Colored

1. It rocked. Period.

While we were chanting + dancing + being way too close to strangers and feeling slightly violated, it sort of felt Woodstock-esque. I loved it.
We went straight to a friend's pageant after and didn't have time to change. We wiped off our faces and ended up looking like we had just finished raking a baseball diamond, but it was important for us to support her, 1st Attendant, two years running. Congrats to her.

Benadryl

Roommate and I have had the hardest time motivating ourselves to go running this week. I don't know why this particular week has been so terrible, but a few days ago I exaggeratedly exclaimed, "Want to know how bad I want to go running tonight? About as much as I would like to SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE AS A QUADRIPLEGIC!!" We went running anyway. And I repented.

We arrived at the track last night, not feeling up to fighting the "cold" (three weeks ago 45 degrees would have been a blessing. Now that we've had a day over 67, I can't go back to thinking 45 is anything but frigid). We laced up, warmed up, stretched up, and started running. These guys aided my run, supplementing my ears which is almost as necessary as supplementing my lungs. (Speaking of ears, stumbled across this. Love it. I need to just buckle down and buy the album. Problem is, which one?) At about mile 1.7 my foot started throbbing, my ankle started wobbling, and bizarrely enough, the back of my mouth started going numb. By the end of mile 2, my tongue was swelling. It felt like I was having an allergic reaction. Odd. Hadn't eaten since around 7:30.

We ended our run after only 2 miles, seeing as my airflow was being restricted by some unknown parasite, and drove to my house for some Benadryl. I realized once again last night just how much I love my family's "medicine cabinet" (aka: the drawer at the end of the hall, but who really knows what's in there, we don't use medicine). Eventually we found some Benadryl Allergy Relief (dye-free!). I didn't take it. But luckily Dr. Pseudo-Mom hooked me up with some trendy looking Benadryl in pink and white capsules. Side effects: DROWSINESS. For the record. I went to be after 2.

After watching episode 25, we couldn't stop and Roommate and I popped one after the other until finally during the season finale we were both crying our eyes out. After, we collapsed in an emotional, exhausted heap and took a breather before trudging down the hall to brush our teeth and hit the sack. Apparently Gray's fights drowsiness. Who knew?

Obsession

I was the last to get hooked. Upon seeing me on the couch attentively absorbed in an episode, the apartment was met with much merriment and The Mates clasped their hands with joy. Saturday night I got home from a date, expecting to chat with the girls and instead found the apartment quiet. Everyone was on a different episode from a different season. Guns and Mish were in their solitary room, shrouded in darkness with only the faint glow of their computer screens eerily lighting up their silent faces and ears stopped with white head phones. And that night I fell into the obsession and now I have to get my daily fix. Terrible. Why am I up at this hour?

Well I'll tell you why. Because George just kissed Cali and he still won't forgive Meredeth who recently took up knitting to keep her occupied since her vow of celibacy. But the plot thickens. She also just discovered that she has a long lost sister and almost had a confrontation with her dad who was just informed by the Chief that his ex-wife has early onset Alzheimer's. To add to the emotional manipulation, Alex's patient just told her daughter that she won't be around for much longer and the two had an emotional time talking about nice things like getting yeast infections from pantyhose. Izzy knit Denny a sweater instead of giving him "sexual favors" which would not only be immoral, but incredibly unethical seeing as he is her patient. SEE?

My problem is I'm incredibly impatient. Even the momentary darkening of the screen as the show pauses for a commercial-free commercial break (thank you DVDs) I get antsy, anxious. HOW CAN THEY JUST LEAVE ME THERE WHILE SEATTLE'S SPELLING BEE CHAMPION IS UNDER THE KNIFE FOR A BRAIN TUMOR AND HE JUST LOST HIS SPEECH? So I ask Roommate all my questions and for some reason she knows everything and after a bit of inner turmoil about really wanting to know if George and Cali ever tie the knot, or if Meredeth ever snags McDreamy, she tells me. And then I sit and itch for another episode. It's horrible. Truly horrible.

Pop

I really should stop procrastinating my research paper. But it's so hard when there are big announcements like this made, or cool charity events like this to contemplate going to (I am aching for a concert. I need to hit up a concert, even a local one. Soon), or interesting (not too surprising) articles like this to read, or cozying up to the tube with my bowl of asparagus and zucinni and indulging in the latest television craze. Or time could always be spent thinking about him and our incredible life together. . .

I guess I'm subconsciously craving a box of Samoas cause I bought some in my dream last night. But I'm beginning to think that wasn't a legit Girl Scout because the cookies were just clumps of dirt. And she had a beard and stole my wallet.

Also, I don't even know what spurred the comment, "My tear-away pants got snagged on my Union Jack thong and basically the funeral went downhill from there" but I couldn't help but doubling over. It was almost as good as hearing Danger admit to loving "belly-dancers and llamas" while anticipating Saturday's festivities!

Strings

I left here today with my mind spinning and I was definitely convinced it felt that way because, there were indeed, an additional seven dimensions whirling around inside my brain; so tightly wound that no one even knows they exist!

Brian Greene was the speaker at today's forum and I attended for the sheer fact that I would get "serendipity points" for biology. (I don't even know what the points account for, all I know is that my last test score was sub-par and I'm not ready to fork over my scholarship on a scantron). Greene's words coursed through me and sent my mind surging into a spiral of thought. I felt like my mouth was open and drooling the whole time. The ideas he was discussing made me sit in awe and wonder and all I could do was turn to OtherRoommate and say, "That is. So cool."

