When Will My Life Begin?

I’ve seen enough movies to know that life after graduation isn’t exactly spectacular, especially in today’s economy. Internships w/ painfully low pay--or better yet, no pay at all--are somehow still coveted positions, because it means that we get to add yet another item to our resume. Almost as if we’re just collecting stamps on a passport.

I know this more than anyone. I’ve signed up for more unpaid internships than I care to divulge. Some were just to add that extra stamp (one had a perk of stipend money… holla!), others were just because they sounded like fun.

And I knew getting a job in my field wouldn't be easy. Getting a dream job right away wouldn't be possible. I (regrettably) saw the movie "Post Grad." I knew what was coming.

But I never imagined that life after graduation would feel like such a void. There are many times in the week where I feel like this

Some days I just sit and wonder

1. How did I get here?

2. Where do I go from here? 

It’s like my life is on pause. I feel stuck, and sometimes moving somewhere else sounds like the only option.

Not only that, but I’m so busy it hurts. My schedule right now:

I work 40 hours a week
I have an internship
I have a side job

It's exhausting, and leaves little time for anything or anyone else. Sometimes it feels like every moment of my day is geared toward making money, or hoping that I’ll progress toward the job I really want and really will love. I don't like that.

As much as I love Provo, I feel the need for a change. It’s more than the usual travel bug I get every so often. It’s a feeling that this is a chapter in my life that needs to be closed.

I will miss my friends terribly, I will miss the food terribly, I will (surprisingly) miss the quirky culture; where else does a town throw a FREE scavenger hunt just because it wants to beat a record?

But let’s be real. Many of my friends are already moving away. David and I are total “foodies,” so we’ll find good food anywhere we go. And I love new cultures, new architecture, new adventures and chances for growth. I’ve lived in Provo since 2008 (with a few breaks in between), and I feel myself being pulled to other parts of the world. I’m ready for this next adventure in my life. In fact, I’ve never been more ready.

(though i'm sure i will be seriously conflicted when the time comes)

Until then I wait patiently until David finishes up school. Then maybe, just maybe, we'll figure out our next step in life, and I won't feel so lost in the world.

Gussied up

So let's talk about makeup.

I'm not here to tell you that it's bad, or not to wear it, or you're beautiful without it. I'm not here to shove an opinion down your throat, or make you change your life.

I avoid the politics of makeup.

No, I'm here to talk about my experience. 

Back in elementary school I had rosy cheeks, perfect skin, and an unnatural bob that my mom thought was adorable. I really wish I could find a picture for you that would properly describe what I'm talking about. She curled in my bangs (leaving behind a few burn marks on my forehead) and the undersides of my hair. But other than that, I took all of 10 minutes to get ready in the morning. MAX.

Until middle and high school. I was--what's the best word to describe this--plagued with acne. Gross, yes. (And to this day, I would kill to have the perfect skin that so many others had/have) So I covered my face in a layer of makeup...not even knowing how to make it look good. I smothered foundation on my face most days and that was that. Looking back at pictures, I can tell you that I looked like a mess.

In high school, I even branched out to curling my hair every day. That had to make me look better, and even make people like me more. Right?

It took me a while (and a heavy dose of Accutane) to finally realize that I preferred forgoing makeup altogether. I no longer felt like a slave to the concept of "I have to put my face on." Or, gosh I look terrible because I haven't put a single bit of paint on my face. I realized that makeup isn't everything, and not all guys love a girl covered in it. I guess everyone's version of beauty is different. 

Some girls love to wear makeup every day. I even know a girl who posted a tutorial on makeup because she was so aggravated by people doing it wrong. 

Other girls feel super insecure not wearing makeup every day (like I did), and others feel comfortable in their own skin and look great without anything. 

I'm an amateur at makeup, hands down. It's an art form that I haven't even attempted to master. Maybe one day I will. But for now I feel beautiful in my own skin (despite its major imperfections), and I love that. 

So if anyone wants to volunteer to be my makeup artist, I wouldn't be opposed. I'd let you do it whenever I was bored, or had time, or felt like dressing up. Assuming that doesn't happen, I think my time is best served trying to become a master at the subjects I really care about. 

But hey, it never hurts to put some on every once in a while, right?

Much to my mother's disdain, I have an aversion to smiling for most photos these days. 

I went for a Parisian look tonight. But as dressed up as I was, I still couldn't help but act like the buffoon I really am. And we all know the French would have no problem telling me that.

I suppose life goes on.

Lying in bed

On nights that I lie here paralyzed with pain, I tend to research my condition. Here's a short version.

