tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64932616303778955372024-02-19T22:56:07.942-08:00i'm shelley and i probably love you.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-34337503725976488042014-04-14T18:57:00.001-07:002014-04-14T18:57:07.328-07:00The Old TestamentI decided that I'm going to spend this year studying the Old Testament. I'll be honest and admit that my Old Testament study really hasn't extended beyond early morning seminary in high school. There are a few reasons why I'm interested in giving it an in-depth reading as well as why I haven't attempted this in the past.<br /><br />Nathan is teaching Sunday School this year (Old Testament year), so it will be fun to read and study along with him. He's a repository of information and knows all sorts of interesting things about our holy texts. And while I know the basic stories told in it, I'm unfamiliar with the depth of poetry and storytelling in the Old Testament.<br /><br />However, the Old Testament has always felt foreign to me. I can wrap myself in the Book of Mormon like a quilt, and I can drink the Four Gospels like water. But the Old Testament feels like a black-and-white rule book written by an unfamiliar God. A God who rules with violence and war and slavery and oppression. A God who is more concerned with how many steps you take on the Sabbath instead of the God I have a personal relationship with. But I want to understand the Old Testament in its own context, and I want to reconcile it with my understanding of the Good News.<br />
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I'll be switching between my trusty (Mormon-approved) KJV and the more readable and graceful Holman Christian Standard. I'll also be using <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Latter-Day-Saint-Commentary-The-Testament/dp/1570087881" target="_blank">A Latter-day Saint Commentary on the Old Testament</a>, which just happens to be written by Nathan's grandpa (and is refreshingly evidence-based).<br /><br />My goals in this course of study are to reconcile the Old Testament Jehovah with the Jesus I understand, to learn more about the women whose stories are told, and to learn more about the use of metaphor and poetry (specifically in Isaiah). I also hope to extend my reading past the pin-hole lens I've been taught to use for Scripture study in order to appreciate how other religious traditions celebrate and use the Old Testament.<br /><br />Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-16277828124892231032014-04-08T14:09:00.000-07:002014-04-08T14:09:28.459-07:00"Be Faithful and Fearless"<i>Do what is right; the day-dawn is breaking, </i><br />
<i>Hailing a future of freedom and light. </i><br />
<i>Angels above us are silent notes taking
Of ev'ry action; </i><br />
<i>then do what is right! </i><br />
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<i>Do what is right; the shackles are falling. </i><br />
<i>Chains of the bondsmen no longer are bright; </i><br />
<i>Lightened by hope, soon they'll cease to be galling. </i><br />
<i>Truth goeth onward; then do what is right! </i><br />
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<i>Do what is right; be faithful and fearless.</i><br />
<i>Onward, press onward, the goal is in sight. </i><br />
<i>Eyes that are wet now, ere long will be tearless. </i><br />
<i>Blessings await you in doing what's right! </i><br />
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<i>Do what is right; let the consequence follow. </i><br />
<i>Battle for freedom in spirit and might; </i><br />
<i>And with stout hearts look ye forth till tomorrow. </i><br />
<i>God will protect you; then do what is right!</i><br />
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I was putting off writing this. In part because I have papers to write and work to finish, but also in part because this issue comes from a raw heart and a vulnerable spirit. I have been told to leave the Church because of this from both Mormons and non-Mormons. I have been told that I am blasphemous, irreverent, and apostate. I have been told that God isn't happy with what I'm doing. But if there is one thing that being a Mormon has taught me, it's how to be courageous.<br />
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While I may not have identified as a feminist for my entire life, I remember recognizing gendered power dynamics in my Church as a little girl. I remember silently wondering why only men were in charge at Church, why only my brothers could pass the Sacrament, and why we call male leaders "President" but female leaders "Sister." I learned quickly, however, that thinking about these things constituted a moral failing and a lack of willingness to understand God's plan. And while I grew up and started calling myself a feminist, I didn't dare ask out loud why women aren't ordained to the Priesthood.</span><br />
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My first moment of pure outrage about this was during a Relief Society meeting in my BYU Freshman ward. Our Stake President informed us--a group of 17 and 18 year-old girls--that we would need to share our husbands with other women in order to go to heaven. I was angry and heartbroken, but I didn't have the language or the courage to be angry and heartbroken out loud. Looking back on it now, I realized that my anger was rooted not in the fact that he was simply wrong, but in the fact that this person had more authority to speak on doctrine than I ever would because he is a man and I am a woman. That questioning him meant questioning my Priesthood leaders. I want to go back and sit next to 17 year-old Shelley in that meeting and whisper to her that it's okay to demand citations and encourage her to speak up. But I can't. Instead, I sat in silence.</span><br />
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I sat in silence because my experience of being a woman in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints means learning how to sit in silence. And I can't do that anymore.</span><br />
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Last weekend, I flew to Salt Lake City to participate with more than 500 women and men to demonstrate our support for revelation regarding women's Priesthood ordination. Controversial is an understatement. Many others have already written about what this event was and what it wasn't, so I won't write about that. Instead, I want to write about why I personally chose to participate.</span><br />
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Revelation necessarily follows inquiry. The Scriptures and the history of my Church are full of examples of this. With few exceptions, God doesn't tell us things unless we ask. He didn't free Nephi until Nephi asked to be freed. He didn't forgive Enos's sins until Enos asked for forgiveness. And he didn't tell Joseph Smith about his prophetic mantle until he knelt down and asked. Often, this inquiry is hard and unexpected. Sometimes, it's unpopular. While I am incomparable to Jesus or even Brother Joseph, when it comes to asking questions and talking about things that aren't popular among my immediate religious community, I'm in pretty good company.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some have responded by saying that the Church PR office had released a statement asking participants to reconsider having this event, so going forward with it would be disobedient. However, I believe there is a marked difference between the Church as a vehicle for Restored Truth and the Church as a temporal institution. There are 15 specific people that I have sustained as Prophets, Seers, and Revelators, and not a single one of them works for the PR office. I do not believe that Church-wide revelation comes through any </span>public<span style="font-family: inherit;"> relations officer, no matter how nice of a person they may be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Others </span>have<span style="font-family: inherit;"> responded that God has already given us an answer about this. If He has, I would like to know what Prophet He said this to and on what date it was </span>canonized<span style="font-family: inherit;"> as revelation. Because I belong to a Church that is governed by an open cannon of revelation, not speculation even by Church leaders. I belong to Church that is believes in asking questions because "He will yet reveal many great and important things related to the Kingdom of God." I do not belong to a Church that is governed by the unwritten order of things (sorry President Packer). I do not belong to a Church that is governed by precedent or tradition. Because what </span>compels<span style="font-family: inherit;"> me most to Mormonism is the </span>incredibly radical idea that God isn't done talking to us. So the idea that my asking about women's ordination is somehow blasphemous or inappropriate or putting me on the road to apostasy is no different than thinking that God has said everything He wants to say about it and asking for more revealed truth is heretical.<br />
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And the most faithful thing I can do is ask and live my life believing He will answer.<br />
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</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">So on Saturday evening, I asked. And I believe He will answer through a Prophet in His own time.</span><br />
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<i>Photo via Katrina Baker Anderson</i></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-80684333185532837812014-03-09T19:23:00.000-07:002014-03-09T19:29:49.964-07:00A year in gif's, part deuxSo about a year ago, I posted <a href="http://sshheelleeyy.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-year-in-gifs.html" target="_blank">this</a>. I thought I would give an update on an unsure but hopeful situation.<br />
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Things could not be better for me right now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp1CpYJ40upCFo-axcqxyDo8JD4h01WmOqtam4sV0mnXPyDDeoBMicPfNiImA3-zKjgAWXVT8_Q0F5jq5EFazZykDsPjdvNCQtEz-otWKlz9HJXgSMHJubPy-FXOzWB9onpQOETShfwE/s1600/happydog.gif.pagespeed.ce.HO1_FO3I7N.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYp1CpYJ40upCFo-axcqxyDo8JD4h01WmOqtam4sV0mnXPyDDeoBMicPfNiImA3-zKjgAWXVT8_Q0F5jq5EFazZykDsPjdvNCQtEz-otWKlz9HJXgSMHJubPy-FXOzWB9onpQOETShfwE/s1600/happydog.gif.pagespeed.ce.HO1_FO3I7N.gif" /></a><br />
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I did end up getting accepted to the City and Regional Planning program at OSU. And it's perfect for me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6jxLlqwwjzdrZmfzXrMwVNDg6YBIanMDiNR0MTvDyxryvJcBW4gkaRU9uZU-Ew852MBYDNvuCydNeUrsf1un4vJWLHX3JU2goFnGhxfCN_x8-266068iS7E2Yawenpu60iUzc1-gBl8/s1600/thumbs-up.gif.pagespeed.ce.k0nMalhnn1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6jxLlqwwjzdrZmfzXrMwVNDg6YBIanMDiNR0MTvDyxryvJcBW4gkaRU9uZU-Ew852MBYDNvuCydNeUrsf1un4vJWLHX3JU2goFnGhxfCN_x8-266068iS7E2Yawenpu60iUzc1-gBl8/s1600/thumbs-up.gif.pagespeed.ce.k0nMalhnn1.gif" /></a></div>
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I also have an internship with Local Matters, which is a Columbus-based non profit that deals with food systems. I work specifically with an initiative that connects people at risk of hunger with cooking and nutrition classes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CYbEHq9sFY82A4pTlf0oKIHVquWNmWiaMJjQc15UTSvD8zRJGXbomN4cHuhyphenhyphenZBLOD9dQrLqBA818vklyMN2G68or99_zVW2Yg8qftUYiOm6R5UYKw1lprBOLJ8_6fRUSlmv19lpvHLo/s1600/cookie-monster.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3CYbEHq9sFY82A4pTlf0oKIHVquWNmWiaMJjQc15UTSvD8zRJGXbomN4cHuhyphenhyphenZBLOD9dQrLqBA818vklyMN2G68or99_zVW2Yg8qftUYiOm6R5UYKw1lprBOLJ8_6fRUSlmv19lpvHLo/s1600/cookie-monster.gif" height="182" width="320" /></a></div>
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AND I work at Jeni's, a Columbus artisan ice cream shop that is dedicated to high quality, locally-sourced ingredients as well as social and environmental enterprise. </div>
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I'm in a program fitted to my interests, I have a meaningful internship, and on the weekends I scoop up the best ice cream in the world. My life is awesome.</div>
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I just want to high five everyone.</div>
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Ev.er.y.one.</div>
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Most days, I feel a lot of this.<br />
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A combination of working really hard and being lucky/blessed has given me tons of great opportunities, and I'm looking forward to the future.</div>
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In short: everything is awesome. I'm awesome. You're awesome.</div>
