With Friends Like These

We have a great deal more kindness than is ever spoken.  In the still of the night it is the thoughts and prayers another says for your aching heart.  In the center of your joy it is the ones who bask in your light and share in your triumph.  In the chasm of time it is those who are ever present on your path.  Our lives, while perceived as short, are a series of moments that yawn out in the past and make up the intangible essence of our future, congealed together to form years, decades of existence.  It is not good for man to walk this earth alone; to help us endure this journey we have the rarest of gifts that can be given by another, friendship.

Each of our hearts will testify differently to what defines the value of a friendship.  Some will say it consists of the ever bubbling font of desire that wants nothing but the best for the other.  Some will claim it is lies in the capacity to feel sympathy and empathy for the other's lot in life or the compassion to make that lot theirs as well.  While others will assert it is the honesty that exists in that space; an honesty so bright and pure that it can even be spoken when the truth is the hardest to hear.  Surly all would agree that it consists of the mutual understanding of the scrubbed down essence of one's self and the trust that blossoms from it, enabling each the emotional support that can only be found therein.

While all can denote the generals, for the answer to what is the meaning of friendship, it lies within our hearts, because true friendship can only be felt, and not expressed.  The intimacy nurtured there is the fodder for our souls, allowing us to just love and be loved in return.  Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words.  It is the acceptance that comes on a consistent basis that makes out lives rich of color and full of vigor.

Of late, I spent days in the company of my oldest friend.  He knew me before I knew myself.  Upon the cusp of adulthood, I was brash and unrefined.  Yet, when I was new and friendless, Tass brought me in to his fold and gave me a warm place to blossom.  I wonder what has made our friendship endure while so many others fell by the wayside.  Our longevity is beauty; our relationship is the very essence of friendship.  Although not immutable, our endurance has proved that we are able to be there for each other at all times, ebb or flow, ups or downs, light or dark.  Being each other's friend has required understanding, which has shown me how to be sensitive.  Being each other's friend has called us to always give the benefit of the doubt, which has helped to mold my ability to allow love to overcome my pride.  Being each other's friend has compelled us to share unconditional acceptance of the true base of our beings.

While Tass is my oldest friend, there are so many others who have come into my life like a star aglow.  Lustrous and luminescent, each one has changed me in enduring ways and ameliorated my character.  Ranger showed me the joy of letting go of judgments and allowing myself to be love unconditionally.  Her openness gave me the bravery to allow myself to be open with others.  The Preacher gave me the courage to rebuild when I though all was lost and the bliss honesty can bring.  He challenged me to be more than was expected of me and to give more than was required.  Red taught me the value of self-examination, self-discovery, and the immense value of self-control.  She allowed me to open myself to new wonders and the importance to love yourself first.  Frankie challenged me to be better at all that I do no matter how small the task, to let go of my neurosis, and to see every situation from the other person's perspective.  His ability to show me ways I can elevate myself is a skill now so precious to me, I scarcely can imagine my progress to this point with out it.  The Peacemaker showed me how the utter value in being nice, and inspired me to emulate her.  Princess drilled into my consciousness that self-pity was of no value and had no place in a happy life.  Flip has demonstrated that others can accept you for all that you are, even the parts of yourself that you fear sharing the most.  His ability to create a zone free of judgement and ridicule that allows me to be so honest, that I am able to discover things about myself that would have been lost otherwise.

The value I place on friendship, I can liken to no other.  Each friend gives to me something so pure and essential that while it is not visible to the eye, it is always felt by my heart.  Although some have been lost along the way, the values and lessons they all have left with me will not be forgotten.  All are the rocks and rill that direct the path my flow goes.  They are those that make my burden lighter, the ones with whom trust is more than a word, the ones with whom who loyalty is freely given, the ones who accept the shortcomings, the ones who stand by you during your darkest days, the ones who can listen without just waiting for their turn to talk.  To all my friends out there, I want to thank you for the part you played and all that you are.  Thank you to those who understand my past, believe in my future, and accepts me just the way I am.  Thank you for just being you.

The First 100 Days

The first 100 days is a term that was first applied to my favorite president, Franklin D. Roosevelt. When FDR took office, the country was in financial ruins and he was tasked with pulling the country out of the Great Depression. Not only did he do so, but he did it all in the first 100 days of office. Fairly or not, all new presidents' first 100 days are graded against the spectacular things that FDR did with his. During this honeymoon period, new presidents try to harness the power of a successful campaign and use that political capital to implement their main programs and fulfill campaign promises. The first 100 days is often used as a yard stick for how the rest of a president's term will go, their ability flourish in their new roles, and sets the tone for the rest of their term.

Today marks the first 100 days I have lived in Vegas since the big move from Austin. While what I have done in the last 100 days is not shaping world politics or the US economy, I thought it rather fitting to see how my own First 100 days report card would read.

1) Artistic/creative - I must say I have defiantly improved in this area. While working 5 day week and having a hectic social life in Austin, I had little time to write. Since I now work nights and there is no one up at 4 am to chat with, I have been not only blogging more regularly, but also writing again. I am in the middle of writing two short stories and have been knocking around an idea for a third. In addition to the joy of actually putting pen to paper, I have also found that it has me paying closer attention to style and craft when I read and I now will find myself composing while I am doing nothing more than grocery shopping. Plus my graffiti habit has escalated since the move. That counts as creativity, right? Rating: Upgrade

2) Career - I love being a nurse. It is almost as much of who I am as being Mormon is. I know what a rarity it is to have found one's niche in life, but I was lucky enough to have done so. I learned to much while working in clinic, but as many of you know, I am and always was a hospital nurse. I crave the joy that comes after a crisis has passed and upon review, I knew exactly what to do. I love the stories I get to tell, I love seeing things normal people will never get to see, and I love, on the most human level, being there for people when they have nothing else. Even though this floor at this particular hospital was not what I had hoped for, the work is still essentially the same. Rating: Upgrade

3) Community - It is rather hard to say anything about this category because I am now working the night shift. No one holds political rallies, lets you walk shelter dogs, or judge toddler beauty contest in the middle of the night. Red was great at getting us out into our community and giving back, even if our service made it so I never want to ever paint another house as long as I live. Rating: Downgrade

4) Family - Last Sunday was Father's Day. Flip and I went out to my parent's house and had a feast fit for a Roman. Driving back home, I thought back to 10 years of holidays I spent at other people's houses, with their families. Christmas Eve and morning at Red's house with four rowdy brothers, birthday dinners at Frankie's with a dessert that was a well-deserved tradition, Thanksgiving at Princess' with the most tense football game of my life; all are priceless memories and made me feel so loved to have been part of that. The first time it was my awkward photos on the wall, my stories the parents told, the first time my parents got to meet a friend that was not from high school. It was the first time that I got to be on the giving side of the equation, and throughly enjoyed it. Rating: Upgrade

