the joy of the Christmas holidays, I forget about the handsome but strange blue eyed boy.

...Hopefully Real Conclusion...

It is my third semester. My roommates are my best friends and I just love them to death.
Normally church is an apartment affair and we go in a big happy group. Today however, I have been asked to come a bit early for an interview of some sort. I approach the door with my head down, thinking about what is to come, and then it opens before me.
I look up to thank the young man holding the door open for me. The Eager Beaver glares at me stonily, his icy gaze challenging me to acknowledge him. I give a small nod, put my head back down and practically run to my appointment.

-A Matter of Weeks Later-

I have had three separate occasions of door-holding incidents matching the first. Really, this is getting ridiculous. Two of my roommates and I are leaving, church has ended and I really just want to get home and get some food into my empty system.
Eager Beaver holds the door open for the lot of us as we exit, staring directly at me. I've had enough. I meet his gaze and hold it. His face changes, softening, and he looks distinctly regretful.
"Hello Kristi." He says it a bit mournfully.
I'm sure I looked at him like he was crazy.
"Hello," I mutter as I walk past.
My roommates wait til the car door has closed behind me to ambush me.
"Who the HECK was that?!"
"Oh that was, well, just a guy I sort of-almost-kind of dated my first semester..." Really, I have no idea how else to explain him.
"Well why in the world aren't you dating him NOW?! He's gorgeous!"
"Um, actually, you know...I have no idea." I turn to look out the car window, dimissing the subject.

Get-Some Boy

Ok, before you start panicking-obviously nothing bad ever happened between me and this boy. I'm still happily VL, thankyou. This nickname, in fact, came from my roommates. They bestowed the title on the boy when he made a habit of locating me whenever we went to the cafeteria (still in my first semester, when I didn't have a kitchen and was forced to go to the cafeteria for nearly every meal) and making absurdly flirtatious and often strange comments, following me around as I gathered my meal from the salad bars. Then inviting me to sit with him or following me to sit among my flock of dorm friends and roommates. These dorm friends and roommates made a bit of a fashion of saying 'Get Some!' whenever anyone we knew was even talking to a member of the opposite sex, often loudly, racously and obnoxiously. Embarrassing the target caught convorting to horrifying degree's. Because they had to say it about him at least once a day however, he earned the title as his own specific epithet within a matter of weeks.
The sad part of this story is that I was simply not interested in him. He was cute, and sweet, a band geek to the core, but just not my type. Ok fine, I will admit it. I could talk circles around him, knew he didn't understand a word and yet he bobbed his head like some kind of cockatu and it drove me crazy.
I told my roommates that I did not want to date him, and to prevent him asking if they could sense it was about to happen, please. They succeeded wildly. Yes, I mean wildly. The poor kid was cut off in the middle of sentences, headed off at corners, goaded into arguments and interrupted with countless 'emergencies'.
Poor guy, he never stood a chance. This is when I first learned that using the roommates as backup was a last-resort, emergency sort of action. Not a reflex or precaution.

The Cafeteria god

I think as freshman we all manage to find some sort of BMOC and crush on him desperately for at least our first few weeks (months in my case). Mine was a boy (or man, whatever) who sat accross from me in the cafeteria, every day that first semester. I know, it's truly terrible that with the Eager Beaver expressing interest at every turn, and Get-Some boy sitting there by my side, I had eyes only for the Cafeteria god.
You who know me well know of my sad obsession with mythology and fairy tales, and my particular attraction to the beautiful roman gods. This is exactly what the boy encapsulated for me. Tall, with gold skin, black curly hair and exquisite brown eyes, he was perfection. I was lost. Taken in by the face of a man I had never even spoken to.

And never would. Because the world is a cruel place, I was born a shy creature. Not a shy spirit, as most my friends will loudly protest, but one of those people who is shy of those they have not met before, particularly if I like them. Therefore, I never worked up the courage to actually go and talk to the boy.
We had one of those eye affairs. Do not laugh at me and roll your eyes. I know you know what I'm talking about. I know you've done it too. Staring at each other across the room, like lovers trapped on either side of the looking glass. Catching each others eyes and looking away in embarassment, then looking back to see if the other is still looking at you. Communicating with your eyes an enchantment you cannot yet put into words.
But as all not-quite-good things, it came to an end. That winter I moved into an apartment, and had no need of going back to the expensive cafeteria at all. I never saw the Cafeteria god again.

The Ex-Roommate's Crush

That first semester, my roommate had a crush. A boy we invited to hang out with us all the time, he joined us for apartment dinners and nights out, homework parties, the works. But we all knew, he was hers. And frankly, none of us were particularly interested anyways.
The next semester, all of my dorm roommates left. The were summer-fall track, and I was fall-winter. I was alone again, and I HATED it. My new roommates were nice, and I thought in time we would become friends, but I wished I had some connection to the past and my loud, hilarious, energetic roommates from before. These new ones were just so quiet.
Then one day I walked into history class and there he was, my old roommate's crush. I plopped myself down beside him with a smile and we picked up the teasing friendship we'd all shared before. I didn't foresee a problem with the fact that it was just the two of us now, we'd been a part of the same silly group and I was sure our friendship could continue just the way it had last semester.
Then one day it came up as we were discussing our own histories in history class, rather than the history of America as we should have been. The 'hypothetical situation' was his method of attack.
"Say you were to date a black guy," he began smoothly, "it could even be, uh (he looks around as though trying to find another black man-not likely, there were maybe about 10 in the University total)... me. What would you think of that? Would your parents be alright with it?"
"Oh, my parents would be fine with anyone if I was in love with them," I watched his eyes twinkle, "but that wouldn't be your problem anyways. Your road blocker would be the fact that my old roommate was-and may still be-in love with you." I felt fine saying it, the fact had been openly known to him and our entire group first semester.
"Oh? Why on earth should that be a problem?" He really looks confused.
"It would be breaking a sacred bond of trust! Sisters, girlfriends, roommates, we don't take off with each other's men...it's like, against the laws of feminism!" I quoted Mean Girls to him, joking around sarcastically the way we always did.
He didn't laugh. "She's not here though. It's not like she can do anything to you. Why shouldn't you be able to date whoever you want?"
I began to sense that he was a little more serious about this than I had suspected. "Er...just because she's not here doesn't mean she wouldn't know. I know it's like a foreign concept to you but girls actually stay in touch, you know?"
"So just don't tell her."
"That's not how it works. Even if I didn't somebody would, and then I'd be in even bigger trouble."
"Why should you have to tell anybody? Aren't they all gone anyways?"
Oh gosh. Now I am in a pickle. He is serious about this. And persistent. What do I do?! I don't want to offend one of the only friends here I have right now!
"It's just against my own personal morals ok?"
Class began and for that day I was safe. For the next few weeks he spent the free time we had in class trying to convince me that it was no sin or betrayal if I wanted to date him. I could never quite figure out how to tell him that I really just didn't.
Finally, it was coming up on Valentine's Day...and the Sweethearts Ball. I had a very serious crush on the Dreamy Premi by now (described below) and thought that if I let it slip that I might be going to the dance with him, my ex-roommate's crush would avoid the subject altogether.
Yeah, like I should be blessed with such luck.
It was a few days before the ball when he broached the subject again.
"So has your friend from your class that you like asked you to the dance yet?"
"Oh, oh no actually...he doesn't, um, date."
"Oh really? I'm sorry. Well, since you don't have a date, maybe you'd like to go with me? Just as friends, like..." the last part was added at my look of exasperation.
I was trapped. There was officially no way I could get out of this without offending him, and so I agreed.
I must now confess to using one of the most hideous, awful, and manipulative tricks a girl knows to avoid a date. It takes a little truth, a little heartache, some tears and a LOT of exaggeration. Hilariously enough, it happened in the gardens.
"I need to talk to you...about the dance." I began slowly, having already evinced a horrible mood and depression all through class. I can hear him stop breathing.
"It's just I don't have a dress, I'm completely broke...I, I just..." This is where I start to cry a little bit and stop walking as though extremely agitated. He stops and looks at me concernedly.
"Kristi, what's really wrong?" He asks in that deep philosophical voice they use when they are being the 'man', you know the one. When they are trying to take care of you, acting like they understand the inner workings of your psyche, like they are the only one in the universe that can possibly delve deep enough to find what is truly wrong with you. Because as we all know, a woman will never just say the truth and tell you what's hurting her, it's something you have to work at.
"At home," my voice breaks, "there's just problems in my family and my best friend is in a lot of pain and I just feel...(sob) like...(sob) I ...should be...(sob with wail) hooome."
Now I've scared him. A tear or two most guys can handle, but break down in full-blown sobs with gushing tears and you will induce a panic like no other.
"I just don't think...I don't feel it's right...I wouldn't be able to enjoy a dance at all right now...I can barely handle being a group of people at all." I cry silently and wait for his answer.
"Oh, it's ok Kristi...I understand if you don't wanna be around a ton of people. Hey, maybe I can get us a pizza and we can watch a movie at one of our apartments or something."
Opps. I guess I did kind of open myself up for that one. I'm going to have to hurt him a little bit. He leaves me no other choice.
"Actually I think...I think I just need to be alone for a while...I'm sorry."
The head droops, the eyes avoid mine, the voice even quavers a little bit as he says, "Oh, I guess thats...thats fine...I'll see you next week then..."
I don't see him next week. As a matter of fact, he quit coming to class altogether. He didn't answer my calls or texts and the one time I ran into him on campus he said, "Oh ya, hey I dropped that class..." and hurried off with some excuse.
Seriously? Seriously! What is it about me that sends guys cowering for the hills?! I can't even manage to keep a guy as a friend for more than a few months. Sheesh.

The History Hangover

This poor sap was in that same history class in which my ex-roommate's crush had held the infamous debate's about the conditions of dating. This guy had constantly jumped in the middle of them and been the crush's life line.
After the crush was gone however, it seems I became fair game.
"So, you and --crush-- aren't going out or anything now are ya? I assume he woulda stayed in the class if you were...?"
"Um, no, no we're definitely not." I try not to talk to this guy too often and usually sit in between the two other girls that are in our group. They are sadly absent this day. Don't be too harsh in judging me please, after all he had helped to destroy what friendship with the crush I had tried to maintain. And to be frank, he looked a little like golem from LOTR and scared the living crap out of me. Even had the voice down pat.
"So are you free?"
"Um, well I mean I guess but I'm really trying to focus on my schoolwork righ-"
He cuts me off. "Cuz I'd love-"
Now I cut him off. "NOW so I don't actually want to date anyone."
"Ah. Huh."
He is not deterred. He spent most of the rest of the semester in that class trying to convince me to date him. I could be as rude as you like, ignore him completely, and he would somehow see it as a sign of encouragement. I assume it ended only because I never saw him again after that semester. I don't particularly mind actually. Sorry.

The Dreamy Premi

For those of you who have read my story, this is the inspiration for Pierre. The golden skin with happy freckles, curling honey hair and deep green-gold eyes that can hold you in a spell forever. Yeah, not kidding. I was head-over-heels before I'd even spoken to him.
We were in a humanities class together, and of all the beautiful girls he could have chosen to sit next to in that class (trust me, all of them were noticing him) he came and sat next to me. You probably could have actually heard me sigh. Kind of pathetic really, but I couldn't help myself.
I introduced myself and we hit it off immediately. It was usually hard to concentrate in that class because we talked straight through it. However, since we had the highest grades in it and always knew the answers ahead of time (product of trying to impress each other or get everything done ahead of time in anticipation of not being able to do anything when we were together? I'm not sure) the professor really just ignored it. The Dreamy Premi had the most tantalizing habit of putting his head so close to my ear when he wanted to whisper a comment or answer to me that I could feel the heat of his breath all the way down my collar. Then I'd turn my head to whisper or look at him in response and he wouldnt move his and I'd be staring right into those never ending green eyes and I'd completely forget what I was thinking. It drove me CRAZY. He'd always move my hair, be brushing my arm or inadvertently leaning his knee against mine. In short, this boy knew how to tease.
And for all of that you would think, Player. But no, not him. He had to have the perfect personality too. Extremely sweet, especially to the mentally challenged girl who sat with us, and completely focused, he never spoke to a soul other than myself and that girl the whole semester. I held the highest grade for the class but he kept a percent or two behind me the whole way. He was smart. He knew how to study. I could talk to him for hours and never get bored.
I was falling fast, I knew I had to find a flaw or I'd be a goner. I could find none. The guy was perfect. Absolutely gloriously perfect.
And then one day we were discussing relationships and I asked if he was dating anyone now and he said, "No," my heart flew through the roof, "I don't want to date anyone until I get back from my mission, it would just be too much heartbreak to leave someone behind."
Crack. Shatter. Splint. Speaking of heart break.