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Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-46988442251544595602013-06-09T15:13:00.000-07:002013-06-09T15:13:37.665-07:00Dark Chocolate Cake with Bitter Ganache and Salted Caramel Frosting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So for some reason, I really wanted to make a cake yesterday. A rich, chocolatey, buttery cake. But I couldn't think of a reason to justify making one with just my husband and I to eat it. But I remembered that we were having missionaries over for dinner today, so what kind of host would I be if I didn't have a delicious cake for them?<br /><br />Some of my Facebook friends asked for the recipe, so here you go:<br /><br /><b>Ingredients:</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Cake:<br />
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<ul>
<li>2 cups sugar</li>
<li>1 3/4 cups white flour</li>
<li>3/4 cups baking cocoa (I added about a spoonful more; I like really dark chocolate)</li>
<li>1 1/2 tsp baking powder</li>
<li>1 1/2 tsp baking soda</li>
<li>1 tsp salt</li>
<li>2 eggs</li>
<li>1 cup milk</li>
<li>1/2 cup vegetable oil</li>
<li>2 tsp vanilla extract</li>
<li>3/4 cups boiling water</li>
</ul>
<div>
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<div>
Ganache:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>4 oz bittersweet chocolate (I use Ghirardelli 60%)</li>
<li>1/3 cup heavy cream</li>
</ul>
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<div>
Frosting:</div>
</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>1 cup sugar</li>
<li>1/4 cup water</li>
<li>1/2 cup butter</li>
<li>1/2 cup heavy cream</li>
<li>1 tsp vanilla</li>
<li>1/2 tsp salt</li>
<li>1 cup butter, room temperature</li>
<li>3 cups(ish) powdered sugar</li>
<li>Coarse sea salt for garnish</li>
</ul>
<div>
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</div>
<div>
<b>Cake:</b></div>
<div>
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.</div>
<div>
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<div>
Line two 9" cake pans with parchment paper, OR grease and flour them thoroughly, whichever you prefer.</div>
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<div>
Combine all dry cake ingredients in a large mixing bowl.</div>
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Add the eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and vanilla to dry ingredients and mix with hand or stand mixer for about two minutes.</div>
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<div>
Stir in boiling water by hand.</div>
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<div>
Pour evenly into the cake pans and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a skewer inserted comes out clean.</div>
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<div>
Let cool completely (I speed this up and put them in the fridge. If you keep an eye on them and check frequently, they won't dry out.)</div>
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<div>
<b>Ganache:</b></div>
<div>
While cakes are cooling, melt bittersweet chocolate with heavy cream in a double boiler. You can microwave the chocolate, but doing the double boiler method ensures that the chocolate won't seize. Once chocolate is melted set aside to cool and thicken.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Frosting:</b></div>
<div>
Combine sugar and water in a medium sauce pan. Cook over medium high heat until mixture turns an amber color and you smell a distinct caramel aroma, about 7-8 minutes. Do not stir or scrape down sides.</div>
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<div>
Add 1/2 cup butter to caramel sauce. It will sputter, so stand back.</div>
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<div>
When butter is melted, remove pan from heat. Add cream, vanilla, and salt.</div>
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<div>
Let cool completely. I let it cool on a hot pad for about 10 minutes then put the pan in an ice bath. The caramel has to be completely cool, otherwise your frosting will melt and it will be a huge mess.</div>
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<div>
Mix 1 cup butter and powdered sugar, 1 cup at a time, with a hand or stand mixer on high. You want it to be thick because the caramel will thin it out a little.</div>
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<div>
When the caramel is completely cool, add it to butter and sugar mixture. Add salt. If necessary, add powdered sugar and milk a little at a time until your frosting reaches a desirable consistency. Add extra salt to taste if you desire.<br /><br />Refrigerate frosting for 45 minutes.</div>
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<div>
<b>Assembly:</b></div>
<div>
Remove cakes from pans. Level if necessary (I discovered that I didn't have to do any leveling with this cake recipe, but you might depending on humidity and other factors).</div>
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<div>
Put about 1/2 cup of frosting in a piping bag and dam around the edge of one of the cakes. (<a href="http://www.wilton.com/cakes/making-cakes/filling-cake-layers.cfm" target="_blank">How to dam.</a>) You don't need to put a tip on the bag. You can even just cut the corner off a ziplock bag and use that.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Pour the ganache onto the cake you dammed. Spread it up to the edges of the frosting dam.<br /><br />Carefully place the second cake onto the first. Adjust to make sure they line up.<br /><br />Give the frosting one more go with the mixer since it thickened and hardened in the fridge.<br /><br />Frost a <a href="http://www.wilton.com/blog/index.php/start-with-a-crumb-coat-for-a-smooth-cake-finish/" target="_blank">crumb coat</a>. This is really important with chocolate cakes especially since they tend to be very crumby. Refrigerate for 20 minutes to set.</div>
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<div>
Finally, frost the cake. You can do decorative frosting with a piping bag or just put in on with a butter knife. I like to make a decorative swirl on top with the back of a spoon.<br /><br />Garnish with sea salt.<br /><br />One thing I might try if I make this again is experiment with cooking the caramel sauce longer for a deeper flavor, or even making a dry caramel. I might also double or even triple the ganache recipe and torte the cake to make 4 layers. You can also make a sweeter ganache by using a 30-50% chocolate, or you can make it even darker with 75%+ chocolate.</div>
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<div>
Enjoy!<br /><br /></div>
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Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-22236852798535760592013-04-29T20:38:00.001-07:002013-04-29T20:38:49.299-07:00A year in gif'sSo the past year of my life has been...not super great<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh31sI93os2KqO3BeONZvw5dQajD7lFVa3Cg2i-0ES3C0btv4Px9JAc6bVEAA4dVA3hauEI-9EMGKdhpS1_nnqMrGTUYTOXX_alu7MiTXZJFJ4sFpH3iQxk9VeM9Ke6p8FlHdvDjFSTw_I/s1600/feels.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh31sI93os2KqO3BeONZvw5dQajD7lFVa3Cg2i-0ES3C0btv4Px9JAc6bVEAA4dVA3hauEI-9EMGKdhpS1_nnqMrGTUYTOXX_alu7MiTXZJFJ4sFpH3iQxk9VeM9Ke6p8FlHdvDjFSTw_I/s1600/feels.gif" /></a></div>
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Let's start with the beginning of last April. I was SO EXCITED TO GRADUATE FROM COLLEGE.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5tN2u4HwbPHXQMZ0mNsdczYaFmZyz3OBxO2RAXLhfvNS-qfW5mXgXfD82iwciwZnNxR3OvLpf3qq65Q-ApgS-u64Xqgw320olWuq6JOVnpkBaOWebE2aehqwXoW2cs7ARRkvI7PyW9c/s1600/conan_thank-you.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5tN2u4HwbPHXQMZ0mNsdczYaFmZyz3OBxO2RAXLhfvNS-qfW5mXgXfD82iwciwZnNxR3OvLpf3qq65Q-ApgS-u64Xqgw320olWuq6JOVnpkBaOWebE2aehqwXoW2cs7ARRkvI7PyW9c/s320/conan_thank-you.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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I ran out of the Marriott Center with my sample diploma and non-returnable polyester cap and gown feeling prett-tay good about myself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7Fr9uCKheSQyudF5GRdiOeWQCESmZn2mwnHnacTzOflXvF7lOQC-bzyTx8rAPx-JCzUaSZuN_wpUx6PSZ6hVzFWJi5373JWmf_mh507d3MfKIHR1VMaroBOapUoBBC4JlFCp6hccg8I/s1600/lemon-happyrunaway1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq7Fr9uCKheSQyudF5GRdiOeWQCESmZn2mwnHnacTzOflXvF7lOQC-bzyTx8rAPx-JCzUaSZuN_wpUx6PSZ6hVzFWJi5373JWmf_mh507d3MfKIHR1VMaroBOapUoBBC4JlFCp6hccg8I/s320/lemon-happyrunaway1.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Armed with my Philosophy BA, I felt like I could do anything.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIKZyLsKkDRBrN677D9XtN3dLk4jmCc04IB-zHtOjS050AxhO2vImu6ms1nHR6Ps5gULHRbwv2KmsFLM3sfdQJJgrrsTJ25V-CarrilDfZP15GyPdo-1rlfyZrMST8E4veRBVGfiw3ZU/s1600/alive.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIKZyLsKkDRBrN677D9XtN3dLk4jmCc04IB-zHtOjS050AxhO2vImu6ms1nHR6Ps5gULHRbwv2KmsFLM3sfdQJJgrrsTJ25V-CarrilDfZP15GyPdo-1rlfyZrMST8E4veRBVGfiw3ZU/s1600/alive.gif" /></a></div>
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I knew we were only going to be in Provo for another four months, but I still wanted to find a job. I had professional work experience and a college degree. I was sure I would find something that I liked and paid well. I was totally confident in my ability to take on the job market.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQt9RsssZk8gG94mGqaiO7mmwUN2MDgnyWpUEGndXmCKEI4sYFvEvIre-45P80QjPnxgdTwrsmRIxxhsyXrqqL9pS23iSte4rtqt_l_PO7re4kSv2CvwuisFIB48dkjpzW0gdRxhjv2Ao/s1600/come_at_me_bro.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQt9RsssZk8gG94mGqaiO7mmwUN2MDgnyWpUEGndXmCKEI4sYFvEvIre-45P80QjPnxgdTwrsmRIxxhsyXrqqL9pS23iSte4rtqt_l_PO7re4kSv2CvwuisFIB48dkjpzW0gdRxhjv2Ao/s320/come_at_me_bro.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oh boy was I wrong. Rejection after rejection after rejection after rejection. Overqualified. Underqualified. Not enough experience. Won't be here long enough.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4DP8Am5P3HGw34FpsalLVKLIHkwLlKe1bLf6TUW9UFpXDixr66K-_6gzhMSUjqjrY3nZbls66IMBZEmKA0hnM4roU2gZPbQaJYtc3ggQXlYsUU8hnxTJ3LkX1VWIJK-lW0ESRgY6c-0/s1600/1102.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq4DP8Am5P3HGw34FpsalLVKLIHkwLlKe1bLf6TUW9UFpXDixr66K-_6gzhMSUjqjrY3nZbls66IMBZEmKA0hnM4roU2gZPbQaJYtc3ggQXlYsUU8hnxTJ3LkX1VWIJK-lW0ESRgY6c-0/s1600/1102.gif" /></a></div>
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<br />The summer that I was expecting to be a lot of this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXeqbDDnRfwmiNoBTSGbpRQYvEdVS4zpz1tFg_gxJXTGkt3jPTI486C6iCU2KSJzdTOyu2vX_2dlp4JCIcXptnGi6es7cnKuUYl6C6m5g5QvLhmUMgkfvqZnKHDlK-jxEMmZ54mxoFsk/s1600/andy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrXeqbDDnRfwmiNoBTSGbpRQYvEdVS4zpz1tFg_gxJXTGkt3jPTI486C6iCU2KSJzdTOyu2vX_2dlp4JCIcXptnGi6es7cnKuUYl6C6m5g5QvLhmUMgkfvqZnKHDlK-jxEMmZ54mxoFsk/s320/andy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ended up being a whole lot more of this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWfkRPBF3kzoACJQLoy6Ub168tGxKFK_27vaScTlu_w5cfCIaPLGvDTK2vtnbH3I2ubHvZY1eK99xA8h-yZIB-qqASHawEDH8jOrsbHCRI4Ipl7MsykHlgpHKBtPMMWDDAUtzcAVJmx8/s1600/shame.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWfkRPBF3kzoACJQLoy6Ub168tGxKFK_27vaScTlu_w5cfCIaPLGvDTK2vtnbH3I2ubHvZY1eK99xA8h-yZIB-qqASHawEDH8jOrsbHCRI4Ipl7MsykHlgpHKBtPMMWDDAUtzcAVJmx8/s1600/shame.gif" /></a></div>
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Which led to feeling a lot like this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQx6lqEiGtXyJlLkLIHsw2vQFUwgLGkTsJTnfDotNfExfO11Ijof_0Kjrg5Tplvfhtrleu6RSmTpZy2rs0LCLjEmMTOvl5L0fRO7u4dZldA798UxSNp5rUmvZogAMkIggeDfPdQlo1Esw/s1600/sad_face.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQx6lqEiGtXyJlLkLIHsw2vQFUwgLGkTsJTnfDotNfExfO11Ijof_0Kjrg5Tplvfhtrleu6RSmTpZy2rs0LCLjEmMTOvl5L0fRO7u4dZldA798UxSNp5rUmvZogAMkIggeDfPdQlo1Esw/s320/sad_face.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And pretty much every day turned into feeling like this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF02GBSH4kd-UXazTO9spgwEL-52jPZeZPRiMA3Hk4e0F1RD9OMbX_xCSxmVWhaoWKRq3H0mysszMh2RoXHSXcmZrK3PE9tI9AIHmRSzT4JzIGtEAPVBpnlFkFO_Ps4ExgAZlW5acIefU/s1600/angry1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF02GBSH4kd-UXazTO9spgwEL-52jPZeZPRiMA3Hk4e0F1RD9OMbX_xCSxmVWhaoWKRq3H0mysszMh2RoXHSXcmZrK3PE9tI9AIHmRSzT4JzIGtEAPVBpnlFkFO_Ps4ExgAZlW5acIefU/s320/angry1.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And there was definitely a lot of this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo9oVGLoL6DOdPdwSJgi88eV4z77-GmaOjveXS_uhssWTbPajsrg8Cb9nSEUEeKo_Qm0GqD1Yz9h5f9lCKZ5Gi_CBxuwEIqH0pQf-bO3vtALwF-SAPwQhzXtZL1Jccx7tEZb3M9OCrgE/s1600/Eat-Your-Feelings.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMo9oVGLoL6DOdPdwSJgi88eV4z77-GmaOjveXS_uhssWTbPajsrg8Cb9nSEUEeKo_Qm0GqD1Yz9h5f9lCKZ5Gi_CBxuwEIqH0pQf-bO3vtALwF-SAPwQhzXtZL1Jccx7tEZb3M9OCrgE/s320/Eat-Your-Feelings.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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I had a few job interviews. I would inevitably get my hopes up for them, only for things to turn out like this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMW3yd-_mC9gKPts2mt5VZTMJNXEzr8AVf2GxZk-xe4HUEOTmENRYd1hCgSMzlXDcN-IbQtp12vbQeTsKimgOBKLc72NXZUFoMc1hkBgGLrHSCwr3vUGGNZlOQTxZP_yVIN46QSdcfMA/s1600/1367280724425.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtMW3yd-_mC9gKPts2mt5VZTMJNXEzr8AVf2GxZk-xe4HUEOTmENRYd1hCgSMzlXDcN-IbQtp12vbQeTsKimgOBKLc72NXZUFoMc1hkBgGLrHSCwr3vUGGNZlOQTxZP_yVIN46QSdcfMA/s1600/1367280724425.gif" /></a></div>
