CHANGE

I would just like to take a few minutes and gloat a little bit. Yes after defending my candidate over and over again for the past few months, I've finally come up on top! I don't think I've ever been this happy.
Tonight I sat in a room full of BYU students rooting for Obama. Yes, they do exist. We shouted with every blue state! We played a prediction game and ate a cake with Obama's face on it!
But never in my life have I been happier than when CNN counted down and we all stood up, held our breaths, and felt change in the air. The screen changed into just a shot of Obama's face, and a caption "Obama, elected President of the United States of America" and the whole room erupted. With tearing streaming down my cheeks, I hugged everyone around me, screaming at the top of my lungs!
Never before have I have felt more alive as I ran through the Wilkenson Center, along with hundreds of other students screaming at the top of our lungs "YES WE CAN! OBAMA!!" over and over again. Or the silent victory as we marched through the library with our Obama shirts and posters!
All those dirty looks and rude names mean nothing now! Nothing can ruin my happiness!

Some Churchy-ness

I don't really want to think about elections right now, which are really stressing me out. So despite the scarcity of my posts you won't be hearing much about my life; I just want to share a bit of an article that really inspired me (at least for the day) to improve my life. My dad shared it with my sisters and me last night at FHE. Sorry I'm going all churchy on you, but this advice is just so simple and straightforward and all applies to things I need to improve. It's from the October Ensign, titled "Preparing Yourself for Marriage." But it's a good article even if you don't want to think about marriage. I'm just copying and pasting the sections that I thought were the most prevalent to making us better people:

"Become Productive
In looking forward to marriage, do not assume a wait-and-see posture. This is not just a period for marking time or treading water. Seek to become a happy, productive person in your own right. If you have been unsuccessful in love or hurt or betrayed or ignored, break away from complaining and self-pity. Fill your life with all the things that will improve the head, the heart, and the hand.
Read out of the best books, beginning with the scriptures. Get to know the great and noble human spirits in history and literature. Reading will open the world to you and make your mind a repository of things you can draw from later. Enjoy the beauties of the earth, of nature, and of the arts. Engage proactively in Church and community service and in social activities. Exercise to improve physical and mental health. Fill your life with journal writing, acquiring new job skills, creating through hobbies, composing music or poetry, missionary work, and family history. I promise you that every gift you develop now will be a valuable asset when you have a family.

Be Happy
Cultivate a cheerful attitude and the ability to laugh, even at yourself. A sour face and grumpy disposition are truly a gruesome burden to impose on roommates and others. Get a handle on your moods. Learn how to act better than you feel. Some might ask, “Isn’t that hypocritical?” Certainly not. You might not be able to choose how you feel, but you can choose how you act.
To those who have not seen a lot of happiness in marriage around them, who perhaps come from dysfunctional situations, don’t despair. You can be a cycle breaker, the pioneer who, through faith in Jesus Christ and covenant keeping, cuts a new path of goodness and stability. You can create a legacy of righteousness for your posterity.

Develop Friendship
Learning to be a true friend is a perfect preface to a happy marriage. Become expert in friendship: respectful, loyal, and fun. Be quick to lift others and to forgive offenses.

Create Order
As you prepare for marriage, develop a sense, even a passion, for order in your life. Regardless of what else is going well or how patient your future spouse might be, a careless attitude toward order will weigh heavily on your relationship. For example, making your bed each morning is the beginning for order and peace in your universe. Taking a mere 35 to 45 seconds to do this can help produce a whole day of tranquil benefit."

Maybe this article won't apply to or be as interresting to others as it was to me, but I just had to share it because I haven't been so motivated to improve in a long time! I needed that! Sorry I'm such a bore.