He talked about how two theories, Einstein's Theory of Relativity and Quantum Mechanics, before finally delving into the bulk of his lecture on The String Theory. There is a discrepancy between the former two that has charged a debate amongst scientific intellectuals since Quantum Mechanics started fueling the technology industry and the Theory of Relativity didn't work on a microscopic scale.

The hour was filled with more than that though. Tiny ah ha's! were occurring throughout the forum, randomly firing and emitting bursts of sudden clarity (and then quickly fading, leaving me to wonder). I had never before seen how gravity works, what the mechanics of the force that keeps everything in perfect balance are. But he showed a short clip and I, being the visual learner that I am, had a sudden epiphany as it all clicked into place. Of course!

But what I loved about the forum was that it challenged me to think, to consider, to expand. It confronted my assumptions and dared me to think beyond the sight of my own two hands.

The fact that the String Theory is called as such is a lure enough for me. Working on a series for half a year while exploring the binding and connecting powers of string (while using it as a metaphor for family) I came to hold a place in my heart for things a silly a strings. The real kicker is that within my heart, there are quite possibly, highly complex, geometric "strings" of sorts, which contain dimensions unknown to man. Crazy? It seems so, but for some reason I ate it up.

Greene compared the geometric forms to tiny vibrating strings, like those on a violin. When vibrating at one intensity, it produces, say, a C. Another intensity makes an A flat. In this same way, the tiny vibrating strings inside the most infinitesimal piece of our mortality produce different things, eventually comprising the vast amount of diversity we experience every day. Is there anything so beautiful than to think that the world is made up of music?! I thought it was not only poetic, but it struck a spiritual chord within me as well.

The whole discussion just resonated in me, the notions of parallel worlds don't seem foreign, I feel the presence of those beyond the veil and the influence of the Spirit. It seemed like science was finally getting closer to coinciding with the things I believe. I think that one day science and religion will become such that they will eventually collide in a beautiful harmony, an array of perfection and completeness that will just. make. sense.

Greene's lecture made me appreciate perspective. He started out on the scale of stars and galaxies and then shrunk down to particles so small they seem to just be a jittery, undulating form. It made me think of the perspective of Heavenly Father. He has the big picture, the stars and galaxies, yes, but even the jittery intimateness and the vastness in between as well. Scientists are finally starting to pull back, to realize that even though two theories might conflict, there may possibly be a way to reconcile the two, a way to bring both into and even clearer focus and take one more step towards a theory addressing the whole. Our Father is so far back, that he understands all the incomprehensible inbetween stuff that we, on our jittery scale, are constantly tousled and troubled by. He knows the links between it all and the way to make it clear. And we, with our limited perspective and constantly undulating lives are stuck wondering how it all fits together in the grand eternal plan. And so we are left with faith.

We are forced to practice using what we know; utilize an active faith--one steeped with productivity and accomplishment--not a flat-line, blind belief that leads us to insecurity and relying on others. This faith is what helps us see, helps us vibrate, helps us pull back our perspective and finally make connections between the big and the small in an attempt to reconcile ourselves to the Divine.

Tip

Just a tip: don't run in the dark while your roommate is dressed in a monkey suit and you're in a skirt.

Know

Today at work I got to catch up with a good friend from high school. I forgot how much I love talking to her. Luckily we had a drive to chat and relate to one another. It was amazing how much she could empathize with things that have been going in my life lately. Nothing feels better than realizing that you're not alone; than having proof that someone else has been there and knows how it feels.

Sometimes He feels so far away. I know He has experienced it all, but it still feels good to have someone physically talking to me and relating their experiences in a very real way.

The scriptures pound principles and doctrine into our hearts and minds repeatedly. We need the redundancy and repetition. After it all, I still stumble. It makes me wonder what will make the things I learn stick for good. Diligence. I guess that's all I can do right now. But one thing that has been shown over and over again is that you are never, never, never, alone.

Blimey!

I snoozed for almost two hours this morning because I didn't want to go. This whole "Nature Experience" thing has been looming over my head since January and I finally found a free weekend with warm enough weather to make a serious stab at my project.

Yesterday Roommate and I went to the Stock Room (a well kept Campus secret) and checked out a pair of chest waders for me and hip waders for her. Ha. It was ridiculous. We literally romped across campus, through the HFAC and all the way home, physically preparing ourselves for today's task.

Around 9 I rolled out of bed and into my chest waders. I looked magnificent. I could have hid a second body in there. They are simply amazing. Roommate followed and soon we found ourselves carefully sloshing across the Provo River, leaning against the current with a 3 foot "kick net." We took 6 samples of what looked like muck and OtherRoommate was there carefully recording the events.

After getting home and examining my critters more closely, I found a multiplicity of biodiversity swimming, squirming, and slithering through the sludge. Have you ever tried to catch Sea Monkeys with tweezers? After having to count over 600 bugs, I'm pretty good at it, but I think I got a buzz from the chemicals in the killing jars.

It was fun to pretend to be a hardcore biologist. I never knew waders could make me feel so legit. Even the hippies in Nun's park thought we were reputable biologist conducting serious research. We let 'em think it.

Yummus

We tried a recipe (via this guy) which we give two thumbs up. Chickpeas have never tasted so good.

hummus
2 cans of white beans or chick peas (partially drained)
2 T olive oil
1 T lemon juice
1 t ground coriander
1/2 t cumin
Salt & Pepper
2 cloves garlic, crushed
Pita bread, cut into triangles, brushed with olive oil, toasted

Put it all in a blender, plug it in, turn it on. Listen to the sound of hummus being born. Serve with pita triangles, brushed with olive oil, toasted in the oven.