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And I started to believe that I made horrible, terrible, irrevocable mistakes in my life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwzRQ6HJfRPb70Z4B8iCAZq_0szvAgbYT_k_L2qjTbQXwWKuc31kCq69kNI_LMaXezgRPu-nGoUJMr8bH26UqEZBji8AVWfZSwoLJV1CPxU4JcnXVMbcF0jZqqPCjM6JEc3HsryH5N9o/s1600/failed.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbwzRQ6HJfRPb70Z4B8iCAZq_0szvAgbYT_k_L2qjTbQXwWKuc31kCq69kNI_LMaXezgRPu-nGoUJMr8bH26UqEZBji8AVWfZSwoLJV1CPxU4JcnXVMbcF0jZqqPCjM6JEc3HsryH5N9o/s320/failed.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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My wonderful, kind, thoughtful husband assured me that everything was okay. But I didn't think so.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQNK8LDC6RDOPRrv1eUDvstLvcnXNzPYELinX9quALRk0qs1M6grY62yF3luSva4Zpg-7Y5cOHi_ZVtMPW9_6BZV9IhvUkFIqChHotJ5zoIiAzvMyhkosvuVHFWsZIoBAGfmeFxzNemw/s1600/I_love_you_but.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtQNK8LDC6RDOPRrv1eUDvstLvcnXNzPYELinX9quALRk0qs1M6grY62yF3luSva4Zpg-7Y5cOHi_ZVtMPW9_6BZV9IhvUkFIqChHotJ5zoIiAzvMyhkosvuVHFWsZIoBAGfmeFxzNemw/s320/I_love_you_but.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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I scraped through the summer. I was looking forward to moving to Columbus being a new start. I was hopeful.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxAXHNnvXpUd7fHu0zpfA1lZ2gM0g8JCSd6V1XZVKK0pMnJfv4eX8_v8sllk_VD5-SdBgg8GR4fhHDutVuNi2eX7jYizp0cLHwjH0-uJO2Io_uqtaMeJR_Agv0QsalMRRvPZW4iM8D5Q/s1600/excited_2012_gif.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpxAXHNnvXpUd7fHu0zpfA1lZ2gM0g8JCSd6V1XZVKK0pMnJfv4eX8_v8sllk_VD5-SdBgg8GR4fhHDutVuNi2eX7jYizp0cLHwjH0-uJO2Io_uqtaMeJR_Agv0QsalMRRvPZW4iM8D5Q/s320/excited_2012_gif.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And very soon after moving, I did find a job as a teacher's assistant at a daycare.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ1Gi_jiEnUCuzC0q0cKbXSLvFIPUhjKTyqLiOkBH8oT60eHhpjzNOFhyHGGzZz9O-5K1QhIX_fiBTGf41l6Z5sDgZE85nhyphenhyphenOenqdtzlRrQYalYM-vmOHjAAhPxJ9EiiUztQtFxBM-WI/s1600/awesome.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQQ1Gi_jiEnUCuzC0q0cKbXSLvFIPUhjKTyqLiOkBH8oT60eHhpjzNOFhyHGGzZz9O-5K1QhIX_fiBTGf41l6Z5sDgZE85nhyphenhyphenOenqdtzlRrQYalYM-vmOHjAAhPxJ9EiiUztQtFxBM-WI/s320/awesome.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And I really did like it for awhile. I liked being with kids, but I didn't fit in with my coworkers or the work environment. I always felt a little out of place.</div>
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But I dealt with it. Even all the terrible poopy diapers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEAP6Qv-pXbr1AntWAbXeaOMzb9NjqM-7yfXhMkDkEul4mcdRiMbl3M9we0J4zJkDF_EpaTi_jcOciNeMFc1QtSBUJrYbEZ8vGzi1M6wXUr5ClH286L3YDQbLty23UIU0Y3LPfr9rqvg/s1600/tumblr_lwxys7gdMl1qii6tmo1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEAP6Qv-pXbr1AntWAbXeaOMzb9NjqM-7yfXhMkDkEul4mcdRiMbl3M9we0J4zJkDF_EpaTi_jcOciNeMFc1QtSBUJrYbEZ8vGzi1M6wXUr5ClH286L3YDQbLty23UIU0Y3LPfr9rqvg/s320/tumblr_lwxys7gdMl1qii6tmo1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And the vomit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUn5nQT78uZIPuAhB40bNvfvtQ1ggW1_kqLwLBT0DVyer0z_iv8Y-Skbq6jKJt-eTDmBayjFTWFOy2pXvCSr8zbKa1eRYQKrh1JVa10g_3ZCCrCTtUNwpnxXY-8PS5T3D_p_xP4INZsBs/s1600/tumblr_inline_mln6ufv09l1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUn5nQT78uZIPuAhB40bNvfvtQ1ggW1_kqLwLBT0DVyer0z_iv8Y-Skbq6jKJt-eTDmBayjFTWFOy2pXvCSr8zbKa1eRYQKrh1JVa10g_3ZCCrCTtUNwpnxXY-8PS5T3D_p_xP4INZsBs/s320/tumblr_inline_mln6ufv09l1qz4rgp.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And that one time I had to get the steam cleaner to clean poop out of a rug.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKQIH-wwh_Kv0AycH9SFbnOTZCca99dA6fwX5CrA5-ABnLmxICRgRIXPNAAiBcQsSU473a7FJH3rhSXFD_rBHFDxeZ5uTi3xjJ9dMLVUU4z_OvTVGVVJkqQcIaw2jt3L3J5SOFQMlRXE/s1600/the-21-most-disgusted-celebrity-gifs-04d91a17-sz500x328-animate.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtKQIH-wwh_Kv0AycH9SFbnOTZCca99dA6fwX5CrA5-ABnLmxICRgRIXPNAAiBcQsSU473a7FJH3rhSXFD_rBHFDxeZ5uTi3xjJ9dMLVUU4z_OvTVGVVJkqQcIaw2jt3L3J5SOFQMlRXE/s320/the-21-most-disgusted-celebrity-gifs-04d91a17-sz500x328-animate.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And then the double standards with some of us being expected to follow rules that others weren't.</div>
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At month 7 of this job, my mornings became consistently like this</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgup8yRRLlDG9raRF068bNrjtubXka_9p297KPon9pPJfs9oJoC7U6drlx4Z1IW-L2uJf5LZ_U-SeiJJSgBF1qCaAnUcFqrLCk6qqB1VnwEuOmGTCFmD7iI4NCwKAqbdtGxYl2sIHFCWjE/s1600/cant.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgup8yRRLlDG9raRF068bNrjtubXka_9p297KPon9pPJfs9oJoC7U6drlx4Z1IW-L2uJf5LZ_U-SeiJJSgBF1qCaAnUcFqrLCk6qqB1VnwEuOmGTCFmD7iI4NCwKAqbdtGxYl2sIHFCWjE/s1600/cant.gif" /></a></div>
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Monday mornings were particularly bad.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDRZTN434uM9mtJpVRXv5QuOLK7T6mN4JlnvxzDKvs6Z0FlBw7KIVfnLZtTcotGftg8hr145WNBaKlKWeQSW_CCsnKAvYFQFSXXwswYf6vtMGokG0e4AkNXC56bebaVtwAIjn1KJBDYs/s1600/sadman.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDRZTN434uM9mtJpVRXv5QuOLK7T6mN4JlnvxzDKvs6Z0FlBw7KIVfnLZtTcotGftg8hr145WNBaKlKWeQSW_CCsnKAvYFQFSXXwswYf6vtMGokG0e4AkNXC56bebaVtwAIjn1KJBDYs/s1600/sadman.gif" /></a></div>
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I was incredibly unhappy. The most unhappy I've ever been. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWcQtg5vZ4f3l3QfPXCzwYpmflVzIVyPuMKrxSBhNZZ0CB679Wzy1kDJ9Q7YHuHlMDovQW3E-4_ircLRfeeTG-FcQTABWXkdaJd7Os2at1hJlKP4QRRrJF12S1k158TTJX55ZeruClwQ/s1600/ralph-v-day.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWcQtg5vZ4f3l3QfPXCzwYpmflVzIVyPuMKrxSBhNZZ0CB679Wzy1kDJ9Q7YHuHlMDovQW3E-4_ircLRfeeTG-FcQTABWXkdaJd7Os2at1hJlKP4QRRrJF12S1k158TTJX55ZeruClwQ/s1600/ralph-v-day.gif" /></a></div>
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I felt incredibly stagnant. I wasn't doing at all what I thought I was going to. But I felt stuck because what else was I going to do? The whole situation was terribly frustrating.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetFz0H38wzsC5LI1Uq3e4cB5tYB9euWl6fSXYF9DjcrfbcSllFpXYZ4bxY0mcrif7PuZ6hTVkRDY3ZBLQs3B1ZNhFfcJP4Rlyh2_ygItn4WZ7LKcr7rzTpAWZ-FsITKnzH25-Accz6os/s1600/f-this.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjetFz0H38wzsC5LI1Uq3e4cB5tYB9euWl6fSXYF9DjcrfbcSllFpXYZ4bxY0mcrif7PuZ6hTVkRDY3ZBLQs3B1ZNhFfcJP4Rlyh2_ygItn4WZ7LKcr7rzTpAWZ-FsITKnzH25-Accz6os/s1600/f-this.gif" /></a></div>
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And then I realized something important: I have more choices than I think I do.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4mlftfXuEdJO_DOE8uG2A_zKjwrltoz0daMDP4JvqYuSDqj3mN73Nrifv4hMRlgTk6d8NDq6y25Cmh308eWlKhB0XwahGK01JqvmykPP0SFI2Z0t1mU_UsLfSxUNDMopXwFPGCZT8SQ/s1600/1367280823844.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB4mlftfXuEdJO_DOE8uG2A_zKjwrltoz0daMDP4JvqYuSDqj3mN73Nrifv4hMRlgTk6d8NDq6y25Cmh308eWlKhB0XwahGK01JqvmykPP0SFI2Z0t1mU_UsLfSxUNDMopXwFPGCZT8SQ/s320/1367280823844.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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And I realized that it's not okay to do things that make you unhappy because you feel like you're supposed to do them.</div>
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So I quit my job.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX0coMk8tjUiuwjO9gAGuVBZcx3rtv-2rLGm4HzYYheSu3TVZp5__l0PWEKP6UTRQEmwriHGrRgXTDZN03WyTLBA5zuToP-NbcZbIQUpxxthuCPu10zdnxKJ0GPUPvulVjARoq7SA2IY/s1600/9f1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX0coMk8tjUiuwjO9gAGuVBZcx3rtv-2rLGm4HzYYheSu3TVZp5__l0PWEKP6UTRQEmwriHGrRgXTDZN03WyTLBA5zuToP-NbcZbIQUpxxthuCPu10zdnxKJ0GPUPvulVjARoq7SA2IY/s1600/9f1.gif" /></a></div>
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And it's okay. We're fine on Nathan's student stipend and I'm finding good, productive ways to fill my time. I'm finishing up my application to OSU's City and Regional Planning Master's Program. I'm super nervous about it.</div>
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Hopefully the admissions committee will, in their all-powerful mercy, look favorably upon my liberal arts degree and 3.6 gpa.</div>
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But even if they don't, that's okay. I'll find other ways to spend my time with things that make me happy.</div>
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Especially because I have someone who loves me a lot.</div>
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I know I'm probably going to have some more days like this</div>
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But here's to hoping most of them are like this</div>
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Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-23265669538434408582012-09-27T15:05:00.002-07:002012-09-27T18:49:57.887-07:00The Temple, Garments, and what Sacred looks like<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been reading a lot this morning about the speculation surrounding Ann Romney and her wearing of garments. Pictures of her wearing very short sleeves and above-the-knee skirts have led some to question if she in fact wears Temple garments. I think the whole thing is ridiculous and that how someone chooses to explore their faith is no one's business but their own (not to mention that some women's garments don't actually go to the knee), but I don't want to talk about Ann Romney.<br />
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Instead, I want to talk about how we think of the sacredness of Temple ceremonies and garments.<br />
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If you are unfamiliar, here are some basic definitions: Mormons practice ritualistic ceremonies in Temples which we believe are patterned after ancient Temple ceremonies. We also believe that those who have participated in a particular ceremony, called the Endowment, have the opportunity to wear garments. Garments are white underclothing consisting of a short sleeve top and a bottom which extends almost to the knee (there are some other kinds, such as long-sleeve garments for cold weather and one-pieces). Endowed Mormons are asked to wear them at all times except when doing things than can not be reasonably done while wearing them, such as bathing or swimming. We can compare it to clothing worn by members of other ritualistic religions, because they serve the same purpose: a constant, outward reminder of an inward covenant with God.
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To think that we can keep these things from those outside the Church is naive. Anyone can do a quick Google search and see videos and pictures of things sacred to Mormons. Often times, Mormons become offended when someone reveals these things to the public, and for good reason. We are taught that the Temple is the most sacred place on earth and we generally associate revealing it with anti-Mormon antagonism. But even though our first reaction is offense, should we remain offended? I think exploring what sacred means in a Mormon context would help us not to be.<br />
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It has been said (which, if someone can source this for me, that would be wonderful) that the difference between reading about or watching the Temple ceremony online and actually experiencing it in person is like the difference between reading the score and watching the symphony. I think this is a fantastic analogy, and one with which I agree. I'll be honest, I have sat in Temple ceremonies and thought, "If I didn't believe in the ancient pattern or symbolism of all of this, I would think it was really, really, really weird." I'm sure if I read about it online before my own Endowment, I would not get the same feeling that I get in the Temple: the active participation of my body and soul feels like the way I was designed to worship God. While I enjoy the intellectual satisfaction of thinking about the Temple ceremony, I go for the spiritual fulfillment.<br />
