My Baby Brother...

...has been called to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the Germany, Frankfurt Mission.

God speed, buddy.

My mother understands trees

My mother is a master tree steward. She loves trees. I think she loves me too. I had a hard conversation with her last night- I am coming upon a time of great trepidation and nothing seems certain for me in the coming year. I look forward to it with hesitation and a sense of unknowing and frankly, fear. 

I walk in BYU's Summer term graduation ceremony in a week. I am terrified. It's the beginning of the end of this incubation which I am not ready to leave just yet. I don't know where to go- I have no home but this one.  will not have a job beginning in January (which seems like a long ways away, but really is rather pressing.)

My mom interrupted my tears and told me about trees. She said that it's so tempting to take a sapling that is just starting and plant stakes deep into the ground on its sides and tie it so that it will grow up straight and true.

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She went on and told me that those are the trees without substance- without any strength or soul. When trees are growing in the wild, they encounter a barrage of insults and challenges. They don't all make it- and they DEFINITELY aren't all perpendicular to the earth. And as wild trees are growing, the winds and storms that push them around cause tiny deaths within the pulp of the tree- micro fractures in their structure.  

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The good news is this: as these micro fractures heal, the tree takes what it has learned from the wind, from the death caused by its incessant pushing, and strengthens itself there. That dead material becomes strong wood that holds the tree against future storms. This old, fractured part moves outward to become a fortress of bark, and new material is allowed to grow within that stern exterior. 

New life flows from the ends of the branches.

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These are the trees that are strong. These are the ones with substance and soul- ones who defend themselves against dearth of water and against pestilence. 

My mother understand what it means to be wild- what it means to be grounded. I question her in so many ways and against so many things. I don't know if I know how to trust her, or anyone for that matter. I think I need to learn from the trees and learn again how to trust myself. 

No stakes.

YES! PLEASE!!

I love bedtime.
Eight(ish) hours where you get to lay down, and you aren't expected to do ANYTHING!!!

Also, my sister and I have begun this thing where I call her and she reads me a bedtime story from our childhood. It is exactly as charming as it sounds. Tonight is was Harold and the Purple Crayon, which is really quite the literary gem.

Here's to sweet dreams, keeping your wits and your purple crayon.
Good Night!!

(Image via this fantastic site which I cannot either 1. recommend enough, nor 2. get enough of.)

good to be

I am pretty certain that my life is charmed somehow.
I need to apologize to any of you who were anticipating a more consistent documentation of my travels abroad this spring.
I hope to recount highlights here soon.
I had an amazing time, and I learned a lot.
I am happy and grateful to be back home, though.
I woke up this morning to a marching band parading itself in front of my house playing God Bless America, which I found rather befittingly ironic in the face of the fact that I spent the last two months away from my home sweet home.
I have amazing friends. I love them, and I am grateful to know them. They are my family in so many ways.
I watched a partial lunar eclipse from the bed I had made of the couch on my porch last night. It was amazing.
I took a nightswim with some amazing women. Nature is a beautiful teacher.
I am truly happy.
I am scared to branch out of this moment of joy and grow more, even though I know that it will come soon.
It is good to be home.

Crushes.

I've been thinking a lot lately about crushes.
I guess it all started when I moved into a house a few years ago, full of girls who were... very... girly. All they talked about were boys, boys, boys.

I'd never really been one to dish with the ladies, and I NEVER disclosed my secret fantasy-only-(kinda)-love-life. NEVER.

I've since moved out of that house, but those girls taught me a lot about how to be a girly girl. It was so hard for me at first, but now, I am embracing my crush side.

Hell, who knows... maybe I'll even get around to actually dating someone/having a real, meaningful (rather than a secret that nobody doesn't know about) relationship one of these days.
That last sentence sort of sounded creepier than I thought it would.
Today I realized that I have a crush in every aspect of my life. I have a work crush, a church crush, and a social life crush.

[Side note explanation: There isn't really a school crush, but that's only because I go to BYU where all "good" Mormon men major in extremely lucrative fields because of the intense cultural indoctrination about normative gender roles and the supposedly innate need for a man to provide for his family's monetary needs. I'm not saying it's wrong or that I don't think it is a wise plan, rather that it results in an utter dearth of healthy, attractive, intelligent, eligible men in my general scholastic path. There are somewhere around 120 Art History majors at BYU. 7 (on my last count) are of the male gender. Bleh.]

So I got to thinking about my history with these secret loves of mine. I am going to make an admission to you, oh-great-void of internetness: I have never actually dated anyone. I have had a series of intrigues and near-boyfriend relationships that were capitally unhealthy, but never the real-deal. For some reason, this has been bothering me lately.



I'm like Beyonce. All she wants is Jay-Z's baby, but she keeps making songs about how strong and independent she is!!

Probably something to do with that old biological clock thing, or something (I mean- I AM 24, healthy baby bearing age)... honest to goodness, I have three legitimate and substantial crushes right now. I am not going to get obsessive or creepy, I just feel the need to validate my infatuation(s) here.

And I felt so happy after I actually spoke to one crush boy today that I really figured I ought to express my glee.
It lasted about fifteen minutes while he finished his dinner.

I didn't have snot flying out of my nose (that's a story for another day...).

I didn't feel awkward.

We made eye contact.

He initiated the conversation.

It was actually interesting (!!!).

I was holding a giant sandwich.

I didn't say anything really idiotic.

I was funny.
I WAS FUNNY!

He was funny.
HE WAS FUNNY!

We established a future conversation path.

It didn't end uncomfortably, nor too soon or early.

There it is.
Best first real conversation ever. It made me like him all the more. I'm scared that I'm getting carried away, but this time, maybe there's at least some substance to my daydreams...

In other news, Audrey Flack is coming to lecture tomorrow.



You should look her up; she's a fantastic contemporary artist. Also, she's playing a banjo concert with a good friend. I'm pretty certain that it will be extremely entertaining.