Tragedy in Water Aerobics

Yes, I am taking Water Aerobics as a college class. Yes, I look like an old lady as I splash around in the water. Yes, I'm miserable at it. But there is one reason why I continued to go to that class ever Tuesday and Thursday. The reason is the highly attractive life guard who watches over the pool, quietly snickering at our water aerobics class. I spend most of my time trying to show off for him, unfortunately for me, whenever he seems to look my way, I would slip and splash or make some big mistake. But nonetheless I have caught me stealing glances at me.
Today, as I rushed into the pool area, a little late, we finally made eye contact. He smiled and asked, "Hey, How are you?"... A little abashed I replied, "Fine, you?" He just sat there with an amused look on his face. He finally said, "Don't you know who I am?"... Embarrassed and mystified I mumbled, "uummmm, no? Sorry?" He smiled and said confidently, "We met at that Fletcher family reunion, right?" Yes, low and behold my lifeguard crush was in fact my cousin. To try and mask my horror, I smiled and stupidly pointed out the obvious, "Ooooooh yeah.... so you're a life guard now?" He kinda chuckled because he was wearing a life guard uniform and was sitting on the life guard stand. I quickly excused myself to hop in the pool.
Curse you mormons for having big families. Curse you Utah where everyone is related. And curse you karma. So my conclusion is fate is out to get me. Maybe next time I have a crush on someone, I should demand them to show me their family tree.

Being a Democrat at BYU

Today I decided to sport my Obama shirt to school.There was a democrat-liberation debate and I wanted to support my party. Last week was disability awareness week, and every student was encouraged to adopt a disability for a few hours. I lost my right arm. People stared at me, opened doors for me, and even chuckled as I tried to do Water Aerobics, homework, and other things with only one arm. The attention I got from that experience doesn't compare to today.
I've gotten a thousand glares, a bunch of groans, a few smirks, and lots of negative jokes. Some kid coughed into his arm something that suspiciously sounded like "commie." I've always heard the crazy conversative stories from BYU, but in my heart of hearts I dared not believe it. I hoped that I would come down here and find open-minded regular college students. It stuns me to find out how hated I am here.
But alas, there is that one in a thousand who checks out my shirt, makes eye contact and shows a hint of a smile, quickly to look away and hurry off, trying to mask their difference. And for that one student, I stay hopeful.

Surprise, surprise. After five months of this blog's existence, I'm finally writing my third post!
In the interim between posts, I've had a boyfriend, gotten kissed, vacationed, worried, and learned how to cope with change. But alas, this blog never heard those stories. Maybe I'll be better about keeping up with this thing. Maybe not. I'm not making any promises.
My cabin in Arizona, with it's sweet pine smells and towering sandstone walls, holds half of my heart. If I could live there all the time I would. My weeks there were made even more enjoyable by Suzanne's joining me for nine days. I marvel that I have never fought with this girl, and that after 216 unending hours in her presence I never felt annoyed or unhappy. So it was quite a shock going from constant companionship with Suzanne to forty-five miles of separation a week later. It's a lonely world when your best friend lives miles away.
My first day of college I cried because I missed the high school world of seeing a friendly face in every class. In the solitude I've taken up talking to myself.
I'm also more easily amused. For example, yesterday I was headed to the "President's Reception" for the Honor's College, wearing my white blouse, black pencil skirt, and shiny black shoes. Joining other honors students at the crosswalk on our way to the event, I burst out in a fit of snorting laughter when I realized that everyone around me also wore a white top and black bottoms. This sounds even less amusing when I write about it, but for some reason the coincidence struck me as outrageously hysterical and I looked a bit off my rocker as I stood there shaking with laughter.
College improves as time goes on. I've gotten to know Ashley, Jocelyn, and Rosie better and I enjoy their sweetness. I look forward to the Sorority activities and to Aerobics. So life goes on even without my Austin sister. Hopefully she won't get married too soon.

