If you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while waiting for you, and the life you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open the doors to you. I say, follow your bliss and don't be afraid, and doors will open where you didn't know they were going to be. If you follow your bliss, doors will open for you that wouldn't have opened for anyone else.”
This picture solidified what I've thought for years: a good--no, impeccable-- command over the English language (or any other language for that matter, but that's a blog post for another day) is an incredibly attractive quality in a guy. Or maybe it's simply the fact that the lack thereof is extremely distasteful. It's all about the your/you're, definately/definitely, and the "lol". No man--or any guy hoping to fill such a title--should ever, ever type "lol."
Not ever.
Bonus points if he can correctly spell bigger words than me.
Today I rediscovered some pictures I took this summer at one of my favorite National Parks in one of my favorite places in the world: Waterton, Alberta, Canada.
Sometimes I have thousands of words building within me
My words, they are sharp fragments of emotion piercing through my vocal chords
And when they're finally released, they come out in volumes
A novel for each fragment
Word upon word, line upon line
Trying to describe something I can't explain but only feel
Clarity often fails me because as I'm speaking (or furiously typing)
I'm discerning
It's a simultaneous process
To speak and write is to understand
Not to resolve
And that's the secret about me
When they're all out I'm empty
Not better but more clear
Often my words, they hang there,
Selfish, meaningless, ranting
Exposed
I wish I never shared them
Because hours, months, years later
I see how lost I was in my narrow context
But sometimes,
Just sometimes,
They bring meaning and depth
They form a bond from my heart to another empathetic one
It's that rare person to love me enough
To wade through the verbosity and
Acknowledge the process while skimming over the confusion spewing forth
The person who leaves me thinking Yes, that is exactly what I meant
My very own paraphraser
Afterwards I'll be quiet for a time
I never was the biggest talker
Introversion will overcome
For when the words are no longer necessary
Then the sorting, the healing, the changing can begin
There are many words I regret
A few simple ones I'll never rescind
And many more waiting to come forth
In order to fully immerse you in our college experience, here is the playlist of our semester so far. Selected songs represent blissful nights cruising in the car, roommate jam sessions, FHE sing alongs, and everything else we've been jamming out to as we get ready in the morning or do our dishes. Voila! Enjoy.
I ran into a long-lost friend in the library the other day. Instead of a typical greeting, the first thing out of his mouth was "Update your blog!"
I guess it's an external manifestation of what I already know: I have been rather negligent with my posts, especially considering all of the events that have transpired! And ugh, I promised myself I would never write an apology blog for not posting regularly. But I just blew that one, no?
Suffice it to say that I am having the time of my life here. I love the spiritual atmosphere, I love my writing professor (finally, a good one!), I love my crazy, fun, generous and accepting roomies, I love being on the Student Advisory Council, I love playing in the Symphony Orchestra, I love staying out late, meeting new people, holing myself up in the library (and succumbing to the sleep that often strikes as I nestle into a plush couch).
I even kind of love the feeling of pushing a shopping cart around and picking up my groceries, of learning to cook for myself (PB&J dinners have only happened a couple of times), of blocking out hours to write just because I can. I'm finding it satisfying to balance my check book and I'm starting to experience that nag in my stomach to get a job and earn an income, however small. I'm working on it.
It's a simple pleasure to stroll around campus with my sunglasses and red lipstick on, to feel the wind in my hair as I cruise down the hill on my bike as I head home for the day. I'm facing a thousand different options at every turn and trying to narrow them down to forge a path for myself, hoping that it's the right one in the end. I'm learning that time management is everything, because these four years are all mine and I won't get them back again. They are mine to serve and learn and study and discuss and play and sleep and eat. Mine to prepare for the rest of my life.
Socially. . . it's been very social. Basically I've discovered that you can find or create a party at any hour of the day or night. And when curfew comes, you just take outside, or somewhere else. So far I've learned to longboard, gone to Swiss Days, watched my first televised football game (and eventually figured out how the heck those downs and yards worked--don't judge), screamed my voice away at a few football games, watched a soccer game, hiked the Y, attended three classical concerts, performed with the Symphony Orchestra, played endless rounds of beach volleyball, had movie nights galore, eaten at In N' Out, gone for a 1 am Denny's run, attended three dances, hosted a DDR party in our dorm, planned two birthday parties, volunteered with the Utah Healing Arts, participated in a massive game of dodgeball, ridden around in an open air Jeep until the crack of dawn, and attended the morning session of conference. To name a few things.
Before my mother has a heart attack, rest assured, I'm getting my homework done. And it has been done well. I have the drive to do my work. The issue is that I don't necessarily have the drive to get to bed before 2 am.
Working on it.
I was struck by this verse the other night in my Book of Mormon study:
1 Nephi 21:16- Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.
I love that image--being engraven upon the palms of Christ. It is both a figurative and a literal statement, for not only is He always mindful of us, but the scars on His hands stand as a witness that he loved us individually long before we arrived on this earth. I know I have been blessed throughout my short time here and I have felt His influence catered towards my individual needs in ways that I can't deny.
If you're a family member or friend that I don't see every week/live with, know that I miss you. I am fully realizing (though I never doubted it before) what a wonderful family I have come from and how lucky I am for all of the wonderful friendships I have been blessed to develop through the years. Thank you for your role in my life. Let's keep in touch :).