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I often wonder if our reasons for keeping the Temple and garments sacred are misguided. We often use the idiom "Sacred, not secret" in reference to the Temple. But is this how we practice it? I would argue that the reason we are asked not to reveal Temple ceremonies or garments is not a pearls-before-swine rationale. <b>Rather, the experience we have in the Temple is incommunicable to those who have not experienced it. It is more than just words and ritual. The sacredness of the entire experience gets lost when we try to communicate it outside of its context. </b>It's not because it's our own little secret which only gets shared with a select few, but that to willingly share it outside of its context shows a complete misunderstanding of the reasons behind it.<br />
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I also think we get confused about what in the Temple is actually sacred. The symbols and the words used are not what are sacred. What the symbols and words mean are what is. One big criticism of the Temple ceremony is its similarity to Masonic rituals. However, I would argue that the symbols and words in the Temple ceremony could be anything, so long as they still represent what God intends them to. So what if someone records it and posts it on Youtube? So what if someone is selling garments on Ebay? The sacredness no longer exists in it. It becomes only a satisfaction of curiosity and nothing else.<br />
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I hope that we can get to a point where we get a better understanding what sacred means and how our experience with the Temple and garments fits into our culture of information and curiosity. And I hope for myself that I can be okay with the decisions of others to discount the Temple's sacredness because those decisions do not affect my faith and my Mormon experience.<br />
<br />Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-75478816063007198512012-06-27T15:19:00.002-07:002012-06-27T15:28:11.425-07:00On Mercy and the Transient CommunitySo I've recently tried to get in the habit of buying a meal, even just a McDonald's lunch, for every homeless person I see. I'm not perfect at this, and sometimes I like to convince myself that I have somewhere important to be (protip: I don't), but I'm trying to get better at it. Today while driving back from some errands in Orem, I found myself willing to buy lunch for a transient man. $6 at a gas station got him a sandwich, carrots, Chex mix, and a liter of water.<br />
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Recently I've been in a few conversations about why and how we help the transient community. One argument that comes up consistently to justify not helping those who are struggling is that they were the ones who made poor choices to get them in their situation, they'll use what is given to them for drugs or alcohol, they're "professional" panhandlers, they aren't doing real work, or some variant of one of these. The underlying implication is that helping them is somehow taking responsibility for their bad actions.<br />
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So I was thinking about all of this on my way back home, trying to piece together exactly how I feel about the balance between compassion and personal responsibility, when I thought of <a href="http://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/7?lang=eng" target="_blank">Alma 7:11-12</a>.<br />
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"And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and <b>he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy</b>, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities."<br />
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The purpose of the Atonement was for Christ to take responsibility for not only the situations we have no control over, but also our bad choices.<br />
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So how profoundly Christlike it would be for us to stop making excuses about why we shouldn't help the transient community, pretending that we are teaching them self-sufficiency, when we ourselves aren't at all deserving of the obligation Christ has taken upon himself to us. How Christlike we would become if we stopped judging homeless people by making assumptions about them and just helped them. How Christlike we would be if we took responsibility for others, including responsibility for their possible poor decisions.<br />
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Because, when you think about it, we are all standing at intersections, holding well-worn cardboard signs, begging for mercy.<br />
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"For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?" (<a href="http://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/mosiah/4?lang=eng" target="_blank">Mosiah 4:19</a>)<br />
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Sometimes it seems like, because we live in a culture that prizes individualism, we seem to forget just how fiercely interdependent we are--how absolutely necessary it is for us to be part of a community. And we use this to justify thinking that we are only responsible for ourselves. However, I argue that as members of the human family, every one of us has an obligation to help better the lives of every one else.<br />
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So what ought we to do? I would agree that government programs can be inefficient and sometimes abused. But this is all the more reason for personal action. So I would like to present a challenge. Do something to help a member of the transient community without judgment or assumption. See your action for him or her as selfless as the Savior's work is for us. Christ shows us never ending mercy, regardless of our actions and decisions. Do we not owe it to our brothers and sisters to do the same for them?Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-12650368492894975682012-04-20T21:56:00.002-07:002012-04-20T22:06:32.670-07:00Things I've Learned as a Philosophy major<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I graduated today! After four years (plus a spring term), I finally got my Philosophy BA. Well, I actually think I have a library fine on my account, which means I won't officially have my degree until I pay it, but formalities.<br />
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As I look back on my time as a Philosophy major, I'd like to offer some advice as well as some unapologetic nostalgia:<br />
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1. If you are declaring a Philosophy major, or any major in the Humanities for that matter, figure out a way to break the news to your parents softly as these kinds of degrees are usually seen as just a step above underwater basket weaving.<br />
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2. If you think you know the difference between analytic and continental Philosophy, then you don't actually know the difference between analytic and continental Philosophy.<br />
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3. If you ever say that formal logic isn't *really* philosophy and that it shouldn't be required, a piece of me will die.<br />
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4. Take classes from as many professors as you can. Although I enjoyed my Dr. Carter minor, I wish I would have gotten over my distaste for certain professors' specialties and just signed up for their classes. In fact, I think the best classes are the ones from professors with whom you disagree substantially.<br />
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5. Every professor expects different writing styles. Therefore, TA's are your best friends for your first paper.<br />
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6. Speaking of being a TA, logic TAing was the best job I ever had. Which kind of sucks because I'm only 22 and all of my employment opportunities can only go downhill from here. If there was any chance of BYU approving a petition for me to be a logic TA without being a student, I would do it until the day I died.<br />
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7. You get to tell the nerdiest jokes as a Philosophy major. Also, a lot of XKCD starts making a whole lot more sense.<br />
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8. Studying logic is both a blessing and a curse. You learn this fantastic new way of understanding rhetoric, but you have a mini aneurysm every time someone commits a fallacy.<br />
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9. You stop getting personally offended when someone disagrees with you, and you have to remind yourself that other people still do that when you disagree with them.<br />
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10. When all else fails, make up a word.<br />
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<br />Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-62723984246291633372012-04-16T19:56:00.006-07:002012-04-16T20:05:16.218-07:00The Compatibility of Feminism and Family Work<i style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I wrote this paper for a class this semester called "What is the Good Life?". It was a special topics Ethics class in which we discussed real methods and explanations of the good life rather than the tedious </span>hypotheticals<span style="font-size: 100%; "> for which Ethics classes are infamous. I was inspired to write it for a few reasons, partly because of some of the reading we did for that class as well as reading I did for a class in my Women's Studies minor, "Family Work and Relations in the Home". </span></span></i><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><i><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><i><span style="font-size: 100%;"><span><br /></span></span></i></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><p class="StandardCxSpFirst" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>I've never thought I would ever want to be a stay-at-home mom. It's drudgery, I reasoned. Intellectual stagnation, unappreciated, and menial labor. The thought of getting any kind of personal satisfaction from changing diapers and washing dishes when an entire world of opportunity was open to me was laughable. Added to this is my general disposition to question cultural norms: good Mormon girls get married, have babies, stay home, and force themselves to be content with such a life. And I was going to make sure I never allowed myself to follow suit. In short, there was no room in my good life for this pattern. However, a reassessment of these personal doctrines and an intellectual maturation with which to do so has altered my paradigm radically. This shift in my attitude toward family work owes a great debt to feminist theory, changes in my ideas of what makes something valuable, a new view on the technologization of motherhood, and religious reasoning.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--><span><b>I.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; "> </span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Feminist Theory<o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>Second and third wave feminism—feminist thought in the context of the 1960's to the 1990's—are often credited (and often over-generalized) for categorizing the family as oppressive for women. Much of their reasoning was sound, as many of the cultural expectations surrounding housewifery were demeaning of women. For example, Betty Friedan wrote about “the problem that has no name” in her 1963 book, <u>The Feminine Mystique.</u> This problem, she argued, was that many middle-class American housewives suffered from what can now be classified as moderate to severe depression in their attempt to fulfill the expectations set for them. The implied conclusion is that something about domestic life is not satisfactorily fulfilling for women, leading to an increased tendency toward depression. Friedan is often credited as a founding mother of second wave feminism due to her authorship of this book and her appeal for women to liberate themselves into more satisfying roles. Furthermore, the attitudes toward and prevalence of domestic abuse in the 1940's up until second wave feminism were generally unchallenged as the domestic sphere was considered private business. To say that family life in post-WWII America—at least for women—was a fulfillment of the American Dream is categorically false. The watered-down superficiality we consume when we assume that all families were like the Cleavers and all women were like June is a dangerous way to set social norms, and feminists couldn't have been more correct in their challenge of such an ideal.