I'm a Bad Person

Part I.

It's ten o'clock on a Saturday night. I'm on a date in Salt Lake. My husband answers his phone. It's someone from the ward--she wants me to re-do the Christmas program for Sunday morning. She is greatly distressed because I did not include the names of all the singers, pianists, flute players and other star performers.

I explained that the ward program has a finite space and cannot accommodate the names of everyone who participates. She explained that in the meeting with her committee they had discussed the correct spellings and importance of every name. I told her that I would take care of it, thank you, goodbye. I wasn't technically rude, but I was a bit terse.

After my sweet husband (who sensed my anger) corrected my egregious oversight, I sent the following e-mail:

Hey ladies,

I finished the program with the names of all your performers in it. We had plenty of space, it's just a bit messy looking. Sorry if I was a little terse on the phone, I was on a date in Salt Lake. In the future you can just e-mail me, I normally check my inbox on Sunday morning for any last minute changes to the directory--I'm sure that you'd rather not have to call me late on a Saturday night.

Thanks for being so prompt every week with the ward music info.

Laura

Was it petty? Yes. But not nearly as petty as I wanted it to be. I also wanted to highlight the names of all the performers, them set them in bold, 16 point font, and "Broadway" type. Shane drew the line--he pointed out that a sacrament meeting is not the forum for my sarcasm.

Why am I so upset? I shouldn't be. The girl meant no harm, she just wanted to be sure that everyone who worked hard was publicly acknowledged. She probably thought that my oversight was glaring enough to justify her calling me late on a Saturday night just to tell me that I'm wrong. In her defense she even told me that she hates to make a big deal about this kind of thing. I simply hate having my date interrupted so that someone I've never met can imply that I am inconsiderate.

Part II.

This is just the straw that broke the camel's back. I don't belong in this ward. I have not had such a hard time fitting in anywhere since high school. I normally make friends quickly. It's different here. I start up a conversation and as soon as I leave the safe "Where are you from? What are you studying?" questions, everything falls apart.

No one is unkind, but no one recipricates my overtures of friendship. For months I tried really hard to participate in the community, help out, and make friends. Now I find myself less and less active. Shane has to coax me into Relief Society every week. I loved Relief Society in my old wards--they were my favorite part.

I don't know what else to try. I go to the meetings and activities, I smile, try to make conversation, and restrict any comments that may alienate these girls. No success. I think that I might leave the married student ward and go to the family ward. Afterall, I'm not really a student anymore. Maybe it will help, or maybe the problem isn't the ward--it's me.

A Few Firsts

Today was the first time that my husband Shane was colder than I was--ever. Winters haven't been so daunting since he bought me my enormous coat. It's like a ski coat that goes down to my knees.

Also, I have never been busier at any time in my life. I've been extremely busy for days. This is my last semester, I'm looking for a job, and I have graduate school applications. Yet, it's not so bad. I'm slowly but surely accomplishing things ahead of schedule. I'll be ok.

I wish you all the best, but I really should go. Come Christmas Caroling with me this Sunday at Cove retirement home 7 PM.

Sunshine

Provo DJs think they're clever. On the way home from watching Citizen Kane for my film class I turned on the radio and heard "Iiiiii'm gonna soak up the suuun." I looked out the window and saw the pale gray sky, oppressively low and particularly dense. "Really?" I asked the DJ. He had no answer so I changed the station. I only get four radio stations since someone broke the antenna. Everyone else was playing commercials. I cam back to the song.

In retrospect maybe the DJ was trying to be funny. Maybe it was chosen in Cinncinati or some equally distant city and then the music was canned and bradcast nationwide regardless of local preference. All I know is that this is a dreary day to be doing homework.

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving

Explanation: This list is in order of what occurs to me first, NOT most thankful to least thankful

• My husband, Shane. When he does his hair he looks like James Bond, or at least what James Bond should look like.
  
• God, the atonement and His love.
• My parents and siblings (especially my brother in Iraq)
• Shane's family, not only are they nice but they feed me too!
  
• Excellent friends, I mean really top-notch people. I feel good about myself just being around them.
  

Interjection: have you ever noticed that the big things that people are grateful for are almost the same universally? Everyone is grateful for family. Those that believe in God are extremely grateful for him. Friends are always on the list. I think that when it comes down to it, people are most grateful for relationships. Relationships with God, Family and Friends. Everything else fades.

• My country, not only does it come with a lot of perks (education, clean water etc.) but I still believe that we're built on the ideals we learned in elementary school. I still believe that our nation is worth defending and supporting.
• Pets both past and future.
• My apartment, I love the paint, I love the big windows, I love the kitchen, it's a happy place to live
• Going to school at BYU, the campus is lovely, the classes are above average and the extracurriculars are cool and mostly free.
• Books, it's amazing that we have a way to preserve thought long after the thinker is dead.
• My health, I can do anything I need to. I am in good enough physical shape that with enough training I could run marathons, climb mountains (I mean higher than the ones I've already climbed), and bench press my own weight. There are no impediments other than my own laziness.