Attack of the marble staircase

It was 11:50 am, the professor excused us from an enthralling seminar about reading Renaissance Iconography and invited us to take a slice of pizza from the table outside of the classroom. As a poor college student who doesn’t have a meal plan, I was one of the first people to jump up from my chair and exit the classroom. I was sorely disappointed when all the pizza choices included meat. But, seeing as I was desperate, I decided to take a piece of pepperoni anyways. I start to descend the marble staircase, picking off the pepperonis as I went. About half way down the stairs my foot slipped from underneath me and down I went. All the way down. A minute later I found myself in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with my pizza, plate, pepperonis, and bag sprawled all around me. My state of shock was broken only when a kid started shouting “Holy Moly” about ten times at the top of his lungs. I looked up to see a class of about 100 exiting their classroom right in front of me. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t in some horror film. When I realized that this was in fact real life, grabbing the dislodged items, I hopped up and ran for the door. I got outside the building, but was still too mortified to stop. I finally found refuge across the street and behind a tree. I waited until all the students had left the building before enabling the 10 second rule and eating my pizza and hurrying off to my next class.
So yeah I win for the most embarrassing college moment so far.

The first taste of real life...

Tibetan Prayer Flags make a border of the otherwise boringly white walls in my dorm room. The Tibetan national flag makes a headrest for my bed. Obama posters dot my room here and there, and my desk shelf is full of Jane Austen and Buddhist teachings…. I’m at home.
College was nothing like what I expected…. Thousands of students swarm campus, half the people I see link themselves together by holding hands, ah only at BYU. My quest for marriage seemed almost attainable this morning when I walked to my first college class. I somehow won the lottery and signed up for a Book of Mormon class primarily for RMs… maybe this was the church’s way of setting up matches. It’s just me, six other freshman girls, and thirty fresh-off-their-missions-cute-21-year-old-men! We’ll see how that goes.
Other than the crazy RMs, the excessive hand-holding, the prayers at the beginning of every class, and the pompous phrase “The Lord’s Univeristy,” BYU is actually kinda cool… who would have thought?
I have my own room and apartment, I have a tv, I have a popcorn maker, I have food storage, I have two awesome roommates, friends living in all the surrounding buildings, and I have my independence! If my Austen sister and real sister were here it would be absolutely perfect.
The other day the wind blew through my hair as I raced through Helaman Halls on my scooter, laughing hysterically, getting weird looks for the onlookers, getting creamed by Alyssa, but knowing I was going to love it here.

Midnight Run

I laced up my long forgotten running shoes, eager to be under the watchful stars and golden moon. I walked up my street, patiently untangling my earphones, fully immersed in my fears. Earlier today my college roommate had contacted me. We discussed what we each should bring for the dorm room, where we should sit at the football games, and what classes to sign up for. After our conversation had ended, it full on hit me. Wow, I was going to college. In three weeks. Wow. I’m not ready to give up my childhood.
I had reached the corner of my new street by now, with a pair of untangled earphones. I took a deep breath, looked up at the sky, and just listened to the sounds of the night; the sprinklers hitting the grass, the crickets chirping, and the teenagers giggling. I inserted the earphones and turned and gazed towards my destination: darkness. Without looking I pressed play on my iPod and my ears filled of the low resounding voices of Buddhist monks chatting. Fate had its way of comforting me. I paused and returned to that tiny room in that 550 year old monastery in the middle of the Himalayas, full of burning things and the continual, repetitive chants.
Adrenaline slowly crept into every muscle in my body, and I was off. Subconsciously I made a deal with myself that I would run as long as the monks chanted….in that moment the fact that that chant was 40 minutes long, completely escaped me. The monks repeating over and over again those prayers that I couldn’t understand regulated my breathing and my pace and I no longer thought of my body. I turned all thoughts inward, as I ran past my old street, old elementary school, old everything. Everywhere I looked connected to a childhood memory. I couldn’t escape it. I was surrounded.
After another few minutes, I darted past Anne’s old street. Immediately I relived the reunion we had yesterday. Anne and I were pretty much sisters from 1st till 6th grade… I spent more time at the Barlow’s house than I did my own. I was always included in their family adventures and sincerely felt like a Barlow. Much of who I am today came from those happy early years. Yesterday, I got out of the car, looked up and saw Anne. She was much changed from the last time I had seen her, but still she leaped down the steps and we embraced. Then there we were, back in 5th grade, just as if these 7 years had not passed. We discussed books, our one true connection, and compared story after story of our high school years.
Ah, half of the song had gone by, and I was still holding true to the contract. My sides started burning and I began to regret having popcorn for dinner, once again. These memories were almost as painful as the physical pain of running. I was really going to miss my past….
But all of the sudden some new feeling seized me, and I sped up to try and control it. It was utter excitement. I reached up and pulled the elastic out of my hair, letting the tangled mass I call hair free. The sensation of every hair on my head swaying side to side in unison only accelerated my excitement. I embraced my old memories, I let them be a part of me, I let them shape me, and then I let go. I couldn’t cling on to these forever, if I did I would miss out on all the new memories that I could be making. I was excited to start college. I was actually excited to move to Utah County, and believe me I NEVER thought that day would come.
Running is like a drug to me. I know people think runners are crazy, and I even have to agree….but that magical feeling when the sound of your feet hitting the pavement, echoes the beating of your heart, and there is peace and constancy… well it’s worth it. When you reach that moment everything becomes clear and all your problems go away, and you remember and live for the little things, like running with your hair down, or watching 6 different Jane Austen movies.
Oh no, here come those side aches again…. Ah man, living life to the fullest sure can be exhausting.

