I haven't been home since Christmas - almost 11 months! So, it's fitting that I'm flying home on the eleventh day of the eleventh month. I love going home. I love spending time with my family and friends and recharging my emotional batteries, though not my physical batteries because trips home are typically BUSY. Hopefully I'll do some of that on the plane, since I had to wake up at 3 AM. Some genius idea that was to have a 7 AM flight out of the airport an hour away from my apartment.
PRO: No traffic. Short or no lines. Longer first day of trip. Nonstop flight.
CON: I can't remember the last time I woke up at 3 on purpose. Early morning phlegm clearing (read: coughing) may convince my fellow passengers that I have the hamthrax.
Still, the hugs on the other end of this flight will be worth it!
- Posted from my iPhone because there isn't much else to do at the airport by yourself at 6 AM
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I believe I can fly
One day, when I was about eight or nine, I overheard my mom's parents talking to my parents. The conversation went something like this:
Grandma: When were you thinking your children would be old enough to stay home alone without a babysitter?
Mom: Oh I don't know. Ten, maybe?
Grandma: Wonderful. Dad and I were thinking that when they were old enough, we'd love to have our grandchildren each take a trip to spend a month or so with us during the summer.
Being the strong-willed child I was, I took this to mean that the summer I was ten, I would get to go to my grandparent's home for a month. I was the oldest; I'd get to go first. Nevermind the fact that we were living in Texas and they lived in Washington. No one could convince me otherwise. I was going.
And so my parents and grandparents struck a deal. They would split the cost of the plane ticket, if I raised $50 of my own money to help pay for it and therefore earn the trip rather than it just be gifted to me. $50 to a child is a LOT of money, but I did it! I saved $25 of my allowance money and gave my parents the $25 mall gift certificate I won by selling the most tickets to our children's theatre play that summer.
The scary part was flying there by myself. My mom packed me a carry-on with Wild Cherry Lifesavers (something I still associate with this trip), gum (because Grandpa likes to chew gum on flights to help his ears pop), word search puzzle books, and other goodies. Fortunately, these were still the days that anyone could go all the way to the gate, so my family saw me off, my mom's aunt Donna met me in the SLC airport for lunch (a kid's meal from Burger King!), and my grandparents were waiting for me. I wasn't alone for long.
It was a wonderful month. I made a little-while friend and we rode bikes to the community swimming pool almost every day. I sometimes visited Grandma at work, and spent time with both grandparents at home each evening. It was this summer I was taught how to embroider, and I had almost all my Christmas presents for my family complete by the time I went home.
As part of Grandpa's work with the state, he was also a volunteer forest firefighter. My third week, he was called away to fight a fire, and it was just me and Grandma for awhile. We had hoped to go camping that week, but we postponed that trip until I was 21 (seriously, it was 11 years before we could get our schedules to work). Fortunately, he came home in time for us to drive to Utah for my last week. We were meeting Mom there so she and Grandma (who were both seminary teachers) could attend the Seminary Symposium at BYU while Grandpa and I stayed with Aunt Donna and played in Utah. Not so fortunately, I challenged a boy from their ward we were taking to his grandparents' to a foot race somewhere in Idaho - rest stop footraces are family tradition, probably to get us tired and make us fall asleep - and I fell, spraining my wrist and scraping up my arm and face. I had to tone down some of my energy, but we still played miniature golf and went hiking. I got to fly home with my mom, just the two of us.
It's still one of my favorite summers. My siblings and some of my cousins have followed suit had spent their summers in Washington. I'm so fortunate to have and still be making such fond memories with my amazing grandparents - in multiple states and countries! (On my dad's side, my grandfather passed away when I was nine, but my grandmother and I are still in touch, she's also wonderful, just not very active.)
I also enjoy making my parents start pricey family traditions they never expected. Eavesdropping is totally worth it.
Grandma: When were you thinking your children would be old enough to stay home alone without a babysitter?
Mom: Oh I don't know. Ten, maybe?
Grandma: Wonderful. Dad and I were thinking that when they were old enough, we'd love to have our grandchildren each take a trip to spend a month or so with us during the summer.
Being the strong-willed child I was, I took this to mean that the summer I was ten, I would get to go to my grandparent's home for a month. I was the oldest; I'd get to go first. Nevermind the fact that we were living in Texas and they lived in Washington. No one could convince me otherwise. I was going.