The "Comforter"

Of all the guys I dated at BYUI, this is the one I hold the fondest memories of. Not because I was attatched to him, or even had any sort of crush on him really, but because of what he did for me. This is still my second semester and I was horribly lonely because now I had lost my friend in the ex-roommate's crush and was depressed that I seemed to chase all my guy friends away.
As much as it is talked about in sunday school lessons, sacrament meeting talks and every other kind of spiritual lesson we are given throughout our lives, it is surprising how few people have the courage to try to comfort someone who is visibly upset or depressed. Or even notice them actually.

This guy was one of those outstanding people who did though. He started talking to me and tried to cheer me up at ward functions, then began accompanying me to stadium singing (hundreds of students from BYUI go to the football stadium on sunday evenings and sing hymns together for half an hour) then going on walks, then out to meals and game nights with other couples. He was a fantastic friend and introduced me to many very interesting people.
Then one day I got a horrible phone call from my best friend at home. She told me that the boy that had been her date when we doubled at prom senior year had committed suicide. I took it pretty hard. I haven't ever known someone my age who purposely disposed of themselves, or someone in their right mind. I was sure there was no hope for him and I was horrible depressed. The comforter saw me on campus a few hours after this phone call and he sat with me and let me cry for awhile, then taught me everything he knew about life after death and the promise of eternal families in helping people and the condition of those who take their own lives. He was an immense help and I felt so much better after that talk. I will be forever grateful to him.
We stayed friends for the rest of the semester but lost contact afterwards. I ran into him my last semester and he told me was engaged to get married a week after the semester ended. I was very happy for him, I hope she is as wonderful a girl as he deserves.

The Haunter

Alright, here it is. The story you've all been waiting for. THIS is the true end to my dating random gentlemen. THIS is the experience that scared me beyond all experiences and made me determined to avoid dating until I was safe and could leave on my mission.
I met the Haunter in my third semester, after a long summer break of planning my sister's wedding, in Mandarin Chinese class. We were both partnerless coming in (turns out most people like to take Chinese with a friend or roommate-go figure) and so got paired up together automatically. Other than the fact that he had a drastically receding hairline, wore belts with studs on them with sweatshirts that favored skulls, and didn't seem to be able to stop smiling, he seemed reasonably normal to me. I should have known better than to think that I would ever be paired up with a relatively normal person.
We held our practice sessions in the library in a little alcove where we could hear each other. Thinking about it now, I guess I can see why he thought this was romantic. But it never occured to me then. It didn't even occur to me that he was interested actually. Even when he asked me out after our third practice session (after walking me home as he usually did) it simply did not enter into my oblivious mind. The last time I'd dated someone was the comforter after all, and we'd ended up just being friends. We never really even had any intense moments...(ok there was one, when he was trying to cuddle with me while watching a movie in his apartment and kept putting his arm around me and playing with my hair-but his plan was foiled by the fact that the movie- Legend - made me laugh hysterically instead of making me scared and so every time I laughed I could scoot away from him) and so I wasn't really on the 'find-a-mate' sort of mind track.
For our first date (can I just add that I had to drive because I had a car and he did not...gentlemen, this is just not attractive to a girl who does not already know you and like you. If you are trying to impress a girl and you don't have a car, try going somewhere close and WALKING-then if we are cold you can give us a jacket, wrap arms around us etc, we think that you are more physically active, we have a long time just to talk and it really just adds to the whole experience of the date. Honestly.) he decided that we were going to the Haunted Shack which is actually a pretty awesome haunted house out in the country near Rexburg. It was a brilliant plan. I was terrified. I had to hold on to someone or I was going to get hopelessly terrified and have an anxiety attack, and he was really my only option. The problem was-he didn't want to let go. He held my hand for the duration of the haunted house and out to the car. Fortunately, I needed it back to drive.
"So do you want dinner?" he asks.
"Sure. What did you have in mind?"
"Actually," he says hesitantly, "I thought I'd let you pick. Only, it can't be very expensive cuz I'm kinda broke. In fact, it can't be much more than a hamburger and fries."
Ok, can we just analyze the many problems with saying this to a girl you are trying to impress, particularly on a first date?
#1 Usually, we don't want to pick. If you are worried about us liking dinner, plan ahead and figure out what kind of food we like. Otherwise, we will figure out something to eat wherever you take us-it's much more attractive for you to be decisive, we hate being surpised with the sudden question 'what do you want'. My particular favorite lines from P.S. I Love You: q: 'What do you people (women) want?!" a: "I'll tell you, but it's a sacred, sacred secret. You have to swear not to tell. Alright, are you ready? WE HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA."
#2 'cus I'm kinda broke' ?!?!?! Hello! Not brilliant. Even if you are trying to find a girl who likes you for you and not your wallet, telling her your flat broke and can't even afford to take her to a nice dinner, is just stupid. Men are the providers, we DEPEND on them, esp those of us who someday want to be mormon housewives. We do actually need to know that you will be able to do this.
#3 'a hamburger and fries.' Nice. So you're a fastfood kinda guy huh? Ok, really this isn't going to get you in trouble with every girl you try to date. But you might want to try figuring out whether she is vegetarian, or has eating disorders before you suggest such a heinous thing. Also-as a general rule-fastfood is just not cute. Make a meal together-it's just as cheap, and it will show her a side of you she'll really like-one that's comfortable in the kitchen.
Alright, we'll move on now. Obviously, I didn't go for the fastfood thing.
"Well, I'm not too hungry," I replied, "how about we just go get some ice cream?"
So we stop at Cold Stones.
"Ok, please don't get anything more than a 'like it'." Says the Haunter. I'm not kidding you.
"Alright. I normally just get a little kiddy bowl because I can't finish anything more, so that's fine." I will be nothing if not polite on a date. Making him feel foolish would just be rude right? Ha.
"Oh good." He sighs it with relief. I could have smacked him. Honestly! Is he trying to make me feel fat, greedy or beastly? Because he's doing a pretty good job of all three here. Not how I want to feel on a date. No siree. Not at all.
We eat our ice cream and he tells me about his mission. Which he hated. Which was only 2 hours away from his home. Which he blamed every other person available for his misery in. Also, very not impressive.
Next, we go to his apartment to watch a movie.
"My roommates should be there with us." He says. Ok, well then I think that's fine.
We get there and walk into the dark apartment and there are NO roommates. None.
"Well, I think they'll get here in just a little while, so we'll be ok." says the Haunter.
Uh huh. He turns on some Japanese film with lots of violence that I can't understand a word of and sits closer to me than any male not married to me has any right to be. I scoot into the arm of the couch and he moves closer. So I move to the edge of the seat, poised for flight. I can feel him staring at me and so I pretend total fascination in the movie and do not glance at him once.
Finally, the movie ends. We have been sitting in the dark ALONE the whole time. I stand up very quickly.
"Have you ever dated anyone very seriously?" He asks abrubptly. Uh, rude.
"Um, I don't date very seriously here at all actually. I don't know why, something about concentrating on my studies." I'm being ironic, and trying to make a joke, but he just doesn't see it. His eyes get that look, you know, the glowing one. The one that makes them look like they are about to devour your soul with happiness. Gulp.
"I can fix that." He says. Oh my GOSH. This guy just can not be serious! I just laugh lightly and walk out the door to the car. He follows. Apparently he plans to go to my place and walk home again from there. Cuz the car is mine.
I drive to my place, and he invites himself in. We seriously stand in my living room talking about pretty much nothing for about 2 and a half hours until curfew. There are many awkward silences, which I imagine he must have taken for romantic tension.
Then, as I mention that it's time to say good bye and turn to him, I recognize that terrifying look in his eyes and I realize what's coming. He thinks that after all of that he is going to kiss me. Good grief.
I turn around about as fast as I can to head for the door and kick him out, and his head SMACKS into the back of mine. Ouch. Seriously? Did that really just happen to me?
I choose not to acknowledge it. I walk with cherry red cheeks to the door and open it for him.
"Thanks," say I, "the haunted house was really awesome." I really am not even looking at him as I say this.
"So can we go out again next weekend?"
"Uh..." My roommates are walking in, the pressure is on here, "maybe. Sure, I guess, whatever." I shut the door and he walks away. My roommates burst into a fit of giggles.
"Are you really going to go out with him?" One asks.
"I don't know! He's my partner!!! I guess I have to...what do I do?" Complete panic has commenced.
This is where emergency action becomes appropriate. Because all week long, after every practice, he comes to my apartment, lets himself in and talks my ear off for at least three hours til my fun and crazy red headed roommate comes and scares him away. I could learn much from her.
Together, my roommates and I hatch a plan. Another of my roommate's and her boyfriend agree to accompany me on this next date and I do not give the Haunter a chance to change the plans. Then the red headed roommate (who the Haunter has taken an extreme disliking to) decides to come along solo. I will love her forever for this.

Basically, I ignore him for the whole date. But he doesn't stop trying. We go to a burger shop out in the middle of no where with giant burgers, which I just consider extremely ironic. He does actually pay for my meal but I brought money just in case cuz I thought perhaps it would be too expensive. Then we all go home and need to do different things so I tell him that I'm going to have to take him home. I tell them that I am sure I will get lost (if you know me, you know I can get lost in my own neighborhood for hours, so the story was plausible) and ask my red headed roommate to come with me. It takes a kick from our other roommate for her to get it but she does understand and the three of us set off to take him home. The blessed angel pops her head out of the back seat in between me and the Haunter and talks the whole time. When we arrive he gets out with a glare and disappears into the apartment buildings.
She climbs immediately into the front seat.
"Do you think it worked?" she asks.
"Oh I'm sure. Did you see his face when he got out of the car?" I answer laughing. I am confident I have frightened the guy away permanently. I now have a new partner (wonderfully female) in my chinese class and I think I can escape gracefully.
No Such Luck.
The next monday in class he asks me out again. At least I am ready with an excuse this time.
"I'm going to be out of town, sorry." I say.
"No problem," says he, "there's always next week."
The Haunter asks me out every single monday for the next two months. Finally, I think he gets the hint. He never smiles again. He moves to the other side of the class room and GLARES with every ounce of hatred in his body throughout every class period. Then, he stops coming to class altogether.
Great. Another one. Can I just tell you how many guys have stopped coming to classes because of me throughout my life? ...Never mind. You don't want to know. It depresses even me.
How it happened I just do not know because he had to have failed the first one because he not only stopped coming to class but before that had stopped studying (when we were partners I had to feed him most his lines anyways) and had failed at least 4 performances, so there's no way he passed the class, but he showed up in 102 the next semester. And the glaring continued. Then he started failing performances again. Then he stopped coming. Is anyone else a magnet for these strange and crazy men or do I manage to keep them away from the rest of you?

THE END

After the Haunter I decided I was done. That's it. That is the end. I did not date a single person my last semester and turned down every request. Didn't even tell anyone about them. I don't think I'll date again til after my mission thankyou.

Each Life That Touches Ours For Good

2009-06-07T14:29:00.001-07:00

One of my very favorite things about living at my house is sunday afternoons. Particularly the ones that my dad and I (and varying family members depending on who feels like it) sit together in the living room and sing hymns and family favorites (folk songs, home written, etc) for hours. I missed this sooo much while I was at school.

This afternoon after church we were singing together in the kitchen while we prepared lunches, and we kept the hymn book on the island counter inbetween us. Dad was flipping through it finding songs we don't sing very often, so we could have the challenge of figuring them out by ear and memory. At one point he turned the page and left it open to a spot he hadn't tried to pick because he had to get something out of the oven very quickly. I looked at the hymn book. It was open to the song 'Each Life That Touches Ours For Good.'

I flew back in time to one of my trips to Salt Lake when I was in school. It had been a very difficult drive, the snow was like those cartoons you see of wolves in the clouds and snowstorms, viciously chasing after the brave hearts venturing out in it and tearing them from the road. I saw countless cars flipped over, nearly lost in snow drifts, spun out in ditches, piled on top of one another, lit into great roadside bonfires and even jack-knifed and splinched semi trucks. It was terrifying.