5) Financial - Well, while the move zapped all savings down to $60, my new job does pay more. The downside is that I work less, so the pay is only slightly better here. The bonuses I got for signing on to work for the company are what is going to push this category in a positive way. Also, I have been exposed to this whole 401K business which is supposed to make me a millionaire or something. I am not sure how that works, but assured it does. Rating: Upgrade

6) Fitness - I went down from going to the gym three times religiously to not even having a gym membership. While the sheer amount of dancing we do here has replaced my cardio, I have lost the definition I once had. I also strangely miss Frankie telling me to work for Kate arms, Megan Fox abs, and various other actresses body parts. Rating: Downgrade

7) Friends - I have been sitting here wondering what to say here. Austin has the advantage of ten years of my adult life, and the vast majority of my Mormon years. I could go to parties and see people who I had not seen forever and be right back where we were when we last saw each other, or I could see marrieds at Stake Conference with their three kids and remember when I went to their wedding. Here I am the new fish, the one who gets to meet everyone for the first time. I have met so many new people who are just as fun, and vivacious as my Austin friends. Trying to compare the two was nearly impossible, but in the end I realize just because I now live here and have made new friends, this does not mean I have lost my other friends, only added to them. Rating: Upgrade

8) Fun - Entertainment Capital of the World. Sorry Austin. Rating: Upgrade

9) Health - With the death of the gym, that sneaky little monster called asthma has popped back into my life. Some of you might remember that the reason I joined the gym in the first place was on the recommendation of my doctor who told me that running can increase my lung capacity and decrease my need for medication. Running three times a week had me medication free. Since I have been here I have had one full blown asthma attack in Huntington Beach and a close call while out dancing last week. My lung have spoken. Rating: Downgrade

10) Learning/intellectual - Getting re-certified in BLS, ACLS, PALS, NRP, TNCC and the CCRN, not to mention all the drugs I have not used in years has me doing more studying than I have done in quite a while. Don't worry about what all those letters mean, all they mean is you are going to be very, very safe next time you hang out with me. Rating: Upgrade

11) Personal relationships - How can nothing be greater than nothing? I guess since Vegas has 12 YSA wards, and Austin has 4 then Vegas has to take it. Rating: Upgrade

12) Spiritual - We are going to save this category for a later post. Stay tuned.

After the votes were tallied, Vegas wins with an 8 out of 11. Somedays are hard, and I really do miss the ease and comfort of Austin. I had a hard time making the decision to move, but when all is said and done, I really am happy here. Thank you to all my friends (especially Princess and The Peacemaker) back in Austin who encouraged me to make such a huge leap when I was so scared to even think about the possibility.

From Today to Yesterday

Tonight as I settled behind the wheel, I turned the on heater and as a blast of warm air bathed my face I caught a slight hint of that new car smell still hiding somewhere way back in the vents of my car. I had not smelled this smell in months. Slowly as I became accustomed to my car, climbing in and out everyday that smell faded from notice. But tonight I was falling back in time to the moment I opened my driver's side door for the first time on the car lot. The smell was so strong as it wafted out into the muggy night air. The memory is so sharp that the whole scene is laid out before me from the way the halogen lot lights changed the shade of my shirt, to the bite of my purse upon my shoulder, down to the way the bottom of my feet were slightly sticky against my plastic bottomed sandals.

Often one thing can be so associated with another that you don't even realize it is gone, or changed, or missing till something jolts you back to how it used to be. Long after the event has come or gone or the person has come in and left out of our lives the smell or taste of them is still sitting on your brain in intangible drops hidden beneath a tangled mass of years but when you come upon them they are poignant edifices of memory. Falling into one can conjure up a complex vision of the things you love, the things that make you who you are today, and the things you never want to lose.

This is how a song will come on my iPod and I will be insantly be transported back to an aisle of Target trying to decide between plum and purple nail polish. It is how I will almost be able to feel the warm beat of the sun upon the apple of my cheeks as I walked across campus towards home just by a the smell of freshly mowed grass. It is how a passages of a book will bring back the heaviness of heart from a time when the words were more than literature but reflected my own feelings. It is almost as if it was a short cut from today to then, from now to yesterday. A direct string that could pull me back to that very moment that my nose was full of a lover's perfumed skin or I felt the crackle beneath my hands of breaking ribs the first time I did CPR.

While some memories are vaulted to the front of our minds, most moments in our lives are ever so ephemeral; gone with a beat of a butterfly’s wings. Our lives are fluid and wash into the past second by second, lost forever. What is it that makes some moments go missing in the muck and mire of my memory, subject to the ravages of a corporeal vault, while others are so brilliant that they blaze when visited? I can tell you what Red will order at almost every restaurant in the greater Austin area, exactly where Flip left his flash drive, the very shade of deep azure blue The Preacher's eyes are, or the way Frankie clasps his hands and crinkles his left eye when he laughs, but cannot tell you how old I was when I learned to whistle, what my fourth grade teacher's name was, or a single pair of shoes I had before the age of 15. The mind chooses memories like a child collecting rocks. Some are chosen for their aesthetic value, some for their size, but most are chosen indiscriminately, plucked from obscurity and made special.

As calendar days flicker past, more of my life will slip between the thin pinch in the hourglass. Before I know it, most of my sand will have settled along the bottom. Reviewing my past, I will not be able to remember days, but will only be able to remember moments. My life available for recall at an instant when the most amount of memories will be at my disposal. While my mistakes and regrets will surely come to mind, I hope there will be memories that will warm the cockles of my heart, memories that I cannot even list here because the best is yet to come. Those memories will be the sum total of who I am, for good or bad because even at the end the past is never dead.

First Vegas Update

I know I have not been posting as regularly as many of you would like. The move became all encompassing, and it was hard to make time for anything, let alone reflection. I have gotten several requests for new posts to keep everyone updated on what is going on in with me right now. Being the good friend that I am, with some extra time on my hands, I thought I would oblige.

I arrived in the valley on March 22 and spent the night at my parent's house out in Henderson. The feeling was surreal. For as much time as I have spend there, I was now there not for leisure. With my dog scamping around, finally free of the confines of the moving truck, and my own car parked out front, the ephemeral feeling of childhood that the house usually held was not there. Twelve hours later I was off to my new apartment all the way across town. I now live about 35 minutes away from them, closer to where I went to high school. For those who don't know Vegas is a huge city in comparison to Austin and everything is much farther away than I am used to. Due to it's size, even though I grew up fairly close to here, I am not familiar with this part of town at all.

My dad came earlier in the day, and some guys from the ward came later that night and got everything moved in. From there, it has been all me. It is mostly all together now, even though some errant boxes are still littering the floors and all of my knick-knacks with no place to go are cluttering up every flat surface in the place. In the move I lost a floor lamp (dad's fault), a table lamp (my fault), a drinking glass, my Sonicare toothbrush, the bamboo vase, and a bedspread. All in all, I am no worse for the wear.