And so my parents and grandparents struck a deal. They would split the cost of the plane ticket, if I raised $50 of my own money to help pay for it and therefore earn the trip rather than it just be gifted to me. $50 to a child is a LOT of money, but I did it! I saved $25 of my allowance money and gave my parents the $25 mall gift certificate I won by selling the most tickets to our children's theatre play that summer.
The scary part was flying there by myself. My mom packed me a carry-on with Wild Cherry Lifesavers (something I still associate with this trip), gum (because Grandpa likes to chew gum on flights to help his ears pop), word search puzzle books, and other goodies. Fortunately, these were still the days that anyone could go all the way to the gate, so my family saw me off, my mom's aunt Donna met me in the SLC airport for lunch (a kid's meal from Burger King!), and my grandparents were waiting for me. I wasn't alone for long.
It was a wonderful month. I made a little-while friend and we rode bikes to the community swimming pool almost every day. I sometimes visited Grandma at work, and spent time with both grandparents at home each evening. It was this summer I was taught how to embroider, and I had almost all my Christmas presents for my family complete by the time I went home.
As part of Grandpa's work with the state, he was also a volunteer forest firefighter. My third week, he was called away to fight a fire, and it was just me and Grandma for awhile. We had hoped to go camping that week, but we postponed that trip until I was 21 (seriously, it was 11 years before we could get our schedules to work). Fortunately, he came home in time for us to drive to Utah for my last week. We were meeting Mom there so she and Grandma (who were both seminary teachers) could attend the Seminary Symposium at BYU while Grandpa and I stayed with Aunt Donna and played in Utah. Not so fortunately, I challenged a boy from their ward we were taking to his grandparents' to a foot race somewhere in Idaho - rest stop footraces are family tradition, probably to get us tired and make us fall asleep - and I fell, spraining my wrist and scraping up my arm and face. I had to tone down some of my energy, but we still played miniature golf and went hiking. I got to fly home with my mom, just the two of us.
It's still one of my favorite summers. My siblings and some of my cousins have followed suit had spent their summers in Washington. I'm so fortunate to have and still be making such fond memories with my amazing grandparents - in multiple states and countries! (On my dad's side, my grandfather passed away when I was nine, but my grandmother and I are still in touch, she's also wonderful, just not very active.)
I also enjoy making my parents start pricey family traditions they never expected. Eavesdropping is totally worth it.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Walk this way
Kindergarten at Hill View Elementary School in Murray, UT, is half-day. At least it was in 1989. I was in an afternoon class. Mom took me to school everyday (which, I'm sure, was no small feat, since she'd have to pack up me, my 3 and 1 year old siblings, and at least one or two other children she babysat to drive me that one mile), but most days I walked home with some neighbor girls. I think one was even a fifth grader, and the bee's knees.
Then we moved to Texas and we rode in a carpool for 1st-3rd and 5th grades. 4th grade I rode the bus (which was a novelty at first, but soon wore off). I rode the bus for 6th-8th grades as well, but when we moved from our apartment to a real house closer to our elementary school halfway through 6th grade, my 2nd and 4th grade siblings got to walk to school.
I don't remember why, but I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Well, it was probably because I was on a stinky bus everyday. (Even worse, for at least four cumulative weeks in 8th grade, I rode the short bus. I still need to tell that story, don't I?) My siblings were able to walk on their schedule and enjoy the outside air, and their commute didn't take nearly as long as mine. I was rather jealous.
Once I started 9th grade, everything changed. We'd moved to our house in Utah and you could see junior high from our doorstep. I finally got to walk to school! All by myself if I wanted! And walk I did. Sometimes by my onesies, sometimes with my brother, sometimes with neighbors, and eventually with my not-my-boyfriend. Is there anything more not-romantic than walking hand in hand with your not-your-boyfriend the two and a half blocks to the junior high? I didn't think so.
My favorites were the snowy days. I'd get up with my brother and get all bundled up, ready to shovel the driveway. By the time I'd shoveled the first line, I'd spy my not-my-boyfriend coming up the walk, ready to take over. Three people and two shovels = I got to go back inside where it was warm, get ready for school, and help Mom finish making breakfast for the lot of us. It was pretty great.