Bertolotti's syndrome

Bertolotti's syndrome is a form of back pain associated with lumbosacral transitional vertebrae. It can be treated surgically with posterolateral fusion or resection of the transitional articulation. Non surgical treatments include steroid injections in the lower back or radiofrequency sensory ablation. It is named for Mario Bertolotti, an Italian physician 

Bertolotti's syndrome is defined by a transitional 5th lumbar vertebrae resulting in partial sacralization. Of importance is that this syndrome will result in a pain generating 4th lumbar disc resulting in a "sciatic" type of a pain correlating to the 5th lumbar nerve root. Usually the transitional vertebra will have a "spatulated" transverse process on one side resulting in articulation or partial articulation with the sacrum or at time the illium and in some cases with both. This results in limited / altered motion at the lumbo-sacral articulation. This loss of motion will then be compensated for at segments superior to the transitional vertebra resulting in accelerated degeneration and strain through the L4 disc level which can become symptomatic and inflame the adjacent L5 nerve root resulting in "sciatic" or radicular pain patterns. This is a congenital condition and is usually not symptomatic until one's later twenties or early thirties, yet there are cases found where Bertolotti's is symptomatic at a much earlier age. MRI help to detect this syndrome.

And then I think...maybe I didn't want to know all that. Maybe I should have just accepted that I'm in pain, and wondered what would happen next. 

Not exactly hopeful, huh?

Rich Rich Rich

In my non-fiction class, we read a piece titled "Rich rich rich"

The irony, of course, was the author's friend was undergoing unfortunate circumstances, but despite the trials, his friend considered himself "rich, rich, rich" (each word referring to each of his children).

It's lately that I've been feeling rich, rich, rich x infinity. Clearly, not because I have children that make me feel rich, but due to the wealth of blessings in my life.

Life is falling together, and it's times like this where I catch a glimpse of the big picture. Just for a moment. And I realize that my painting/tapestry/whatever else you want to call it, may not be perfect--it has imperfections and it's frustrating moments, but it's a beautiful picture once you step back and really look at it.

I've been blessed. Each night I go to bed too happy or overwhelmed to sleep. I haven't gotten sleep for weeks, honestly. Because despite the moments where I swear like a sailor, or want to chuck an old VCR over our balcony, I know that I'm still one lucky girl.

I have two wonderful jobs, I have an apartment to live in, I have incredible friends, I always have food (although sometimes I claim there's nothing to eat), I have an abundance of clothes to wear, I have a family that would do almost anything for me, and best of all, I have the most caring, wonderful guy that  is more than perfect for me.

And, as I'm sure you can guess, the list could go on and on.

So, to sum it up, I am most definitely rich.

Daddy's Girl

My dad is a brilliant writer. His Christmas Newsletter is always a hit, his treasure hunt clues are always tricky and clever (though his #2 daughter always bests his attempts to stump her), and his creativity always shines through his writing.

I'd like to think that I inherited a little bit of that finesse for writing. So instead of a cheap card that I knew he'd throw out (because he's no pack rat), this blog post is for you Dad.

I have, and always will be, a daddy's girl.

Plain and simple.

My father has three lovely daughters, but, as my sisters know (and complain)... I'm the favorite (hey. their words, not mine) :P

I couldn't begin to list the ways my father has spoiled me over the years. He's a big softie, though he pretends not to be. 

Without him, I couldn't have enjoyed one of my favorite (and only) hobbies throughout high school

He gave in to the one thing he said he'd never do: buy a horse

He made this possible:

And college in general

Parents weekend

All of which have brought me to meet the most amazing people, and to grow and expand as a person. 

And these aren't even scraping the tip of the iceberg. I've been so blessed.

When it comes down to it, there's little that my dad won't do for his little princesses (and prince--Cole competes with me for favorite child). But honestly, my favorite gift that he gives us, is his time. My favorite childhood memories (up to present day) include:

• Playing Skip-Bo--which we so embarrassingly pronounced Skip-a-Boo, not sure where we got that from
• 4th of July Pancake Breakfasts 
  
  
  
• Tickle fights with tag in/out rules--even though Dad could easily capture all of us
• Trips to Chuck-E-Cheese and Wienerschnitzel when Mom went away for the weekend--these happened semi-frequently... Dad knew the way to our hearts. But my favorite was watching my dad spend the entire time at the skee-ball game, winning piles of tickets
• Sunday afternoons in the hammock, or playing croquet
• Vacations, when Dad insisted (and still insists) we take a billion semi-annual/annual water slide photos--I will make a slideshow one day
  