My hospital paperwork is all filled out and ready for me to start work on April 12th. The day I went over there to sign my offer I was blown out of the water. Summerlin Hospital is roughly the size of Brackenridge and St. David's combined, for any Austin nurses that should really impress you. As you crest the hill and the hospital comes into view, I could think of several casinos that are not this big. Keep in mind this is one of 12 major hospitals in the area. After I signed the offer I had to drive all the way across town and submit to the standard hospital hire of a drug test, a physical, and TB test. The weird thing is that they do a two part TB test here. So it was four trips back to the miserable occupational health clinic total. As if this was not painful enough I have a full week of hospital orientation next week. If I have to sit through one more ADEIT class, or restraints check offs, I might just have to jump off the top of the overly impressive hospital itself. Then again, at my new hourly rate, I think I can manage to restrain my areal ambitions.

Making new friends has been more successful than I thought it would be at this point. Some of you may remember me telling you about meeting up with Flip and we did as planned. He is a really quality guy, and has been invaluable in the process. My social awkwardness is still trying to sabotage me every now and then and I end up with my foot in my mouth. Like when I said, "Let's ask those drunk people to take our picture" and someone said, "They are not drunk those are our friends". This is not the way to win friends and influence people. I am trying to keep the advice that Red gave me before I left when she told me that moving gives me a blank slate, where no one remembers the social scars of the past here and I can reinvent myself. Frankie told me that I may have had problems making friends in the past, but that he thinks I have grown since then and he thinks I will be just fine. Who knew he would be right?

One of the best parts of the move is I now live in a city with a temple. I have not lived in a city with a temple since I was endowed. Although the temple could fit easily into one of the wings of the hospital, compared to the San Antonio temple, it is still large and impressive. Tonight we had a ward baptism trip, and I was saddened by how few people where there, both in our own baptism group and in the temple as a whole. I think San Antonio's small size and the fact that you have to book weeks in advance to do work for the dead had my expectations skewed on what to expect here. The member of the temple presidency who came to speak to us said that they do the same number of ordinance completed today as they did when it opened in 1989 despite there being three times more temple recommend holders in the valley.

Moving into the baptistry, I was filled with irritation at this and that, but after I was redressed and sitting on the bench, the feeling that I go for finally washed over me. The stress of moving, money, making friends, and starting a new job finally melted away. That sense of peace and confirmation that I had done the right thing came to me and I had not realized how much my soul was in need of it. I made a goal to recommit myself to do the things I have let slip in light of life changing events. I need to recommit myself to daily prayer and need to be more committed to scripture study. I know that He cannot do for me unless I am obedient and moving forward spiritually. It is not enough to simply take the leap of faith to come here without continuing to do the work. For now I am looking for answers on what the purpose of my move was, why did He prompt me to move here, at this time?

I am going to try to keep you more up to date through the post and just wanted to remind everyone how much I really do miss them. Until next time....

Out With The Old, In With The New

This weekend was monumental. I was forced to say good-bye to an old friend and hello to a new one.

For about a week, my car has been making a sound. You might be thinking this sound was in league of a rattle or a hum, but you would be mistaken. This sound was more like the sound an industrial machine makes right before exploding. The sound was so bad that if my car had shook apart and left me buckled into my seat and holding just a steering wheel, I would not have been surprised.

Wednesday night I drove it down to the mechanics, and dropped it off. I was hoping the verdict would come back as a simple $40 belt replacement, but was sure before I even got there that the news would be bad.

Not far into Thursday, my suspicion was confirmed. My car was dead and it would cost a mere $3,000 to resurrect it. I was now faced with a dilemma of fixing the old thing, or using that $3,000 to buy a new car. Now I have had my car for about 10 years, and it was showing it's age. One side of the car was side-swiped while my ex was driving it and so in addition to not looking great, it shimmied around 70 mph, there was a crack that extended the entire length of the windshield, one wheel could not keep a hubcap on it for anything, and the list goes on as any car 10 years old does.

Despite all of this, I had no intention of getting rid of the blasted thing. It was just fine for my three block commute to work and vanity played no part in the equation. I was crestfallen that I had to buy a new car, and return to the world of those with a car payment.

Thursday I struck out in my $35 a day rental car, less than pleased with the task before me. The first day of looking was a horrible experience. I knew what I wanted; a nice, reliable commuter car with low mileage and a lower price tag. Unfortunately, the Cash For Clunkers deal, has left every car dealer from here to Michigan with slim pickings. The Toyota dealership I stopped at won't even walk the lot with me, because there was nothing to look at. Lost and dejected, I looked at a PT Cruiser that was the only thing in my price range. It was not what I wanted at all, but was afraid that I would not find anything and have a $1,000 a month car payment because I was forced to keep driving the rental car.

I stopped by Red's house after a day of searching and got some really good advice from her and Frankie. Between them and a whole day of pep talking from the Peacemaker at work the next day, I was off for another night of searching.

After striking out at several dealerships, I drove down to the Kia dealership to look at a red Yaris I had seen on the internet. When I got there, it had already been sold, but, unlike many other dealerships, they actually had cars on the lot to look at. My overly, attentive salesman, Thad, and I drove several of them. I drove a Mazda 3 that I loved, but did not love the price. There was a very nice Honda Civic, but did not want a two door. After two test drives, I spotted a 2007 Toyota Corolla at the end of the lot. It was just in, and did not even have the window sticker on it yet. Test drive was perfect, and for the price, it was exactly what I wanted.

The next morning, armed with new advice from Frankie, I went down to make a deal. I was all ready to talk Thad down in the price, but before I could even broach the subject, he told me that he made a mistake in the price. The price that was posted in the car was supposed to be with qualified trade-in, but since we had already drawn up the paperwork with that price on it, that they were going to give it to me for that price. Looking it up later, I got the car for about $2,000 below Kelly Blue Book. Score.

Everything went fine at the dealership, except for a small, uncomfortable incident with the finance guy. While signing my paperwork in a closed office, the finance guy decided it was a good idea to tell me how my salesman had a huge crush on me. I don't know which was more awkward, having the finance guy tell me that the salesman told the whole place that I had an "amazing body" or actually having to look the salesman in the eye after all the signing was done. I could feel myself blushing the entire way out to my new car.

In the end, when I was driving home in my new car, I could finally relax. After the hassle, pain, and money associated with actually getting the new car was over, I could now enjoy it. I have a pride in my car that I have not felt in a very long time. I love the remote keyless entry, the clear view out the windshield, the fact the overhead light works, and that I am not drawing stares while waiting at a red light. To sum it up, I love my car. I don't think I have ever been able to say that. I am excited to drive it, and want everyone to see it. With all of this in mind, there is only bad thing, now how will I know if I am going 70 mph if there is no shimmies to tell me so? I guess there are certain sacrifices I will have to make to enjoy such a sweet ride.