Unfortunately, walking to school lost its charm by 10th grade. The high school was farther away. If I didn't leave on time to meet my friends, I had to walk it alone. There was no magic in the snowy days anymore, as I was no longer not-seeing my not-my-boyfriend, so I'd have to help shovel after all and then trudge through the snow to school.
I was much relieved that I had a driver's license and my own truck by the time my junior year started. By this time, it was my truck that was the novelty and the means to my freedom. Those are the ingredients to me enjoying my walk to school. It was new and exciting in 9th grade, but not as much by 10th. Walking from Deseret Towers to my morning classes my freshman year of college was both a novelty and more freedom than I'd ever had, minus the scary Bell Tower Stairs of Death, and I don't ever recall minding the walk. The same goes for my walk from my flat in London to the Hyde Park LDS chapel, where our classes were held. I was so excited every day that I was in London that I didn't care I was walking all the time (and when I came home a pants size smaller, I was still excited - anyone want to move back to London with me?).
It would only take about 40 minutes to walk to work now. It would be good for me. But it's a lot easier to sleep for 30 extra minutes and drive for six. Perhaps on good weather days, I'll channel my inner 9th grader and remember just how freeing it is to do things by my own steam.
Then we moved to Texas and we rode in a carpool for 1st-3rd and 5th grades. 4th grade I rode the bus (which was a novelty at first, but soon wore off). I rode the bus for 6th-8th grades as well, but when we moved from our apartment to a real house closer to our elementary school halfway through 6th grade, my 2nd and 4th grade siblings got to walk to school.
I don't remember why, but I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Well, it was probably because I was on a stinky bus everyday. (Even worse, for at least four cumulative weeks in 8th grade, I rode the short bus. I still need to tell that story, don't I?) My siblings were able to walk on their schedule and enjoy the outside air, and their commute didn't take nearly as long as mine. I was rather jealous.
Once I started 9th grade, everything changed. We'd moved to our house in Utah and you could see junior high from our doorstep. I finally got to walk to school! All by myself if I wanted! And walk I did. Sometimes by my onesies, sometimes with my brother, sometimes with neighbors, and eventually with my not-my-boyfriend. Is there anything more not-romantic than walking hand in hand with your not-your-boyfriend the two and a half blocks to the junior high? I didn't think so.
My favorites were the snowy days. I'd get up with my brother and get all bundled up, ready to shovel the driveway. By the time I'd shoveled the first line, I'd spy my not-my-boyfriend coming up the walk, ready to take over. Three people and two shovels = I got to go back inside where it was warm, get ready for school, and help Mom finish making breakfast for the lot of us. It was pretty great.
Unfortunately, walking to school lost its charm by 10th grade. The high school was farther away. If I didn't leave on time to meet my friends, I had to walk it alone. There was no magic in the snowy days anymore, as I was no longer not-seeing my not-my-boyfriend, so I'd have to help shovel after all and then trudge through the snow to school.
I was much relieved that I had a driver's license and my own truck by the time my junior year started. By this time, it was my truck that was the novelty and the means to my freedom. Those are the ingredients to me enjoying my walk to school. It was new and exciting in 9th grade, but not as much by 10th. Walking from Deseret Towers to my morning classes my freshman year of college was both a novelty and more freedom than I'd ever had, minus the scary Bell Tower Stairs of Death, and I don't ever recall minding the walk. The same goes for my walk from my flat in London to the Hyde Park LDS chapel, where our classes were held. I was so excited every day that I was in London that I didn't care I was walking all the time (and when I came home a pants size smaller, I was still excited - anyone want to move back to London with me?).
It would only take about 40 minutes to walk to work now. It would be good for me. But it's a lot easier to sleep for 30 extra minutes and drive for six. Perhaps on good weather days, I'll channel my inner 9th grader and remember just how freeing it is to do things by my own steam.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Pain in the neck!
When I'm feeling bad (headache, cramps, etc.), my preferred treatment method is sleeping it off, sometimes accompanied by a little Tylenol or Ibuprofen and an ice pack or heating pad.
Most of the time, I feel completely better when I wake up.
But when I go to sleep feeling just fine and wake up the next morning to hear and feel my neck crack and pain set in, I know it's going to be a long day. It's probably only happened eight times in my adult life, and a handful more as a teenager, but some days, for no reason at all, I wake up with a crick or kink in my neck. The entire right side of my neck from shoulder to head radiates with pain and it's difficult to move. The all-knowing interwebs say that it's probably caused by a muscle spasm.