Trapped in the Himalayas

(Me hiking over a landslide with a strong head cold)
I've been home from Asia for a little over a week and I haven't really been able to convince myself that my trip wasn't just a dream. I miss the sounds of monks chanting, intense burning, and prayer flags waving in the distance. I miss always being on the move. I miss being a celebrity. I miss living simply. I miss bonding with people traveling your same way. I miss so much, and yet so little. I don't understand how countries like India and Nepal function, it's just one big chaotic mess.
Although I've recapped this story to many people in the past week, I think I'll put it here too while it's fresh on my mind.
Well you know those movies where the main characters go on a road trip and EVERYTHING that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong? Well that pretty much defines the last week of my trip. It all started in Jomsom, a small village. It is the only place in the Annapurna region where there is an airport. We heard that sometimes because of the windy weather, airplanes aren't able to land, so we gave ourselves three days to try and catch a plane. Saturday came, no planes. Sunday came, no planes. Monday came, no signs of planes. We had spent the weekend anxiously awaiting the sign of good weather with several sets of travelers. We all were forced together in the same oppressive circumstances and formed a bond. Monday morning came and we all waited in the airport courtyard, making plans to get out of the Himalayas without the planes, when we heard the roar of an engine. We looked up and there it was. The thing we had been praying for all week: a small 15 seater airplane. We jumped for joy, screamed and hugged each other as we leaped toward the check in area. Because the airplanes were so small and there were a bunch of different companies, we didn't all have tickets for the small airplane. The first couple grabbed their bags and boarded a plane. The next two couples got on the next plane, leaving me, my dad, and our guide sitting patiently in the airport. We shouted out to them that we would see them in Pokhara! We checked our bags, went through the security check and lined the runway, but alas fate was not as kind to us and did not bring us an airplane.
From that moment we began the hardest journey of my life.
With all of our friends gone, we somberly slid into a jeep, wiped away our tears and pulled out of Jomsom. This leg of the "Amazing Race" to get back to Kathmandu was fairly uneventful. We stopped for a random tea break, had to wait on the side of the road while they blasted the mountain, and had to stop while the police pulled a man sitting next to us who had robbed a hotel. We got out of the jeep and began walking due to landslides. We walked for 5 hours on a quiet trail. We reached the landslides and instead of taking a three mile detour decided to risk our lives and cross the ACTIVE landslide. Our guide, who was a short, plump sherpa who never walked faster than a leisurely stroll, turned to us and said, "We walk fast here" turned around and started sprinting over the rocks, he looked like some kind of mountain goat. But this was when I knew we were in trouble, so I took off after him, trying not to notice the cliff on one side of me and the falling rocks on the other. Our group barely missed 8 falling boulders, God must really like me because that's the only reason why I'm alive right now. Mental and emotional exhaustion captured me towards the end of the 5 hours and walked right off a footbridge and fell in the water.