Lucky

Monday was St. Pattie's. Hip hip hooray. I love wearing green + being festive + seeing others doing the same + sharing St. Pattie's candies + my green tongue after eating some. Older&WiserToo messaged me while I was in the library studying for my test asking what I was up to. I told her I was studying like a banshie and turning my tongue green with Frooties. She wanted some but was busy so I told her I'd fashion a treasure hunt with call numbers and she could find her Frooties later. I picked all green books, hid the clues, and texted her the call number. The hunt was a success! And it was my favorite part of the day's festivities.

Today I saw signs of spring. I got in my car today and it was warm. Wearing sandals. Studious students littering campus out in the sun. Smiles. Thermostat reading 61 degrees! A Daffodil.

We had a cleaning check yesterday so the apartment is spotless. It is my favorite time of the month. It forces everyone to pitch in and the lucky winner even gets to tackle cleaning out the cesstub. The best part about cleaning check is the list of tasks with "Hot Tips!" My favorite? The Hot Tip! which clearly states: "Tidying up your room (making the bed, picking up the floor, etc.) will help it look cleaner." Ya think? I think I am prepared to be a homemaker now, with Hot Tips! like that up my sleeve.

Have a few minutes to spare on campus? Go to the HFAC. It is currently filled with moving and beautiful art. And not just art that is pretty to look at and hang on a wall, but art that inspires, art that demands, art that humbles, art that begs a closer look. One exhibit especially held my attention. Maybe it's because I recently finished a book that spoke out alot about educating young girls in underprivileged countries, or maybe I was just really thirsty, but I went back again today to read and ponder and feel blessed by all I have. I have water. Clean, hot or cold, running or still, to drink or to bathe in, even to have water fights with or shave my legs with. I have oodles of water and some to spare (which I try to do. Conservation. Conservation. Conservation). I took a cup to help remind me of what I learned there. I carried an empty paper cup with me all day on campus. Felt a little strange.

I had a first today. There have been a long list of firsts this year, but today's really sucked. Like seriously sucked. I have never failed a test before ESPECIALLY a test that I studied around 10 hours for. I love the magic of the Testing Center. It feels like Hogwarts every time; prefects marching up and down the rows, checking for mischievous wizards (the guy next to me was eating string cheese. Mischievous?) But upon returning my test and walking dutifully down the stairs I saw the offensive screen that broadcasted my miserable grade. Boo. I promptly walked out the door, stole Cloak Boy's cloak and Hermione's wand, cast a hex on the Grant Building, and conjured up a treat to ease the pain of my suffering GPA.

Voice

Being the granddaughter of a retired theatre professor, I have learned to listen. Voices become a medium, a form of art to convey a message. Voices are dimensional which is one reason I find them so amazing. Tone backs the words which serve as the surface transmitter, but there is an unspoken depth to this spoken medium of communication.

While spending time with him last week I came to fall more deeply in love with his voice. It resonates deep and full, sticks to my ribs like a good meal, and fills my lungs with warm, moving air. Grandpa's voice is pure.

___

As a young actor he got a part for a CBS movie. He practiced his lines with his diligent wife throughly, readying himself for the shoot. The day of the shoot he was on set from sunup to sundown, waiting for them to film his scene. When the time finally came to deliver his lines, his mind failed him. His repeated attempts were impeded with the sterile white of a blank memory. In a panic he turned to prayer, pleading with The Father to help him in this moment of desperation.

Nothing.

In frustration and embarrassment he left the shoot, head hung low. He could not understand why he wasn't delivered; why in a moment of great need, he was left wanting. Bitterness and resentment began to harden his heart and eventually he masoned a wall around himself, cutting him off from the spirit. Years passed, children grew, and he held on to the feelings of anger seeded years ago on a movie set under the bright lights of missed opportunity.

___

Laying in a hospital bed, he felt his heart for the first time in years and this time, listened to the still small voice swelling within it. "It's okay," it told him. And the light flooded into his mind and washed over the cramped cell in the hospital room.

___

I never knew that man. I never knew him as estranged or hostile, walking begrudgingly and carrying a heavy load. The grandfather who is embedded deep in my memory is one with strong hands and a voice that seems to always be in supplication. He is a careful creator, a patient listener. Patriarch in nature, he sticks in my mind as a spiritual reservoir of faith and wisdom.

Years before his spiritual hiatus, he was asked by the church asked to use his talents for the voice of Heavenly Father in the temple. He agreed and produced what he calls his, "finest work."

In retrospect, he has come to understand why he was left so helpless years ago. Not knowing the entire content of that particular movie, nor where work down that path would lead him, Grandpa acknowledges how the Lord kept his voice unblemished so it could remain pure, as a tool for conveying the spirit in the Lord's house. I am anxious to hear it, to sit and let the light of Christ fill me through my Grandfather's voice.

The voice is indivisibly connected to the being. Although it is easy to forget our words, seeing as they are not connected by some tangible string to our lips the moment we speak them, we are equally accountable for our spoken and written words. The concept reminds me a bit of this talk given last April. It's easy for me to forget my voice, it gets carried on air, lost in a mingle of others and swept out of sight and mind. But Grandpa taught me that voices are sacred, gifts bestowed within us for building the kingdom, and with His help, we can put our voices to the use and benefit of those who hear it.

Pleasures

I'm a car dancer. Yes. It's true and sometimes embarrassing. Like the time a substitute teacher was calling roll and when I raised my hand she did a double-take and asked, "Were you stopped at the Will's light yesterday in a light blue car dancing so vigorous the car was rocking?" She proceeded to imitate a few of my "moves" and I felt like a 500-pound llama was just dropped on my face, and it hadn't bathed in several weeks. "Yes. . . that was me. . ."

