Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Awesome

While I was driving home from the gym this morning, I saw a young man walking down the street in knee socks and a kilt, complete with one of those decorative pouch things that holds down the front--good thing, too, because it was windy. Awesome.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

My Favorite Temple Patron

Is it bad that I have a favorite temple patron? I have written about her before. Sister Ellsworth comes to the temple every Thursday morning to do initiatories. Most weeks I am at the desk or performing the ordinance when she comes, so I usually get to see her.

Her health has been better this summer than it was in the winter. When I help her up from one chair and walk her to the next, I can feel that she is stronger and doesn't lean on me quite as much for support. She has been talking a little more, asking me about myself and telling me a little more about her 20 years of working in the temple.

When she missed last week and this week, I was worried she was sick. Then I was worried she would die!--I mean, the regular flu kills lots of elderly people, and everyone is even more worried about swine flu. Today I found out her husband is in the hospital (I don't know why) so she has been staying with him. I am sad to not see her.

In prayer meeting this morning, we reviewed the initiatory training, and, since we had time left, our shift coordinator asked us to share our feelings or experiences with the ordinance. I had not planned to say anything, but she singled me out when she caught me sitting in the corner bawling. I said that, when I started working at the temple a year and a half ago, I was pretty miserable in my daily life, especially last winter. While I was working crazy shifts including overtime and graveyards in December and January, it was nearly impossible to get myself to the temple for my 6:20 a.m. prayer meeting. A few days, I woke up, cried, and went back to bed. (Now I get to go to a small, later prayer meeting at 7:40--much easier.) One day, I showed up sobbing and gasped a request to change my assignment for that morning to one that wouldn't require me to talk. But initiatory has changed my life. On my worst days, when I worked in initiatory, the Lord always sent me one patron, who, for whatever reason, let me know that the Lord loved me and was taking care of me. One week, it was Tricia Tanner, a girl I grew up with. Sometimes it was a stranger, and sometimes it was a familiar patron who came regularly who simply touched my heart that day. Sister Ellsworth was one of those patrons, one who continues to melt my heart and put a smile on my face. Every week that I see her, I remember how the Lord has taken care of me in all my misery, which makes me, well, not so miserable.

Friday, October 16, 2009

One of These Things Is Not Like the Other Ones

Today at the grocery store, I bought:
soy milk
romaine lettuce
carrots
fat free yogurt
cool ranch Doritos

Two years ago, this list would have looked more like:
cool ranch Doritos
doughnuts
hot dogs
orange juice

Also, do you remember when there was a fuss over the Sesame Street song because someone decided "one of these things just doesn't belong" promoted prejudice? I know I became totally prejudiced against broccoli when I saw that it didn't belong with apples, bananas, and grapes.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Where's my snack?

Dear UVU,
Please stock the vending machines with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. How do you expect college students to survive without them?
Love,
Anna

Monday, October 12, 2009

Good Idea, Bad Idea...Good Idea

Good Idea: Participating in the class discussion about the chemistry professor's pedagogy.
Bad Idea: Telling the girl next to you to "stop whining and develop some intellectual maturity because education is about more than grades."
Good Idea: Developing some emotional maturity.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Childhood

I'm taking a liberty with this post--I'm sharing something that isn't mine, and I hope that the person it belongs to won't mind. I'll keep it anonymous, at least. I am in an on-going on-line poetry discussion with a friend. I should also mention I had been nagging him about the importance of expressing feelings, which he said he does best through poetry. He wrote:

"The construction of this poem is a bit on the experimental side, but it seems the best answer I could come up with. Also, you seem to like to share facts about your childhood, so I thought I would too (I mean this sentence to be interpreted as it was constructed. In other words, there is no syntactical mistake)." Now the poem:

I used to like
to get up early
like little
children do
for life is
fresh
for the young
when I was
young no
more than eight.

Mom would
be up too
just as early.

We lived in
rental homes
while Dad
built houses
we would live in
for a while
then sell.

Escrow meant
change.

It rained
rained almost
every day then
but we would
explore
badger holes
in the soft
dirt
and find
awe in
the deepest
ponds.

Do you know
what
lives in the
forest by
my house?

Is it not beautiful? The dull ache is exquisite. My response:

"If writing poetry allows you to be in touch with your emotions, it is a good exercise for you. Reading your poetry, I can tell you feel something when you write, but I don't necessarily know what you're feeling because my experiences and emotions color my interpretation. So to me, this poem is melancholy. It conveys a dull pain, the general dreariness of constant rain, perhaps because something is missing. The pain might be worse if not for the active distraction of exploring badger holes and the awe found in the deepest ponds, but even these just ease the pain rather than bring happiness. But these are my feelings; I still don't know what your feelings are or to what degree they are like mine. Still, I think it is good that you write poetry, and I like to read it. Besides, you don't have to tell me your feelings, as I have no claim on them. It is presumptuous of me to ask your feelings because it assumes that you feel close enough to me or will choose to be close enough to me to share your feelings.

"I talk about my childhood a lot because it is my mental short-circuit. The past several years, I have been consumed in an effort to come to grips with the events of my childhood (almost all my memories are traumatic or leave a bitter taste, at the least) and figure out what my past means for my future. I want to raise children who are better than I--happier, emotionally and physically healthier--so I think a lot about what has been good and bad for me. I think that's normal. I also want to know how experiences similar to mine affect people with personalities different from my own and how different experiences shape people with similar personalities to mine. So I like to hear about other people's childhoods and families. Thanks for sharing."

I just felt like this needed to go on the blog. Is it strange that I feel inspired to write things on my blog?--not just creatively inspired but spiritually inspired sometimes.

And, for the Newt, I have to add: "What badgers?" Do you remember that? Sorry. Seven-year-old inside joke.

Current songs: Today is all about Radiohead's melancholy moaning.