Honoring My Heritage...From A Computer Chair.

Nebraska is very flat. Flat, flat, flat. Flatter'n a flat slice of flatbread flattened with an anvil and run over by a truck. Everywhere you look, not a single mountain. Even if you stand on the tallest thing you can find (say, your RV) and squint your eyes and shade them with your hand (since Hollywood suggests that such an action improves your long-distance vision), you would never see a mountain. Not even an anthill. Nebraska probably doesn't even have ants. You'll never experience motion sickness in Nebraska, because driving in your RV feels just like gliding. The bumps on the highway that you felt in Utah simply don't exist in Nebraska - they've found a way around that. A new formula for asphalt, perhaps. Whatever the cause, Nebraska is certainly flat. Flat, flat, flat.

Not that I've ever been to Nebraska.

Dad has, though.

This week, while I have been in school, my dad, three of his sisters and my grandmother have been in an RV, making a pilgrimage to Nauvoo. They call themselves Reverse Pioneers. Appropriate, since they're leaving the Salt Lake Valley and travelling to Nauvoo, from whence our ancestors fled. They traveled through the flat, flat flat Nebraska and a town in Missouri which was not so flat, but that was mostly due to the fact that everything in the town was an allusion to Mark Twain. After these adventures, they made it to their finish line (Starting line. Which is it, Reverse Pioneers?) in Nauvoo, Illinois.

Dad pointed out in their travel log that "Nauvoo has become a Mecca for Mormons." I suppose this is true - being an LDS citizen of Utah, you need to travel back to the place of our persecution at least once in your life. Now, Jewish youth receive a coming-of-age ceremony when they turn 13. Catholics are baptized in their infancy, and most young women have some sort of grandiose ceremony when they turn 15. Something about "coming out," which, ironically, means that they are now recognized as ready and able to date young men. All giggles and siggers aside, the point is that most of these milestones are reached at a youngish age.

So, it can't be any wonder that I, so very close to adulthood, am feeling a little left out of the milestone party. It's like I've been denied an opportunity at perfection, leaving me spotted and incomplete. I have not yet made my pilgrimage to Nauvoo. I have tried - I begged to pile into The Beast with my dad, grandma and aunts - but it's never amounted to much, other than sympathy. My day of perfection will come, yes...but probably when I'm old and married, with six kids under age 7 and two dogs and a doormat that says, "Welcome to our loving home."

Yes, readers, that day will come.

I'd better hurry up and get married.

A Love Story

Last night, I stayed out until 2 A.M. with two of my favorite girls in the world. Two sisters, 19 and 17. For propriety's sake, I'll call them Lauren and Mandy.

The three of us (The Three Musketeers since we could open our eyes), one boy and one aunt, went to an Ogden cemetary to scope out some ghosts. No luck, in case you were interested. We laughed and talked and scared ourselves silly; we evaded cops and snuck around in haunted places. On the way home, our aunt (the young and crazy driver of the getaway car) pulled up to a McDonald's to grab some shakes.

Now, some background. Lauren, a beautiful, bright woman of nearly 20, has struggled with eating disorders for about 4-5 years (give or take one). She's had some pretty bad spells, but now it's easy for her family to tell when the addiction is pushing her back into that dangerous mode. On therapist's orders, she is not allowed to refuse any treat that's offered directly to her, even if she genuinely isn't hungry. So, imaginary readers, you can probably guess what happened when we pulled into the drive-thru.

As we pulled up and began the discussion of our various orders, Lauren was silent, which is not at all like her. Mandy, who was sitting next to me, turned to her and they began a semi-silent sister to sister conversation. "Yes." "Mandy, no. You'll be wasting your money. I'm not getting one." "Lauren, you need to listen to me. Yes you are." They went like this until the mechanical box called for our order. By then, Lauren was in a panic, and Mandy was resolute. We ordered one for everyone, and when it came to be Lauren's turn, she simply shook her head. Mandy turned to our driver, and with the air of a paramedic instructing a civilian onlooker, said, "She likes Oreo."

Lauren burried her face in her hands and sobbed quietly, defeated. Mandy took the opportunity to talk to a more humble sister. "Lauren," she said, "You're getting into this mode again. I'm not going to just watch that happen." Lauren peeked a tearful eye over her hands. Mandy continued. "You tell yourself lies every day, Lauren, and it's not true. Whatever you're telling yourself right now it's not true." Lauren continued to shake her head and say, "I can't do it..." over and over.

Our wise aunt, who herself has struggled with addictions, bought Lauren her Oreo shake and pulled into a parking spot. She turned around, handed Lauren the shake, and talked to Mandy quietly, understandingly.

"Why is it so important that she does this?" She asked.

"Because," choked Mandy, ambushed by tears. "Be-cause...I'm not doing this again." She turned away from Lauren and rested against the car window.

Lauren sobbed, looking from the frozen terror in her hands to her tearful sister. "Fine," she whispered, "I'll do it."

"That's a girl," said our driver. "Just one tiny bite. The next one will be bigger. One tiny bite is all anyone can expect."

Lauren picked up her spoon, and put it down. "Mandy...I'm sorry." She sobbed, her face dark. "I'm sorry...for...I'm-I'm sorry for ev-ev-Oh, I'm sorry."

Mandy looked at her. "You don't have to be! You don't have to be if you'll just listen to me and trust me!" She paused, then spoke more calmly. "You have no. idea. what this has put me through. Please, listen to me."