Lil' Sister is naturally more graceful than me (although what I lack in grace I make up in "dignity and repose") and has long since ridiculed my car dancing skills. I've never claimed to be a good car dancer, I just admit to simply doing it. I related so immediately this (yes, another guilty pleasure I don't understand. They act like 14-year-old boys. I never liked 14-year-old boys when I was a 14-year-old girl, so why do I suddenly relate?) that I almost fell off my chair with delight.

It was like a flashback to weeks before; cruisin' on Canyon with Lil' Sister alive with mockery and me singing at the top of my lungs while getting my groove on. She bops her head and humors me, meanwhile my arms are propelling around the cab, velocity only matched by my rapidly undulating alveoli.

Another problem, however, is that half the time, I make up lyrics I don't know. OR I sing lyrics I think I know like, "she's got a cigarette army charm/ she's got little white cavity braces, when in reality they're really saying, "she's got cigarette on each arm/ she's got the lily-white cavity crazes. . ." or "your mistakes you move mercy aside/ your chicago man you own your style/ you always go to gold it thus far and we'll let it go/ so carol mae let me know" I know it doesn't even make sense. But the real words aren't too much better anyway. I just sing, I don't think about the words. Roommate often catches my slips or informs me that all this time I've been singing "bod' man" it's really a four letter explicative. Woops!

So if you see me rocking in the car, just know that I am well aware that I don't look good doing it, but understand that if you had as much fun driving as I did, you would want to take a 16 hour road trip every weekend.

Someday

i pause to gather handfuls of them

before setting it all to the wind

wish it was more like her voice

whispery and thin, delivered on air

but i'm back here again

gathering once more

what for?

i'm tired of the same steps

the same songs and same words

circles

when can i just step step step

step step step

and how will it go

and when will it all blow

away

so step step step

so open the window

get outside and breath

it's not too cold still

sun will warm the chill

so tell me me

tell me

tell me

and step step step

step step step

away from here

i'm sick of this lens

that colors all the handfuls

i can't stop gathering

my arms so full

i turn to my pockets

and set to the wind

will it someday pick up

the air that needs to blow

and get it all clear and clean and out

and then i'll step step step

step step step

to the wind

Macadamias

Mauna Loa - Taste of the Tropics. Dark Chocolate Macadamias. Get away from me. I've eaten too many of you and my intestines are choking. Thank you kindly. My taste buds are singing.

I almost died today. I know I have posted about near death experiences a few times before, but seriously, today I was going down the list of things I have always wanted to do, before I bid the earth goodbye, and shed a tear for each item left unaccomplished. Luckily, the worrying was in vain. We arrived safely and 'pa successfully delivered us at Pearl Harbor.

It was interesting to walk the grounds and view the sights and think about how the tourists from Japan were taking what was said and represented. It reminded me of talking to her about her feelings while visiting Auschwitz. We had a discussion about it all over dinner and I enjoyed getting the Grand's perspective of it all. I ate way too much. After it looked like I was 5 months along with a healthy baby "Melissa Rose."

The International Market might as well be named The International Assemblage of Jewelry Vendors. The little stands were practically identical and nothing really interested me, but Dental Cousin and Neat Petite were checking item after item off their list of must-have souvenirs, so it was worth the trip. Lil' Sister almost got conned into buying a really lame magic trick and we laughed our mouths dry at how close she came. Squirmels are not cool. Stay away from them. Although, the pineapple sunglasses in the same shop were fairly fantastic and the store was full of "incredible finds" (none of which are worth spending a dime on).

Now we're packing (or should be packing) and I'm trying to get everyone to STOP. Can't we just prolong the feeling of vacationing? Arts and crafts anyone?

This just in: 'ma bites babies.

Randoms

I was going to get up to run again today. It's so hard when 'ma comes in to get us up and I'm the only one who even moves. The others are too deep in their half-comatose state, all that surfaces is a guttural moan when they hear the door open. At least I sit up and put sentences together haphazardly. I got my run in tonight, however, and jumped in the pool right after a quick change. Re. Fresh. Ing.

Doing baptisms was neat today, although doing them anywhere besides my temple makes me appreciate the well-oiled machine that the some 4,000 workers are able to coordinate in Provo. Everything just moves so seamlessly.

The imax movie was decidedly too long. I thought it was going to end at least a half dozen times before the lights finally came on and released us from the temporary prison the theater had created. I never thought my goosebumps would go away, but they did after spending the afternoon on the beach.

The waves were massive on the North Shore today. I've never seen such huge crashing masses of water just pound the shores so relentlessly. Although my day playing in the waves was impeded by the oceans sudden upheaval, it was a show worth sitting and watching for an hour.

Grandma had a few golden lines today. The first, "Traveling really opens my eyes to a variety of body types and makes me realize I should be content with what I've got." (I think she said that a little too loudly as the woman who spurred the comment shot a look over her left shoulder and emblazoned the dark mark with her eyes onto the tablecloth). Later Neat Petite was looking for her flip flops and Grandma asked "What are you looking for honey?" "My flip flops . . ." Then speaking to me Grandma said, "What? She doesn't play the flute!"

An observation about the effects of humidity: it makes toilet paper stretch, not tear.

We spent time stretching after an evening of exercise and watching our favorites. Here are just a few. She is incredible. And what I want to know is who produces this? Is it even real? And blessings upon whoever's head decided to couple large rubber bands and marshmallows with Asians.