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>However, where feminism fell short was in its response. With the urging of women like Friedan and Steinem, many women left traditional roles and entered the public sphere to seek personal fulfillment there. This was an accomplishment in the sense of challenging the limited sphere of a woman's perceived capability. However, there was a simultaneous devaluation of women who did not leave their traditional roles. While an unfortunate sentiment held at the time by some feminists, this thought has continued into today's general attitudes of women who are full-time homemakers. Even though cultural expectations still dictate that women should still occupy only the roles of wife and mother, at the same time we, as a society, place them lower on a hierarchy of value than employees of the public sphere. So what should we do with such a paradox?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>The answer is a feminist reclamation of the domestic sphere. This means a shift in our cultural consciousness which allows space for a woman to be valued and appreciated for her position in the home on her own terms. It also requires an understanding that claiming paid employment to be more important or valuable than family work comes from a place of inherited misogyny. As men have historically and sociologically been the privileged gender class, their actions and advances of position have been favored over those of women. Prior to the Industrial Revolution, men and women both shared in family work. While men's work was on the farm and women's work in the home, both believed each other's labor was equally necessary for a sustainable family. After the Industrial Revolution, men began working in factories and offices while women remained in the home. As public sphere labor progressed with labor laws and an emphasis on status, men's work days became shorter and less burdensome, and the employment itself more prestigious. Women's work and responsibilities remained much the same throughout this evolution of men's work. It is this fact that lead to the thought that valuable work was done outside the home rather than inside. After all, an advancement of work in the public sphere is evidence of the power and influence of individuals that characterizes the ideal American capitalism. But this progress has favored men more than women. Therefore, the claim that employed labor is more valuable than domestic work, as some second and third wave feminists made (and many more of us still make today), is a claim backed by misogyny.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--><span><b>II.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; "> </span></b><!--[endif]--><b>A Reassessment of Work and Value<o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>The first step in the feminist reclamation of family work is presenting more accurate descriptions of what constitutes work and, more specifically, what constitutes valuable work. I've often seen the bumper sticker which proclaims, “All mothers are working mothers.” The fact that this is a sentiment reserved for bumper stickers ought to tell us something about its need for understanding.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>It is necessary for us to classify exactly what differentiates traditional women's work from traditional men's work. This differentiation is time-oriented versus task-oriented work; while traditional men's work is time-oriented, traditional women's work is task-oriented. Because there is no clocking-in or periodic paychecks in motherhood and family work, there has to be a different standard of success against which to measure the two kinds of labor. Nancy Cott explains this distinction between time-oriented and task-oriented work: “The dominant characteristic of work in such an agricultural/artisanal economy is ‘task-oriented,’ in contrast to the ‘time-discipline’ required under industrial capitalism. Task-orientation implies that the worker’s own sense of customary need and order dictates the performance of work” (15). The belief that time-oriented, paid work outside the home is more valuable than task-oriented work performed in the home is likewise the result of male privilege and misogyny and was mistakenly adopted by second and third wave feminism. Our modern conception of work includes a need for some sort of quantifiable means to measure the input and output of work performed in order to standardize placement of various kinds of work in a hierarchy. Dorothy Sayers wrote that “The habit of thinking about work as something one does to make money is so ingrained in us that we can scarcely imagine what a revolutionary change it would be to think about it instead in terms of the work done” (4). Hours spent in an office and a paycheck are such measures for traditional men’s work outside the home, but there is no similar way to measure the input and output of family work done in the home by women. Therefore, we must be able to appreciate work by some measure other than its quantifiable input and output in order to better appreciate task-orientation of family work.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span>Family work is considered task-oriented rather than time-oriented because a mother does not simply decide that she will spend 30 minutes playing with her children, then 20 minutes sorting laundry, 10 minutes driving child A to soccer practice, 25 minutes at the grocery store, etc. She will almost assuredly be interrupted by some other task which must be immediately completed. A suddenly ill child, a clogged sink, or a broken dryer all characterize the need for stay-at-home mothers to remain flexible and task-oriented. Further, there is no definite completion of family work: there will always be work in the home to perform.</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-size: 100%; ">One important example of the task-oriented work performed traditionally by women as part of family work is emotion work. The kind of work a mother does when she is patient with children and husband in stressful situations when her primary emotions would lead her to be angry or upset is emotion work. Emotion work is also done when a mother sees to the needs of her home and family when her personal desires dictate otherwise. In short, emotion work is the difference between what a mother </span><i style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-size: 100%; ">actually</i><span style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-size: 100%; "> feels and what she thinks she </span><i style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-size: 100%; ">should</i><span style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-size: 100%; "> feel (Doucet 342). This work—a fundamental characteristic of family work—is not quantifiable and therefore sometimes mistakenly not counted as valuable work.</span></span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">A common goal of feminism is to eliminate gendered value-assessment bias wherever it occurs. Rather than seek for a solution in devaluing the position a woman has traditionally held in family work, feminists should reclaim that position on the condition that it ought to be valued not by a means to a quantifiable end, but as valuable as an end in itself.</span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--><span><b>III.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; "> </span></b><!--[endif]--><b>The Technologization of Motherhood</b></span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">In “The Question Concerning Technology”, Martin Heidegger argues that we have mistakenly defined technology as simply a human means to an end (312). He argues that this definition doesn’t actually reveal technology to us. Near the end of his paper, he discusses why our misunderstanding of technology can be a danger to us. He writes, “As soon as what is unconcealed no longer concerns man as even an object, but exclusively as standing-reserve, and man in the midst of objectlessness is nothing but the orderer of the standing-reserve, then he comes to the very brink of a precipitous fall; that is, he comes to the point where he himself will have to be taken as standing-reserve” (332). Standing-reserve occurs when we order the world according to the way we allow technology to enframe it. Objects discontinue having essence for their own sake when they are ordered as standing-reserve, but rather only become valuable as a means to an end performed by humans. As we do this, reasons Heidegger, we ourselves become standing-reserve.</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">I believe Heidegger’s ideas surrounding our misapplication of technology and use of standing-reserve can be applied to motherhood and family work. When men’s work evolved at the turn of the nineteenth century from the domestic to the public sphere, women’s work also changed </span><i style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">within</i><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; "> the domestic sphere. A paradigm of home economics which was popularized at the time of the Industrial Revolution was the scientific management paradigm. This paradigm favored a vertical view of society, modernization, administrative control of the home through management techniques, and empirical science as the only rational way of knowing (Brown 49). According to Marjorie Brown, the results of such a paradigm included a low opinion of human nature, a view of the home in merely physicalistic terms, and an adulation of technology (51-2). The emphasis on the home management paradigm was efficiency. The goal was to do as much housework and child care as possible in the shortest amount of time while expelling the least amount of energy. This same goal for efficiency is still practiced today. However, the overarching implication in this is that family work is not valuable in itself, but rather it is valuable only in its ends.</span></span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">We can use Heidegger’s argument regarding standing-reserve to illustrate that just as family work has become ordered standing-reserve, mothers themselves have become likewise. Evidence of standing-reserve in family work can be found when cooking meals is done with the goal of feeding people, or when cleaning is performed quickly and strategically to get such tasks out of the way. Examples of the technologization of motherhood can be found historically with the popularity of labor-saving devices such as washing machines and vacuum cleaners. With the advent of these devices, women actually started spending more time cleaning floors and washing clothes. In fact, women in the 1980’s were washing on average 10 times the amount of laundry their mothers had done (Cowan). When the tasks of family work become ordered in technological ways, mothers simply become the technology used to perform them; mothers become the standing-reserve. When the tasks they perform such as cooking meals, cleaning homes, and raising children becomes technologized, seen as equally valuable when those ends are met by anyone, and not valued as actions in themselves, motherhood becomes technologized and thus expendable. And nothing is less valuable than that which can be easily replaced.</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">The answer, then, is that the tasks performed by mothers ought to be valued for their own sake. When a mother takes care of her child, it is not valuable because that child simply has food or clothing, but because it is </span><i style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">that </i><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">mother taking care of </span><i style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">that</i><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; "> child; neither is replaceable when the value of that relationship is placed thus. When she cooks a meal for her family, it is her specific act of love for them which carries the value, with the act of feeding peripheral. It is only when we see the acts of family work performed by a mother as valuable because </span><i style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; ">she</i><span style="text-indent: 35.3pt; font-size: 100%; "> is doing it, and not because they are efficient or productive of the “best” outcomes, do mothers and the work they do become valuable as a means rather than a means to an end..</span></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><!--[if !supportLists]--><span><b>IV.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal; "> </span></b><!