Lauren took four deep breaths, picked up her spoon, and skimmed the surface of the spoonful with her lips. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up," she said to Mandy. "But you're not," said her little sister, looking her in the eyes. She smiled through her tears, and Lauren smiled as she continued to prepare herself for the next bite.

"Good girl. Good girl," said our aunt. "Let's go home."

I once went with a group of youth to an army training facility, where we participated in several teamwork and leadership experiences. At the end of the day, an adult leader commented, "I am so impressed with how many times today I saw someone that was in a stable place reach out their hand to someone who was in an unstable place."

It wasn't until last night that I understood that completely. I've never seen a more perfect love than I did last night, watching my cousin force her older sister to eat an Oreo shake.

Thoughts

• The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways. I was afforded the opportunity to say what I needed to say (see yesterday's post) without even sending an email.
• I'm going to go the the temple a lot more often, becuase I am grateful that I'm worthy and that I know the power therein.
• The ACT is straight out of the infernal pit.
• ACT practice tests are monotonous and repellant.
• My ACT score actually matters to me now, making it harder to concentrate and finish in time.
• I have yet to finish an ACT reading practice test in the alloted time. I always go over.
• How on earth did I get a 29?!?! I can't even read!
• Actually, I can read. I'm just discouraged.
• Taking a break from hanging out with Sam. This is a good thing.
• Moab in exactly six days and 23 hours and 13 minutes!!!!
• I need a swimsuit.
• I need a pedicure.
• I need...want....need? a new dress.
• I gotta get back to work.
• Spring Fling starts in 16 minutes!! No wonder I can't concentrate.
• Spent the majority of the day at Centerville Junior High. Played in the orchestra.
• Said hi to Jackson, Kelson, Chloe, Dylan...my brother and his friends. Gave my brother a hug.
• Did not say hi to my old teachers. I have moved on.
• Watched 10 minutes of Freedom Writers when I got back to school. Excellent 10 minutes. Time well spent.
• I still have 14 minutes to go....may as well do something meaningful.

"After all...

...what's a life, anyway?" -Charlotte's Web, E.B. White.

It has been an interesting day. Sometimes, my days go on in a random, odd sequence of unrelated events, but sometimes, they seem to have a theme, like a cheesy dance or a rigged Sacrament meeting.
Today's theme was the above quote. In English, we debated the death penalty and the rights and wrongs thereof. After fists flew and tempers flared, we closed the class with that piercing quote from E.B. White: "After all...what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die." It was a sort of statement as to the fragility of our lives compared with the inevitability of death, and the omnipotence of fate.
After school, my dad called and informed me that my great grandmother had passed away. Again, I got the chills as I thought over our English class. "What's a life, anyway?"

For Family Home Evening, we went to a farm down the street from us, which just had an influx of baby animals. I am by no stretch of the imagination an animal lover...I barely get along with my doggy. Still, I mustered the strength to hold an hours-old baby goat!! Oh, my goodness, he was so tiny, and so warm and soft...he even smelled good, for a goat. He squirmed and and bleated, and I just about fell in love.
As I sat there, stroking his soft, clean(ish) hair, I pondered life. I thought about Charlotte's question: "What's a life, anyway?" and I had a legitimate answer, though it was more of a feeling than a coherent thought. I considered the wonder of life, the beauty of motherhood, and the joys of the family. Obviously, I thought, God never intended us to ask that question. Our lives are His greatest gift to us. I thought over the miracles that I see every day, the miracles of new life, of birth and resurrection, and of peace after death.
And as I sat with that little fuzzy miracle in my arms, examining its little ears and tiny hooves.....the darn thing POOPED ON ME! My warm fuzzies turned into wet nasties, in a split second. (I almost took a picture of my slimy hands for you, dear readers...but I decided to wash them six times instead.)

Walking home, my dad laughed at me, and related to me another perfectly themed quote. This one came not from a fictional spider, but from a Jewish spiritualist hippie guru, Abraham Joshua Heschel.

"A person only dies when he ceases to be surprised."

Now, HE knows what he's talking about.
And I think I'm covered for a little while.

Perfectly at peace,
Girl17.

Another Adult Roles Adventure

Ugh.
We're doing a real-life assignment...we were assigned spouses. I just bought a house, a car, and I am planning a weekly menu, which must include milk with every meal and 5 fruits and vegetables a day...because our two children, ages 3 and 5, have to eat well.
On Wednesday we get our "unexpected expense". Our car will probably blow up.

I'm still too little for life.

Avoiding English Homework in the Name of Justice.

Here's the thing.

It's not that I don't care about the death penalty, and it's not that I'm too lazy to debate about it in class, like we will be doing next week. It's not that I'm just too bored with it to form an opinion. Actually, I've formed a strong opinion, and I really do care deeply about it.

I'm dreading this assignment because I feel that my significance in the world is not enough to make my strong opinion matter. I feel almost wrong being the one to decide how it should be.
This is not a decision regarding school uniforms or tomorrow's cafeteria choices. These are human lives - not just those of the criminals in question, but those of the innocent who could be punished needlessly as a result of my anti-death-penalty opinion being put into action. This is a question of justice on an immeasurable scale. I can't say what the best thing is...but really, can anybody?
Who are we to make that call?

Random Hilarity

Maya had her underwear turned backward last night, so that the front part was uncomfortably situated on her bum. I joked about it as I helped her fix them.
Me: We should get Maya a thong. Hehe.
Maya: I already have a thumb! See, I have two of them, and this is the one I suck on.
She popped her shriveled thumb into her mouth, while the rest of us rolled on the floor, laughing.
I love my family.