DWW11

Monday 3.10
rodomontade /ˌrɒdəmɒnˈteɪd, -ˈtɑd, -mən-, ˌroʊdə-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronu[rod-uh-mon-teyd, -tahd, -muhn-, roh-duh-] noun, adjective, verb, -tad·ed, -tad·ing. –noun

1.	vainglorious boasting or bragging; pretentious, blustering talk.

–adjective

2.

bragging.

–verb (used without object)

3.	to boast; brag; talk big.

Tuesday 3.11
diffident /ˈdɪfɪdənt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunci[dif-i-duhnt] –adjective

1.	lacking confidence in one's own ability, worth, or fitness; timid; shy.

2.	restrained or reserved in manner, conduct, etc.

Wednesday 3.12
impute [im-pyoot] - Show IPA Pronunciation –verb (used with object), -put·ed, -put·ing.

1.	to attribute or ascribe: The children imputed magical powers to the old woman.

2.	to attribute or ascribe (something discreditable), as to a person.

3.	Law. to ascribe to or charge (a person) with an act or quality because of the conduct of another over whom one has control or for whose acts or conduct one is responsible.

4.	Theology. to attribute (righteousness, guilt, etc.) to a person or persons vicariously; ascribe as derived from another.

5.	Obsolete. to charge (a person) with fault.

Thursday 3.13
codicil /ˈkɒdəsəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[kod-uh-suhl] - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun

1.	a supplement to a will, containing an addition, explanation, modification, etc., of something in the will.

2.	any supplement; appendix.

Friday 3.14
assuage /əˈsweɪdʒ, əˈsweɪʒ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[uh-sweyj, uh-sweyzh] –verb (used with object), -suaged, -suag·ing.

1.	to make milder or less severe; relieve; ease; mitigate:

Saturday 3.15
inchoate /ɪnˈkoʊɪt, -eɪt or, especially Brit., ˈɪnkoʊˌeɪt/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[in-koh-it, -eyt] - Show IPA Pronunciation –adjective

1.	not yet completed or fully developed; rudimentary.

2.	just begun; incipient.

3.	not organized; lacking order

Sunday 3.16
lachrymose /ˈlækrəˌmoʊs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciatio\\[lak-ruh-mohs] –adjective

1.	suggestive of or tending to cause tears; mournful.

2.	given to shedding tears readily; tearful.

Request

As per request (via family back in P-Town) I will take a few moments before dinner and write a little about what I've been up to while seeking refuge from college a few thousand miles away from home. I must say though, I've only missed a day so you really can't complain too loudly . . .

Vacations always seem to be a blur to me. Not until I go back and review my journal detailing each and every expedition do I catch my breath and go, "Oh yeah! That's what we did for 3+ weeks in Germany. . ."

Tuesday morning I told myself I'd get up and run before heading here to spend our afternoon immersed in culture and native greetings. (Talofa, Kia Ora, Bula, Iaorana, Malo e Lelei, Ka oha, and AloooooHA!) It was a no go. Even a fold out couch is better than a treadmill. Instead my morning was filled with some painting, reading and relaxing before we hit the road to the northern side of the island. The day was spent with Jonathan our tour guide, an international business major from Malaysia who seemed so insecure and shy it made me want to hold his hand and encourage him like I do to three-year-olds who are scared of puppy dogs. I guess it was sort of endearing. The day was taken at a slower pace than I've ever been used to going (which is probably good for me). Traveling with the Grands you have to take everything at a slower pace. Maybe it's an island thing? Whatever the case, I have felt like I have been able to breathe--deep, slow and long--and use my eyes as an appendage to help feel my new surroundings. The afternoon provided much to observe from colorful costuming, to plants and people. I felt like I couldn't move the little orbs inside my sockets at a rate sufficient enough to take it all in. Did I mention we were going at a slower pace than I ever do?

The evening show was really great and after I had an insatiable need to apply to the nearby university, even if it's just for a term. I know I can't dance like a Tahitian, nor do I look even slightly ethnic, but I will work a cash register in a gift shop and even walk around with the "No Flash" sign if I can just study in the sun and learn how to surf! Is that too much to ask?

We got home at quarter to eleven and I still needed to run. I was kicking myself all the way to the elevator, cursing my tired eyes and the late night I had spent reading this and taking a much needed spiritual recharge. (Admittedly, I am glad I was up in the late quiet hours. It filled me. I have read it before, but it hit me even harder this time and I grateful to her for the tip off). Then Rogue Wave came on the pod and it started a charge in my feet that set me running my first step out the metal doors.

I tole 'ma I'd be safe, so I reluctantly jogged to the glass encased treadmills where all the swimmers and passerbys can look at you and think, "How lovely, a 'Wellness Center.' Too bad I like lounging and Piña Coladas too much to ever set foot in that sterile, sweat inducing room." and continue their tour of the lovely resort. I didn't do that. I trudged into a room full of empty exercise bikes, weight machines, and the dreaded treadmills. I would much rather run outside. Period.

I turned on this to get me through just thirty minutes of self-induced insomnia. One pounding step after another, my goal was to maintain an 8 minute mile pace with 6 minute sprint intervals. (Pancakes and Milas, don't poke fun at me. I'm not a runner remember?) It hit me like a brick in the face that I had only run a handful of times since the weather got cold. During the two minute interval I felt like I was going to collapse in a heap, get propelled into the wall behind me and land in a mangled, sweaty mess on the tropical patterned carpet. Not so! I conquered the two minutes with finesse if I may say so myself and it was incredibly empowering. However, that little room must have been pushing 90 degrees because I have never felt so hot.