--[endif]--><b>A Religious Perspective</b></span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span style="text-indent: 35.45pt; font-size: 100%; ">During the Fall General Conference in 2007, I remember listening to President Julie B. Beck’s talk entitled “Mothers Who Know”. I also remember rolling my eyes and sighing a few times during it. However, in spending more time thinking about the purpose of motherhood in the context of family work, I am drawn to one of her declarations known by successful mothers: “Mothers who know do less. They permit less of what will not bear good fruit eternally” (Beck). President Beck wants to proliferate the understanding that mothers should make value judgments on their actions, and that we should value choices made by mothers which “bear good fruit eternally.”</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span style="text-indent: 35.45pt; font-size: 100%; ">When Adam and Eve were made to leave the Garden of Eden, God pronounced blessing-curses on each one of them. Eve’s was to bear children. The account in Genesis 1:16 [1] emphasizes the curse portion, in contrast to a declaration of their blessed state in Moses 5:11 [2]. It makes sense to me that Eve knew exactly what she was doing when she ate the fruit and broke the commandment. As a woman, she also knew the greater importance of the other commandment God gave them to bear children. By sacrificing one commandment for another, Eve sacrificed paradise for motherhood. She understood the eternal principle later extolled by President Beck; she ate the good fruit which allowed her to bear the good fruit.</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span style="text-indent: 35.45pt; font-size: 100%; ">In her essay, “Why Work”, Dorothy Sayers presents a Christian perspective on the value of work. She said that with any work, “the work itself must be accepted and respected as the medium of divine creation” (8). Motherhood (especially in the act of pregnancy and childbirth) and family work are in every sense—when their meaning is placed appropriately—media of divine creation. Sayers also said that whatever position in which a person is employed, his or her first religious obligation is to perform that employment well (8). Recognizing family work as valuable and productive work then gives to a mother her home and family as her primary religious obligation.</span></p><p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 0in; text-indent: 0in; "><span><span style="text-indent: 35.45pt; font-size: 100%; ">Valerie Hudson, a former BYU professor, wrote that </span><span style="text-indent: 35.45pt; font-size: 100%; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; ">“one of the most profoundly feminist acts one can commit is to share the Restored Gospel of Jesus Christ with others” (Hudson). Often, Mormonism (and Christianity as a whole) is accused of acting on misogynistic influence. I would argue that while the culture is sometimes violently anti-woman, the Gospel of Jesus Christ itself is the exact opposite. It allows for woman and man to have the opportunity to receive equal salvation, resurrection, and exaltation, and it requires from all, regardless of gender, self-sacrifice and an offering of will. We are given responsibilities in the Gospel according to our ability and level of understanding to accomplish them, not according to our gender. While some may argue that men are given more of these responsibilities inherent in their exclusive Priesthood authority, this argument is set upon superficialialities and shows nothing more than a misunderstanding of obligations to God in the Restored Gospel.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><b>VI. </b><b> Conclusion<o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span>The anthropologist Dorothy Lee wrote often on the culture surrounding family work and the kind of value which ought to be placed on it. She wrote:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 35.3pt; "><span>We built homes as if they were backgrounds to set off our imaginatively selected furniture and our fabrics, our artistic arrangements and color combinations, and particularly kitchens as if they were there to set off the wonderfully designed new household equipment, in which we can perform our time-saving operations most efficiently. Somehow we forgot to build a home for zestful, boisterous, untidy existence, full of the opportunity and invitation to real talk and quarreling and anguish and absorbing spontaneous activities (68).<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span><span>I’ve always acknowledged, however begrudgingly, the possibility that I would end up a full-time homemaker. The realizations I’ve here addressed go beyond the scope of a term paper for a class and into my very personal self. No longer do I see homemaking as menial, non-intellectual, unmeaningful work. It’s no longer vacuuming the living room in pearls, hosting dinner parties for the husband’s boss, or having the best-made cookies for Relief Society. It has become something much more. It has become dirt perpetually under my fingernails from gardening, the sounds of chickens and goats coming from out back, and muddy footprints from active children racing through the kitchen. The bitter smells of bread rising and cheese culturing. The cries from a child with a skinned knee or a need for a new book to read. Producing more than consuming. It has become the search for value and meaning. It has become poiesis: growing vegetables—and family—in rich, nourishing soil. Indeed, it has become the good life.</span><span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; "><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; "><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: -35.3pt; ">Works Cited</span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Beck, Julie. “Mothers Who Know.” <u>lds.org</u>. 4 April 2012 <http: org="" conference="" 2007="" 10="" lang="eng">.<o:p></o:p></http:></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Brown, Marjorie. “Home Economics: Proud Past—Promising Future.” <u>Journal of Home Economics</u> 76.4 (1984): 48-54.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Cott, Nancy. <u>The Bonds of Womanhood</u>. Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1978.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Cowan, Ruth. “Less Work for Mother?” <u>American Heritage</u> 38.6 (1987): 4 April 2012 <http: com="" content="" mother="">.<o:p></o:p></http:></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Doucet, Andrea. “You See the Need Perhaps More Clearly than I Have.” <u>Journal of Family Issues</u> 22.3 (2001): 328-357.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Freidan, Betty. <u>The Feminine Mystique</u>. 1963. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2001.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Heidegger, Martin. <u>Basic Writings: from Being and Time (1927) to The Task of Thinking (1964)</u>. Ed. David Farrell Krell. San Francisco: Harper, 1993.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Hudson, Valerie. “The Curious Appeal of Roman Catholicism for Certain Latter-day Saint Intellectuals.” <u>SquareTwo</u>. 4 April 2012 <http: org="" html="">.<o:p></o:p></http:></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpMiddle" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Lee, Dorothy. “Home Economics in a Changing World.” <u>Family Work and Relationships in the Home</u>. Ed. Jenet Erickson. Provo: BYU Academic Publishing, 2008. 68-69.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="StandardCxSpLast" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin-left: 35.3pt; text-indent: -35.3pt; "><span>Sayers, Dorothy. <u>Creed or Chaos</u>. 1949. New Hampshire: Sophia Institute Press, 1995.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span><br clear="all"> </span><hr align="left" width="33%"> <!--[endif]--> <div id="ftn1"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span><span>1</span> Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.<o:p></o:p></span></p> </div> <div id="ftn2"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span><span>2</span> And Eve, his wife, heard all these things and was glad, saying: Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient.</span><span><o:p></o:p></span></p> </div> </div></div>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-30694341300026923582012-03-06T16:59:00.002-08:002012-03-06T17:18:18.955-08:00Favorite ClassesAs I approach graduation in April, I can't help but think about the hundreds of hours I've spent sitting at desks. Some of these hours were better spent than others. By the end of this semester, I will have taken a total of 52 university classes. I was talking to my husband tonight about the classes we enjoyed the most as BYU undergrads, and I thought I'd make a list here of mine.<div><br /></div><div><b>Philosophy 205: Deductive Logic, Dr. Codell Carter</b></div><div>I took this class the 2nd semester of my Freshman year. I actually added it at the last minute when I decided to take it instead of American Heritage and when I was still considering a Philosophy major. This class was the first time I studied something that I not only enjoyed, but was really, really good at. I had never really considered myself analytically-minded before, but when I realized how easily the subject material in this class came to me, I thought of my brain and the world in which it existed entirely differently. I've been a TA for this class for 5 semesters now.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Religion 122: Book of Mormon II, Drs. Kay and Earl Stice</b></div><div>Since I thought it would be a good idea to get all of my religion credits out of the way my Freshman and Sophomore years (wrong), I didn't get a chance to find the "good" religion professors. I picked religion classes based on who got the highest ratings on ratemyprofessor.com (wrong again). But luckily I fell into this class. The Stice brothers are accounting professors and Bishops, and they co-taught this class. I loved it because they actually taught the Book of Mormon according to the Book of Mormon. Not the Book of Mormon according to [religion professor] or [obscure/not-so-obscure GA].</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Women's Studies 222: Into to Women's Studies, Sharee Bench</b></div><div>This was the very first class I ever sat down in at BYU. I loved the discussion, the book, and the topics. I feel like it gave me a great springboard to study specific topics in Women's Studies and Feminist theory throughout my career as a student. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Philosophy 300: Philosophical Writing, Dr. Codell Carter</b></div><div>So I'm probably biased because this is the professor I work for, but this was the only class I've taken which actually taught me to be a better writer without following some tired formula. Most of the "work" was done outside of class to be turned in, and the in-class portion was comprised of discussions about anything and everything related to writing. I've reviewed my writing before this class and after this class, and there is definitely a marked difference in the quality.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Biology 100: Principles of Biology, Dr. St. Sinclaire</b></div><div>I'm going to be honest: I took this class twice. The first time I made a C in it and wanted to replace my grade. That first time, the class was taught like you would imagine a biology class being taught: a thick textbook with small print and weird graphs, boring lectures, and an is-this-over-yet lab. But the 2nd time I took it I discovered they completely changed the curriculum. The class focused on general scientific literacy rather than specific topics in biology. We read a biography on Charles Darwin, a book on contemporary neuroscience, and a book about the discovery of DNA, among others. It was fascinating the 2nd time around. I loved that the biology department realized the need for university students to become more scientifically literate, a very practical skill that is on it's way of being eradicated in modern society, against the backdrop of issues in biology.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Statistics 121: Principles of Statistics, [I don't remember the professor...]</b></div><div>Like Biology, I thought this was one of the more practical classes I've taken at BYU. I think that factor, along with it's analytically-based intellectual challenge, is what made me like it so much. I feel like it goes right along with the importance of scientific literacy: knowing how to understand the quantitative analysis of research is so important to making decisions based on the results of social and scientific studies.</div>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-85252903493825152472012-01-22T19:40:00.000-08:002012-01-23T11:36:27.765-08:00The Myth of Effortless BeautyThis happened on my facebook today:<div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymOQCutDTRW23hHTQSAxRZ1Uw5nplVVOI9PiI9WJhh2tB5WnGqt4IL48EoqL32dwMvBwY_R1QWz7K7UXJ5jRhJTEgjmDwzC60nKYNAxwoZkN9KCAfUrFlISFho_J-AFujjHmMlg_iLQc/s1600/legs.