• Long days at the Little League Ball Field practicing Tee-Ball/Little League
  
  
  
  
  
• Weekly meetings one-on-one to discuss goals for the week/future
• Daddy daughter dinner nights
• Girl Scout daddy daughter dances
• Throwing bread to the ducks at the pond when we went back to NY
• Watching the last ten minutes of every movie--because Dad always insists those are the best parts
• Quoting movies with him--from Groundhog Day to Ferris Bueller to Serendipity to Father of the Bride to My Best Friend's Wedding
• Random Family Dance parties (whether after a movie, or on the beach) 
  
• Noticing the generous donations/acts of service my dad would give without ever drawing attention to himself
• The flower arrangements he always brings home for my Mom
• Having him scare the crap out of 1) everyone at Knott's Berry Farm on the Ghostrider ride 2) Cole as a little kid 3) most people in general with his insanely loud cackling laugh he pulls out on occasion 
• How he yells at the TV screen when he watches Yankees/Giants games
• Farmer's Markets every Saturday--now that Mom finally got him to see the light
• My Dad's aversion to Costco and Sam's Club--but how he gives in when we go to Maui
• Watching him be an MC at Ward Talent Shows
• How he always got along with my guy friends so well that he'd get invited out to play Ultimate with them
• The one time my mom talked about a movie with "Keith Hedger" (Heath Ledger) in it, and my dad laughed and said it must be the same movie that has "Gichard Rear" (Richard Gere) in it. I still die laughing. 
• Realizing that my dad and I have the same sense of humor
• Long grown up talks, and realizing how relationships between parents and kids change once you get older 

And some more pictures, just because my dad is so great...

He gets really excited about our trips

Getting serious air

Sometimes his family gives him headaches

Feeding Dumb Dumb some Gum Gum

Great laugh

My dad is determined, hardworking, generous, loving (and loved by many), hilarious, thoughtful, and possesses so many other qualities I hope to improve upon. He pushes me to be better, and that's something I've always been grateful. He's the ultimate example of Christ-like love and always wants the best for his family.

LOVE YOU DAD! Happy Father's Day!

Searching

Lately, I feel like there's something missing in my life. Or maybe multiple somethings. I'm not really sure. But there's an emptiness. A longing. The problem is, I don't know where to look. And the real question: what is it that I'm looking for?

From whence I came

It only takes a scent, a song, a single cloud in the sky

to bring back a string of memories

of powerful emotions

and drown in their depths


I sat on my couch tonight attempting to finish the ever odious task of grading finals. As one pile began to dwindle, at least 5 or 10 would appear out of nowhere. It was, to say the least, frustrating.

But as I was grading, a song came on Pandora--a song so powerful that it pulled me out of reality and back into the past, where the song held deep emotional meaning. It was as if those feelings had never disappeared. They were merely pressed down, and at the first note of the song rose back up to the surface to greet it like an old friend.

Instead of pushing away these feelings, I let them consume me. I wanted to remember exactly how I felt when I had listened to this song. What my worries were. Why the significance was so great. Have I really changed much since then, when this song had held so much meaning for me?

I know one thing. My life now is nothing like it was then. But those feelings are still there somewhere, raw and beautiful. And that's ok.

The song reminds me that doubt is still there. Sometimes, life doesn't make sense. Sometimes, I want to reject the world that I live in because its too cruel, unforgiving, and otherwise awful.

But at the same time, I know that isn't true. Life is beautiful, incredible, unbelievable.


I have this theory lately (not original by any means), that life is made better by doubts. It makes us appreciate assurance, and search for truth. And moments of doubts and sinking despair give us perspective. I'm not the person I was back then. Life is better... surer.

But--

In no means, perfect.

Reminiscing

http://gottabethegoodlife.blogspot.com/2012/08/an-american-in-cambridge.html

It's posts like this (from my travel blog) that make me miss Cambridge/Europe oh so much. Travel is contagious... and here's a more elegant quote why everyone should travel:

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness

It's taught me so much about other cultures (even when I make jokes about the serious nature of tea time in Britain) that I can't help but want to travel everywhere, not to mention spend half of my BYU education on study abroad. If I could I'd do:

1. Vienna

2. Jerusalem Center

3. India

4. New Zealand

5. Italy

5. (And everywhere else) But those are my top

On writing

I don't in any way consider myself a "writer." Maybe because I think that word encompasses publication. Or maybe it just sounds too pompous. Either way, all I know is that I love to write. But lately I'm finding that my three creative writing classes leave me more than just exhausted by the end of the week. It's like a little bit of my soul has died. Don't get me wrong... I love writing and most of the time, despite the critiques, I'm proud of my work. But when your pieces get workshopped 2+ times a week, you're writing over 4,000 words a week (on top of trying to journal and maintain friendly email correspondence), and you're still taking other classes, you're half dead by the end of the week. 