Ode to my iPhone

The last two days have seemed to revolve around the iPhone. Yesterday while Red and I were having dinner, she told me about how she was going to get an iPhone. She was telling me about a particularly harrowing experience where she was very lost, well beyond the witching hour and would have sold her first born for a phone with GPS.

Excited to help induct her into our cult, we made a bee line for the nearest AT&T store. As soon as we walked in, I was bamboozled by the sleek, glittery displays. I think I was more excited than she was. We waited our turn and as we approached the counter, a surly looking man informed us that they were sold out of the smaller 16G size that Red was thinking about getting. I spent a good four minuets trying to talk her into the larger 32G size. I told her how I have the 16G size of the older model and it is full to the brim. I wish I had more space. I have to be choosy about what makes the cut to go everywhere with me and what does not. Not fully trusting my advice, she called Frankie and discussed the matter with him. He said she only would need the 16G. He totally vetoed me. I dropped her off at her car without a brand-new, shiny phone. Not to worry, it will come though.

This morning I got up and finished listening to Harry Potter 4 on my iPhone and was ready to download Harry Potter 5 before I left for work. I synced up and went about getting ready. When I came back to it, it was downloading a software update. Ugh. I got dressed, did my hair, and when I came back it still was not done. I had to leave for work, so in my infinite wisdom, I unplugged it when it clearly said on the screen so that I could take it with me. I have done this other times, and it was fine. It just did not put the new songs on, or did not sync my calendar, and I would just do it when I returned home. Oh, that was the wrong answer today.

After I unplugged it, it just gave me a bleak picture of a the plug and the iTunes symbol. It would not get me to the home screen. Yikes! No problem, I will just plug it back in and it will finish what it was doing while I was at work. On my way to lunch, I stopped by my house and picked my phone up. I was horrified to realize that it was completely wiped, like it was straight out of the box. There was not a single contact, not a single appointment, not a single song. AH! What did I do to my sweet, sweet phone? Poor thing. My iPhone pretty much is part of my life now. It wakes me up in the morning, always at the right time because it is smart enough to be programmed to wake me at different times on different days. While I get ready, I listen to a book on tape or jam out to any of the thousands of songs it holds. All day at work it is my life line to the outside world. Denied access to Facebook, and clocked for all internet time, my iPhone allows me to connect behind Big Brother’s back. When boredom sets in, we can pass and play Scrabble. When a conversation refers to someone new that my coworkers don’t know yet, I can look up their picture for the girls. On my way home, I check where I am supposed to be that night. On my way there, I can talk on my phone through my car speakers, shoot a quick text to say I am almost there, or look up what that stupid gate code that I can never remember is. It helps me find a Sonic when I am craving a soda, or help me send a postcard while I am out of town, and tells me what song is playing in the Gap.

In the book The Golden Compass, every person soul resides outside the body in an animal-like form called a Dæmon. A person’s Dæmon can only stray a short distance of from their person and forcibly separating a person from his or her Dæmon causes unimaginable physical and emotional pain for both entities. I think Dæmon is in the form of an iPhone. All day I have been missing the familiar weigh in my scrub pocket. After lunch I returned home to plug it back in. I can only hope that when we are reunited that my iPhone will no longer be the blank stranger that I took to lunch to me, but will again return to manifestation of my soul.

A Man Called John

I have gotten out of the habit of the daily blog. I just takes up so much time to write, be witty, edit, and post. I think that it is okay though, this way you are not subjected to every tiny detail of my life. With longer between posts, you are just subjected to most of them.

Friday I joined the YSA for a temple trip to baptisms for the dead. I have not been in the baptistery since I did baptisms more than ten years ago. I did them once in the Salt Lake Temple after I did the work for as much family as I had records for. After that I never did them, and then I was endowed. The last time I went with the YSA for a baptism trip, there were too many endowed girls and I got shunted off to do iniatories.

That night, dressed in all white, I sat among those dressed for the waters, the Elders who were performing the rites, temple workers, and other members who were all there united in one purpose. Unity is a concept we talk about in church, but it is hard to really understand until you are living the concept. My heart was so full, the spirit so strong in my breast that all the tension my family left me with melted away. This was where I wanted to be. A week of railing on my decision to get married in the temple was not longer an issue. I knew that this temple, this place, the holiness that was here was all I wanted. Feeling that feeling, why would I want anything else. The temple is my number one priority, everything else has to fall in line behind it. There is nothing I could not leave behind or give up for it.

On the drive home, Frankie and I had another one of those soul touching talks. I am not sure what endows him with the ability to cut right to the heart of things, but I cherish the time we get to talk. He is not afraid to tell me things that I may not want to hear, but still do it in a way that I will listen. The only other person in my life that can do that is Red. That night he told me that it may be time for me to move on. Not what I want to hear, but I promised him I would pray about it.

Sunday I had a work conference which made it impossible for me to go to my ward. I was, however, able to make it to the YSA. I could tell the difference as soon as I walked in. It was the same feeling that buried itself inside my chest at the temple. All my searching to be filled and to get enough, is slaked here. I was so full sitting there. Just listening to the lesson, feeling the spirit, looking around at all the familiar faces of those who know my names and care about my welfare warmed the cockles of my heart. Why is it that we do not know what we have until it is gone? Why cannot I not bask in it now? I want to live inside that warm glow; I am drawn to that light that I can so easily find there.

Update on The Aggie...he is finishing up his degree and moving on Wednesday. This I knew, but what I did not know was that he is moving to Austin! How fortuitous. We texted back and forth on Saturday while I was getting ready for a wedding and it came up. I assumed when he said he was moving that he meant he was moving somewhere in the same town. After our texting, he called and we chatted for a bit. Before we hung up, he said that he would like to do something when he gets in town. Now I just have to wait. I am not good at waiting, but Red and The Peacemaker assure me that it can be done.

Tonight I finally got to teach my lesson on John the Baptist, and it was abysmal. After weeks, literally weeks, of preparation, I finally felt like I had a handle on the material and was ready to teach. The lesson started and I had not even gone through the first section and I could already see the boredom on their faces. Instantly I began to get nervous, I started sweating, and questioning all that I had prepped. This was a long lesson, how was I going to keep them interested? I was having a hard time getting them to participate, which made me even more nervous. I started impromptu editing, which then made me feel like it was not as rich as I intended. Now that I am all flustered, came the nail in my coffin. Someone has a question, she raises her hand and instead of asking me, she asks Frankie. I was crushed. I was the one teaching the lesson, but I was not respected for what I had prepared. This is exactly why I put so much effort into my prep, and yet I still was only there to lead the discussion, not to teach anyone. I feel dejected and don't quite know how to get over that feeling.

Bedraggled

I have been dragging at work today. Sometimes I feel like I run through life and never slow to see the scenery beyond a rushing blur.