On the freeway I was cut off and I slammed on the breaks, desperate to keep myself from sliding into the little red car I could surely run right over in my jeep. My car spun around twice, moving toward the opposite lanes of traffic. I nearly had it back under control, but I over corrected and we (I had a roommate and a close friend in the car with me) spun the other direction several times until we flew of the other side of the road. We hit three small metal poles but were otherwise unharmed. As friends in a stressful situation will do, we made humor out of our predicament. My surfer roommate from Cali was in the backseat sleeping when I lost control and woke up to the first of the metal poles hitting her door. "Oh...this sucks." She said as she sat up. The release of tension from the resulting laughter was euphoric, it was a helpful tonic that helped me remain calm as the ranger (of course I slid off the road right next to a parked ranger, because who else in the world has that kind of awful luck?) held us in place on that frozen roadside for over a half an hour until he finally called a cop who took over and held us there for another twenty minutes (by this time we have surely missed my roommate's plane) before letting us go with only the proviso that I pay for the poles we took out.

We were the lucky ones. As I sat on my cousins couch that evening I recieved several panic'd texts asking if I was alive, ok, hurt or otherwise. Assuming that my roommate or friend must have let spill about our accident to someone back at school I answered these with a light humor. However, the next day was Sunday and another of my roommates called to give me awful news.

A young man in our ward, one of our well-known secretary's, had been killed in the snowstorm driving to Utah at the same time as me. Until church no one had known who it was, she explained, only that someone in the ward had gotten in a bad car accident and passed away.

He had been driving down with his girlfriend to visit family in Salt Lake and a woman in the car behind him had bumped his car slightly, doing a very small amount of damage. Both cars pulled over to exchange numbers and information, standing at the back of his car. Another car on the highway lost control and spun out toward them, splinching both the young man and the woman in half between the two cars. Both died instantly. The girlfriend, sitting in the front seat, was injured but survived.

The next sunday we had a small memorial sacrament meeting for the boy and his family joined us. They invited us to the funeral and thanked everyone for all the help they had given their family, for packing up the boys things and for being the people who made up his life. They bore their testimonies to us and told us about him, and the father's speech in particular broke my heart. He seems to have taken the death of his son harder than anyone else, and didn't understand why it had happened. He was struggling to hold onto his faith. He was so very, very heartbroken.

I can not imagine a greater trial than losing a child. I do not think that any of us who have not experienced it can ever, ever understand the pain of it. I have never seen a man so broken before, I've never seen so much hurt in someone's eyes. It was painful just to see him. It was painful to know that there was nothing I could do, no way to help.

I have never lost any one even close to my own age before, never known someone who has died before they were sixty. I guess I felt that oft mocked confidence of youth that we are invincible. I think we all had quite a shock. It was so strange not to see him there in the office on sundays with his big welcoming smile and teasing eyes, the emptiness of walking into the rooms he used to haunt was harsh and troubling. For weeks whenever the boy was mentioned in sacrament meeting you would find the girls bathroom full of weeping girls after the meeting. The halls were solemn and quiet, people were always hugging and trying to comfort each other. This boy had been one of God's chosen, and we all knew it. He was one of those people that lights up and room and makes everyone feel comfortable, like he's known them since birth. He loved everyone, accepted everyone. It truly felt like we had lost a brother.

That sunday when we held the memorial, we sang a song I had never heard before, and haven't been able to sing all the way through since.

1. Each life that touches ours for goodReflects thine own great mercy, Lord;Thou sendest blessings from aboveThru words and deeds of those who love.

2. What greater gift dost thou bestow,What greater goodness can we knowThan Christlike friends, whose gentle waysStrengthen our faith, enrich our days.

3. When such a friend from us departs,We hold forever in our heartsA sweet and hallowed memory,Bringing us nearer, Lord, to thee.

4. For worthy friends whose lives proclaimDevotion to the Savior’s name,Who bless our days with peace and love,We praise thy goodness, Lord, above.
If there was ever a boy whose life proclaimed devotion to our Savior's name, and touched the life of everyone around him for the better is was him. Even in death he brought people together as nothing else could have, he brought us closer as a ward and helped us to learn to depend on each other to get through the hard times. I will be forever grateful that I knew him. I know he is doing great works on the other side. I hope that wherever they are, his parents know what an amazing spirit they raised, and that he is surely there watching over them as they try to go on with their lives.

Head Tenants-The Crone

2009-06-02T13:48:00.003-07:00

I think you should all know-I have multiple characters living in my head. I don't mean the ones I write stories about, allegorical or humorous. I mean the ones who counsel me constantly (and often unwelcomely) about how to live my life. Yes, as much as I constantly proclaim my strength in independence, the truth is-I am not alone in here.

There is a carefree spirit about seven years old, who is always telling me to go dance in the rain, swim out to the BIG waves, and pretend to throw bits of bread to families of geese. She has gotten me bitten by a giant papa goose (on the bum, may I add), nearly lost in both the middles of lakes as well as titanic waves in the ocean, and several colds plus a nasty case of neumonia. I try to not listen to her much anymore.

You've already heard a little about the mix of teenage spunk with goddess of chaos micheivous character. She's a little like smoke and when she speaks I see laughing eyes coming out of the gloom with a cheshire cat grin and I cannot help but listen.

Then there is a scholarly woman in her late twenties with librarian glasses and a stern expression. Picture a slightly older version of Hermione Granger. She is always lecturing me about the importance of my school work, the dire need to learn all, to be the master of wisdom! She stresses me out frankly, and I think my anxiety problems (that I now have a perscription for btw, how sad is that?) probably come from her.

There is an ageless motherly figure who speaks kindly in gentle tones and sings all the time, and she forces me to stop and stare at babies whenever I see them in the grocery stores or church hallways. Even waving a cute children in zoo's, parks, and public events. Sadly she gets me all sorts of suspicious looks. But since she also manages the sweetest moments in my life I forgive her for those.

I could mention a few more but I think I will skip on down the list now to the character who is both my favorite and most hated head-tenant of the group. The Crone. She is the grandmother of all grandmothers, the ancient power of reasoning and self-protection. She speaks with the might and power of not only my mother but every young women leader I have ever had, every grandmother, every ward matron, every aunt, and even every sister. That is a lot of Spiritual power-in case you were wondering. Naturally, with all that power behind her voice she drowns the cries of the others when she speaks, which she does quite often. In fact, I have yet to figure out a way to shut the old bird up. No offense to all you wonderful people who have inspired the growth of her personality over the years, I am speaking strictly of the arguments that she likes to have with me over every decision I make on a day to day basis.

Ok, let me explain the annoyance factor to you. First there is the way she sounds, which when she is happy is great-sweet toned and beautiful actually-but when she is angry or annoyed with me it is like nails on a chalkboard. It is like cut up glass in a blender, only magnified to the power of the sound of fireworks when you are sitting in the middle of the feild right below the magnificent show of sparks. It is dangerous. She may even be the sole reason I am losing my hearing in my left ear.

Then there is the way she looks (again when she is ANGRY, when she is happy she looks like my beautiful great-grandmother Leola, who was the most gloriously gorgeous person I have ever seen in my life, especially in her old age) which resembles the small nylon made, grimace-smile wearing figurines my mother so loves which are entitled the Relief Society Sisters. I cannot accurately describe to you the humor and horror of these little ladies and so I will include a picture.

Ah. See? There she is. Isn't that just a little frightening? Tell me she wouldn't grab your attention faster than a charging hippopotamus.

Already today she has made that face about how my room looked when I woke up (I was WAY too tired after babysitting last night to tidy up), my lack of desire to eat anything healthy for breakfast when I woke up (I had cheerios with sugar on top and a lovely bag of gummy bears thankyou ;), and my expressed desire to bring some deep golden color to my ghostly white glowing body.

"UV rays are bad for you!" She screeches. "They will make you prematurely old, shrivel up your organs and give you skin cancer! Do you want to look like me?!"

Alright, so she has a point with that last one, but still. You see, my skin doesn't act like the rest of the human race's. Anyone else who had been tanning once a week for three months (it was free with my apartment) would be a lovely brown color and ready for summer beach trips by now. What do I have to show for it though? The scars of two small blisters in the center of my back and almost no color to my arms and legs AT ALL. Really, I tan rather wonderfully-in the blistering heat of the Idaho summer sun on the reflective waters of Bear Lake staying out ALL day for two weeks. In winter and in Washington there is apparently no earthly amount of tanning lotion, watered down sunshine or fake UV rays that can penetrate by determinedly WHITE epidermus. It is entirely frustrating.

"You should glory in your white skin," says she, "particularly if it matches the unearthly tone of your stomach (which has never seen the sun) because it represents the power of your comittment to the truths you have been taught from the cradle! It shows your desire to serve by helping in the home, instead of lounging about on beaches. It is a mark of HONOR."

"This," say I, "is a bunch of bull-pucky. You know as well as I that if I had constant access to a beach I would be out there all day Every day. You know I want my skin to be a lovely shade of golden brown and have worked on vacations previous tirelessly to make it so. You know that if I could make my stomach as golden brown as my arms get out on that lovely lake without trouble I would do it in a heartbeat."

At this she gives a horrified gasp. "Where is that charming young lady I was speaking to in the temple the other night?" She demands haughtily. "I want to talk to the girl who was considering wearing dresses with sleeves to her wrists, skirts to her ankles and necklines without any sort of downward movement after the line of the sleeve meets the line of the dress. Where is the young woman with the standards."

Great. Now I feel like a two-year-old charlatan with devil horns poking out of my obviously overly-hard head. Excuse me, she is now telling me that that loud obnoxious beeping sound I've been trying to block out is the laundry calling for me and I should really stop shirking my responsibilities and go take care of it. Is anyone looking for a head-tenant? Contact me at 1-800-my-crone.

...And Satifaction Brought It Back

2009-05-31T20:44:00.006-07:00

There is no cure for curiosity. I have yet to find any sort of twelve-step program to help me rid myself of my obsession with being the back-stage know-it-all. Oh, I don't like to let everyone know that I know it all. That I know their darkest secrets, their middle names, how their pet Willy the goldfish died last week, or any of the odd assortment of interesting facts about people that you pick up when talking to other people about them. You would be shocked the things people will unknowingly divulge to a listening ear that doesn't react like their news is any surprise. Honestly. The best way to get stories out of a person is to pretend like you already know everything they are saying, to not give them any sort of fantastic reaction from their traded bits of fluff that they've pulled from the lives of others. It makes them want to tell bigger stories, greater secrets, more shocking intrigues, and basically just more interesting information. How I came to be aware of this fantastic trade secret is a bit of a sad tale I fear.

Most children dream of becoming something important, someone who is idolized by the others around them, or accomplishes a great deal of good in the world. Doctors, Firemen, Lawyers, Presidents, Senators, Police, Public Performers and Millionaire's. Even Dentists. But because I am my mother's daughter and well, just a bit of an oddball, I had a desire from very early in my life to break out of the norm. I was going to be the worlds most clever international spy. Mind you, this is before the popular Spy movies began dominating the cinematic scene and long before I was ever allowed to watch any movie even alluding to the indomitable James Bond. I began my career training very early. I taught my young friends and cousins my cunning tricks of discovery. We snuck around corners, read secret correspondence (left on countertops), snuck taboo items from their hiding places (generally food), analyzed dust specks and left strings of hair and yarn over drawer openings so we would know when someone unwelcome had entered (a trick I picked up from the very authoritative and credible Mary Kate and Ashley Detective series). I was on my way to insurpassable success.

It was after reading a rather stupendous spy novel in my early teen years that I stumbled upon the secret that would both make and break my sensational lifes-work. Simply talking to people, this book suggested, is the best way to discover the inner workings of their lives. And so the gossip gathering began...

You will never hear me deny it, gossip is poison. It has caused me more problems, more unnecessary strife in my life than I even want to consider. Don't worry, I will not here detail the many incidents of indisgression on my part or that of my compatriots. I have simply to say, the picture of the girls passing black goop from hand to hand in the Mormonad passed around in seminary is a rather extremely accurate visual representation.

After a particularly nasty incident of gossip reaching the wrong ears in High School I was reading the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet on a challenge from a young women's leader whom I am sure was incredibly sick of dealing with the outcomes of mine and my dear young friends' drama. Gossip, I read, is bad. It is destructive and evil and a disciple of Christ will not participate but will draw in those they feel the least charitible towards and learn to love them. Ok, so that's not really what it said, but that's the basic lesson I picked out of it.