The next day began at five. I had woken up with a head cold, lucky me. We were told that we could catch a jeep after a half an hour walk. When we got to the jeep stand they "didn't feel like driving today." Of course, typical Nepal, so we put on our packs and turned down the road to go to the next jeep stop, which just happened to be about TWO hours away. While walking in my exhausted state I moved to the side of the road to avoid pack mules. I wasn't fast enough and one hit me right in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me.
But alas, we made it and got in an old bus, packed with people. Did I mention that there weren't any roads?? Just a dirt, rock trail? So an intense drive. At one point we were driving STRAIGHT up a mountain covered in mud when we got stuck... of course! No worries, we pushed the bus out and were on our way.
We got to a real live city! After being in the mountains for so long, I was soooo happy to see civilization! But my brief joy and dismantled when we found out there was a transit strike and there were no buses or taxis going to Pokhara. We searched for someone who would take us, but there was no one. We put our packs back on and started walked down the street, when an old beat up car pulled over and we got in. Well the car lasted thirty seconds before it pulled over to change it's tire. It took 8 nepalese men ONE HOUR to change one little tire. Finally we got going. We made it to paved road and were actually making good time when the car sputtered to a stop. It had died, completely. Of course this would happen to us, heaven forbid something actually worked out!
We waited in the smeltering heat while our taxi driver hitchhiked into town. He brought a new car, which was almost as beat up. Well that was good news. We got in the car, only to realize that this new car was going to tow the old car, with a piece of rope. That's right, a flimsy piece of rope. We tried it for a minute. The rope broke, DUH! But they try it again with the now broken rope. Hello?! Seriously?!! Do they have minds??
Anyways we continue our drive, only to run into a group of angry strikers who surrounded our car, jumping on the roof, shouting things at us. I thought I was going to die, right there. SOOO scary.
We finally get to Pokhara to find the city lined with empty cars. I guess there was a fuel shortage. We had no idea how we were going to find someone to drive us... either they were on strike or they had no gas. So we went to the airport. They had flights to Kathmandu, but oh wait, they stopped flying an hour earlier because they were working on the runway. I personally think they just didn't want to fly us because that would be too easy.
We finally found a car who had stolen some gas and began to drive. Ooooof course there happens to be a monsoon. We held on to our seats as our driver drove through the small windy mountain roads through a monsoon for 6 hours. And I was coughing and sniffing like mad the entire time.
But alas we make it to Kathmandu after 48 hours of hell. Did I mention that the airplane ride was only 44 minutes. 44 FREAKIN' MINUTES.
From Kathmandu we flew to Delhi, slept overnight in the airport. From Delhi we went to Helsinki, Finland. Finland to Amsterdam( another night spent on the side of the runway). Amsterdam to Houston. Houston to SLC!!!
Being in the middle of the Himalayas fighting to get to civilization helped me come to know myself. I realized how silly and trivial all my problems back home were. I mean, HELLO, I have everything I could ever want in Salt lake, and yet I complain all the time. I now know the meaning of living life to the fullest and going out and making life an adventure. Never again am I going to let my emotions hinder my life, I have too much to live for!