It's all I can do not to curl up in a ball and sleep away the weekend. But just recently I read some great quotes by writers and felt inspired again. 

Fantastic quotes from famous writers:

“Substitute 'damn' every time you're inclined to write 'very;' your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” 
― Mark Twain

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” 
― Mark Twain

“Here is a lesson in creative writing. First rule: Do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing. All they do is show you've been to college.” 
― Kurt Vonnegut

“Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.”
― Virginia Woolf

“The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” 
― Stephen King

“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.”
― Neil Gaiman

“The first draft of anything is shit.” 
― Ernest Hemingway

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” 
― Ernest Hemingway

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” 
― Anaïs Nin

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” 
― E.L. Doctorow

“You must write every single day of your life... You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads... may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.” 
― Ray Bradbury

“You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” 
― Jack London

“Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke.” 
― F. Scott Fitzgerald

“Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which can sometimes pay the rent.” 
― Neil Gaiman

“I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.” 
― Franz Kafka

“Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. There are no exceptions to this rule.” 
― Stephen King

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout with some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.” 
― George Orwell

Introspect

Religion is a realization—not talk, not doctrine, nor theories, however beautiful these may be. Religion is being and becoming, not hearing and acknowledging. It is not an intellectual ascent –but the transformation of one’s whole life

--Swami Vivekandanda

So, if that is true, then I must ask myself: what have I become?

Restless night

It's in these moments that I can't sleep, can't seem to make myself study, and can't seem to understand people, or even myself, I do the one thing I can.


I write.

Breathe Deep the Gathering Gloom

Finals are coming. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

You've Got Mail

"I turn on my computer. I wait impatiently as it connects. I go online, and my breath catches in my chest until I hear three little words: You've got mail."

I must admit... I miss letters. Nothing will ever compare to writing letters, but in the age of technology with Twitter and Facebook becoming the new areas of communication, one of my favorite things is getting an email. A genuine, personalized email. Whether its someone telling me they miss me, or about that person's day, or literally about nothing, like Meg Ryan's character Kathleen Kelly said:

“I just want to say that all this nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings”

To those that I have been fortunate enough to speak with, thanks for making my day so often.

On Politics

Let’s pretend this is the intro to one of those self help meetings. Hi, my name is Devon. (Hi, Devon!) And I’ve gone six months without smacking my head against a wall because of someone's political rant. (Yay! *clapping*)

So here’s the deal: politics. We’re all aware that the election is coming up soon. It’s on every tv station, newspaper, coming out of the mouth of every self-claimed, so-called “informed” person (and one or two Google searches, I'm sorry to say, does not make you informed). I used to be a political science minor and avid debate member. I understand how politics is both fascinating and aggressive. But the latter has become a serious problem. It's the reason I no longer enjoy politics. 

Let me elaborate.

In the last few weeks, I’ve heard a lot of comments: about the debates such as the “binders full of women,” how “the 80s called, they want their foreign policy back,” and how we no longer use “bayonets and horses.” (All lines that maybe shouldn’t have been said). Also about random details about each candidate--some relevant, some not. 

However, what bothers me most about the political activism around election time is the ANIMOSITY and NEED TO BE RIGHT when people argue. No, people are not debating, not trying to sway a person to their side. They are simply trying to tear people’s opinions down and assert their own as correct. It seems a little bit fascist, no?

And here I am, sitting here thinking:

1) What’s the point? Someone will win. That someone will be criticized and scorned just as every president before has been. No majority will ever be happy.

2) And some people wonder why world peace is unattainable?

There’s explicit lack of respect when it comes to politics. Oh, people will laugh and joke when they “debate,” but there’s contempt for their opponents/friends in their eyes. What is it about politics that can make you suddenly hold contempt (no matter how fleeting) for a human being that you don't know at all, or for one you care deeply about?

It’s like if I went up to a person for only 5 minutes and interviewed them. “Oh hey, Ben. So you’re a business major, huh? Oh… you like to snowboard as a hobby? That makes you unprofessional. I don’t think you’ll be a good businessman.”

This is what politics have come down to. Petty judgments. If there must be judging, judge on policies.

And even then, just be nice. Please. It’s getting ridiculous. I can’t wait for the election to be over. But then again, we all know that’s just the beginning of another string of repeated events. 

I think I’m just going to move back to Europe.