Today, obviously, is one of those days. Throughout the day, I attempted gentle neck rolls and not moving any more than necessary. Still, by the third hour of church, I almost couldn't move at all.
I'm not a fan.
Once home, I took some Ibuprofen and applied my ice pack for an hour. Then, I switched to heat and drove to tonight's Mormon Choir concert with my heat bag on my shoulder. A fellow soprano helped massaged some of the stiffness out, and I had mobility! It was going to be a long fireside if I didn't.
Now, I have the ice pack awkward wrapped around my neck again and it doesn't hurt too bad. I figure it's a delayed reaction to being rear-ended (however slowly) on Halloween and falling on Wednesday.
Whatever it is, I'm over it. I really hope I can sleep this one off.
Most of the time, I feel completely better when I wake up.
But when I go to sleep feeling just fine and wake up the next morning to hear and feel my neck crack and pain set in, I know it's going to be a long day. It's probably only happened eight times in my adult life, and a handful more as a teenager, but some days, for no reason at all, I wake up with a crick or kink in my neck. The entire right side of my neck from shoulder to head radiates with pain and it's difficult to move. The all-knowing interwebs say that it's probably caused by a muscle spasm.
Today, obviously, is one of those days. Throughout the day, I attempted gentle neck rolls and not moving any more than necessary. Still, by the third hour of church, I almost couldn't move at all.
I'm not a fan.
Once home, I took some Ibuprofen and applied my ice pack for an hour. Then, I switched to heat and drove to tonight's Mormon Choir concert with my heat bag on my shoulder. A fellow soprano helped massaged some of the stiffness out, and I had mobility! It was going to be a long fireside if I didn't.
Now, I have the ice pack awkward wrapped around my neck again and it doesn't hurt too bad. I figure it's a delayed reaction to being rear-ended (however slowly) on Halloween and falling on Wednesday.
Whatever it is, I'm over it. I really hope I can sleep this one off.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Eight days a week
What a week. Seven tiring days of nothing going as expected. Nothing really bad or life changing, just a long, tiring week.
Sunday, the editor of short film I directed and I met together to finalize our film before submitting it to our bishopric for the stake film festival. There were some weird technical glitches and the fixing of them took almost twice as long as we expected. But fix them we did, and our test screening went swimmingly.
Monday, I was just tired. I finally got back to my dance class after missing for two weeks for various reasons. I also starting my working day at 7 AM, 2.5 hours earlier than usual, and 1.5 hours earlier than I usually even get out of bed. Deadlines at 9:30 AM on a Monday morning are not my favorite.
Tuesday, I was even more tired than Monday, as my long day had caught up to me. I also felt rather oogy in general, for whatever reason.
I was feeling mostly better by Wednesday, but it didn't last. My current dance class is through Northern Virginia Community College, and their dance department was having a little showcase. My class (Advanced Modern) was last, and as I was doing the across the floor combination (a rather fun one I had just learned on Monday) I suddenly found myself flat on my back in the middle of the stage. I don't remember tripping or falling, just landing. As I tweeted, collective audience gasps are rather surreal when they're for you. I ran off the stage and the showcase continued, but I did end up going to bed with a headache.
Thursday was going really well. I didn't feel oogy at all, just a little sore and bruised. Until, of course, my cataloger came into my office and we exchanged our usual pleasantries:
Cataloger: How are you?
Me: Good, thanks. And you?
Cataloger: I'm good. You don't look so good.
Me: Oh . . .
I decided that it must have just been my tiring week manifesting itself in my demeanor, because I really did feel well enough.
We've already discussed Friday.
Today, I slept until 11 AM, did some cleaning (including those dishes and clothes), and then took a little nap. This evening was the aforementioned film festival, which I was looking forward to. During the opening announcements, however, a list of guidelines and themes each film was suppose to adhere to was read, so the audience knew what to look for. This was the first anyone in our ward, even our bishopric, ever heard of these guidelines, and, of course, our film didn't really fit. It was still entertaining, but I was embarrassed and annoyed, as were the other members of our crew, that we hadn't followed the "rules", even if it wasn't our fault.