Well crap. There went my greatest source of power, my secret weapon, the ability to sow ultimate destruction! I determined then that being a disciple of Christ was simply more important to my life than being able to hold secrets above the heads of my peers and manipulating them to do as I wished. BUT I thought, aren't there characters in the Book of Mormon who accomplished great feats by knowing the minds of their enemies and even their kin, even saving hundreds of lives? The answer: OF COURSE THERE WERE! My dream was reborn! A true spy, I concluded, will hold their secrets, will use the information only for good and will be selective of the sources which they will pass their gathered secrets to.

Okay okay okay, I know-I still have horrible trouble with gossip and you all know it. I'm sorry. But at least you know now, I am working on it ;)

Old habits die hard, and I seem to permanently be the honey that draws in information-holders and screams, vent to me! Tell me all your secrets, let me be your confidante! You will invariably find that no matter where I go, or what kind of social group I associate myself with, I will very quickly become bestest friends with the Gossip. The public know-it-all. The magical person who everyone else comes to to confess all their greatest misdeeds, hidden passions and unbridled desires. The trusted confidante of nearly everyone else. They even oft-times become my own confidante. But I'm not going to lie to you, I love it. I love hearing peoples' stories, I love hearing people analyzing their own lives and the lives of others, I just love the idea of people (though the reality is sometimes a bit unwelcome, I'll admit).

This is probably why I am a history major. Everyone knows History Professors are nothing more than Professional Gossips. They analyze not only the people in their own lives but all the people throughout all time! A History Professor is someone whose curiosity never dies, someone who wheedles people, places and artifacts into telling their stories so that we can cast it in iron and project it to the whole world! We are the sneakiest spies in the world! We fish out the secrets of people and civilizations that have been dead for centuries, we tell the world in hundreds of shows, books, scholarly journals, accounts and diaries, and yet NO ONE EVER REMEMBERS WHO WE ARE!!! For example, How many of you know who Howard Carter, Leopold Van Ranke, Edward Gibbon or even Herodotus are? How many of you just went to look up those names? *insert raise of the right eyebrow*

Anyhow, my point is simple: Historian=Gossip=Awesome High Tech Inter-Civilization Over-Centuries Time-Denying SPY

Our Mantra: Curiosity Killed the Cat, BUT SATISFACTION BROUGHT IT BACK!!!

From Rock-a-Bye Baby to a Goddess of Chaos

2009-05-30T01:16:00.003-07:00

Okay, so I was watching Sinbad today with my little sisters Traci and Annie and my brother Johnnie. We had a grand old time of it, laughing at the wily puns and the occasionally racy joke, getting way too into the romance between Sinbad and Marina, and enjoying the full adrenaline rush of the adventure as though we were actually in the story. If you have ever watched a movie with my family, you know this is really standard procedure. What is the point of sitting and watching a movie for two or three hours if you're not going to get ridiculously excited about it and quote lines to each other forever afterwards while rehearsing your favorite scenes? Anywho, Sinbad I have to admit is my very favorite animated picture of all time. Even better than Aladdin. I know, you are shocked. Why though, you ask? Is it for the dashing hero with the irresistable voice of Brad Pitt? Does my deep love of history and mythology make the tale so personal that it is absolutely enthralling? Am I intellectually enchanted by the contorted dichotomy of good vs. evil?

Well, perhaps all of these things combine to make it a marvelous movie, but what I truly love, the reason I can watch this movie ten thousand times over and never get bored, what enthralls and enchants me so thoroughly that I have to stop reading or writing whatever I am doing whenever someone turns it on, is Eris: the Goddess of Chaos. Unless you have known me for too long to ignore the evidence, or you have actually lived with me for any amount of time (though I believe some of my poor roommates at BYUI still believe in my innocence) you probably haven't yet realized that I am a horribly addicted, insanity loving, mind warping trickster. A prankster of the first class, truly, because NO ONE ever blames me. Though my dear sister BriAnne and my best-friend of eight years Chelsea have cried for years that I am the true mastermind behind the terrible pranks and playful tricks they were blamed and punished for during our youth, they have not yet managed to convert anyone other than my parents...who I think love me anyways, and who only believed them after I confessed to inspiring a few rather odd spectacles. The trick is, to get someone else to do the dirty work. You have to find someone brave enough, tricksy enough, and entertaining enough to keep them around long enough for you to inspire them. Eris, you see, is the ultimate example. She frames, she manipulates, she teases, she tortures, she inspires. And she is beautiful, frightening yes, but beautiful. I loved her character from the moment I saw her.

Alright, you say, how is it possible that a little mormon girl raised in a home filled with the spirit, constantly reminded to love one another, can be full of such spite? Well first, I'm not spiteful, honest. I try not to do anything that will hurt another person (though I confess I have definitely managed to do this before) or cost anyone huge amounts of money to repair (also, must confess that I have accidently managed this before) or will damage another person's pschye to haunting and traumatizing levels (ok yes, I confess I have managed this one too-the point is, I didn't do it on purpose). But do I think something must have been done in my youth to twist me into such a strange chaos-loving creature? I'm not sure. Maybe I love it so much because it is what I can never really be, it's my alter-ego so to speak, my closet self. Maybe my mother's love of character and spunk sprouted into something a hint more devious when planted in me. But I think the most likely reason of all (my heart is just the right size, thankyou) are the lullaby's, the fairy-tale's, the cryptic stories and yes, even the Disney movies that I so loved as a child.

Please read the words to the following nursery rhyme/lullaby and then try to tell me it is not one of the creepiest things you have ever heard in your life.

Rock-a-bye baby,
in the treetop,
When the wind blows,
the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks,
the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby,
cradle and all.

Ok people, we are singing this to our children, as they are falling asleep!!! No wonder we all have so many issues!

First of all, Why the HECK is the baby in the tree? Further more, why did the bough break?! We are giving our children a weight complex before they can even talk! THE CRADLE WILL FALL AND DOWN WILL COME BABY CRADLE AND ALL?!?!?! What in the world?! The psychiatrists are all trying to tell us that dreaming about searching for something means there is something missing in your life, dreaming about running means there is a fear in your life you are not confronting, dreaming about falling means you are overwhelmed, insecure, unstable and feel you are not in control of your life. But you know what the truth is? We are all so mentally and emotionally scarred from the lullaby's we were sung as children that we are still having nightmares about it!

So I looked up Rock-a-Bye Baby on wikipedia, wondering if there was some sort of logical explanation to the madness. There is a brief argument that the words we now sing come from an early American who witnessed Native American women tying their children up in slings in tree's and letting the wind rock them to sleep. I garuntee you those women were not singing to their little babies about being shot out of their slings to the ground! This explanation was not satisfying at all. The creep factor was still in. So I read on. The original lyrics, said the history, had nothing to do with babies being knocked out of tree's at all! As a matter of fact they were charming! Though I cannot figure why it should matter to the child one whit that their cradle is green. That's just kind of strange. The original lyrics were as follows:

Rock-a-bye, baby,
thy cradle is green;
Father's a nobleman,
mother's a queen;
And Betty's a lady,
and wears a gold ring;
And Johnny's a drummer,
and drums for the king.

So the barbarism developed! It is recent generations, OUR generations who changed the cute little lullaby into a horror story to be sung to innocent children. Why?! To terrorize us away from the tree's? A method of keeping your kids out of things you don't want to deal with? I know that is the method of the horrifying Grimms Brother's fairy tale's that I simply cannot believe people actually read to their babies!

It is these same fairy tales that Disney tries to spruce up into happy-go-lucky stories with cute little talking animals that somehow always manage to help the often brainless heroine's on their way into trouble. What would Snow White or Sleeping Beauty be without their hordes of dancing forest animals? Where would Ariel be without flouder, scuttle or sebastian? How would Cinderella have managed without her little rodent friends? THIS is what we are telling our daughters to imitate? This is what we compare them to, what we dress them up as for parties, playdates and even, horrifyingly, halloween? Do you know what happens to girls who actually speak to rodents? I do. Want to know why? Because I am one, and the result of speaking to a rodent is no fairy tale, let me tell you.

I do not lie. I even have a recent incident of exposure, though thank heaven I had only one witness. A young man who lived in the men's apartments behind my apartment at University. He stood innocently on his balcony watching the sunset as I whistled my way down the street and walked home through the break between apartment buildings just below him. A squirrel stood off to my left. The bushy little rodent tried to cross the opening at the same time as me, and when we noticed each other we both stopped. I stopped whistling. I did not notice the boy, watching. "Excuse me," said I to the squirrel, "were you trying to pass?" His beady eyes were steady, his tail twitched only once. "Well then, by all means," I finished, "after you." I flourished my hand in the appropriate motion and the squirrel very graciously took me at my word and crossed the opening and scampered up his tree. A startled laugh escaped the boy above me and I looked up with surprise. My cheeks flamed red as he burst out in open laughter and I hurried through the pass myself and briskly shuffled the rest of the way home, the boys laughter ringing behind me. Embarrassment, and not enchantment, is the only thing that resulted from the encounter. So far I have been one of the lucky ones, and no one has actually locked me in cell with all the other nuts.

This may be only a manifestation of their own self-conciousness however, at being just as crazy as I am. Who, after all, could grow up watching E.T. or Alice in Wonderland and not be just a little bit traumatized for the experience? Nightmares still plague me of gigantic pink bunnies with red eyes and claws, aliens with hammer shaped heads poking out of my closet, dressers and bookshelves, and don't even get me started on my fear of going into a bathroom without the light already being on or reaching to the ground next to my bed for an extra blanket when it's cold. Most of the time, I'd rather just shiver. I reach my hand around the corner of the bathroom door at night and flip on the light before I can completely open the door. I honestly pick up a baseball bat or a piece of metal shelving before answering the front door any time after about ten o'clock. Are these things normal? I don't know, because I have a deep seated fear about talking to anyone about them, because I have been raised on conspiracy theories and often wondered as a child if I was really some sort of mythical creature grafted into a human family for my own protection.

With all these terrors and upsetting romodels bouncing around in my head, is it really any wonder that I am inspired by a powerful, cunning and manipulative Goddess of Chaos? At least if she's causing the chaos she has some control over it!

I'm still watching you friend

2009-05-24T00:42:00.002-07:00

I'm watching you friend. I'm watching your standards crash around you as you dance. I'm watching your dreams be crushed under your own mincing feet and I'm screaming for the dance to end. I'm watching you die a little with every step and still you will not listen. I'm watching you laugh at the blood you see trailed along the path of your twirls. Blood is fashionable these days. I'm watching you friend, and I can see the pain your dance is causing. I'm watching you wince with every movement, gasp with every breath. I'm watching you and I'm crying for you to let someone hold you, let someone love you. I'm watching you friend, but I do not think you see me. Why can't you see me friend, why don't you listen? I can see the tears roll down your face as you beckon for a dancing partner. I whisper to you friend, and I try to take your hand, but you're still dancing. You're still dancing, and I cannot dance this with you. But I'm still watching you my friend.

Multiplicity ;)

2009-05-17T19:04:00.010-07:00

I have been thouroughly hasselled by multiple sources for not posting on my blog recently...and so I am posting a snippet of all the various activities in my crazy life for your perusal ;)

Anywho. To start I shall say, I have become a nocturnal creature. For some reason, I find that I have supremely horrible trouble trying to sleep since I have come home to Washington. I generally don't go to bed until at least 2AM and often not til 4 or 5. This is somewhat of a problem, since my wonderfully spiritual family wakes me up at 7:30 for family prayer. Even if I stay up from then however, I cannot sleep at bedtime. It is a conundrum. There are many different theories as to why this is. One: I didn't go to sleep til midnight or later at school after doing hours of mind numbing history homework and now when I go to bed my mind is still so fascinated by all the interesting things I have filled my mind with, instead of history, that I cannot sleep for thinking of all of these. Somewhat distressing, since history is supposed to be my life's mission. Hmmm. Since I have begun to dream in scenes of the story I am writing, combined with weird drama's from YSA, and the odd horror incidents mixed in (don't know where those are coming from...anxiety perhaps?) I am rather convinced that this is the prime reason for my nightly discomfort. Second: I enjoy the quiet of dark hours uninterupted by all but the crazy paranoid neighborhood cop and the occasional taxi dropping strange looking people at the house accross the street-a more common occurence than you would suspect, which makes me suspicious. Unfortuately I had already made it to bed the other night when the nosy policeman (ok-I know he's being nice mom, I'm just being facetious ;) knocked on the door and got my mother out of bed to tell her the garage was open-for the umpteenth time. At least he didn't bang on the windows and scare the crap out of me and Traci this time though. Last time I think we answered the door with a baseball bat. Third: I have not been running at night like I do at school and when 8 or 9 PM rolls around I suddenly find myself with this burst of manic energy that I do nothing with-but write. Everyone else has gone to bed, it's dark and scary outside and the treadmill is possessed, so what else can I do? Then I try to go to bed and I'm jittery and buzzing with unused physical energy, so of course I can't sleep. Fourth: Possible sleep apnea? Fifth: A case of extreme fear of abandonment. This is the first time I have EVER had my own room in my life, and not hearing another person breathing in the room scares me to peices. I have begun to play music while sleeping. Sixth: Lack of faith? Seriously-if it's fear keeping me awake, is my faith not strong enough? How do I fix this? I don't seem to be able to talk myself out of it. Reading scriptures only makes the strange dreams more complicated, because then I'm adding characters in from them. Example: The other night I think Katie Gerke went out with Nephi but the main character from my story showed up at the restaurant and tried to steal him away from her when suddenly a character from the book I'm reading showed up and exposed her to be a spy. Then I suddenly was her and I was running for my life and ended up jumping off a cliff. But of course I woke up before I hit the ground. Did I evaporate? (only funny if you've read the story-sorry) Am I now in the eternal kingdom? I don't know.