Monday, after work, FHE was early. Instead of our normal 8:00, we met at 7:00 to move The Cookie Lady. Frankie aptly stated that it was the most over powered move in the history of moves. She had a total of thirty things and with thirty people there, it did not take long to load her up. After everything was in the truck, I realized I could not find my keys. It did not take long to realize they were in my purse, that I had securely locked in the trunk. When I bought the car, I bought a hide-a-key and put it in the wheel well. I retrieved it, and the nine years of dirt coated on it was quickly transferred to my hands and then to Peter-Peter’s as he struggled to open it after my failure. The unloading on the other end was just as quick as the loading. So fast in fact that there was no time to arrange anything and consequently the place looked like we took the entire place and shook it like a Boggle board.

Done early, Peter-Peter, Moe, Frankie, and I headed off the gym. I really enjoy working out with others. It pushes me. I am not sure if it is the need to avoid the humiliation of being called a panty waist or the enjoyment of keeping pace with everyone. This group was perfect because after abs, the boys went to lift and Moe and went and did more girly things. The ab workouts are still rocking my world, but I have started to notice lines below my hip bones which I am enjoying greatly.

After the gym we made an impromptu stop at Fiesta of all places. I am not sure how I feel about stores that sell tripe by the pound or whole boar heads. I was slightly disturbed as food was staring back at me. Alongside the enjoyment of roaming the aisles and finding candy made out of cactus and fruit big enough to hallow out to and make a canoe out of, I got a pleasant surprise. Pulling out my phone, I saw The Aggie texted me. Thrilled I texted him back and the banter kept up until I got home. Once in front of the computer I added him as a Facebook friend, and we chatted well over three hours. Number one thing going for him is he is smart. I cannot tell you how nice it is not to have to dumb down conversations or feel like you are embarrassing him because he keeps having to ask what you mean. Quite enjoyable, and rather darling to boot.

Yesterday ran by in another blur. I was home for a mere 45 minutes at home, I jetted off to Institute. I brought along my mini Dell along so I could work on my John The Baptist lesson. I got a bit of a reprieve since I did not have to teach this Monday, but I was feeling like I just was not quite getting it. I feel like I am a smart girl, and was wondering why I just was not getting it. On the verge of giving up, I asked Frankie for some help. He told me he could after he went home teaching. I went home and got on Facebook hoping to chat it up again, but to no avail. We did exchange some pleasantries via Facebook messages.

Frankie then called to say he was on his way home. I got over there and we talked for about an hour. I have previously blogged about my need to be filled with the Spirit, and finding my weekly activities lacking. I gloried in the conversation. Our conversation was elevating, the kind where I felt like I was not just going over well worn topics, but actually growing and learning. I lapped it up and for one of the few times in recent memory, I was satiated. Reading out of the New Testament course manual, I felt a stab of regret that I had not gotten more out of my required religion classes in college. I was a member a mere three months when I started and was still on the milk, while others feasted on meat. As I was leaving I felt a stab of guilt. While I buoyed my spirits, I failed to notice that I had taken the one hour of the whole day that Frankie had to himself. I will have to be more aware in the future.

Tonight I think I will stay in, enjoy the house I pay rent on but never really get to enjoy. Hopefully I will be able to get to bed before I collapse of sheer exhaustion.

My Body Hates Me

In the spirit of being back with "The Plan" this week, I pretty much ruined my entire day.

First, eating out on the plan is, at times, a nightmare. The girls at work are trying to eat out only once a week, which works perfectly with the plan. Friday we were going to eat Chinese, that was until I remember that Peter-Peter, Moe, and I are going to eat at a fancy French restaurant and I didn't want to eat out twice in one day. So we decided to go today.

I am not sure what kind of angry monster was living in my stomach today but I was already talking about lunch at 9:30 in the morning. I looked over the menu, drooling about each deep fried, sugar laden choice at my disposal. And then it was only 9:32. Here is where the problem starts. I should have had a snack. I get in these weird mind set that if I just wait and save my points till lunch that I can have what I really want. Needless to say that by the time we got there I was STARVING. Like quietly sitting without talking, no energy to join the conversation, kind of starving.

I ordered my meal and asked the waiter if he could please bring me a bowl of rice while the other girls ate their soup. He did not bring it, so I asked again. Somehow my starving / rice problem was not his problem. I asked the other waiter in the room to please bring me some rice. When I saw the other waiter return with no rice I was almost on the point of tears. I asked him again, and he said, "Oh, I told your waiter and he said he would bring it". He never did. In fact, when he brought my meal it was wrong. He had brought me chicken fried rice instead of the white rice I have now asked for five times. I was done with my chicken before I finally got my stupid rice. The ravenous wolf in me almost had to eat my own hand, but once I had my meal, mood greatly increased.

After work, I decided that I must literally hate my body. But my atonement for food vacation requires actual sacrifice, so went and paid someone for the torture of bikram yoga. The room is a stifling 110 degrees with 40% humidity. Have you ever been dumb enough to camp in Texas in July? You know, just laying in the tent in a puddle that you created, well that is pretty much bikram yoga. An hour and a half of you literally dripping more sweat off your body than you thought possible, clothes completely drenched, and muscles feeling like you are actually trying to kill them. My body that was eating pizza with such bliss a week ago, now is hates me.

After this torture, I decide that I did not quite get enough and met Frankie at the gym just to ensure that I would not live to see tomorrow. We thankfully skipped cardio, and went straight to abs. Died a little inside. Then I did his arm work-out with him. Oh, me, oh, my. Working out with Frankie makes me feel like a sissy. I am glad I have no man card to be repossessed as I peeled myself off the gym floor to go home.

I should sleep well tonight. So well, that I might never wake again. But if I do, I will try to be a little nicer to my body tomorrow and I will be back for another round of punishment.

My 31st Fourth

Yesterday was the Fourth of July and the day could not have been better.

Friday's late night bled into a late morning. I did not even get out of bed until noon. I love those days when you wake and then lay with your eyes closed, just letting your mind wonder. I tried not to think of packing, how much the A/C was costing me, or my five year plan.

This year we had a pool party over at Frankie's patent's house. I was not in town last year. I was in Portland, fighting my way onto the MAX train along with every other Oregonian from Clackamas to Hillsbro. It was nice to spend the holiday with my brother but it offered a weird feeling of maturity when the two of us were the ones who were looking up firework times and holding place in the bathroom lines instead of the ones running off our sugar highs.

Loaded with soda, ketchup, two kinds of mustard, and nine ears of corn, I made my way over there mid-afternoon. The triple digit temperature almost had it feeling like home, but the humidity quickly reminds that this is far from a desert. The afternoon was full of hot dogs, sun, pool time, and generally great times.

Red ensured that the party ran smoothly. She is ever the hostess. Recently, with my new calling, I came to a realization that just like my brother and I at Portland fireworks show, that someone has to plan things. I know that sounds like something so obvious, but it has really hit me hard in the last couple of months. How many lessons have I sat through and not given any thought to who prepped them? How many activities have I showed up at and had nothing but a bad attitude? How many parties have I gone to and given no thought except to show up?