Conclusion: of course there's more, there's always more things to be grateful for. I could go into detail and say that I'm grateful for things like zipcodes and belly button lint--and yes, the little things do make me happy--but I think I have the big things covered. I am richly blessed, I hope that you find yourself with as many reasons to rejoice.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tuwid8_O8dk

Death-Stories of Distant Ancestors

The following is most likely inaccurate. These are stories I vaguely remember hearing from people who were not alive when these events transpired. Mom, Dad, correct me if I'm wrong, but this is how I remember the death-stories of distant ancestors.

Diabetes runs in my family. I don't have it yet, but one of these days I'm going to eat one too many cookies and my foot will loose circulation and fall off. A distant Great-Aunt of mine (or something like that) also had diabetes. She was an elderly woman living all alone. One night she fell into a diabetic coma and died. A friend of hers reports that the last thing my Great Aunt said was "I'm going to eat these sweet potatoes even if it kills me." I like her, she sounds spunky.

I once walked out into the snow after a hot and sweaty basketball game. My father told me that I needed to put on a jacket no matter how warm I felt. He said that I had a colonial ancestor who died from the cold after hours of dancing and working up a sweat at a party. I like to imagine that she was both athletic and smokin' hot.

I have a Native American ancestor name Anna Moriah Pocahontas Lee Dye. One year she had a terrible ear infection. Back in the day people cured ear infections by pouring warm oil or wax into the ear canal. The wax was too warm for her and it caused permanent damage and led to her insanity. She died in an asylum, beaten to death by the staff. I wish I knew more about her.

This story is not about the death of my ancestor--it's about who my ancestor killed. In the early days of America, my ancestors lived in the frontier (which back then was like, Ohio or something.) They had constant skirmishes with the Indians over land. The father of the house (John Woodson) died in the Powhattan Uprising on April 18th, 1644, the wife (Sara Woodson) saw this from inside their home. She and a visitor named Lignon hid the children and defended the home. Lignong killed five men with a gun. Meanwhile 2 more indians came through the chimney. Sara scalded one to death with a pot of boiling water and brained the other man with a cast-iron skillet. He died instantly. I think she understood the value of never doing a half-hearted job.

My mother once defended our home with a skillet, but that's another story. She gave me a cast iron skillet and a note with that story on it when I got married. I expect to carry on the family tradition. Not just the tradition of handing down skillets, but the traditions of how they lived. I picture my ancestors as a rought bunch, the sort of people who would kill you if you needed killin' and feed you if you needed feedin'. I think that they lived independantly, aggressively, and didn't have the luxury of cowardice.

Why did we Kill the Women's Research Institute?

The BYU administration displayed extreme disregard for Women's Studies when they "reorganized" the minor and eliminated the Women's Research Institute altogether. They have wisely remained quiet on the the matter with only a barely publicized press release--aparently they how how unpopular this action is. By removing this insitute and keeping it quiet they are essentially saying to the students "We don't care about research related to women, we don't care about academinc interests concerning gender, and we hope that the majority of students won't figure out what we've done." To the world BYU administrators are saying "Yes, we are every bit as conservative as you believe us to be; please continue to see us as old fashioned, patriarchial and oppressive." Keeping the minor and cutting the funding for research is exactly the sort of condescending pat on the head that we don't need.

To view the press release go to:
http://news.byu.edu/archive09-Oct-womens.aspx

To write your own letter to the editor go to:

http://universe.byu.edu/letters

Secrets

I have a personal dictionary in which I keep my private definitions. Under "secrets" I have written the following:

"Try not to have any--you're terrible at keeping them to yourself."

I've never been good with secrets. I try to buy Christmas presents at the last minute simply because I can't stand the suspense.

Within the past month I have accidentally revealed to an interested third party that the gentleman in question was interested in someone else (what? I thought everyone knew that. Oh, he only told me? Well, that changes things then.) I'm still living that one down. I am all too aware of another male/female intrigue. I wish I knew nothing about it; I am afraid that at any moment details will come spewing out of my mouth simply because I wasn't thinking. (actually I'm a little flattered to be even a spectator in this intrigue, but I'mafraid to touch this one with a ten foot pole.) Last of all I have a present for Shane. All that he knows is that I found a coupon for something that is normally expensive. Ok, ok, I also told him how much it cost, I also told him when he'll get it, I may have mentioned that it's an activity that takes an hour. It's just that once I start, the words just keep spilling out.

To be fair, I do keep secrets very well as long as people are 100 % clear that the information is strictly confidential. I've had people tell me about unwed pregnancies, anorexia, pornography addictions and other potentially toxic information and that was easy to keep to myself. I just hope that this skill carries over into therapy--I'll be a terrible counselor if I come home everyday and say "you'll never believe what Mrs. Dixon told me."