Well, that segways into a few other key parts of my life for the past month. The first, obviously being YSA. I've been having a lot of fun with the YSA here and love being back with old friends. There have been games, late nights of craziness, easter egg hunts, temple trips, portland trips and bonfires. I can't wait for the beach trips to begin :D I have only two pictures though, and they are from the week Hannah Zabriskie came home to visit. We (YSA group) were all at a Music Comedy thing after a temple trip. It was a blast. Hannah took these two pictures and then I played with them :) the left is just me haha and below is me and Katie Gerke.

I also must say I had a fantacular time when Bri and Grant came to visit a few weeks ago during the break in semesters. I knew they were coming but to everyone else it was a surprise, and I must say, I kept the secret very well. Bwahaha. Bri took some pictures that night and I messed with them too, so I'm posting them.

As for what I'm doing in terms of a job...I'm looking lol. Probably not as hard as I should be, but I will look much harder after coming home from summer vacation to Bear Lake I think-I'm very upset at the prospect of missing it. I had a close thing with Panda Express but I think I was over qualified...when she asked about me speaking Chinese and knowing Sign Language she looked at me like I was nuts and said "why are you applying here?" Ya. Not a good sign. I really just need to make money, I don't care where and I don't have time for a huge commitment-I'll only be here for a year and 3 months and then I'm off on a mission :) Yay!

Lastly, I will put a teaser on my blog. For the story, of course. It's about an international double spy with special abilities, but that's all I can tell you. I'll put the prologue on, and hopefully eventually publish it as a book and then anyone can read it ;)

Eye

Prologue

The steps are stone. I know they must be frigid in this icy weather, but I do not feel it. I am colder.

Blonde today. Like the beam of morning sunlight peeking through the oppressive black clouds above me, I am supposed to give the impression, the promise, of warmth and welcome. Like that deceiving ray of light, I am naught but an illusion of hope to the people who will meet me today. Behind the sky blue irises that lend interest and vulnerability to my expressions, my eyes are black. Completely, wholly and unerringly black. It is fitting.

They call me Eye. It is a multifaceted pun. First there are my eyes, which I am told are striking. I do not know if it is meant that they are beautiful or simply that they are truly disarming. This may not have earned me the nickname, had they not also become my trademark tool. They can be used for such marvelous deception. Eyes can evince laughter, fake fear and tears, portray innocence and play with the heart. No one who has watched me work could deny that they are my sharpest weapon. Secondly is of course a reference to my being a spy. The irony is that both sides use versions of the same silly epithet. However, the third and most likely reason for my title is that I am the Eye. I am that false belying calm that is found after one believes the chaos and terror to be over. I am trusted and welcomed, cherished and praised for the hope I bring. They send me in to comfort, tease and trick the way to an astucious victory. It is impossible to consider me the traitor, the source of the sudden downpour found after my disappearance. I was the hand of friendship, I laughed with you, cared for you, even loved you. Obviously, you are wrong about that. I was merely a magnificent mirage that you will never discover. I am the Eye of the Storm.

Enough introspection. I must remain focused, my task here is imperitive. Not only to the Americans and their hopeless quest for...well, whatever it is they want, world dominance perhaps, but to my own security. If I do not convince these politicians to accept the ten year peace pact I carry, I will have failed the most essential assignment given to any covert dispatch in the last century. In the service of this country anyhow, my career would be ended. Half my income, up in smoke.

Would I be a loyalist then, if I worked for only one master?

NO. Never. I feel the iron wall slam down on the thought before it is even fully formed. I will belong to no one. I have no alligiance. They are right to call me the Eye. No man can tame a storm. A twisters' winds are impervious to human emotion, to the millions of voices screaming for its ceasing, to the suffering and destruction left in its wake. All one can do is enjoy the beguiling calm of the eye. To bask in the breif glimpse of the sun the eye allows you. You are a fool to believe the eye will protect you though. The peace will end with the coming of more bitter times than you have yet known, and the eye will move on to other victims. It does not feel, it does not care, and it does not remember. I do not have a heart. I cannot have a heart.

Drawn to a Close :'(

2009-04-11T06:55:00.008-07:00

This has been my last week in my last semester at BYUI for a long while. It has been very emotional saying goodbye to everyone and everything. I have changed and learned so much while I've been here, and now I feel that a chapter in my life is closing. I am excited to go onto the new things in my life, but it is a bittersweet feeling. I have been more attatched to my roommates these last two semesters (they were nearly all the same) than I have ever been to anyone besides my very closest of friends at home. They have helped me grow in ways I didnt know I needed to and became some of my closest confidants. I am going to miss them dearly. I thought I would post our roommate pictures from the end of this semester, and after I finish it I will add the farewell movie/slideshow I made for them.

Chinese Final! :D

2009-04-08T13:34:00.014-07:00

This week is finals week up at BYUI and my favorite final to do by far was for my Chinese 102 class. We got to write out a skit and make a video :) My group was the only one to actually do a video instead of a soundtrack, but it was the funniest and got the highest grade because of it. I was so excited about it (and it's hilarious, even if you don't speak Chinese) that I decided to put it on here. I know however, that many of you will get very frustrated that you do not understand it, so I'm putting the script down here in English :) lol

DAY 1

Hello?

Hello is this Kaylee?

This is her.

Tomorrow the weather is going to be nice, so I'm going to the beach. I was wondering if you wanted to come?

I definitely want to go! How will we get there?

I'll drive my jeep. I'll pick you up tomorrow at one.

See you tomorrow!

See ya!

DAY 2 SCENE 1

Hello!

Hello! I brought my other two friends Rachel and Connie!

Ah Hello!

Please Come in, come in!

Thankyou :)

Sure sure

Oh, I really want to move into an apartment like this, could we have a tour?

Sure, no problem

Uh...where's your bathroom?!

Oh! It's right here next to the bedroom.

*whispered conversation*=Ugh, my boyfriend is just being sooo difficult. ans: aww, Im sorry, men are...

Does your apartment have a kitchen?

It does, it's just opposite this sitting room we're in.

I like kitchens, do you mind if I go have a look?

Of course, go ahead!

Hmmm...do you have a dining room?

Sort of, in the kitchen there is a table and four chairs

RACHEL enters: You're apartment is so tidy!

Thankyou :)

Uh...now we really must go.

DAY 2 SCENE 2

Ah, the seashore is so beautiful!

Look, there is a ship!

We have arrived. I want to swim!

Wow, she swims very good, she's extremely fast...

...

Hey do you guys want to play volleyball?

I want to! That sounds awesome!

Sweet! Us two will be on a team over here.

...Oh no are you ok?!

I'm good, I popped right back up :D

Now I want to go shopping

Oh, there's a shopping center just a little ways up to the right of the beach

We'll walk. let's go!

DAY 2 SCENE 3

What do you want to buy?

I want this yellow shirt!

You like that color yellow???

Oh honey, that color yellow will just make you look fat. Throw it out.

Uh, ya. I really want this black shirt, but there's no price on it.

Here, I'll go ask the store clerk

Ah thankyou

I'm super hungry. Do you guys wanna go eat something?

Oh ya, me too! I want Chinese food!

You're shirt is twenty dollars

Oh good, thats pretty cheap! Im gonna buy it!

Hey are you guys hungry?

I am!

Me too!

DAY 2 SCENE 4

Do you guys know what you want?

I do! I want a coke, a bowl of soup, of plate of steamed rice with sweet and sour chicken, and four potstickers.

Mmm...sounds good. I also want a bowl of soup and four potstickers, but I dont like coke or sweet and sour chicken. Instead I want a cup of juice, a plate of pork and four springrolls.

Can I see the menu?

Ya, here

Thanks

No problem. I also want a glass of juice. I dont want soup, but I would like a plate of ribs and a good desert.

Ugh. I just want a plate of salad. I want my boyfriend to like me.

Oh ya? Well, I also want six potstickers. :p

Look here, the waiters coming

Oh good. I'll order

....So whose footing the bill?

I dont have any money

Well Im not paying

Why, dont you have money?

Oh, I have money, but I am NOT paying for all of this.

Well all I ate was a salad! Im definitely not paying for all this!

Fine.

DAY 3 SCENE 1

Hello?

Hey! How are ya?

I'm good and yourself?

Not too bad, yesterday was so fun!

Oh ya it was! So much fun!

Are you busy tomorrow?

I'm way busy! I'm throwing a birthday dance party for my big brother! You want to come?

Sure, I'll definitely be there! When is the party?

It's tomorrow evening at six

Hello?

Huh? Who is that? Oh! Is this Kaylee?

Ya, it's me

How are you?

Not too good. I'm kinda sick, I have a bad headache and a cough

Have you seen the doctor?

I have, he gave me some meds.

Hey Kaylee, tomorrow Im having a party for my brothers birthday at six, wanna come?

Ya thanks!

Hey, I want to come too!

Come come!

I'll bake a cake for him! See you all there tomorrow! bye!

Very good, bye!

bye!

Hello? Hello? uh....

DAY 3 SCENE 2

Hey guys, thanks for coming!

You're welcome! Lets dance! woohoo!

THE END

+ Bloopers :)

The Best Essay Ever!

2009-04-01T10:24:00.004-07:00

Okay, so I had to write this research paper for the final for my online English class. The class is junior level and it's Advanced Research and Publication, so we write to specific scholarly journals (within the class, not literal published ones) as well as function as the editors of a scholarly journal for which we made up the rules, regulations, mission statements, etc. Anyways, for my research paper (10-12 pages) I wrote to a journal called Kalology which centered around the aspects of beauty found in literature. I decided to write mine on several ancient peices of literature (of course, I keep trying to tie everything in to my major and future profession since that's really what I need to know-which I intend to be a professor of ancient history) and what they viewed as beautiful. I came out with the BEST ESSAY EVER. Hahaha, it was so much fun to write and turned out so well (they hardly even edited, mostly just made comments about the things that shocked them and how it kept them interested in a subject (ancient history) that they had never even been able to stay awake in before lol, and they accepted it as their featured article-which is very very good lol) that I decided to post it on here. I know I might be being ridiculous and concieted, but I am extremely proud of it lol so I need to share it.

Before reading it, you will understand better if you read this note I sent to the editors with the last submission.

Dear Editors of Kalology,

Hahaha, thank you very much ;) I really really enjoyed reading your comments on my paper.

The only question I did not answer in the paper is whether Gilgamesh and Enkidu were actually supposed to be lovers because they were two men. The answer is yes, this is the first documented case of a gay relationship in human writing that we have. The sad thing is, it is also the oldest writing we have found, older even than the Bible (whose beginning was not actually written until several generations after its occurence) which proves that same-sex relations have been a temptation to people for all of human memory. However, because I am writing this paper here at BYUI and for our obvious religious reasons it would probably be inappropriate to dwell or explain this in this paper, I chose not to include this information. I took out the word lover as well, and just left it as a friendship. I hope this is all right with you.

Thankyou for taking the time to read and edit my paper! This has by far been my favorite to write this semester. Because I intend to be a professor of ancient history, it was very much like peicing together a lecture and I was excited about the process as well as the opportunity to relate several of my favorite stories in a way I had not really considered before.