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymOQCutDTRW23hHTQSAxRZ1Uw5nplVVOI9PiI9WJhh2tB5WnGqt4IL48EoqL32dwMvBwY_R1QWz7K7UXJ5jRhJTEgjmDwzC60nKYNAxwoZkN9KCAfUrFlISFho_J-AFujjHmMlg_iLQc/s320/legs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700668501073687282" /></a>I posted this status as a sort of tongue-in-cheek remark 1) about how I'm too lazy/cold to bother shaving my legs and 2) in sarcasm about the stereotype that men and women "let themselves go" upon marriage. However, I was particularly interested in the three men who declared my status as "TMI." As any good philosopher would do, I thought of other similar hypotheticals and how one might react. I ended up with the postulate that if a man bragged about Movemeber, he would not receive a response of "TMI." If he posted about shaving his legs, he would probably just be called gay (which is another topic on misandry and inherent homophobia in social constructs of masculinity entirely). I guess I missed the memo that women shouldn't publicly talk about shaving their legs. So this got me doing some research.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>What I discovered what a social phenomenon called effortless beauty. This essentially says that women should always be socially attractive and presentable and hide the effort behind it. It comes from the idea that women's bodies are inherently obscene, and much more so than men's (E.G. why it's okay for men to go topless in public and not women). And because her body is obscene and is yet required to meet the beauty standards of her society, she must not discuss how she manipulates her body to meet those standards.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also think the TMI could come from the fact that I haven't shaved my legs in almost a month and therefore don't currently meet standards of attractiveness. We live in a culture where it is expected that women be objectified by society, even if there are men who consciously don't objectify them (which, by the way, there are). We dehumanize women by compartmentalizing them into body parts. We live in a culture where society somehow has a <i>right</i> to the objectification of women (see: victim blaming and catcalling), even if a large population of men necessarily <i>don't</i>. When a woman chooses not to shave her legs (or smile when a man asks her, or conform to weight standards, or says "no" when a man asks for sex), she is infringing on society's right to objectify her. It's being taken for granted that it's totally okay for society to put women on a pedestal when the women do conform to their standards of physicality. And only when that is taken for granted is it wrong for women to infringe of society's rights of objectification.</div><div><br /></div><div>My husband also pointed out that because I am married, I am no longer sexually available to any other men, which is another way I (and other monogomously married women) infringe on men's rights to objectify.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had a friend who waxed her upper lip and chin and was mortified to let anyone know she did that. She (and so many other women) fall into this idea that the people around us have a right to our attractiveness and a right not to know how it got there. Thus, the myth of effortless beauty.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which is why (some) men don't want to hear about a woman not shaving her legs.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>I can see why this post could be construed as anti-man, but I'd like to here offer that my brand of feminism (and that of many, many other feminists) doesn't see men as the enemy. Rather, the enemy is the false and harmful social constructs of masculinity and femininity to which we are bound. However, I do think it's interesting that those who called my status "TMI" are men.</i></div>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-54998324331714073272011-11-21T14:34:00.000-08:002011-11-21T14:51:43.086-08:00Some thoughts on the Occupy protestsI'm empathetic toward the cause of the Occupy protesters and those who support them. I really am. To say that there isn't greed and corruption in large corporations and that these corporations don't have rich lobbyists paying off Congresspersons is a blatant falsehood. I get it. I really do.<br /><br />But setting up camp isn't going to help anything.<br /><br />Protests are used for awareness. That is their purpose. To let the public know, "Hey, this is going on, we don't think it's cool, and you shouldn't either." I think the Occupy protesters have done a pretty good job achieving this goal. I would venture to guess that everyone, even those apathetic to current events, know that there are people camping out in various parts of the country to protest something having to do with wealth disparity. So why are they still there? It bothers me when I see facebook friends complaining about how the police and city officials are making protesters leave, saying that their First Amendment rights are being violated, when some research into why they are actually being forced to leave yields actual violations of the law: usually illicit drug use, public intoxication, and sexual assault (there was one group I read about which asked persons who had been sexually assaulted to not report it to the police, which made me sick). Now, are the police crossing the line by using unnecessary force to remove protesters in some cities? Probably. I won't deny that. <br /><br />I think the biggest question those who support the Occupy cause should ask themselves is what to do next. I propose a few things: there are enough supporters that if everyone chipped in money, they could buy a fair amount of stock in a company which would give them a fair vote in who is on the board of directors for that company. Or they could hire lobbyists to petition Congress in their favor. That is how you change a corporation. Protesting, at this point, does nothing.<br /><br />With all that being said, I'd like to add here that I am a capitalist. I think the best economic system is one that rewards hard work, efficiency, personal responsibility, and ingenuity. My generation has a huge problem with entitlement. We are the generation of participation ribbons and "everyone is a winner." We like to believe that we are entitled to high-paying, low-labor jobs. I see this entitlement in both sides: in the Occupy supporters and in those who do have opportunity handed to them without work. I think the real change that needs to happen is a shift from entitlement to responsibility in the collective of selves of this country.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-86029746895375520602011-11-03T21:41:00.000-07:002011-11-03T21:52:55.697-07:00How to Not Feel TerribleSo this morning at 6:30, I drove to Nathan's. We had plans to hike up to the hot springs (a 6 mile hike roundtrip) to enjoy the hot water and each other's company. By the time we parked the car at the trailhead, I wasn't feeling well at all. I had to stop and take a break a few times during the hike up, which I've never had to do before, just to catch my breath. I was freezing and generally felt terrible. When we got up to the springs, we couldn't find a pool that was a good balance between not warm at all and molten lava hot, so we ended up soaking for like half an hour. As I stood up to leave, I immediately felt like I needed to throw up. Nathan gave me a blessing, and we walked back to the car with me stopping along the way.<br /><br />Afterwards, I fell asleep on Nathan's couch for 5 hours.<br /><br />Rather than actually being sick, I think my irregular sleeping patterns, lack of sleep in general, horrible eating habits, and overall stress levels have caught up with me. So today was kind of a wake up call that I need to start taking better care of myself in order to feel better, so I present:<br /><br />Shelley's 7 steps to not feel terrible (and actually pretty good)<br />-Go to bed and wake up at the same time every week day. In bed at 11 and up at 7, which makes for 8 hours.<br />-Eat breakfast everyday. A granola bar on the walk to campus does not count. Waking up at 7 (my first class is at 9) should allow plenty of time to eat breakfast.<br />-A veggie and a protein with every meal, and making sure this happens in variety.<br />-Instead of focusing on not eating junk, focus on eating healthy snacks.<br />-Read the Scriptures and pray every day.<br />-Yoga every day.<br />-Prioritize what needs to be done every day and stick to those priorities to keep from feeling overwhelmed.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-33091649936132601692011-10-24T11:24:00.000-07:002011-10-24T13:10:10.280-07:00PlansSo, many numerous updates since the last post.<br /><br />I am no longer double majoring in Philosophy and Journalism. I decided the Communications department was more trouble working with than it is worth, so I dropped that major, officially declared my Logic minor, and I'm working on my application to graduate in April with a Philosophy degree. This semester I'm only taking three classes: Statistics, Accounting, and Thai. The first two are for preparation for a possible business school future, and the third is mostly for fun.<br /><br />Also, this probably isn't news to anyone who probably reads this, but I've been engaged for about three weeks. Here's the whole story:<br /><br />Nathan and I had been in each other's peripheral vision since April of this year. A mutual friend of ours was live-blogging General Conference via Facebook statuses, and we both joined in. I sent him a friend request, he added me, and we occasionally chatted/commented on each other's posts for a number of months. I told Nathan about a week before coming to Provo that I wanted to hang out. We went and got lunch my first Saturday back in Provo, were both thoroughly awkward, but continued to talk/see each other. It wasn't long after that we both realized that we really, really liked each other. We were both very attracted to each other's intellectual pursuit, bibliophilia, and nerdy humor, among many other things. And then we realized that this is what happens when you find the person you're supposed to marry. So on a Tuesday morning, sitting in my car outside of the Provo Temple after we spent time inside, he asked me to marry him. And I said yes. And then we sat there, enjoying the surrealness of it all, asking each other, "so, did that really just happen?"<br /><br />We are getting married on December 28th in the Dallas, Texas Temple.<br /><br />I think the biggest thing I've learned this year isn't the best door approach when tracting, or how to calm down an angry patient on the phone, or how to calculate z-scores in statistics. The biggest thing I've learned this year is that Heavenly Father allows us to experience really difficult things, including huge changes of seemingly faultless plans, so we know how to appreciate the things He gives us instead. And He always manages to pull through with things we didn't know would be better.<br /><br />Most of all, I'm so glad to have learned through experience that God plans things according to a wider paradigm than my own.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-18734271807553695892011-08-24T10:33:00.000-07:002011-08-24T14:16:36.659-07:00Ah, ProvoSo I've been in Provo for officially more than a week. There was a lot of hassle/anxiety last week with trying to find somewhere to live and being homeless over the weekend, but looking back I can see at least 2 good things that came out of that homelessness. One of these days I'll be able to consistently keep the perspective that future retrospection always yields recognition of blessings and mercy during difficult times. I'm living in an apartment 2 blocks from campus (yes!) for a little more than I wanted to pay, but it's newly renovated, so I won't complain too much. Apparently the management is awful, which I've already sort of experienced, but I'll make a conscious effort to stay out of their way and need as little as possible from them.
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<br />I am so ready to start classes/work on Monday. I might be an editor for Aporia, BYU's student philosophy journal, this semester. So I'll be doing that for 5 hours and TAing logic for 15 hours a week. And 3 classes. This semester is pretty much going to be awesome.
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<br />My plans this week pretty much include some odds and ends getting ready for school, sitting by the pool reading, going to the Temple, and hanging out with a new friend.
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<br />Thank you, Provo, for your existence, your fabulous school, and the wonderful people inside of you.