We did, however, win the "Best On Location Shooting" for "following" the "This is the Place" theme, since we filmed at 7-11 and Eastern Market, and the MC did try to mention that we hadn't seen the guidelines beforehand. They were all Girl's Camp style awards - the ones made to fit the recipients. I can live with that, and I'm still pleased with the film under all the circumstances of its creation.
Pleased enough that I'll share it with you!
In a few days, I'll be returning home, and I'm looking forward to recharging my batteries, especially after a week like this!
Sunday, the editor of short film I directed and I met together to finalize our film before submitting it to our bishopric for the stake film festival. There were some weird technical glitches and the fixing of them took almost twice as long as we expected. But fix them we did, and our test screening went swimmingly.
Monday, I was just tired. I finally got back to my dance class after missing for two weeks for various reasons. I also starting my working day at 7 AM, 2.5 hours earlier than usual, and 1.5 hours earlier than I usually even get out of bed. Deadlines at 9:30 AM on a Monday morning are not my favorite.
Tuesday, I was even more tired than Monday, as my long day had caught up to me. I also felt rather oogy in general, for whatever reason.
I was feeling mostly better by Wednesday, but it didn't last. My current dance class is through Northern Virginia Community College, and their dance department was having a little showcase. My class (Advanced Modern) was last, and as I was doing the across the floor combination (a rather fun one I had just learned on Monday) I suddenly found myself flat on my back in the middle of the stage. I don't remember tripping or falling, just landing. As I tweeted, collective audience gasps are rather surreal when they're for you. I ran off the stage and the showcase continued, but I did end up going to bed with a headache.
Thursday was going really well. I didn't feel oogy at all, just a little sore and bruised. Until, of course, my cataloger came into my office and we exchanged our usual pleasantries:
Cataloger: How are you?
Me: Good, thanks. And you?
Cataloger: I'm good. You don't look so good.
Me: Oh . . .
I decided that it must have just been my tiring week manifesting itself in my demeanor, because I really did feel well enough.
We've already discussed Friday.
Today, I slept until 11 AM, did some cleaning (including those dishes and clothes), and then took a little nap. This evening was the aforementioned film festival, which I was looking forward to. During the opening announcements, however, a list of guidelines and themes each film was suppose to adhere to was read, so the audience knew what to look for. This was the first anyone in our ward, even our bishopric, ever heard of these guidelines, and, of course, our film didn't really fit. It was still entertaining, but I was embarrassed and annoyed, as were the other members of our crew, that we hadn't followed the "rules", even if it wasn't our fault.
We did, however, win the "Best On Location Shooting" for "following" the "This is the Place" theme, since we filmed at 7-11 and Eastern Market, and the MC did try to mention that we hadn't seen the guidelines beforehand. They were all Girl's Camp style awards - the ones made to fit the recipients. I can live with that, and I'm still pleased with the film under all the circumstances of its creation.
Pleased enough that I'll share it with you!
In a few days, I'll be returning home, and I'm looking forward to recharging my batteries, especially after a week like this!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
You know that I could use somebody
Just before I left work tonight, I decided to check the evening's movie schedule and see if there was anything that would tear me away from my evening plans of laundry and dishes. Lo and behold, "Julie & Julia" was playing at the cheap theater. Dishes? What dishes? So, I texted some friends and tried to throw together a last minute outing.
I messaged six friends and got six "I have other plans, but next time!"s. (Okay, one was about something tomorrow, but still.)
Oh well!
I took myself, and I'm totally okay with that. The movie was worth it. I'll see most of these friends at a stake event tomorrow. All of them responded instead of just leaving me hanging. I got the popcorn all to myself.
Best Friday evening ever? Nah. Decent? Absolutely.
I messaged six friends and got six "I have other plans, but next time!"s. (Okay, one was about something tomorrow, but still.)
Oh well!
I took myself, and I'm totally okay with that. The movie was worth it. I'll see most of these friends at a stake event tomorrow. All of them responded instead of just leaving me hanging. I got the popcorn all to myself.
Best Friday evening ever? Nah. Decent? Absolutely.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Some say tak, others merci
The goal on my gratitude blog is to list five things a day. Five days down so far! It's nice to reflect on my day and end on a positive note. Check it out by following the link on the sidebar!