Earlier this week, no one had mentioned doing anything for the Fourth. I was asked several times, and in turn I asked others several times. It wasn't until July 2, my mother's birthday, that this party's invite went out. Just like everyone else, I was relieved that I had somewhere to go and did not give thought to what went into actually making that happen. Two separate conversations enlightened me.

The social strata in the ward has somehow made it so that certain people have become responsible for every one's good times. The point was epitomized when Frankie was approached and asked what the plan for after the party was. He said I don't know, and then was asked again in another way. Frankie again, said, I don't know. I felt a stab of guilty that if I was not currently under going my whole self improvement project, and currently working on "going with the flow" and trying to be less of a planner, how easily could it have been me bugging him. How many times in the past was it me? Perspective is an amazing thing.

Along the lines of my self improvement, this Fourth brought me face to face with two things that everyone who knows me, associates with me. A couple of months back, in talking with Frankie, had made the rash decision to try corn. It is a well known fact, and I receive much guff about it, that I do not eat veggies. Not a single one. I am probably the most picky person you have ever met. I like things plain, dry, and bland.

In our conversation we discussed how much easier it would be if I liked more things. I would not have to send things back, could eat what I was served and eating within my points would be so much easier. When / If I get pregnant, I am going to have to face this particular beast. It would be plain selfish to not eat a balanced diet when it affect someone other than myself. Plus, I can spend all the time I want in the gym, but a balanced diet is really the way to health and weight management.

So ear in hand, because I should, I bit into my first corn on the cob. We will say that it wasn't disgusting. I did not particularly enjoy it, but if served to me at dinner, I could eat it. My displeasure was emblazoned on my face and told me to just put the ear down if I hated it. I told him how I at least had to give it a chance. It took me six weeks to make the switch from regular soda to diet, I could barely make it through a bowl of cereal when I switched to skim, and ten years ago you could not have caught me dead with a yogurt. Now are all staples in my diet. He mentioned that my palate just might be in a jag and I just might need to be more open. That is exactly what I am hoping for. If I am really going to be a better person, to change to be someone that others seek out and want to be with, I need to step outside of my comfort zone.

Number two, on my list of things that I am not so great at is swimming. I know, who at my age does not know how to swim? Both the veggies and swimming go back to childhood. The veggies was a control thing, and the swimming, well the swimming just was not exactly something that you did when you were still working on things lower on Maslow's hierarchy of needs.

Every year when it comes up that I can't swim, invariably, someone says that they are going to teach me how. Honestly, this is really the first time that anyone has taken the time to try to teach me. The lesson only lasted about 1/2 hour, but covered important lessons like close your mouth, don't try to breathe underwater, and why the doggie paddle is so inefficient. Even though I scrapped bottom several times and got the worst chlorine headache I have had in a long time, all in all, I think we made some headway. I may not be able to enter a triathlon any time soon, but the fact they took the time to try to show me was heartwarming and worth the near drowning I had to endure.

As the sun sank into the West, those who were left set about the task of cleaning up. With the grill closed, net wrapped up, dishes washed, doors locked, we left to eat one mighty fine burger and then rolled over to watch the fireworks. Fireworks were done and then we went and watched Transformers. Curled up under a blanket, with the smell of the sun still on my skin, I smiled a secret little smile to myself. What a great day my 31st Fourth was.

Blogging In Bed

Tonight I blog from bed. I have been moving since my alarm rang this morning and am just now getting a chance to be still.

Early morning the alarm summoned me out of a sound slumber to tell me that it was time to go to work. I could not be to mad at said alarm because it did wake me on a Friday and even better, a half day, and most wonderful of all, the day I got to wear my boots.

Work moved along so smoothly, that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never did and we left the clinic at 12:30. A small miracle with all four doctors in clinic. The phones were light and since we rescheduled all our routine lab draws, we only had to take care of the those who had to be seen that day.

Stepping out of the office, I was greeted by an amazingly warm and inviting day. With windows down, I called to Red to see about her lunch plans. I was in luck and she was free. After passing an unusually vigilant security guard, she came out as I pulled up. We drove down to Torchy's and I got to eat a taco with egg in it. A sign sadly informed us that there were no more Democrats available. Red was safe though, she brought me.

After dropping Red back off for her to finish out a whole day of work, I hit the market to pick up supplies for tonight's and tomorrow's twin parties. They are only two different parties because we have a sleep break in the middle. After I got home, I realized I forgot the cream cheese needed for the chicken dip and would have to go back to the store later for it.

Status post grocery shopping, I had to jet over to get my haircut. With my vacation rapidly approaching, I would have no other time to do it. No one in the family has seen it since I removed the bottom 15 inches. The stylist drove me crazy the entire cut by repeating over and over again how bad my last haircut was. I went to Great Clips, what do you expect?

With my new do, I scrambled back home where I whipped together the chicken dip. Then a nice, relaxing bath enveloped me for far to short a time. Out of the tub, make-up applied, western gear on, and back downstairs to bake the chicken dip. Chicken dip out of oven and directly in the car.

With the smell of amazing chicken dip wafting around, I took the toll road up to the burbs to eat Red Lobster with some co-workers. Let me tell you about the looks you get when you roll into a Red Lobster in vintage boots and a belt buckle large enough to eat off of. I didn't exactly eat while there. I had three Diet Cokes and four biscuits. Still probably had more points than if I had actually just had a meal.

I was there for a whole 45 min before I had to leave to make the now half-hour drive to the complete opposite side of town to get me and the chicken dip to the Hoe-down. The turn out was small, but I must say that I had a great time. I spent an incredible amount of the evening talking to APO. Sometimes you forget just how great the people you surround yourself with are, and then it blind sides you.

Party over, clean up ensued, and we had some giggles when just the girls were there. Most of the laughs came from us just being ridiculous. R introduced me to "head-shake photos". They are just photos where you let you face relax and then you shake your head back and forth while someone takes your photo. Long and short of it, you end up looking like a retard.

As we were leaving, Frankie calls and asks us if we want to join them for a movie...a movie that has already started. A mad race over there and a quick car change later and we arrive just as the feature presentation is starting. Movie so-so, lead man amazing, scenery mind-blowing. All in all, worth my free movie ticket.

Today was a great day, full of friends, laughs, and memories. I must go so that my body can take another day of much of the same. Tomorrow I may pontificate on Independence Day and the true meaning of Christmas...wait, what? Stay tuned.

Oh My Abs!

When Frankie said that we would shred some abs this week, I did not know that he meant it literally. I could barely drag myself out of the gym after doing an abbreviated ab work out with him, Gizmo, and Peter-Peter. Holy cow, those boys are no joke. My body is still abuzz from the shock. I keep this up and I might be worthy of my new bathing suit.

