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?