10+5-4+6+10-5=22

I'm officially 22 years old. I was asked today what I have learned in 22 years, and this what I've learned:

• God is real; as is the Atonement. 
• Everyone's life is hard. 
• Do what you want to do. If that is going to school, dying your hair purple, or staring at hot air balloons--do it, and do it well.
• Loving is real. Hurting is real. Healing is real. Loving again is real.
• Not everyone graduates from college in 4 years.
• Find your drug. 
• Laughing really is the best medicine. 

Today really was great. I worked most the day and played volleyball in the evening. I kinda like my coworkers. I blew powder sugar--if you haven't done that before, do it. It's one of my favorites! I finally got my teaspoon set and my favorite Half Baked ice cream. I'm going to bed a happy 22 year old tonight. 

Hell Bent and Scared

Quite a while ago I put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on me. I hate to admit, but I was hurt, and I didn't like it. I could feel my heart inside of me physically hurting. I never knew it could do that until I felt it give a jolting throb. I gave it some time to regain its composure, and then I put my sign over my heart and went along with life. Brian says I put up barriers, and Chad says I'm "frontin'" (said in a gangsta accent and not in a Idaho country accent, as I learned). Mostly, I'm just scared. Growing up, I wasn't scared of much. Ya, ya, ya, I'd climb a fence if it came between heading the hell bent cow and becoming a road bump beneath her 1500 pounds of cow flesh, but that's besides the point. My point is, I used to be brave, I used to trust (kind of) and I used to let myself take a chance--emphasis on all those "used to's." I took my "Do Not Disturb" sign down, but I'm scared every single day, and I don't trust at all anymore and I'm holding myself back as hard and as long as I can. Right now, I think I'd rather take on that hell bent cow...

Ode To My Wisdom Teeth

Oh, dear Wisdom Teeth,

You've done so little for me over the years.
I really didn't know we were friends, you and I.
Now you've made your presence known,
And I regret having ignored you all last summer.

You're smooshing and plooshing your way inside;
Thanks for ruining those years of braces.
I really thought that if I ignored you, you'd go away,
But, alas, most annoying friends don't.

Now our time is short together, however.
In just an hour or so they'll take a scalpel to you,
And probably a crescent wrench...gulp.
Farewell, my dear Wisdom Teeth; I won't miss you.

Skeletons Walking Around

This morning I finished my final project for Women's Literature. I learned almost nothing about Women's Literature since the class wasn't the best organized, taught and tended to lean more towards that hatred of men rather than the love of women. However, from the texts and papers I learned a lot about myself. I just finished taping together (for the second time because I taped it backwards the first time) a timeline of my life for the past two years. I've done and seen a lot in two years, and it has made me who I am. There were parts of the past two years that I felt were skeletons in my closet waiting to fall out, but after writing this project, I feel like I let them out. I let it all out. All my mistakes and my pain, my love and my hope. I let it all out. I felt as though I was Atlas shrugging the world off my shoulders and letting it roll away. What did surprise me, however, is what I am feeling now. I am no longer ashamed, scared, or sad about my past. I love it because without it, I wouldn't be who and where I am today. I'm not saying I am some great person today, but I like who I am, and without the past two years, I wouldn't be me. So, if you happen to run across one of my skeletons, don't shirk from it, but know that I let it go. I let it all go.

Someone, Somewhere, is Helping Your Grandma

Sometimes I drive to the Walmart in Springville even though there is one in Orem. I pass up coveted parking spots on the grounds that it is too awkward because the neighboring car has people in it. I avoid going to people's houses because I don't want to meet their roommates or family. Simply put, I like my space. I don't hate people, but I'd rather observe them from a distance than actually chat with them. My roommate says I am intimidating, but really, I think I'm just antisocial. I like people in small doses and not on a daily basis.

Despite my antisocial tendencies, I met a friend the other day. She is old. And short. And round. She wears glasses and those orthopedic shoes with extra grip rubber soles. She has veins that stick out on the backs of her hands. I love hands like that. She was on the edge of her even-if-you-tried-to-slip-you-couldn't, rubber soled shoes and reaching for a box of Pepperidge Farms Thin Mints a shelf and a half above her vein-ridden hands. I saw her from about half the aisle down and, against my usual self, I walked over to her. She laughed and asked if I would get her a box; I did as she asked. She raised an eyebrow at the box and said, "Well, that's about enough for a skinny person. Pass me two more, will ya?" I liked this woman. I passed her two more, smiled, turned around and walked away--never to see her again.

This old woman, with the veins in her hands and the velcro shoes, reminded me of my grandmother. My grandma Connie is a special woman. I see her as my second mother. She lives on a few miles away, so I grew up with her. She was my sunbeam primary teacher. She was my Achievement Day leader and she is always my friend. Even though I've been moved away from home for almost 4 years now, she still calls me. I don't think she'll ever know how much I love her phone calls. She is kind. I've never heard her speak a misjudged, ill word about anyone. She rarely swears, and she always says "I love you" when leaving. She is one of the most well-read people I know. You've never had toast till you've had my grandmother's toast.

The point is, I miss my grandma. I love and admire her. I was happy to help somebody's grandmother get a box of Thin Mints, and I hope someone helps mine get a box two as well.

First grade; second row, far right

8th grade; back row, far left

3rd from the left

Gold and Green Ball; second from the left

And still as beautiful as ever.

I love you, Grandma Connie.