I had lunch today with Red at Pei Wei. Not only is white rice my favorite food in the whole world, but Red may be my favorite lunch date, so it was a guaranteed good time. We spent the first half of lunch plotting and scheming about Friday night's festivities and how to make it amazing. The second half was spent by Red doing her best to be a one woman marketing campaign for Dexter. All my objections fell on deaf ears. I love when she gets on a roll and does her best mom voice. It always starts, "Listen, all I'm saying is..." It is quite endearing.

Tonight I taught my music appreciation lesson at mutual. My lesson was well thought out, organized, and apparently boring as all get out. As I got further and further into the lesson, I could see that the last thing that the girls wanted to do when they came to mutual was sit and listen to me drone on. Other nights we paint, talk about books, and next week we are making mocktails. I can see how my lesson could be the low point of mutual. I am going to have to do something to keep the every diminishing attention span of a room of teenagers.

The lesson did make me reflect on how many lessons I have sat through and not heard one word of, how many lessons I have passed notes, how many lessons I played solitaire on my phone. All the while the teacher, who has spend hours preparing the lesson, continues in hopes that their lesson will touch my heart or invite the Spirit into the room. I have a new appreciation for all those teachers I didn't listen to, but for everyone that I sat back and criticized, secretly made-fun of the object lesson, or derailed their lesson with questions that changed the topic to something I found more interesting. I am sure karma has a whole heap of bored class members waiting in my future.

After mutual, I went to the gym and in case you missed it...Oh My Abs! Over two years ago, after recovering from several rounds of steroids, I joined Weight Watcher and shed 30 lbs that I had packed on. Steroids does just make you hungry, it makes you insatiable. I can remember sitting in Tacodeli and literally drinking a cup of queso. No wonder that by the time I was back on my feet, I was wearing a size 10. I lost 30 pounds on the program, and cannot tell you how much I love by body..

But loving your body does not always mean that you make good food choices. Once you are at your goal weight you are still supposed to eat within you points everyday. Easier said than done. When you have no goal in mind, it is easier to get off track. Chips turn into burgers, which turns into pizza, which into ice cream. You see where I am going with this.

Of all the parts of my body, my stomach is the hardest to keep trim. It is the first place I put on weight. I can go from beautiful and flat to a cresting rise of fat in a week of eating out. Two weeks of eating out can lead to pinchable fat. Three weeks and I cannot fit into my jeans. It is a slippery slope and summer is not the best time to hide in elastic banded bottoms or my scrubs.

I read somewhere that strong abs not only help you with posture and such, but they will also make you look thinner, even when you are carrying a bit of extra fat. This is why I am subjecting myself to such torture. Their workout made me feel like I just go to the gym to watch TV. They make me feel like I might as well be mall walking. It is nice to have someone pushing you. I am going to try to remember than when it takes a forklift to help me get out of bed tomorrow.

Well, it is off to bed I go, with a song in my heart, and my abs decimated. Tomorrow I will report the aftermath of my zeal, till then...

Autobots, Clean It Up

I am freshly back from seeing Transformers 2 and have to say that I am fairly disappointed. Let me back up and give you some background...

Yesterday's post about me wanting more spiritually, lent itself into an amazing FHE lesson. A month or two ago, I asked Frankie about The Tree of Life and how it related to Adam and Eve and Lehi's vision. With the question long forgotten, he surprised me two weeks ago with an answer that could have honestly been the basis of a dissertation. It was so well thought out, organized, scripturaly reference, and not only held the answer I was seeking, but also opened my eyes to other revelations that I had not even thought to ask for. I urged him to share the answer in FHE. This not only allowed others the benefit of the knowledge, but allowed me to hear it again and hopefully cement it in my memory.

With a 10 pm showtime, I had to rush from FHE straight to the movie. I met Gizmo in line and we got amazing seats. When the lights lowered, and the music swelled, so did my excitement. Two and a half hours later I walked out of the theater simply crestfallen. The movie was everything I had hoped for in the heart-thumping, gun wielding, explosion crazy, saturated film that you expect from Micheal Bay.

What I did not like, however, was the unnecessary crudeness. It was just plain vulgar. His mother used profanity for profanity's sake, jokes were not witty but raunchy for no reason, and is there any functional reason that the ultimate machine would need a pair of testes? I can accept many things in a movie; blood, gore, no plot, incongruencies. I am fine with it all. I am not even going to claim that I do not watch vulgar movies from time to time. But it feels so tasteless when the movie could have been just the same without it.

It reminds me of when we went to see Hancock. The language was totally unnecessary to the plot of the movie. I can understand language if it is a frat movie, or if the climax of the film needs to express extreme frustration and the writers are not the most creative. But to ruin a film that would have been just fine with a kinder line, it just irks me.

Tonight, every joke and reference from this PG-13 movie stung like the lash of a willow branch. My hard earned spiritual high was crushed by the entertainment that I had chosen. All of the intense labor that someone else put into assisting me with my quest for knowledge was wasted. It makes me wonder, if I had not gotten so much from the lesson tonight, would I have even noticed the content of the movie? That thought gives me pause because I have never really been a stickler for self-censorship. It might be a though worth pursuing.

Fill My Cup With Living Water

I have been looking forward to Sunday all week. This week has seemed to be a grinding force that was determined to reduce me to a starchy, mealy paste. My week has been filled with demoralizing work, fraught with disappointment, and loaded with an overwhelming need to feel the calming force of the Spirit.

In Monday's post I talked about how since my forced exile to the family ward four months ago, I have felt that I am having trouble filling my cup to capacity. I went from getting about 80% out of my meetings, to about 20%. The disparity makes me feel as if I was moving along a ridge and then have suddenly fallen off a cliff. Now that I have fallen. my wings are not strong enough to raise me back to the height that I was at when I was just walking along the edge. Like the bottom has fallen out, and I don't know how to get back up.

In February, I was was the highest I had ever been. My faith was solid, I could feel the iron rod in my hand, and was somehow a sheep amid a flock, heading in the right direction. I was confident, felt well taken care of, and had a fellowship in the Gospel like I had never know before.

Today I am a different. I think that my faith is still solid. Ever since a seventeen year old version of me knelt in my tiny bedroom, in the upstairs of my father's house, I have known of the truth. My strength of my conviction is what has waxed and waned over the years. It was not until several years later that I realized that baptism really was only the gate and it would take several years of hard work before I was wholly and completely dedicated. It was a journey that no one told me to expect but fared well in the end. Today my testimony is full and mature, and have the conviction necessary to live up to my temple covenants.

The family ward comes as a sharp incline on the path. Where I was cruising along before at a rapid clip, I now feel as if I am crawling along at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every step is hard earned, every gain a minuscule one, all progress hungrily gulped up but not enough to feel that same sense of fullness that I have grown so accustomed to.