Flying

On a long bus ride from Kathmandu to Pokhara, I decided to stick with my old habits and found myself in the luggage compartment. Except this time the luggage compartment happened to be just a few bars on the roof of the bus. I had had enough of the hot sweaty crowded bus, so I ventured onto the roof. Unlike the last time I tried to use a luggage compartment as a seat, this was the best seat I've ever had! It was like I was flying through the green Himalayas. Granted the road wasn't really finished so I had to hold on pretty tight when we went around corners and passed other vehicles, but I don't think I've ever felt so free, like I was soaring. It was almost like a super hard core version of the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland. It was such a wonderful experience, but I don't think I'll ever be content with the interior of a bus again.

Greetings from the Himalayas!

Well folks, I am so sore that I can barely walk. They told us that we would be going on a trek through the Himalayas, but they lied. It is a trek UP the Himalayas. I'm not lying when I say that pretty much all we've done is gone up one big giant staircase. They even built stairs.
SOOOOO painful.
But all that pain was worth it last night when the clouds cleared and we finally got a view of Annapurna, the third highest mountain in the world, a football field short of Everest. So beautiful, actually it was beyond words.
Every day consists of a 7 to 9 hike up these mountains, so I have about 30 miles under my belt, and I think we are only half way through. It's quite a journey, but there are quaint little guesthouses alongside the road that make for great resting spots. Although they are void of most comforts, like electricity for example. But in all reality what is more poetic than reading Jane Austen's words or Sherlock Holmes adventure by candlelight in a cottage guesthouse in the Himalayas?

Kathmandu, I'll be watching you

On the day of our country's independence I'm here in a country that recently gained their own independence, Nepal. This country couldn't be more opposite than ours, a communist like rebel group in charge, and the richest of the rich couldn't even come close to our middle class. But it's such a cool place with such a cool vibe. If I told you that I thought this place was clean, quiet, peaceful, and happy you would think that I'm out of my mind. But that's how I feel about it. I mean compared to Delhi this place is paradise. So what if the streets aren't really paved or that people use the streets as a trash can? At least it's not humid and horrible and crowded and just awful.
The whole time I've been here I've had that Cat Stevens song, Kathmandu (hence the title of this post) stuck in my head. There is this Buddhist temple with these blue eyes painted on everyside, so it seems like they are staring you down where ever you go. It's so neat and covered in prayer flags! love it!
Oh the streets are lined with every REI lovers dream. Northface climbing equiment stores. But unlike our dear REI back in the states, people can actually afford to buy these clothes. Tonight I bought a jacket which I saw at REI a few months back which was priced well over a hundred dollars for about $7. I was told afterwards that I paid way too much for it. It's heaven here and I have to practice extreme self control as to not to run into the stores and buy everything I see. If anyone wants me to buy them anything, let me know!
Has anyone heard of MC Hammer? He wrote the Hammertime song... and invented Hammerpants. Hammerpants are like diapers, the pant legs are so wide that you would think that it was a skirt, but then you see the elastic at the bottom and then the diaper like way the legs separate. well apparantly they are back in style here in Nepal. Every store has them and almost all of the hippy foreigners wear them... although none of the natives sport them. I think it's hillarious.
Tomorrow I'm going trekking in the Himalayas with a sherpa! Totally tight! If the weather is clear I'll be able to see Everest! Woot woot!
Happy Fourth of July! I don't think I'll ever complain about America again.... after all they do have toliets that work unlike so much of the rest of the world!

All roads lead to Tibet!

Since reading 7 years in Tibet I've dreamt of one day strolling the streets of Lhasa. This dream came true for my brother two years ago, and I thought it would for me too. After we got our plane tickets to India, the uprisings occurred in protest of the Olympic torch running through Tibet. Monks were killed or put in prison and China put Tibet in lock down mode. I lost hope of retracing my brother's steps and soon tried to make myself content with a tour of India, with an emphasis on Tibetan resettlements. I've actually rather enjoyed seeing the Tibetan culture alive and thriving here in India. But everyone here informs me that this lush green village is nothing like the real Tibet. My heart wasn't really settled. We are so close to Tibet, but we just couldn't get across the border.
Well today the borders opened because the torch has passed through and we have booked our bus tickets. WE'RE GOING TO TIBET! If the Chinese give us visas I will be in Tibet on Saturday. My whole being shakes with excitement! We'll probably be some of the first tourists back into the broken up nation. The journey won't be easy by any means, I think it'll involve, crowded trains and buses, airplane and taxi rides. But it's worth it!
Thank you McLeod Ganj for the good times, but Tibet here I come!

Good times in the clouds

Beautiful men

It is a truth universally acknowledged that beautiful men do yoga. I have to stop myself from drooling every time I walk into class. There is this one guy who always uses the mat next to me who has gorgeous dreadlocks and a limber body. He's mega good at yoga, and it's fun to watch him. While making my body into a curve by lying on my back, then pushing with my arms and legs, I was staring upside between my arms when another quite attractive man with a beard and a wife-beater, approached me, turned his head upside and asked me if he could borrow my block. I was so in shock from actually talking to this man that I fell over. It was a little embarrassing. Ah, but it's too bad that I'll never really hook up with any of these men. I am definitely not hippie enough for them and they spend too much time during class laughing at my horrible mistakes to notice me.
I think another rule is this. In every Tibetan family they send their most attractive son to the monastery cause holy crap there are some fine monks.
My only conclusion is this: life is miserably unfair.
(The picture above is a picture of men who rudely stopped us on our hike to take pictures with us, they are not beautiful)

Only in India

Only in India do you wake up to dogs fighting monkeys.
Only in India do cars have to dodge cows on the road.