I hope all is going well with you and I wish you the best of luck on your finals :)

My Sincere Thanks,

KristiAnne Atkinson

Ok, Now Here is the paper ;)

An Ancient Perception of Beauty

A wild man and a ferocious king, tamed by the bonds of friendship and love, journey in search of a means to eternal life so they can enjoy their new love forever. The woman famed as so beautiful it is believed no man can resist her, runs from her husband with her princely lover and begins the most infamous war of all time. Majestic queen Nefertiti sits upon a golden throne and controls the greatest kingdom on the Earth while her husband the Pharaoh sings praises to her beauty. A cunning young princess seduces a great and powerful man, winning his arm and might for herself. In the doomed city of Troy, love blossoms as a stalwart young man with curly brown locks stares deep into the eyes of a young maiden with golden hair and silken skin and promises an eternity he does not have.
All these ancient visions of beauty were so renowned and venerated that they have echoed through the ages of time until they are well known even to modern civilizations in the twenty-first century. However, though the stories all share the fame of beauty, none of their portrayals of the quality are the same; all show different perceptions of the characteristic. Though the citizens of the ancient civilizations of Sumer, Greece, and Egypt (from whence these stories come) placed great value on corporeal beauty, they also recognized the beauties of inner resolve, peace, family, destiny, power, religion and nature. Just as the faces and definition of beauty in our age are versatile and wide-ranging, they were multifaceted in ancient times as well.
The most ancient writing that has been found is from the civilization of Sumer, believed to be the first large civilization of humankind. A story has survived from these ancient people of their first king, who built the walls of their city Uruk and was believed by the Sumerians to be the most beautiful and knowledgeable man who ever lived. “What Gilgamesh learns in the course of the epic is enough to make him famed as ‘He who saw everything to the ends of the land, / Who all things experienced, considered all!’” (Wolff, 392). The Sumerians saw him as the beginning of true civilization, the first source of knowledge, and the father figure of their culture.
The beauty of Gilgamesh lies not only in his physical appearance, but also in his accomplishments and experiences. His appeal lies in his being able to keep living after mortal heartbreak and keep growing, changing, learning and ruling the people with a kind and generous hand. However, he had not had such a wonderful character or a great reputation as a young king. In his youth, his physical beauty is described to be quite great but marred by his terribleness. He raped every young woman of the kingdom before he gives her to her husband on her wedding day; he terrorizes his people and taxes them heavily, always making himself the first priority. Yet, despite his awfulness, even the immortal cannot resist his great charms and thus he remains the great king of the people. “The goddess Ishtar caught sight of him/ she saw how splendid a man he was, her heart was smitten/ her loins caught fire” (Gilgamesh, 130). In youth he was the ultimate heart-stopping stud, but he used his ‘power’ to the detriment of his people, rather than the benefit.
It was his substantial beauty and power (which were a direct result of his size, strength, and physical appearance) that attracted the god’s attention and gave them cause to form a distraction for him. Thus Enkidu was created, a wild man who became Gilgamesh’s greatest friend. “The wild man [Enkidu] whose life began on the steppe had the inclinations and powers of an animal, and this nature of his does not change in the epic. Gilgamesh, on the other hand, does change, for he is severely affected by Enkidu’s presence and subsequent loss” (Wolff, 392). Both men are described as beautiful in their fierceness and for a while they ruled the kingdom (bringing great fear to the people) together.
However, they then decided that their lives were so great and wonderful and their love so strong that it should last forever. They went on an epic journey in search of a flower whose juice would allow them to have eternal life. Though they find the flower, it is destroyed before they can partake of it. They return home and Enkidu dies of disease picked up on their journey. On his deathbed Enkidu makes a speech to Gilgamesh which captures the beauty of their tale, in revealing that though they did not attain a way to keep their hearts beating forever, man can be immortal in the memories of those he leaves behind him. “Then Enkidu said to Gilgamesh/ ‘You who have walked beside me, steadfast/ through so many dangers, remember me, / never forget what I have endured’” (Gilgamesh, 149). The epic poem argues that though man may never find a way to live forever, if he is loved and remembered by those he leaves behind him his life as been full and worth living.
The other great theme of beauty in the ancient epic tale is the reformation of Gilgamesh and the way in which he lives the rest of his life. In respect for and memory of his most beloved friend, Gilgamesh morphs himself into a good king who cares for his people and rules them with wisdom and love.
Enkidu serves, then, as an example of the hero who wins the fame but dies early and miserably; what is the use, the poet seems to ask, in such a life? Gilgamesh, on the other hand, demands to known how to put a stop to death, since it has meant for him the end of youth, love, and the careless fulfillment of every desire…Gilgamesh who refuses point-blank to accept the face of death can also come home, a sadder and wiser ruler, to a quiescent life in Uruk (Wolff, 392-393).
The argument of the epic is that true beauty is not the quick flame of a powerful and heroic life that is snuffed out early, as was so popular in the ancient world. Rather, lasting beauty is in a life that truly makes a difference in the world, a heart that can change and the attainment of knowledge. Age and wisdom are considered more beautiful and worth attaining than youth and material beauty in the epic of Gilgamesh. This theme would be repeated in many other ancient works, particularly those of Homer detailing the Trojan War and the Greek hero Achilles.
The epic poem first written down by the ancient Greek, Homer, 500 years after the supposed actual occurrence of the Trojan War begins with the introduction of the fated Achilles as a fierce young warrior (Thompson, 35). “Rage-Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles / murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses / hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, / great fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion, / feasts for the dogs and birds” (Iliad Book I lines 1-5). In a culture where war was central to manhood and to their very lifestyles, where entire cities raised their children as wards of the state-trained for war from the moment of their birth, Achilles is cast as the ideal shining Greek warrior (Thompson, 36). For a man, the greatest beauty one could achieve in the ancient Greek culture was to be the greatest on the field of battle.
Achilles’ celebrated beauty also comes from his ephemeral yet brilliant life, sacrificed for the honor of his country. He lived with great passion and Homer describes him as the idyllic ancient Greek youth, the dashing adolescent warrior that every young man should be. This made his death more touching and the melancholy of his short life more poignant to Homer’s ancient audience. His is the first celebrated and immortal story told of a soldier dying for the sake of his homeland, a tale that is captivating and emotional to audiences even today (Iliad).
While the ideal life for a man was that of a warrior in ancient Greece, women won honor and fame in very different manners. The notoriety and reputation of the Greek queen Helen in the ancient world was pervasive and omniscient. Everyone in the land of Greece and its neighbors knew of the overwhelming beauty of the exquisite lady. Like ivy that strangles every other flower in the field, the image of the effervescent and lovely Queen Helen pushed the desire for any other woman from the minds of thousands of the ancient males, and drew the attention and passionate pursuance of several of the most powerful men in the ancient world (Worman, 151).
Her seduction, as depicted by the ancient Greeks, was so powerful that it made men forget about every other quality that was beloved in womankind. According to Thompson, the most valued trait of a woman to the ancient Greeks was that of loyalty, and it was this dire characteristic that Helen most visibly betrayed (Thompson, 37). Yet even in ancient Greek art, Helen’s forsaken husband Menelaus is portrayed as so enchanted with her beauty that in the end of the war he forgets her disloyalty and again pursues her for his lover. On a vase found and dated to ancient Greece this irony is rendered: “Menelaus meant to use his sword on Helen, since he had pulled it out of its sheath, but now he has a different intention. It is hard to think of a motif in ancient Greek art that more effectively depicts a character changing his mind” (Hedreen, 156). Helen is remembered still for her powerful and influential beauty, as the “face that launched a thousand ships” (The Phrase Finder).
Despite Helen’s popularity, the woman who embodies true perfection in a beautiful woman to the ancient Greeks is found not in the tale of the Iliad, but in Homer’s other epic poem detailing the life of the Greek hero Odysseus: the Odyssey. The ancient Greeks revered Penelope (the wife of the hero Odysseus) as the most loyal, steadfast, faithful woman in existence. Not only did she wait two decades for her husband to return from the war but also during that time she fought off the pursuit of hundreds of suitors who were eating her and her family out of house and home during that time (Homer: Odyssey). She was loyal throughout endless trials and separations from her husband and the Greeks honored and praised her for her faithfulness, calling her the most ‘fair and glorious woman in all Greece,’ (Odyssey, 314).
A woman of like reputation was celebrated in Ancient Egypt. The Egyptians titled Queen Nefertiti, wife of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, as the most beautiful woman in the world, indeed, as the most beautiful woman to have ever lived (Nefertiti Biography). While it was her obviously striking physical beauty that won the attention of the Pharaoh and captured the imagination of the Egyptian people, it was her life-style, influence, and morals that kept them. With her husband Nefertiti had the most individualistic reign of any Egyptian royals to their time. The art depicting them uses a different, more subtle, gentle and realistic style than previous Pharaohs had been shown, and real life emotions are shown. They are constantly depicted as a loving family with babies, smiles and even awkwardness rather than poise, power and physique as were the norm for royal portraits (Davies, 1). It is unknown as to whether Akhenaten treated his wife as his equal partner because of her beauty or for his own strange dissimilar beliefs and attitudes. No matter the reason, Nefertiti had more power and influence than any Egyptian queen had ever had before. Together Akhenaten and Nefertiti changed the perspective and worship of the Ancient Egyptian people and their reign was marked as the most peaceful and happy time the nation had experienced (Nefertiti Biography).
The next Egyptian woman to come any where near the power that Nefertiti enjoyed was also celebrated for her beauty, however she used her position (as a princess) and seductive physicality to blackmail and beguile her way to a rise in political power. Cleopatra is one of the most famous female figures of all time; even today her story is recited, played and analyzed. Her beauty and enterprisingly audacious spirit have inspired countless playwrights, authors and songwriters throughout the centuries since her lifetime. Even Shakespeare wrote an account of her tale. It is in the performance and understanding of these plays that we relate Cleopatra’s seizing of power to her femininity and beauty. In her article “The Unlacing of Cleopatra,” Doris Adler mentions that the audience watching Cleopatra on played on stage was meant “to see Cleopatra’s lace as her snare, to see the lacio, or enticement, that etymologically underlies ‘delight,’ ‘delicate,’ and ‘delicious’” (Adler, 451). It was her beauty that allowed her to seduce Marc Antony and keep him under her spell and in her power for so long. It was her beauty that allowed her to become the most powerful woman in the ancient world. It was her beauty that kept her immortal in the memory of humankind for centuries after her decease.
Another perception of beauty held by citizens in the ancient world can be seen in the tale of Troilus and Criseyde. This epic love poem has been written and rewritten in all of the romantic languages since its inception after the Trojan War. Though it was originally written and performed in Italian, the English poets Chaucer and Shakespeare wrote the versions most known to the world today. The beauties these poets wrote of and evinced in the story of the star-crossed lovers in Troy, were firstly and most importantly love, then loyalty and dedication and lastly the least important (yet still constantly mentioned) physical beauty (Wimsatt, 203).
If one has read Chaucer’s version of the story it is hard to forget the scenes of physical intimacy between Troilus and Criseyde that are so prolific in his writing. This is of course one of the principal reasons the poem has remained both so controversial and so well remembered in the literary world. The descriptions of Troilus’ beautiful dark eyes melting away the will of Criseyde, the details of Criseyde’s trim figure—lingering on her inviting white legs, the recounting of the passion and emotion the lovers experienced; all are manifestations of the beauty the ancients, and the poets who wrote about them, found in the act of physical love, the human body and in the innocence of the love of youth (Helterman, 14).
While the epic love poem (the oldest recorded love poem to have survived to our day) contains many different manifestations and perspectives of beauty, it is the enduring and transforming love of Troilus for Criseyde that is the focal and central portrayal of beauty. Troilus goes through all the stages of love and each are examined for their own beauty. The first is of course infatuation, when young Troilus is constantly consumed with the image, appearance, manners and his fantasies of the fair war widow Criseyde. It is here we see the blocking of all faults from the mind of a lover, the ability to see only the good and beauty in a person that the ancients found so appealing, especially in the love of the young. The next stage is when Troilus actually becomes Criseyde’s lover and their feelings for one another are consummated. It is the beauty of connection, devotion and submission to one another, the letting go of the public face and trusting oneself heart and soul to another, that the authors (there are several different versions, but all have this in common) dwell on as the beauty within this stage of the relationship. The third stage is both the most beautiful and the most melancholy. In this love of self is put in second place to love of one’s partner. The lover is able to see past every fault and betrayal of the object of their devotion, to love them for who they are simply because they are that person and none other. It is true love and absolute devotion…. and Troilus experiences it alone (Helterman, 16).
Because her father is a traitor to the Trojan people Criseyde is constantly shunned by other women and put on a political pedestal by the men of Troy (for remaining faithful to her homeland when her father has not, and for supporting her husband before his death fighting against the Greeks) she experiences constant struggle in her spirit. She loves her father and misses him terribly; she does not understand this strange war and the ripping apart of her family and her life.
It is in this unstable frame of spirit that Troilus and the infamous Pandarus, Criseyde’s uncle or cousin (depending on the version of the story) who could basically be called the pimp of the relationship because he pushes Criseyde at Troilus and does everything in his power to make sure that Troilus gets some action, find the strikingly beautiful Criseyde. She is vulnerable and alone, and is easily seduced with the attention, devotion and passion Troilus lavishes upon her. She becomes his lover and is an equal partner in the second stage of the relationship, loving him with passion and hope.
However, when her father comes for her, trading a highly revered warrior who has been a prisoner of war to the Trojans, Criseyde has no choice but to leave her beloved city and her adored lover behind. In the camp of the Greeks, things are difficult for a woman with so much compassion. She cannot stand to see the pain and loneliness of the men around her and she soon succumbs to the pressure of seduction from a man (in most versions this is Troilus’ arch-enemy in battle, and she cares for him and is seduced in the action after he receives a grievous injury from Troilus in battle) in the Greek camp. In certain versions, she even agrees to be the camp ‘woman’ and spend the night with any soldier in need of great loving.
While this is shocking and appalling to women in modern times, there is no evidence in the writing of the poets who told Criseyde’s story that they found any fault with her decision at all. It was merely fate, it was tragic for Troilus, who continued to love her, but it was because of the beauty and softness of womanhood that such a thing could happen. Beauty was found in women for their submissiveness, gentleness and compassion. Loyalty was by far the most revered of traits for a woman, but the loss of it did not completely destroy the image of Criseyde’s beauty in the eyes of the poets. “Criseyde [is] suggested not only as an object for our pity, but…for our approval and affection” (Cook, 533). The poets meant the readers to love her, to feel the great sorrow in her loss and the war that necessitated it, to have compassion for a woman who had so little control over her life yet lived with all the concern for others she was able.
The beauty the poets found in the character of Criseyde however, has not been shared by many of their readers throughout the centuries. “Strange perversions of the story, tending to the disparagement of Criseyde, began almost in her creator’s lifetime, and have been repeated and enlarged upon down to the present day. She has been accredited with a versatility in vice…” (Graydon, 141). The character of the lonely woman who gave in to seduction and then abandoned her lover for another seduction has been ripped apart, scorned and hated by countless readers since the story’s inception. Even Shakespeare took great dislike to the woman and in his version of the story cast Criseyde (who he renamed Cressida) as little more than a seductive whore. Reading Shakespeare’s version and little else modern readers never find the beauty in the character. They come up with descriptions like the following, which cast her in the worst light and show neither compassion nor feeling on her part or for her situation. “The heroine is a wanton. Ulysses reads her at a glace and finds ‘language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out at every joint and motive of her body.’ He sets her down at once as ‘a daughter of the game,’ and at every opportunity the foul-mouthed Thersites corroborates this description” (Rollins, 383). The ancient writers did not find such scorn in Criseyde, and thought her as beautiful as woman can be. They found beauty in Troilus’ ability to continue to love her after all hope for a faithful relationship or even a physical reunion was past. The ancient Greeks and Italian’s who wrote the epic story found beauty in love.
The inhabitants of the ancient nations of Sumer, Greece, and Egypt found beauty in all things to do with love. Love that changes people, love that changes the world, love that could give the beholder all their desires and power beyond imagination, and most especially eternal love that could not be destroyed even in the worst of circumstances. These ancient peoples knew beauty to be an aspect of love, a reaction to it and its design. They wrote their stories and histories of love and its effects on their world with great passion and fervent adulation. They found beauty in every aspect of loves consequence in their world. In these polytheistic nations the gods of love may not have always been the most powerful or the most highly worshipped gods, but they were often the favorites. Many of the ancients’ stories contain plots which center around the doings of the love gods.
The very best example of this comes from the Ancient Greeks. The story of the Iliad in fact begins long before the tale of Achilles, when a contest between the beauties of the goddesses took place on Mount Olympus. Young Paris (the prince who took Queen Helen from her home) who was considered the most beautiful of mortals was selected to judge between the goddesses. Each offered him a bribe to pick them as the most beautiful of the gods. Paris chose Aphrodite, the goddess of love, winning for himself the most beautiful woman in the world, whom Aphrodite promised would fall madly in love with him. Thus the plot of the Trojan War begins, and Aphrodite continues to play a central role in the happenings for the continuation of the tale (Thompson 29).
Love was everywhere to these writers and the beauty of its influence could be found in every situation they encountered. They admired the ability of love to influence people beyond the power of any other emotion. To the ancients, love was beauty and beauty was love. The two were interchangeable. Even the ugliest of circumstances, people, and lives could be transformed into beautiful tapestries on the loom of the human story, with the interweaving of love.

