Meanwhile, back on the ranch...

I don't write in my blog the same way my friends do. I remember in high school when Xanga was super popular and everyone wrote about every time they ate or went to school or blew their nose.

Anyway.

I won't be doing that, but I will finally write about things I've been doing in my life recently.

I'm back home in Texas. I flew home on Saturday. I spent the better part of last week trying to squeeze as much friend time as I could in between studying for/taking finals, packing, and cleaning. On Friday night, I invited a bunch of my friends to Guru's for a psuedo-going away party. I remember looking around at one point when there were three different conversations going on around me (one on faith vs. reason, one on the best places to get sweet potato fries in Provo, and one on something I forgot), and realized how glad I was to have figure out how to surround myself with such a great group of people for a year of my life.


That night, Sarah, Chelise, and Hannah came over, we made pangea bed (ask Hannah), and they drove me to the airport the next morning. I really don't like the idea of "best" friends, but if I had to pick, I'd say these 3 people are my best friends.

I feel like each one of these people brings out a different part of me that I really like. Chelise brings out my intellectual philosopher, Sarah brings out my genuine spiritualness, and Hannah brings out my poolside-laying-chick-lit-reader. As much as I wish I could have been friends with them longer than just a year(ish), I'm glad they all became my friends around the same time.

So I did my Temple Recommend interviews on Saturday and Sunday, and I'll be going to the Dallas Temple for my own endowments this Saturday. I'm really excited.

I got my job at Purple Cow back, so I'll be waiting tables again this summer in between EFY sessions. My first day back was today. We hit way over projection, and we had 4 servers on what should have been a 6 server lunch. But I made bank, so I can't complain. Living rent free+free food+depositing around $400 in cash every week=moneyyyyyy.

I report to the Provo MTC to prepare to serve in the Washington Everett Mission on September 29th. Yesterday, my mom and I went shopping, and I got some pretty cute tops and a nice rain coat. I had to make myself pass up the cute earrings which I probably wouldn't get any use out of on my mission, anyway. This summer I'm going to try to get through the Book of Mormon twice, learn a bunch of hymns on the piano to be able to play them without practice, and rememorize all of the seminary scripture mastery. I also want to finish my Blogging the Book of Mormon blog...which hasn't had a whole lot of activity lately.

That's pretty much my life. There will be a test later.

Why EFY holds a special place in my heart

So I'm going to be an EFY counselor this summer. There probably aren't enough adjectives in your Oxford English to describe my level of excitement. I only went to EFY once as a teenager, but once was enough to make me want to come back as a counselor. However, I've discovered that many people don't share my same enthusiasm for EFY. No, that's putting it lightly. The reply I get when I tell my friends that I'm going to be an EFY counselor is often much the same: an eye roll coupled with some scathing remarks about teenagers, laced with the pretentious attitude of, "well, I can see how those of baser interests could find that interesting."* I'm pretty good at moving on, but only after some passive-aggressive remark about why they're wrong.

What I really want to say is this:

• Teenagers take themselves way too seriously, and if there's any category of people who should be allowed as much license to have fun as possible, it should be teenagers. This is what EFY is so good at bringing out. You take a bunch of self-conscious kids growing up in a world that teaches them to be self-conscious, and you play silly games with them or tell jokes they wouldn't dare let any of their friends at school know they think are funny. This is so important, especially for teenage girls. The level of fun and goofing off you get at EFY is so important for teenage girls because it leaves no room for, one, judging other girls, and two, comparing yourself to other girls. These, in my opinion, are two of the most self-destructive activities teenage girls can take part in.
• It makes the Gospel relevant. Take young 20-somethings, let them teach the Gospel to teenagers, the teenagers in turn teach it to each other, and all of a sudden it makes sense to them why it's important and how it affects their lives.
• There really is a spirit at EFY. Sure, it gets a bad wrap for its blatant emotionalism, but teenagers really aren't as stupid as we sometimes like to assume them to be. They get the Spirit and they understand how to feel God, if you just teach them how. I have a sticky note on the cover of my EFY handbook with this great quotation by J. Reuben Clark: "[Youth] are hungry for the things of the Spirit; they are eager to learn the Gospel, and they want it straight, undiluted...You do not have to sneak up behind them and whisper religion in their ears; you can bring these truths out openly."

*Read in a snooty British accent for full effect.

Even though I haven't grown a foot or two...

So I had my final interview with my stake president yesterday, and my mission papers are officially in.

I honestly don't think I've ever been more excited for anything in my life.

When I was little, I wanted a dog. But after thinking about it long enough, I would always decide that I didn't want one because I would be too sad when he died.

I think this is why falling in love scares me to death.

Dandelions

When I was four years old, my preschool teacher was Mrs. J. I don't remember a whole lot else from preschool, but I remember that blue and yellow makes green. I remember that you can make play dough out of flour and water. And I remember the dandelions.

When it was warm enough outside, we spent time playing in Mrs. J's backyard. (She was usually inside, as I remember it, making play dough out of flour and water.) There were patches of dandelions next to her old wooden fence. My four-year-old mind did not consider these dandelions weeds. My four-year-old hands did not hold them as if they were valueless. I remember noticing the juxtaposition of the bright yellow petals next to the deep green of the grass. I remember examining many of them individually, how some of them had more petals than others, how some of the petals curled in while others stuck straight out, how some of the petals criss-crossed, how some of the stems courageously brought the flowers almost up to my four-year-old knees while others kept the flowers safely close to the ground. These were not weeds; they were art.

We would often pick these dandelions in large numbers and take our bouquets inside. We would proudly present them to Mrs. J. I remember her bringing out small paper cups, filling them part way with water, placing the dandelions in them, and putting them on the window sill in her kitchen to enjoy the sun. The dandelions weren't weeds to her, either.

Christ sees me like I saw dandelions as a child. I am not a weed. I am something He notices the individuality of, something He gathers, something He presents to others in a way for them to appreciate. He sees beauty where others cannot.

16 years later, it's Spring in Provo. I often walk past front yards filled with dandelions. I remember back to the spot next to the fence in Mrs. J's backyard, and to the paper cups lining her kitchen window. I continue now, as I did when I was four years old, to not only consider the lillies, but also the dandelions.

This semester

I have to be honest when I say that I'm really disappointed with this semester. I'm taking 18 credit hours and working 20 hours a week, and while I've had similar work loads in semesters past, I'm taking all 300- and 400-level major classes and TAing for 2 classes this semester. I feel like I've been so over my head that everything I've produced this semester has been mediocre, at best. All of my assignments, all of my tests, all of my papers have been far below the level of success I'm capable of. What bothers me the most isn't that I'm not going to get all A's, but that professors whom I greatly respect and admire now have reason to doubt my intelligence. That bothers me more than any bad grade I could get. Prospective grades: Epistemology- B+/A-; Metalogic- A-/A; Philosophy of Language- B/B+; Philosophy of Theology- A; Media Law- A-/A; Research Methods for Journalism- A. We'll see what happens.

7 more days of class.

Il me manque

When I think too much about this boy...

I miss him so much I look up prices on airfare to Ireland.