Only in India are horns the most important part of the car.
Only in India a family of four considers a motorcycle a good family vehicle.
Only in India does Air Conditioning mean a ceiling fan.
Only in India do the beggars wear colorful saris.
Only in India are white people the tourist attraction.
Only in India does chaos work.

Dharamsala, aka heaven

Well I've officially died and gone to heaven. We've left Delhi.... but not without our fair share of adventures. We were stranded in this dirty train station CRAMMED with hot sweaty smelly people. I think all the foreigners got the memo about not taking Indian trains, but we didn't, so we sat in this train station for THREE HOURS. As I sat on this box on the side of the tracks, I had to stop myself from counting the number of rats and cockroaches I saw to refrain from throwing up. It really was like a scene from a movie, a horror movie. But alas I was saved. The train arrived and we got on. We had this compartment all to ourselves, with bunkbeds and AC!!!!! Again with the movie thing, except for now I felt like I was in an old classic like North by Northwest. I took a sleeping pill and woke up 10 hours later, it was amazing. Then a drive on one lane roads with two way traffic, some of the road wasn't even completed and it was definitely an adventure. "Adventure" is my word for when something was intense, horrible, and miserable, but I'm trying to be optimistic. Anyways, we finally made it to Dharamsala home to thousands of Tibetans in refuge. It's this city on the very top of this mountain in the foothills of the Himalyas. Sooo pretty and about 30 degrees cooler than Delhi!!! There are Tibetan prayer flags everywhere, and the streets are full of Tibetan monks and tibetan people. It's got this awesome vibe. I seriously could live here the rest of my life!!! We ate lunch at the Dali Lhama's palace/temple where the monks practice cooking and man are they good at cooking pizza!
So my previous post was pretty negative, and I'm blaming the heat, Delhi, and my illness. Delhi was actually a really big learning experience and I'm glad we went there!
Ah, but I've reached paradise, so if I never come home, you'll know where I am!