Works Cited

Primary/Literary Sources
Chaucer, Geoffrey. Troilus and Criseyde. Trans. Barry Windeatt. U.S.: Oxford University Press,
2009. “Cleopatra Vii Biography.” Encyclopedia of World Biographies. 2 March 2009

Gilgamesh. Trans. Stephen Mitchell. New York: Free Press, 2004.
Homer. Iliad. Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 1990.
Homer. Odyssey. Trans. Robert Fagles. New York: Penguin Books, 1990.
“Nefertiti Biography.” Encyclopedia of World Biographies. 2 March 2009.

Shakespeare, William. Troilus and Cressida. Ed. Dr. Barbara E. Mowat and Paul Werstine.
Washington D.C.: Washington Press, 2007.

Secondary Scholarly Sources
Adler, Doris. “The Unlacing of Cleopatra.” Theatre Journal, vol. 34, no. 4 (Dec., 1982): 450-466.
JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Brown, A.S. “Aphrodite and the Pandora Complex.” The Classical Quarterly, New Series, vol.
47, no. 1 (1997): 26-47.
Cook, Albert S. “The Character of Criseyde.” PMLA, vol. 22, no. 3 (1907): 531-547. JSTOR. 2
March 2009
Davies, N. de Garis. “Mural Paintings in the City of Akhetaten.” The Journal of Egyptian
Archaeology vol. 7, no. ½ (Apr., 1921): 1-7. JSTOR. 2 March 2009
Graydon, Joseph S. “Defense of Criseyde.” PMLA, vol. 44, no. 1 (Mar., 1929): 141-177.
JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Hedreen, Guy. “Image, Text, and Story in the Recovery of Helen.” Classical Antiquity, vol. 15,
no. 1 (Apr., 1996): 152-184. JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Helterman, Jeffrey. “The Masks of Love in Troilus and Criseyde.” Comparative Literature, vol.
26, no. 1 (Winter, 1974): 14-31. JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Rollins, Hyder E. “The Troilus-Cressida Story from Chaucer to Shakespeare.” PMLA, vol. 32,
no. 3 (1917): 383-429. JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Thompson, Diane P. The Trojan War. Jefferson: McFarland and Company, Inc., 2004.
Wimsatt, James I. “Medieval and Modern in Chaucer’s Troilus and Criseyde.” PMLA, vol. 92,
no. 2 (Mar., 1977): 203-216. JSTOR. 2 March 2009.
Wolff, Hope Nash. “Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and the Heroic Life.” Journal of the American Oriental
Society, vol. 89, no. 2 (Apr.-Jun., 1969): 392-398. JSTOR. 2 March 2009
Worman, Nancy. “The Body as Argument: Helen in Four Greek Texts.” Classical Antiquity, vol.
16, no. 1 (Apr., 1997): 151-203. JSTOR. 2 March 2009

Idaho Inspires...

2009-02-28T11:43:00.017-07:00

Traci, Bri, Mom and Dad basically this is for you. I have written three poems this year in Idaho (shockingly small amount I know-I've been busy lol) and they are rather...interesting. LOL. So I thought I'd put them on here just for fun so you can tell me what you think, I'd really like to know what anyone thinks they're about so even if your not my sisters or my parents feel free to drop a line. :D

The Violence of Lost Sight and Silence

I lost sight of the Sea,

The Passion of his depths.

His waves still whisper 'love me,'

with their every crashing breath

Yet I do not hear he,

Who will be my evening death.

He breaks the rocks in silence,

Thrashing power, Violence!

I lost sight of the moon,

the longing in his light.

Still he cries his haunting tune,

Mourning, cause he lost the night.

He cannot make me swoon,

He is no striking sight.

He keens his song in silence

Perhaps screaming, Violence!

I lost sight of the wind,

his powerful embrace.

Who with his torrents sinned,

when roughly he caressed my face.

Against that body pinned

I'd still feel naught but lace

And so he soars in silence

Though he's weeping, Violence!

I lost sight of the Earth,

his warm, intimate touch.

The deep rumbling of his mirth

no longer appeals so much.

Shaking his awesome girth

'til his molten sides I clutch'd

but to my ears in silence

he keeps laughing, Violence!

Escape?

I fly on wings of frozen steel

Through sleet that pounds like nails

Accross the icy land I feel

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

My lips are frosted blue with chill

And cannot kiss my love.

The crashing Arctic winds blow shrill

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Colored bleak and lonely mountains

Beneath my listless gaze

Remain unseen, forsaken titans

Ashen. Ashen. Ashen.

No pain, no sorrow visit me

I soar too high above

One thought and goal in mind let be

Away. Away. Away.

Blind Smiles

‘Hello, how are you?’
‘You’re pleasantly tan.’
‘She invited you?’
‘I’m in a band.’
‘I don’t believe you’
‘May I take your hand?’
‘What is with you?’
‘I don’t understand’
‘I could kill you.’
‘Who’s that man?’
‘I can’t believe you!’
‘Then he ran!’
‘Lawyer, are you?’
‘That’s what I’d planned’
‘Can I kiss you?’
‘Let’s play in the sand.’
‘He’s smiling at you.’
‘Well yes, and…?’

A New Do

2009-02-23T23:46:00.009-07:00

Those of you who I've told that I cut and dyed my hair have asked for pictures-so here they are! Enjoy ;)

The 25 Random Issues of Me ;)

2009-01-24T13:31:00.007-07:00

Alright, this is from one of those silly things that goes around emails and facebook, etc. but I actually enjoyed this one so I'm posting it here as a sort of diary thing of silly things about me at 19 that I don't want to forget ;)

1. My worst pet peeve is when no one says bless you after someone sneezes
2. I am not supposed to eat white flour and I am allergic to chocolate (but I eat it anyways ;)
3. I have been attacked by over 13 different types of birds...therefore, Big Bird is my worst nightmare
4. My worst fear is abandonment, my second worst fear is not being good enough
5. I am obsessed with rain, thunderstorms, rainbows and sunsets.
6. I am a VERY poor loser, and I am extremely competetive.
7. I have a big dog named Koda and we have contests in stepping on each others feet.
8. I would usually rather be singing and dancing than anything else
9. I am so obsessed with History and stories that I have decided to make them my life.
10. I love to cook and I usually get VERY dirty-for which I have somewhat of a reputation at home.
11. I tend to have extraordinarily blonde moments, do strange things and come up with wicked plans- which my best friends have officially titled "Kristi Moments"
12. One of these moments was when I jumped out of moving vehicle to save a Cheesecake. It was very yummy :D
13. I worry a lot and tend to make myself sick when I'm upset or stressed out.
14. I HATE every kind of soda except Jones Fufu berry and Sprite.
15. Nothing makes me happier than clown cones from Baskin , I just love them. I dont know why.
16. I read probably more than any human being ever should.
17. I was vegetarian for a year and now cannot eat hamburger or most types of beef w/o throwing up
18. When I'm angry or scared with/of a person I am very quiet and still.
19. I LOVE laughing, and I do it very loudly and sometimes it gets to the point where I cant control it.
20. My parents are the most amazing people I know.
21. Loyalty and trust are the values I treasure most and the ones I most try to live up to.
22. I have developed a recent addiction to running, but I MUST HAVE Music!
23. I am in my second semester of Mandarin Chinese and I want to go to China something awful
24. I can only do left splits any more (in my dancing days I could do all three :'( )
25. I have an obsession with wood carved things. Anything. Furniture, statues, houses, tiki poles, you name it, I usually love it. I know, Im a planet killer :'(

Home Away From Home

2008-12-11T16:08:00.007-07:00

We decided that since its the end of the semester we should probably take some good roommate/FHE Family pictures ;)
This first one is our last picture with Cate (who is actually an adopted member of our little family) before she leaves us forever for Arkansas forever! :'( We are going to miss her like the sun misses the flower! (name that movie! ;)

This next one is Brittany, Rachel and I just having some fun

And this is the Roommate Silly Picture. I am so sorry this semester is ending and we are losing our two copper tops/carot bottoms! They are so much fun, and so hilarious! This has been the most amazing semester ever and I love these girls to death!