-- Posted from my iPhone, because I'm hanging out with Mr. T tonight
-- Posted from my iPhone, because I'm hanging out with Mr. T tonight
Thursday, November 5, 2009
I still haven't found what I'm looking for
I'm still in transition from the old library system to the new at work. It's been really well received, for the most part, and it gets better everyday. Still, my choral music section is in four different places in the building (of which my library is only a part), namely The New Section on the Shelves, The Old Section on the Shelves, The New Section on Book Trucks Out In the Warehouse, and The Old Section on Book Trucks in the Library.
It can get really confusing. And that's just the choral music. Everything else is in some similar form of library limbo as well.
Fortunately, it make sense to me. When a materials request comes in via phone or email, I can still locate things easily and process the request quickly (though if it's in either of the old sections, it takes a little longer since I have to put it through the new system - AKA add copy).
What's tricky is when teachers come to visit the library. It's hard to find anything by just browsing right now, and it's rather difficult to explain where to find anything specific. Mostly, I just ask teachers to have a look around, but if they want something specific to ask me and I'll pull it for them.
What's really tricky is when teachers come in and have somehow missed that I'm changing things. It's especially odd to me since I've been talking it up the entire time I've been here, have held multiple instruction sessions at various inservices, changed things on Blackboard, and have sent out multiple emails about it. So, not only is there the usual difficulty in locating materials, I also have to do some on the spot library instruction and, in some cases, defend why things are the way they are.
At least when teachers ask for things in the old way via phone or email, I can just send it the new way and remind them that we have a new system and where to find the tutorials on how to use it.
I'm all for the teach a man to fish method of library instruction and reference assistance, but it's difficult to see it through because whatever I say is not always true. Some things won't be found online yet or in the right places on the shelves. Between the temps I had and the part time help I still have, I can't guarantee even the "new" things will be where I think they should be, because I didn't shelve it myself or even add copy on it.
The good news is that I'm getting more items in the new system and in their new places everyday. I'll consolidate the New Sections by the end of the week. And, once they get the hang of it, no one is really protesting the change.
It can get really confusing. And that's just the choral music. Everything else is in some similar form of library limbo as well.
Fortunately, it make sense to me. When a materials request comes in via phone or email, I can still locate things easily and process the request quickly (though if it's in either of the old sections, it takes a little longer since I have to put it through the new system - AKA add copy).
What's tricky is when teachers come to visit the library. It's hard to find anything by just browsing right now, and it's rather difficult to explain where to find anything specific. Mostly, I just ask teachers to have a look around, but if they want something specific to ask me and I'll pull it for them.
What's really tricky is when teachers come in and have somehow missed that I'm changing things. It's especially odd to me since I've been talking it up the entire time I've been here, have held multiple instruction sessions at various inservices, changed things on Blackboard, and have sent out multiple emails about it. So, not only is there the usual difficulty in locating materials, I also have to do some on the spot library instruction and, in some cases, defend why things are the way they are.
At least when teachers ask for things in the old way via phone or email, I can just send it the new way and remind them that we have a new system and where to find the tutorials on how to use it.
I'm all for the teach a man to fish method of library instruction and reference assistance, but it's difficult to see it through because whatever I say is not always true. Some things won't be found online yet or in the right places on the shelves. Between the temps I had and the part time help I still have, I can't guarantee even the "new" things will be where I think they should be, because I didn't shelve it myself or even add copy on it.
The good news is that I'm getting more items in the new system and in their new places everyday. I'll consolidate the New Sections by the end of the week. And, once they get the hang of it, no one is really protesting the change.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Home is where the heart is
Since I lived at home for two-thirds of college and haven't served a mission, I was spared the hassle of moving every 6-12 months like so many do. Still, I have lived in 9 different homes to date, 10 if you count my London flat, brief as it was (and I do), and 11 if you count the month I stayed with my grandparents when I was 10 (and I don't completely).
This further breaks down to 7 (or 8) different cities, 3 (or 4) states, and 2 countries.
Today, I'm going to focus on the states I've lived in - Utah, Texas, and Virginia. The fascinating thing is that my time in each of these states pretty much represents a stage in my development. Utah represents my early childhood, late teen, and college years. Texas is childhood and early teen years. Virginia, so far, is where I've grown into a full-fledged contributing-member-of-society adult.
Utah - The 45th state. My place of birth. The state I truly call home. Beautiful mountains and other natural beauty that make it a geologist's paradise. Predominantly LDS, which is comfortable for me. A state my family has been tied to since the beginning (the other is Iowa, but I've never lived there). The best snow on Earth. My safe haven.