As soon as I stepped off the thing all I could think was, "It is freaking 4 AM back home. What am I doing running at this unholy hour?" I must have been ablaze with heat. I felt it sticking to my skin and following me in the air like a trail of balmy matter. I staggered in the door and hit the shower, turning the water as cold as it would go. After stepping out I still felt heat radiating from my body. There was no escape and as I readied myself for bed I felt like I was sticking to everything I touched. I crawled into bed and turned on the most sleep effectuating music I could find. My eyes wouldn't close and my brain wouldn't stop. So I laid there until there was no more dark corners to explore and I was slowly whisked into an all-too-short slumber.

Fiery

The past few days have been amazing as the Grands have taken us around their old stomping grounds and we've seen everything from the Laie Temple to the homeless tent bums. Today we went out to sea aboard the "Ko Olina Cat" where the blue waters met our eyes with sparkling, clear beauty. We anchored out after an hour or so of lounging on the nets that span the pontoons. We donned our snorkel gear and jumped into the blue.

I admit, I skimmed the waiver form, I have a hard time with the fine print, and soon I was in "open water" far away from the rest of the snorkelers. Little Sister followed me and we were playing near a big pipe that was creating a current. Apparently the captain spotted us and sent out a rescuer (aka Japanese Jack Sparrow. You just have to see his hair). It was slightly hilarious. I'm a pretty apt swimmer and with fins I can get where I need to be just fine, but they were scared I'd swim against the current for an hour and pass out and die? We got back easily and finished our swim near the rest of the group who were floundering about with their bulky underwater cameras and beer bellies.

For some reason the captain asked me my name on the way to the boat earlier in the day. Only me. I was his go-to girl "Paige, when we get to the ship . . ." "Okay? (Why are you telling me all this? I'm in the back). When we all got back on after our mini excursion he asked me over lunch, "Was that you all the way out there Paige?" "Why yes Todd, it was. How did you know?" He told me I just seemed like the "fiery type" What does that mean? Funny. That's all it meant to me. I'm fiery? Ha.

After lunch we set out again on a dolphin hunt. We struck gold. We came across a huge pod of them who swam under and around the catamaran for a long while. They spin and jumped, showed off and played. It was fantastic and I decided then and there that I could totally handle being The Little Mermaid. In the distance we saw something else lurking under the azure waves. We soon found out it was a baby Humpback Whale trailed by it's mama. Precious. Spectacular. National Geographic without turning the pages.

Now I should be doing homework before we do our facials and pedicures but . . . I don't want to.

Sometimes

Sometimes when I'm doing things I love with people I love, everything else melts away. I smile.

Sometimes when I pause for a moment, the growing wave that has been chasing me for weeks crashes on my sandy shores. I'm ill-prepared.

Sometimes I really just want it all to go away. I'll thank you.

Sometimes things are incredible. I sigh.

Sometimes I sit in the sun too long. I burn.

Sometimes. I. Miss. You.

Stories

There was a live band at dinner playing old tunes that make the cronies get up and dance. They hold each other close and move in such a way that there is no question they've been dancing together for years. I turned and asked Grandpa if he danced when he was young.

It was like a movie scene unfolding as he talked about the days when every Friday night his little hometown of Holden, Utah would put on a dance. There was a live band that would throw soap flakes on to the floor as they sung so by the end of the night when people were loose and feeling the beat of the drums to their marrow, they could slide on the floor, afresh with slippery soap. The scene from his memory seemed sparkling and pristine, like looking through a brand new photograph with a gloss finish.

__

The lagoon served as a talking place. We sat in the water as it gently rolled onto the shore and covered our legs in sand. The waves broke on the jetty that surrounded the cove we were nestled in, and the crashing sounds served as the undertone to our conversation.

I've always asked Grandma to tell me stories. Ever since I can remember--having "sleepovers with Grandma!"--I have asked and she has told. I have listened to her tell about childhood friends, her prized possessions, burying her mother at age 19. . . all of these things have shaped and sculpted my grandmother and my knowledge of her stories makes me appreciate the woman she is even more. Today I was at it again, asking question after question and sending her into one episode after another. I loved it.

Today's stories centered around Grandpa; how they met, how they wrote and courted, his mission, her mother, the National Guard, the proposal. It all seems like it came straight out of a movie. I pictured her perfectly pinned curls, and his charming smile. I loved hearing about how she felt as she drove to the temple, or how she coped as he was hit with health problems, depression, descension and redemption. It made her feel so human and made me realize just how many things go into creating a person with such dimension.

__

Then there was color and chatter. Music playing in the background and acrylic nail polish all spread out. Picking the perfect color is never easy. Again my mind started reeling as I thought of more things to ask her. She talked about her sisters, our parents, her thoughts and her dreams. I felt like I was holding a magnifying glass to her brain and examining all the retrievable stuff inside.

I am so lucky to have this time with them, to get to know them better, and be able to understand myself just a little bit better by seeing through their aged eyes.

DWW10

Better late than never . . . right?

Monday 3.3
exegetical [ek-si-jet-ik-al]
–adjective
of or pertaining to exegesis; explanatory; interpretative.

Tuesday 3.4
prose /proʊz/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[prohz]
–noun

1.	the ordinary form of spoken or written language, without metrical structure, as distinguished from poetry or verse.

2.	matter-of-fact, commonplace, or dull expression, quality, discourse, etc.

3.	Liturgy. a hymn sung after the gradual, originating from a practice of setting words to the jubilatio of the alleluia.

–adjective

4.	of, in, or pertaining to prose.

5.	commonplace; dull; prosaic.