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<br />Also, 22nd birthday in 13 days. Woo!Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-53606344681479065972011-07-31T21:07:00.000-07:002011-07-31T21:15:14.775-07:00Counting DownI spend way too much of my time counting down.<br /><br />Counting down until school starts. Counting down until my last day of school. Counting down until I leave for Washington. Counting down until I get on a plane back home. Counting down until he gets home. Counting down until...okay you get it.<br /><br />I think this is because I'm never satisfied with the present. I've acknowledged this and am trying to get better at it. At any given point in time, we only have one present. It is logically impossible to make the present move any faster, so why can't I appreciate it more?<br /><br />Tonight I was trying to appreciate the present. It was a nice Sunday night, I was hanging out in my pajamas doing productive things like laundry and cleaning my bathroom. For a while I was enjoying myself, but then I lost focus and found myself dwelling on, "Only 5 more days of work and I'm done. Tomorrow is my last Monday. Just one more Monday to get through."<br /><br />Counting down seems to be my default with my present-enjoying being a conscious decision. I really am trying to figure out how to switch the two. I've been good lately with spending my evenings after work doing things I enjoy rather than dreading another day of work coming up. I know that my current phase of counting down until Utah will only ultimately yield in more counting down until something else after I get there. Or maybe I can make my pre-fall semester countdown my last.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-1202091409925856112011-07-02T07:31:00.000-07:002011-07-02T07:35:01.494-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day TwentyDay Twenty – A picture of somewhere you’d love to travel<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_kJExgg9-DNDZYnq8Zxw4l3ODb_G0TNsMh_6Odo4ipUUJJrNXVnUTvBkPr0ucr8u6GagDnlEqOOnO98WUAtkT1Kh2O5GXFNQCF2Lw_IbDxYQLbKdJn0o8dBYov95Y4neAbwtOhaKw6o/s1600/powells-book-store.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_kJExgg9-DNDZYnq8Zxw4l3ODb_G0TNsMh_6Odo4ipUUJJrNXVnUTvBkPr0ucr8u6GagDnlEqOOnO98WUAtkT1Kh2O5GXFNQCF2Lw_IbDxYQLbKdJn0o8dBYov95Y4neAbwtOhaKw6o/s320/powells-book-store.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624763205059318130" /></a><br /><br />This is Powell's Books in Portland, Oregon. It takes up an entire city block. This would entertain me more than any beach or foreign country.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-10807783122775867842011-06-30T20:29:00.001-07:002011-06-30T20:33:44.663-07:00The girl who read about the boy who livedSo I'm finally joining the human race.<br /><br />I'm reading Harry Potter.<br /><br />I got the first two books super cheap from half.com a while back. I wanted to wait until I finished The Hunger Games to start them. I just finished the first book, and I wish I would have done this sooner. I remember the first book coming out when I was in 5th grade, getting on the waiting list at the library, but being super ADD and not being able to get past the first 10 pages. I feel kind of let down since I already know some of the big plot twists, but I'm excited to read them nonetheless. I've already ordered books 3 and 4 from half.com, and I'm starting on book 2 tonight.<br /><br />"The trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Oh Dumbledore, you could narrate my year.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-68651622423108795282011-06-30T18:42:00.000-07:002011-06-30T18:43:48.421-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day NineteenDay Nineteen – A picture and a letter<br /><br />Or how about a picture of 74 letters...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3k1RL51pjNY5mTyWs1ZkeCiTvoRNzKnZ5rbDm3i8i6tXIHC7xnS_-kz1QXrtUowvOoxc3heBXyvvsfoJg7wbWiEtPKYrdaN-DQjgDDj0TDSb6faIVNvpuHW5cSqaGEDHLR6KAxr_rHmY/s1600/209460_1687105308017_1549200235_31436792_3540252_o.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3k1RL51pjNY5mTyWs1ZkeCiTvoRNzKnZ5rbDm3i8i6tXIHC7xnS_-kz1QXrtUowvOoxc3heBXyvvsfoJg7wbWiEtPKYrdaN-DQjgDDj0TDSb6faIVNvpuHW5cSqaGEDHLR6KAxr_rHmY/s320/209460_1687105308017_1549200235_31436792_3540252_o.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624193552979308882" /></a><br /><br />Every letter Brad wrote me on his mission.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-79059293700474615512011-06-28T19:37:00.000-07:002011-06-28T19:40:40.189-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day EighteenDay Eighteen – A picture of your biggest insecurity<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4KLedoUhrNuoHg2fdfTBgyLL3s8BXnzhuvF1P1j3YKM3CwtukSPaZCULyF7bwgPNNFBWJK9t6R25QdOrX5YxdCfqR3rf0j3NXh1uBAe7F_LXgyV1QeNBu21BLctQFvshc_FMQhYKQPg/s1600/phone.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig4KLedoUhrNuoHg2fdfTBgyLL3s8BXnzhuvF1P1j3YKM3CwtukSPaZCULyF7bwgPNNFBWJK9t6R25QdOrX5YxdCfqR3rf0j3NXh1uBAe7F_LXgyV1QeNBu21BLctQFvshc_FMQhYKQPg/s320/phone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623465712083000706" /></a><br /><br />My number one task at work is to answer the phone. Let me tell you about how much I hate answering the phone at work. Somewhere there is this rule that allows people to be rude to strangers over the phone, and somewhere, maybe in the same rule book, there is a rule that allows people to treat medical receptionists like crap. Combine those rules and you get the worst anxiety you've ever felt upon hearing a phone ring.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-42914102839985230382011-06-27T18:57:00.000-07:002011-06-28T18:50:13.259-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day SeventeenDay Seventeen – A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-edOqZYJEAoiiO0LmvRBMF1jdUIwTnCHxhmQ6mXE2iwbSvn2G16v2wKHrdzssr7VzJ9ynBV7qZiAYJFVkzAqIQvttBL_BH30STtPCqh3DVgmwzBTI3SPQjbTjHmWrcFTmV-iEqhpTPNw/s1600/IMG_1942.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-edOqZYJEAoiiO0LmvRBMF1jdUIwTnCHxhmQ6mXE2iwbSvn2G16v2wKHrdzssr7VzJ9ynBV7qZiAYJFVkzAqIQvttBL_BH30STtPCqh3DVgmwzBTI3SPQjbTjHmWrcFTmV-iEqhpTPNw/s320/IMG_1942.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623086264467460514" /></a><br /><br />This is the view of Snoqualmie Valley in Duvall, Washington. I spent 3 months here. Most of my mission. I'm still trying to process exactly how my mission affected me and what I want to take from the whole experience. Some days I wake up and think, "I should still be in Washington wearing a black name tag and knocking on doors." I still can't shake the ever-present sense of failure that came complimentary with my plane ticket home. But that's not how I want to see my mission. I want to remember the good memories and the people I helped and the things I learned. I'm hoping that eventually I will get to a place where I can do that. I hope my 4 months in Washington will follow me gently through the rest of my life as a learning experience instead of a giant what-if and should-have.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-30057373623705100122011-06-26T17:56:00.000-07:002011-06-26T18:23:36.347-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day SixteenDay Sixteen – A picture of someone who inspires you<br /><br /><a href="http://lds.org/Static%20Images/emmeline_b_wells_MD.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 328px;" src="http://lds.org/Static%20Images/emmeline_b_wells_MD.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Emmeline Blanche Woodward Harris Whitney Wells. Mormon. Suffragist. Sister wife. Feminist. Editor of the Women's Exponent. Relief Society President from 1910 to 1921. I plan on naming my first born daughter after her.<br />_________________<br /><br />Things have been super crazy recently. I keep waiting for this year to produce less awfulness but the total aggregate suck only seems to be increasing. I have 6 more weeks of a job that slowly eats at my soul, I'm kicking myself for not pursuing EFY counselor contracts, and I'm in the middle of a bunch of baby mama drama with BYU admissions and trying to get the communications department to let me take a class I need and et cetera. HOWEVER each day is one day closer to when I will be in Provo doing things I enjoy, like TAing logic and being a student and not getting yelled at for needing to reschedule patient's appointments to September. Which, beeteedubs, is probably somewhere in between watching kittens drown and having lit bamboo shoots shoved under your toenails on the fun scale. So, yeah, 6 weeks. You can do anything for 6 weeks, right? Right?... At least I love the people I work with.<br /><br />I've been consciously trying to do things recently that I enjoy and destress me. I've really gotten into taking baths this summer, which is weird because I've never enjoyed taking baths since I was like 9. But I got a ton of stuff from <a href="http://www.lushusa.com/shop">Lush</a> a while back and some bath stuff from Bath and Body. I am now a serious bath advocate.<br /><br />Reading. I bought a Kindle this summer because my love for fiction has started taking over my life and I really don't need any more books to figure out how to move around. Right now I'm working on the Hunger Games series (in the 3rd book, but taking my time because I've heard it isn't as good at the first 2), and I decided to join the human race and read Harry Potter. <br /><br />I also discovered that I. love. pedicures. I had my first ever pedicure on my mission of all places and have since become addicted. Spa/mall pedicures are crazy expensive, but yesterday I decided to try out a local beauty school and it was <i>wonderful</i>. She spent an entire hour and it only cost me $13 plus tip. <br /><br />I've been trying out natural methods to manage my anxiety and overall suckiness, including <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_John%27s_wort">St. John's Wort</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kava">Kava</a>, and private yoga lessons. I notice the Kava making more of a difference than the SJW, and yoga is pretty awesome.<br /><br />I have a Jeffrey R. Holland quotation written on a piece of paper taped on my desk:<br /><br />"If we constantly focus only on the stones in our mortal path, we will almost surely miss the beautiful flower or cool stream provided by the loving Father who outlined our journey. Each day can bring more joy than sorrow when our mortal and spiritual eyes are open to God's goodness. Joy in the gospel is not something that begins only in the next life. It is our privilege now." <br /><br />This whole entire year has been pretty much nothing short of awful, but what helps is knowing that skies can't always be gray and so many things are only on their way to getting better.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-46377316716080398282011-05-24T18:05:00.000-07:002011-05-24T18:11:14.414-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day FifteenDay Fifteen – A picture of something you want to do before you die<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Zd9BNq78XYB7MtsMK_E326hdKJFcjVOjDNHs01y2w3T1y-chpK9zZgfjVqVvG_zYBh0AWnOI6i6Kv6G4cwm49QNEl5akAnWsWEdbDbMqwrNnZNvGiOw8HdnEmh6itJgYBxwVNol8zeY/s1600/marathon_hell1258394353.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Zd9BNq78XYB7MtsMK_E326hdKJFcjVOjDNHs01y2w3T1y-chpK9zZgfjVqVvG_zYBh0AWnOI6i6Kv6G4cwm49QNEl5akAnWsWEdbDbMqwrNnZNvGiOw8HdnEmh6itJgYBxwVNol8zeY/s320/marathon_hell1258394353.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610454059869891458" /></a><br /><br />Run a marathon.<br />______________________<br /><br />This year is proving to be <strike>one of</strike> the most complicated yet. Coming home from a mission and having my BYU application appeal denied and having to fill out a million petitions for evening classes and the communications department and everyone else my age graduating and running away from plans I thought were faultless.<div><br /></div><div>Dang.</div>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-19574024991398913142011-04-21T16:44:00.000-07:002011-04-21T16:46:06.564-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day FourteenDay Fourteen – A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtud465j_LCgXBdZZZYz1A94Q-htXxN0_YA_JOjVOuG1rSW8SUpdFo_hm42iMfDd08CRSmGcd_bFE6tV7xPgjdi7LTpS8H0OPSqBuwYbjo5MnUO88YIeVQpUGUDO2PAWcc4bhI_N9lQo/s1600/n779615004_7189595_691874.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 331px; height: 364px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtud465j_LCgXBdZZZYz1A94Q-htXxN0_YA_JOjVOuG1rSW8SUpdFo_hm42iMfDd08CRSmGcd_bFE6tV7xPgjdi7LTpS8H0OPSqBuwYbjo5MnUO88YIeVQpUGUDO2PAWcc4bhI_N9lQo/s400/n779615004_7189595_691874.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598187177824963154" /></a><br /><br />Brad got home from his mission yesterday. I got to talk to him on the phone last night for 45 minutes. It was pretty much the best 45 minutes of my life in, oh, I don't know, about 2 years.Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6493261630377895537.post-68926873387441715412011-04-06T18:40:00.000-07:002011-04-21T16:43:52.172-07:0030 Days in Pictures: Day ThirteenDay Thirteen – A picture of your favorite band or artist<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sDdDGOh5tKOZWfOPO7wudqPyo02ZsBD4E0dwhQH0ljXyWuCpd9P6XNDyxPsvFIfPNbCYzhXJ59PI4znrLPVsijjjBmA0DK9nfLud3SItyObEKqQ55ZmDefYuTu_I-2RGfNe8AE-zeeI/s1600/1100420_ratio4x3_width586.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sDdDGOh5tKOZWfOPO7wudqPyo02ZsBD4E0dwhQH0ljXyWuCpd9P6XNDyxPsvFIfPNbCYzhXJ59PI4znrLPVsijjjBmA0DK9nfLud3SItyObEKqQ55ZmDefYuTu_I-2RGfNe8AE-zeeI/s400/1100420_ratio4x3_width586.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592650911238183634" /></a><br /><br />I first saw The Bouncing Souls live when I was 14. The summer after my freshman year of high school, I traveled back to where I used to live in Georgia to go to Warped Tour with my friends. I originally got to the stage to see Anti-Flag and ended up seeing The Bouncing Souls before them. I fell in love. They've been my favorite band for almost 7 years. And in case you're wondering, my favorite song is Night On Earth.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Passed some time walking around<br />looking for something to be <br />when I stopped to look around<br />all the music was different to me <br />All these places we used to go <br />when I loved you I didn't see <br />I'll miss you but now I'll know <br />better next time because I found me</span>Shelleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06975141653807541858noreply@blogger.com0