Texas - The 28th state. Where I say I grew up - though I suppose I mean physically more than anything else. A really freaking big state (2nd only to Alaska) and, therefore, one with a lot of natural diversity. The place where I experienced life as a minority - first as a member of the LDS church (all 8 years) and second as an ethnic minority during all three years of middle school in a predominantly African-American school. This is where I first learned to be me and no one else. Even if I never return to this state, it will always have a special place in my heart.
Virginia - The 10th state. Where I have really come into my own. A state that could really be divided into two - Northern Virginia (essentially an extension of DC) and the rest of the state. The people and lifestyles and energy are so different in those two sections. As much as I know I've grown and learned in the previous stages of my life, this is where I've truly found me, understood me, and done so on my own. And did you know there is a state bat?
Of course, I don't think it's the states I've lived in which have formed who I am as much as the environments within them, but it convenient to break up my life that way. I'm also very glad I've lived both in Utah and in the "mission field" as it's given me the chance to develop my personal convictions independently. It's so easy to say "I can't, I'm Mormon" when no one else is, but you can't get away with that when everyone is. And since then, I've personally come to understand why I do/believe or don't do/believe without defaulting to my religion. I also feel I've learned so much about people and the world by living in so many different places. Simply touring different places doesn't give you quite the same level of understanding.
I'm excited to see where I go from here.
This further breaks down to 7 (or 8) different cities, 3 (or 4) states, and 2 countries.
Today, I'm going to focus on the states I've lived in - Utah, Texas, and Virginia. The fascinating thing is that my time in each of these states pretty much represents a stage in my development. Utah represents my early childhood, late teen, and college years. Texas is childhood and early teen years. Virginia, so far, is where I've grown into a full-fledged contributing-member-of-society adult.
Utah - The 45th state. My place of birth. The state I truly call home. Beautiful mountains and other natural beauty that make it a geologist's paradise. Predominantly LDS, which is comfortable for me. A state my family has been tied to since the beginning (the other is Iowa, but I've never lived there). The best snow on Earth. My safe haven.
Texas - The 28th state. Where I say I grew up - though I suppose I mean physically more than anything else. A really freaking big state (2nd only to Alaska) and, therefore, one with a lot of natural diversity. The place where I experienced life as a minority - first as a member of the LDS church (all 8 years) and second as an ethnic minority during all three years of middle school in a predominantly African-American school. This is where I first learned to be me and no one else. Even if I never return to this state, it will always have a special place in my heart.
Virginia - The 10th state. Where I have really come into my own. A state that could really be divided into two - Northern Virginia (essentially an extension of DC) and the rest of the state. The people and lifestyles and energy are so different in those two sections. As much as I know I've grown and learned in the previous stages of my life, this is where I've truly found me, understood me, and done so on my own. And did you know there is a state bat?
Of course, I don't think it's the states I've lived in which have formed who I am as much as the environments within them, but it convenient to break up my life that way. I'm also very glad I've lived both in Utah and in the "mission field" as it's given me the chance to develop my personal convictions independently. It's so easy to say "I can't, I'm Mormon" when no one else is, but you can't get away with that when everyone is. And since then, I've personally come to understand why I do/believe or don't do/believe without defaulting to my religion. I also feel I've learned so much about people and the world by living in so many different places. Simply touring different places doesn't give you quite the same level of understanding.
I'm excited to see where I go from here.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
We have been born, as Nephi of old, to goodly parents
This cute couple?
Those are my parents.
I'm awfully fond of them, and, fortunately, the feeling is mutual. Here are five things I love about each of these wonderful people.
Mom
They are absolutely wonderful people, and I'm eternally grateful for everything they are and do.
Love you, Mom and Dad!
Those are my parents.
I'm awfully fond of them, and, fortunately, the feeling is mutual. Here are five things I love about each of these wonderful people.
Mom
- Loves to read
- Very intelligent
- Great listener
- Well organized
- Talented seamstress
- Total goofball
- Loves a good practical joke
- Forgiving
- Hard working
- Always willing to help in any way he can
- Strong testimony
- Taught me the value of a good education
- Love their children
- Make family a top priority
- Love music and passed that love to their children
They are absolutely wonderful people, and I'm eternally grateful for everything they are and do.
Love you, Mom and Dad!
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