–verb (used with object)

6.	to turn into or express in prose.

–verb (used without object)

7.	to write or talk in a dull, matter-of-fact manner.

Wednesday 3.5
oligarchy [ol-i-gahr-kee]

a form of government in which all power is vested in a few persons or in a dominant class or clique; government by the few.

2.	a state or organization so ruled.

3.	the persons or class so ruling.

Thursday 3.6
incontrovertible /ˌɪnkɒntrəˈvɜrtəbəl, ɪnˌkɒn-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[in-kon-truh-vur-tuh-buhl] - Show IPA Pronunciation

–adjective

not controvertible; not open to question or dispute; indisputable: absolute and incontrovertible truth.

Friday 3.7
anodizes [ān-ə-dīz']
To coat (a metallic surface) electrolytically with a protective or decorative oxide.

Saturday 3.8
kismet[kiz-mit]
–noun
fate; destiny.

Sunday 3.9
exegesis
/ˌɛksɪˈdʒisɪs/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelle[[ek-si-jee-sis] - Show IPA Pronunciation

–noun, plural

critical explanation or interpretation of a text or portion of a text, esp. of the Bible.

Aloha

Heard this before?

Let's leave work early, flee from the city
Run to the suburbs and pack our bags
Let's fly to an island with no newspapers
We'll bring our swimsuits and swim all day
I think I forgot the suntan lotion
I think I forgot the film for the camera
But it's okay there's a store down the street
Where i can buy almost anything that I'll ever need
[The Robot Ate Me On Vacation (Part 2)]

I can't stop singing it. It just fits so well with my morning (at least the first half of it anyway).

After a six and half hour flight we touched down in Oahu this afternoon and were greeted by warm humid air that seemed to hug us as we got off the plane. It's like the difference between whole and skim milk, only breathing thick air doesn't clog your arteries. It just feels rich.

I love flying with Little Sister because she gets so excited about the entire ordeal. The whole experience is still fairly new to her and she relishes in everything from turbulence to on-flight party peanuts. It really makes flying a joy. I'm usually such an airplane sleeper that I can't stay awake on planes. I've been told this is abnormal. I wouldn't really know because I sleep through every flight I go on. This time was different. After situating ourselves and listening to a few tunes with the Sis the movie came on and it was actually one that I cared to watch. I really liked it. In fact, I cried. Big surprise? After I sketched for a few hours, ate a bit of lunch, and then read some of this. I'm finally finding time to sit down and read it. My goal is to finish it before I get back and reality starts to flood the shores of my life again. Problem is, I have a mound of homework to tackle between now and the 15th. (Maybe the reality tide never really receded?) Dental Cousin is on spring break (lucky Weber State son of a gun . . .) and the two high schoolers shrug and say "big deal." So I'm the poopy one writing a critical analysis while watching chick flicks. But honestly, I'd rather study on a beach than in the library any day. And I've already seen this movie.

Straight

Does the "Shuffle" function on ipods really shuffle? It seemed pretty all-knowing this afternoon as I sat at my desk and worked on yet another graphic design project. It felt like it went straight down the line and picked every song that would sting a little and played it. However, I really like a lot of those songs and the set was pretty much amazing. Here are the highlights. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. It made me realize that my pod is packed with quality tunes. Seriously.

There was a casualty this morning. Carnage in my bedroom, if you will . . .

Last Wednesday on a particularly bad day of spending close to 15 hours on campus, I slid off my bed after having a minor breakdown only to have my foot land on top of my straightener. It hasn't been the same since. It sits a little to the side and it now takes two hands to clamp it down. Truth be told it actually hasn't been the same since Germany. I blew the fuse in the youth hostel and two other times at my host family's house and it burnt out something inside so now the control over the temperature is basically nil. It makes things exciting I guess. Straightening my hair becomes a race against the impending heat so that I don't end up with half of my hair lying there singed on the floor. Today I received a text telling me that my dear pink and brown straightener finally kicked the bucket. Roommate tried to use it and, well, let's just say that it is only held together by a cord now. All plastic shards and reminiscing aside, I'm a little relieved that it's gone. It's a sign that I really do need a new one.

I read a ridiculous post today by a gay man who accuses the church of teaching hatred and intolerance. He posted about this recent news story that shocked and saddened me along with thousands of others. He wrote:

We all live, I think, in a world where we live as if the world is better than it really is. That the jokes and prejudice and underlying hatred is okay. I have two sons who love their dad, but they still go to a church that teaches them that I am not worthy of their love and that I won't be in heaven with them. I have a mother who would rather spend time at that church than with me or my sister, who happens to be dating a woman right now. All she has for us is recommendations to pray and read the scripture. There are no questions from them about what we feel or how we think or what it does to us to see them spend their life and time on an organization that teaches misunderstanding and hatred.

It made me so sad for him to read his words and see how terribly he misunderstands the church he once loved and understood. He spends so much time victimizing himself and accusing others of misunderstanding and mistreatment that he forgets that he too, is missing major truths. I commented on his post, reminding him that the church is founded on Christ who teaches nothing but tolerance and love. To accuse the Church of propagating hatred towards others blasphemes the name of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He shot back an unfounded rebuttal. His focus is solely on people who don't adhere to the teachings of the gospel. People are fallible and incredibly human. But the Church, a living organization that embraces change sparked by revelation, is not. It is divine and perfect in its doctrine; whole and complete for the times in which it stands. Members who aren't perfect don't detract from the institution's truth and relevancy, only their own living testimony.