And a nice one just for the heck of it:

This is our silly FHE Family picture, what a personality shot!

Aw, so sweet! We are also losing all but two of our boys-so sad! We will miss them too!

Turkey Time and Vacay!

2008-12-07T20:26:00.018-07:00

Visiting Bri and Grant was a blast! Almost all the food on the table for the Thanksgiving feast was microwavable :D Have I ever mentioned how much I love living in the 21st century?

I just had SO MUCH FUN staying with the Mather's over Thanksgiving break! Between searching for old recipes, spending days baking, spending nights on getaways with Edward ;) Black Friday shopping and playing with little Dawson and Easton I'm sure I also must have gotten some rest...hehehe

This is the day after going to the Twilight premeire...can you tell we were kinda tired? :D

Twilight Party

2008-12-07T19:51:00.015-07:00

We started the evening of the Twilight premeire Party with an excellent Karaoke performance, the one depicted staring Ms. MaKenzie with her super awesome back up singers.

Ah, the close ups :D ....Uh, I should prolly explain that Tenni's lovely new facial addition was not a gift from the Twilight party members but merely from an act of play with a friend in the basement that got a little carried away...and I seem to remember it involved a pool hockey table...

Party on girls!!! I was so shocked those two could sleep with all the noise we were making!

Abbie staring in the hot pants song...and then on the way to TWILIGHT!!! EEK!

Deck the Halls with Boughs of...

2008-11-15T01:26:00.003-07:00

We had so much fun tonight! Brittany, Cate and I went shopping in IF at the super Wal-mart for a Christmas tree for our apartment. (Cate is pretty much our live-in/adopted roommate) We found a 6 1/2 ft tall one for only $35, pre-lighted and everything, we were so excited! So we bought the tree and some ornaments and ribbon to go on it, grabbed some Christmas lights and went home to deck the halls! It took us forever, (and Dani was home, so she joined in the fun) but eventually we had the tree all decorated and the lights up around the railing (if you could see it up close, its VERY obvious that it was not done by any sort of boyscout, lol) and then our other roommates and some friends started showing up. So we pulled out the hot cocoa and had a regular Christmas get-together around the Christmas tree. It was so amazing, it felt almost like home!

It took us forever to do the railing! It's actually icicle lights and they got caught on everything! And then everytime Brit or Cate touched them whole sections would go out and we'd have to go through light by light until we found the one that needed tweaking. ;) Love you guys tho!

Yeah...I kind of forgot I was afraid of heights, until I was standing up on a stool and my head brushed the ceiling! From then on Brit took the stool jobs, lol.

We did close-ups at like 1AM, but Brit had already gone to bed cause she works at 6AM, so I put the picture of her by the tree instead. I love Christmas, Im so excited for the holidays!

The Essence of 504

2008-11-10T00:01:00.003-07:00

"I dont want to be liked, I want to be APPRECIATED!"

"Okay, we should talk about something mature...like childbirth!"

"Im in no hurry to do nothing."

"Im a man--SURPRISE!!!" (creepy deep man voice)

"Cookies solve everything...well, except weight problems :'( "

"There are children in Africa who dont have electricity because you guys use it ALL!"

"fuffin shupe."

"I can't make any life changing decisions when Im on my period!" (in panic-stricken voice)

"Unlike some people in this room, I like to keep my body-ness to myself." (with emphatic disdain)

"Dreams are like climbing Mt. Everest, not 'I want to milk a cow'!"

" 'I wish I knew because then I'd know exactly what to do!'
'Oh ya? What's that?'
'I HAVE NO IDEA!' "

"We're the broken people."

"Im not gonna lie-I tried to learn elvish."

"You never realize how big your butt is until you take your pants off and look at them."

"I have a confession to make, I didn't listen to anything you just said."

"Unless you wanna light some candles baby..." (creepy deep man voice)

Oh The Issues (On a Serious Note)

2008-11-09T17:53:00.004-07:00

It's true that living in Rexburg is very like living in a safe little buble free from the constant push of politics, persecution and issues that assult the rest of the church (and world) every day. However, in talking to family recently (as well as a small mention in church today) it has come to my attention that since Propisition 8 was passed there have been revolts and protests not only in San Francisco (where it would have actually affected the locals) but also in SLC at TEMPLE SQUARE. I have to tell you, I was shocked. I decided to look it up for myself and the first thing that came up was this: http://qsaltlake.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=870&Itemid=93 its an in your face organization and proclamation of the protests with no attempt to hide their hate and disregard for the church's right to stand up for their moral beleifs whatsoever. I do not understand how people who say they are trying to promote "love and acceptance" and protest "hate speech" can lead such cold-hearted protests and harrass people for trying to do what they think is right. This makes me so sad.
I am not unbiased, I know, I grew up a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and I beleive it with all my heart and know I always will. However, I am also a product of my generation and several of my very best friends growing up were outrageously gay. I have absolutely no discrimination against them whatsoever, I am still friends with most of them and I love them to death. That doesnt mean that I agree with what they are doing. I know they dont agree with my religion and they know I dont support their decisions. We still love each other. I beleive that we can live in harmony and peace together.

I have to say, being in Rexburg at BYUI, since Obama's election (esp) I keep hearing comments such as, "This is it, this is the end, the second coming is coming, everyone is going to burn, you better be ready." Well, perhaps this is true. But NO ONE knows when He is coming! Its not right to scare everyone to death and we shouldnt be living in fear. If we are living righteously and are personally prepared, we WILL be all right! No matter what comes. Unity in the church is absolutely essential right now. We need to support each other and love each other and be one is heart, mind and purpose. We must be Zion in the world of Babylon, Soddom and Gamhora. Our purpose is to spread the gospel, to LOVE God's children, to support one another and show the world the light of Christ. We cannot do this if we are the ones who are hating. Please do not react with hate and fear to the troubles that plague our world and our church right now! We are going to see horrible things yes, but wonderful ones as well! Miracles surround us even now, we have to look and we have to REMEMBER, we must have open hearts and open minds! Remember that if He is coming it is a WONDERFUL thing! If He is not then we have so much work to do in Zion to prepare for when HE does, we can't afford to let in hate, fear, anger, sadness and dissention! The separation of the righteous from the worldly is coming, we are going to have to decide once and for all Who's Side we are on. As Bri put it, "there is no longer going to be a middle ground...Who's On the Lord's Side Who?" Supporting His prophets that are ON THE EARTH TODAY, is essential to those who want to be on His side. Times are changing, the Devil is throwing in every bet, pushing forth every evil purpose, his effort is not waning and neither should ours! The church, and the disciples of Christ cannot sit idly by and pretend they dont notice. We have to try to protect ourselves, our families and our world from the wickedness, corruption, horror, and hate that pervade from every side! We have to put up our standard as Captain Moroni did and proclaim to the world and to Our Father in Heaven where we stand, what we will fight for and Who we are! Angels surround us, they will fight with us and they pray that we will have the courage to fight with them! We are NEVER alone, Remember that! I pray for all of you, and most especially for the children we will be raising in this world. I hope the Lord is with you in these troubled times, and that you are with Him. Keep the Faith, I love you.

My Bestest Friends in Idaho

2008-11-08T20:13:00.005-07:00

So these are just a few pics I forgot to upload from Halloween night and this is the only one I have of Cate and since she's like my Best Friend up here I didnt think it was too cool that she'd been excluded, lol. So this is me and Cate at the movie theatre :D

And this (left) is Cate and Brit (my other newer best friend who is also my roommate) at the theatre. When they are around each other their southern accents (Cate is from Arkansas and Brit from Tenessee) come out like no other, it is absolutely hilarious to listen to. The other day Cate asked me like 10X for the OA-EL, and I couldnt understand her to save my life. Finally she had to spell it out O-I-L, LOL, then Brit came in and Cate told her she needed OA-El and Brit goes oh ya? Are y'all fryin som-n, then? ROFL I about died. This weekend the three of us went and wandered around IF (Idaho Falls) it was way fun!

Blessings and Memories

2008-11-05T19:08:00.007-07:00

As most of you know I wont be going home for Thanksgiving this year, and although I know I'll have a good holiday where ever I end up going the thought has made me extremely homesick. I can't really express how much. So instead of focusing on that, I am counting my blessings everyday as a countdown to turkey day :D It is a trick to come up with something new everyday when I've listed everything I can think of already. ;) So for Bri (she is not going to Vancouver either, this will be both of our first Thanksgivings away from home) and me, I am posting an old poem of mine. I hope my family knows I am there with them in spirit for the holiday! I love you all and hope I see you for Christmas!

Memoria

I ride home on the sun as she sinks beneath the mountains,

And I remember laughter.

My tears dissolve on her flames

And I remember song.

I feel her warmth envelope me

And I remember hope.

I ride home on the sun as she sinks beneath the mountains,

And watch the golden clouds play visions of the living.

My sorrow is drowned in her happiness

And I watch the rivers wink a fond farewell.

I let her light surround me

And watch as the world dissappears in shadow.

I ride home on the sun as she sinks beneath the mountains,

And hear the sighs of children as they are laid to sleep.

My cries are lost in the sound of her music

And I hear the earth say good-bye in the sound of cicada's.

I am filled with the peace of the evening

And I hear the stars shout good morning to the moon.

I ride home on the sun as she sinks beneath the mountains,

And I feel the release of drifting into sleep.

My pain is forgotten in the dreams she leaves behind us,

And I feel the full force of her joy in the night.

I walk into her world of sunshine and silence

And I feel it has all been a dream...

All things Halloween

2008-11-01T00:07:00.012-07:00

This is my super awesome pumpkin :D
The design is a beast eating a butterfly,

it took me hours but it was worth it! It

turned out to be the best one I've ever

done! Yay for carrying on the traditions!

I didnt dress up to the nines this year, but I sure had fun in my fairy make up and dress (though I wore a sweatshirt over it cuz it was so cold! Pretty much Cate, Brittney and I got dressed up (they "dressed up" as in nicely, and I dressed up halloween ;) and went to dinner (Wendy's) and to see a movie at the dollar theatre then came home and watched The Santa Clause, it was a great night!

Jessica was my roommate who dressed up the most (that I got pictures of, Jenn was batgirl but she was out trick or treating with her neices and I didnt get any :( ) and she looked amazing! Our friend from next door (Kim) dressed up as Jessica for halloween.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

2008-10-28T11:11:00.009-07:00

Its starting to be a tradition for me to have face mask pictures with my roommates :D This was such a fun night! We watched movies and hung out in our pjs and facemasks. I love my roommates this semester, they are so sweet and we have so much fun together!

Basically My Life

2008-10-16T15:58:00.015-07:00

So, since most of you arent on facebook and havent seen my super awesome pictures from this semester at BYUI yet, Im putting them on here...with details. :D

This is the super awesome llama Kylee and I saw on the drive up. He was showing off with his hairy-furry self.

"Look at me and my bad self."

This is my beautiful room...the board has pictures of all of you :D

If you havent seen a Rexburg sunset, you havent lived.

"Dude, why do you have tampons in your boot?" "Cuz I get...really bad nose bleeds. Look,when it starts gushing you just pull it out, take off whatever that is and stick it right up there. It absorbs it right up!"

"Dude, your roommate's a freak!"

Jessica (left) and Jenn (right) reinvent the

term humor. In the lower right one of Jenn

you'll notice that she has fallen asleep in the sand, in the middle of the FREEZING ID night, not even very close to the bonfire.

Jenn could literally sleep ANYwhere.

This bonfire was HUGE, it was beautiful!

On the right is Brittney, she's my southern roomie and the boy is Cody, and FHE brother of ours who she is now dating.

Dani, to the the left, is a music major. On the right in the bottom picture is Rachel and she is my roommate who actually lives in my room. She is way fun and sweet, I love her to death!

That's it for now, I'll update some more later! Muah!