I need more. I want more. Today that need was so consuming that after my own block of meetings, I went to my former YSA for an additional one and a half hours of church. There is something different there that is amazingly satiating. Thrusting my cup under the spigot, I felt guilty. Questions about what I was doing there left me hard pressed for an answer. I gave the truth to Frankie and Red, who wholly and completely understood with a simple, "I need more". But how to do causally explain to other about the searing desire I feel in my chest to be close to my Heavenly Father, to bask in his glory, to feel of his love that is incomparable to the love you can get from any mortal man? I don't know if you really can.

I think that part of my need this week is due to my upcoming trip to visit family. The church and what it means in my life are so foreign to them. It is easy to be dismissive when you do not comprehend the foundation that the institution of the church is built on.

A month or so ago, when I was talking to my father about The Boy, I was trying to explain to him about my mixed feelings about dating a non-member. His response was, "Are you still doing that? Isn't is about time that you let that go? If you are not careful your convictions are going to guarantee you that you will never get married". How close to the bone he cut. All my fears and insecurities welled to the surface and sent me into a swirling eddy of actually considering what he was saying. But by the light of the next day, I could see his argument for what it really was. I am concerned that my five days in Vegas are going to prove to be nothing of a campaign by my parents to have me give up my silly obsession with God.

Tonight as I close on my post, I want you to know, dear reader, that today, today my thirst was slaked. After a week of hard work, I finally have enough in my cup to drink of the Living Water. I know next week will be just as hard...and the week after that. Moving forward from here, I am going to have to actively seek out my opportunities to fill my cup to the brim. My days of passive participation are over, and you do not miss them until they are gone.

Not Showers, Its Pouring

I am finding the blog word processor very frustrating. It will not let me add words to the dictionary like FHE, it has a habit of taking out my paragraph breaks, and for the life of me I cannot figure out how to put a picture mid-post. I know these should not be the biggest concerns in my life, but still it is enough to be irksome.

I missed a day of blogging for the first time yesterday. This was due to the fact that I was go from morn' to well into the eve. I went to work more tired than usual due to the fact that I am currently caught up in a book I am reading. Lunch at Taco Cabana did not help the feeling less than myself.

After I got off, I rushed home and got ready for the bridal shower. I must say I had a grand time at the shower. I don't know when I have hung out with that specific combination of girls, but it made for a nice blend. The party activities were relatively short in comparison to many others I have been to, but that just left more time to eat and chat. I was a bit self-conscious when I first got there until I realized everyone was. But at the end of the night I got a nice confidence bolster when AK told me I had a hot stomach. You can't pay for that kind of feel-good.

After leaving there, I went to spend some quality time with Moe. Last weekend's funtivities ignited a desire to see more of her. We went over to her man's house and in Moe's immortal words, "Got our Lost on". One and a half episodes in, Frankie came home looking very tired and thinner than in recent memory. It could have been the cut of the shirt or sugar-free June catching up with him. You could see the tiredness etched into his face and looking out from his eyes. I feel bad for him. When he says that he is never home, I actually believe him. Between work, his enormous calling, family, friends, and what ever time he needs for himself, I have no doubt he is burning the candle at both ends. It makes me want to shoulder some of the load, but do not know in what ways I can help.

My need and desire to help is a trap in and of itself. Too oft those I try to help do not know what to make of it, and in the end it pushes them away. In my continuing campaign to become a better person, this is one of the things that I have been working on. It is not just about offering my help, but it has to also be about offering help in a way that they are comfortable with and feel like they are in a place to accept it. I have been told that the way I go about it sometimes make people feel beholden to me. Sigh. Somewhere I missed the day on what is socially appropriate and what is not. Does anyone have those note that I could borrow?

Our Lost-a-thon, put me to bed well after 2:30. In my haste to get home I realized that I did not even fold my blanket or put my cup up before I left. Some guest I am. With my late night, morning came shockingly soon. When the alarm went off to rouse me for work, I was very confused, with it being a Saturday and all, and just laid there momentarily, attempting to find my bearings. With my eyes closed, I could hear the dog getting up. Isn't it great that he knows what the alarm is for too? Perhaps he is not as dumb as I think.

KS was the doctor on call this weekend, and consequently, we got free breakfast. I know this is no consolation to the 8:00 arrival time and the fact that this means that I will have 12 of no sleeping in. Work marched on at a moderate pace. Twenty-five patients, minimal phone calls, and only five speculums; it could have been way worst. Now I am off to get ready for a baby shower. Update to follow...

To Blog Or Not To Blog

My life is fairly transparent. Between Facebook, Loopt, and telephonic communication, anyone can know what or where I am at in any given day. In addition, I also have a journal. So why blog? It seems like such a natural fit for me; something I would enjoy. I had a short lived blog on the Tiki Wiki, but soon felt pressured for every entry to be a literary masterpiece. Despite this all, today I am going to make the grand attempt. With that caveat in mind, let us blog.

Today was Father's Day, the first day of summer, and The Boy's birthday. The Boy and I have not spoken in eight days, and not through any lack of effort on my part. Try and try as I may, I can't be in a relationship by myself. Earlier this week, I carried myself over to his place to have a talk. His car was there, lights on, TV blaring, and yet when I knocked...no answer. In my mind, I set today as the deadline. If I had not heard from him by today, then I will consider myself broken up with.

After church I went over with his birthday gift in hand and was prepped myself to have the break-up talk where he says in soft tones that this is just not going to work, and I cry slow, sad tears of the dumped, then we resolve to still be friends, and we are both comfortable with the lie. I got to his door and stood for a lifetime, with the heat of the first day of summer washing over me and in the end did not knock. I taped the concert tickets that I so methodically scoured the net for and triumphantly planned the perfect birthday around to his door. I turned heel and considered myself done. This in no way means it hurt any less.

I ran into Frankie* at the gym on Wednesday and he said something that I had never heard anyone say in quite that way. He said that when your in a relationship that if will never work if each of you is only giving 50%, because if either one of you gives less then things are bound to fall apart. Both of you need to be giving 100% for you to ever have a chance. I don't know if I can even say that he was giving 50%. It is the standard trap that I always seem to fall into; I don't mind doing the work, so I pick up the slack, and then pick up more slack, until I am doing all the work. He went on to tell me that he can see me with a guy who is going to be just as much work as I am. It is amazing how words can bolster your spirits so. He always gives great advice, even if I don't always want to hear it.

Tonight as the sun sets on the end, I am tempted to remember the beginning. It is always so nice at the beginning. There is the talking on the phone for hours, the butterflies, the smile you cannot rid yourself of, you are never hurt or disappointed. Looking forward, you are so full of hope, and the relationship so full of promise. As time passes, reality tempers your starry-eyed outlook and the reality of male/female relationships comes to remembrance. I have never been in a relationship that hasn't failed. Every beginning I have ever had has been paired with an end. So it goes.

*All names have been changed to protect the innocent.