I have always believed that everyone could be more tolerant and loving of those who we view as different. I've grown up with those I love who embrace alternative lifestyles and although it saddens me to watch them stray and struggle, it only makes me love them more ardently and want to share my light and love with them more earnestly. Without a loving place to return to who would want to return? Perfect love casteth out fear. Charity never faileth. I love because I have hope that all things will be perfected in Christ.

Speedo

Monday and Wednesday mornings I wake up my sleepy eyes and mosey to Figure Drawing at 8 am. Although I find it slightly cruel to have a drawing class that early, I am really beginning to enjoy it. I was so scared at first. My professor was intense to the tenth power. We couldn't cross our legs, sit against the back of our chairs, listen to music. . . Well, I cross my legs all the time, and I use a stool so no worries there. I also have amazing shuffle experiences with Mr. ipod biweekly while moving my conte over the smooth newsprint surface for three hours. So there! I think he was just employing the classic "scare tactic," but his bark is much worse than his bite. He's never barked at me. We're friends. Man and man's best friend. (Although it's more like: girl and her figure drawing teacher . . .)

We have one male model (and a whole slew of girls) that take turns posing on the rough platform draped in heavy black cloth while we earnestly try to squint our eyes and move our hands in an attempt at accurately transferring what we see onto what we design. The weirdest part about this particular model is that I see him everywhere and it is incredibly awkward. We both know who the other is, but the reason we know each other is weird. It's like I feel like we should say hi (we have spent a lot of time in the same room) but how to do I say hi when all that runs through my mind is, "Hey . . . I've pretty much seen you naked." So we don't say hi, we just make that all-too-frequent, inopportune eye contact. It's also weird to see him dressed. Odd that I find it stranger to see him in clothes than without, but I guess having spent close to 15 hours within 12 feet of his scantily clad body, it makes a little sense. I ran into him twice today and both times fought the urge to blurt, "hey, nice clothes!"

I really wish the models weren't students and that I could get over the fact that it's weird to see him dressed.

Still

Oh give me thy sweet spirit still,
The peace that comes alone from thee,
The faith to walk the lonely road,
That leads to thine eternity.
[I Know that My Redeemer Lives Hymn 195]

My dear brothers and sisters, there will be days and nights when you feel overwhelmed, when your hearts are heavy and your head hangs down. Then please remember, Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, is the Head of this Church. It is His gospel. He wants you to succeed. He gave His life for just this purpose. He is the son of the living God . . . My dear friends, the Savior heals the broken heart and binds up your wounds. Whatever your challenges may be, wherever you live on this earth . . . Jesus Christ will bless you to endure joyfully to the end. [President Uchtdorf]

Oh be still.

I have tried lately to be diligent about keeping a gratitude journal. I smiled as I reviewed some of my entries this week that range from everything from bungee cords to honesty, but I have realized that it really does affect me in deep ways to realize all that I have. It seems like I've been hit in church meetings, scripture study, and conversations with friends that gratitude matters and is something that I want to more diligently focus on. I think I get easily overwhelmed. I take that back. I know I get easily overwhelmed.

I feel like I have responsibility to keep everything moving, everyone happy, everything clean, everyone going. . . I get tired and worn out with my "everything" mentality. If I sit still for two seconds (also something I struggle with) I realize that I don't really have a responsibility for all the things I take upon myself. I am not the great keeper of homeostasis amongst those who I love. But I think it is because of that love that I feel so compelled to do so. It's like I am trying to keep my hands on everyone, holding up her chin, wiping up her spill, filling up her void, taking care of them, making sure they smile. . .Maybe if I had hands that stretched as far and to as many places as I wanted, it would be easier for me to feel like I'm meeting the needs of those around me. But I can't. I have but two hands with limitations, a blessing and a curse of my mortal frame. Meanwhile I neglect my needs and continue in a spiral of putting on a happy face and walking out the door with a chipper countenance.

What I want to be is overwhelmed with gratitude, overwhelmed with the knowledge that even though I can't do it all, there is One who can. I recognize that, and I find strength in that. (Still, recognizing my limitations is one thing that I have always struggled with). This week I have been overwhelmed once or twice by the feeling that I am needed, if by no one else than my Father. He needs me. He loves me. The same goes for all of his children. Far too often I think that we center on the fact that we need Him. While this is true, we need to remember that we are needed just as desperately. We are not merely "one more" or "one less," but we are His. I am grateful for this knowledge. I am still overcome with gratitude for the overwhelming spirit that accompanied my church meetings today. I was the only one in my apartment who went and while I was walking to church by myself and feeling singly alone, I had a companionship of spirit that edified me more than any person could have.

So I pose a challenge to myself this week. Live by these words. Honestly. Daily. And be still.

Said

A few funny things were said between Roommate and I as of late. Here are few:

(Roommate): The ratio of Macs to PCs goes up in honors students. Obviously we're smarter.
(Me): . . . all the "alternative brand" computers in this room are Dells. Interesting yes?
(R): That is interesting. That must say something about their smartness level. . . everyone who has a Dell is of "average" intelligence, scored a 25-26 on the ACT and has a pet named spot.

(R): So what do you think about the whole thing now?
(M): Actually, I had a thought this afternoon. It went, I'll bury him at the bottom of a lake and skip rocks over his head. Not in a malicious way though, just in an 'I'll skip right over you' way.
(R): The bottom of a lake implies that you tied him up in chains and killed him.

(R): (GASP!) YES! My phone knows the word exegetical!
(M): (stunned silence cut short by bursts of laughter)

Also, this, is the best turning-from-winter-to-spring song ever. I think I might listen to it two or three or four thousand more times before the first day this.