Taj Mahal

The Taj Mahal, one of the seven wonders of the world, is breathtaking. Pictures really don't do it justice. But the pain and agony that it took to get us there maybe wasn't worth the sight. First off we left our hotel at 6 am, all three of us jammed in the backseat of a small car. We drove for five hours, which flew by because Donna(the girl we met from Colorado) told us her crazy life story. Ah, but our driver dropped us off at the main gate, pointed us in the right direction, then disappeared. We were then attacked by hundreds of people trying to scam us. We pushed by and walked a short distance to the main gates of the Taj, only to find out that it was closed until two. We had three hours of waiting in hot Indian weather. We found a spot in the shade and waited. Ah, then the tourists started coming. Indian tourists came from all directions to take pictures of us. I felt like a celebrity.... it was crazy, I was sweating so much, I have no idea why anyone would want to take a picture of me. Ah, then the more sneaky scamers approached. They told us of shortcuts and other ways of cutting the line. We flat out refused, but one man stuck his kid on us and he followed us for over three hours. It was actually a little bit scary. The gates finally opened and then the line formed. Another hour in the heat... once we finally reached the Taj, I about passed out, the heat was so draining. We finally saw the tomb and well it's no wonder it's one of the seven wonders of the world. I mean, this guy built it all for his dead wife, now that's love. If he knew how much corrurption would surround the gates, I wonder if he would have built it. I'm so sick of shouting "NO THANK YOU" or "NO MONEY'' everytime I walk out on the street. Ah, but we made it to the car and started on our way. I don't really remember most of the ride because I was unconscious, but I do remember when the AC went out with a boom, and then the brakes. We were stranded on the side of the road, right in front of a bar with drunk men, who kept shouting at Donna and me. Why are men so attracted to sweaty gross white girls? I can't even imagine what they would have done if I had make-up on or even an attractive outfit. Ah, it's just the fact that I'm white. There are ads all over the place here for creams that make your skin lighter. How ironic is that? No one seems to be satisfied with their skin color. Oh, make to the story, we were rescued by another car full of tourists who took us down the street a bit to a restaurant, where they treated us like coin machines, trying to squeeze every coin out of us. We made it make to Smyle (I don't know if they don't know how to spell smile, or if they are trying to be cute) hotel safely, but completley exhausted, what a day.
About the only good thing about the trip so far was going to church on Sunday. I'm not sure if it was the airconditioning or the spirit, but man did it feel good inside that church. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see men in white shirts and ties in my life. Going to church definitely restored my faith in humanity. Even in this horrible corrupt city there are people who are honestly trying to be better. Oh, in relief society they even had a centerpiece for the table. There are some things that will never change about the church, despite the culture. And there was a man at church who is working with a non-profit organization here who graduated from East High School a few years back. What an amazingly small world it is.
We switched hotels and it feels like I'm staying at the president's palace. It is so much nicer here. The AC works and it works well. I actualy shivered a few times last night.
oh, but I'm sick. I think, ironically, I got sick from taking the sacrament yesterday. I'm not looking forward to the 12 hour train ride we're about to take. well actually the train is going to leave in 6 hours, so we are trying to waste as much time as we can in this semi-cool internet cafe. Oh well, ANYTHING to get out of Delhi, the armpit of the world. If I got called here on my mission, I would flat out refuse.
I bet you all think I'm crazy for wanting to come here for my senior trip, and even I am questioning my sanity. But I'm hoping that mountainous Dharamsala where all the tibetans live will be worth it. We might even see the Dali Lhama! I'm so excited! Things are looking up and I'm definitely having an adventure!

Delhi: home to sweat and stink

As the creepy Bollywood type Indian music blasts in the background of this small internet cafe, I don't really know how to put India into words. It's somewhere that in order to really understand you need to come here multiple times, well actually I'm not even sure that the people that live here understand India. For starters there hasn't been a single minute where I haven't had a layer of sweat covering my body. The humity combined with the heat creates this never-ending sauna. So everyone is sweaty and smelly, and now imagine thousands upon thousands of people lining the streets trying to sell you stuff or take their picture with you. Oh and take away all traffic rules. And now you're well on your way to understanding Delhi.

ah, it's definitely a different world over here, but it's also an amazing world. Everyone is so friendly, even when they are trying to rip you off. And there is also always something new to see. Today we visited a Hindu temple, India Gate, the president's palace, Ghandi's death place, and the Lotus Temple. Last year I actually did a report on the lotus temple and just the Ba'hai religion in general, so it was indescribably amazing to actually go there.

Here at our hotel we met this girl from Colorando. She came to India by herself and she's only 20! how insane is that? A white girl, 20, here in this crazy city by herself. That takes some nerve. But if anyone could do it, she could. She is super outgoing and interested in everything. I really wish I was that outgoing, brave, and happy.

Legal Weed!

I am such a romantic. As we flew over the Netherlands this morning, I thought about how amazing Europe is. I was proud of the open spaces laws that are in place in order to maintain cities and not make Europe Suburb Land, like the US. I got off the train and smiled as I saw Amsterdam with it's old buildings and cobblestone streets. It made me happy that one place in the world could maintain it's rich history and heritage, while progressing and changing socially. I pictured myself strolling the streets with a book in one hand every night after a day of classes. Ah, but soon after walking around for about 37 seconds, I got a whiff of the smell. The Netherlands is the only country in the world to legalize drugs. The "coffee shops" litter the streets, where you can go up to the counter and ask for a drug menu, and they'll give it to and some paper to roll up your drugs. Everyone here is relaxed and I'll give you one guess why. Then the pretty old buildings... they are pretty from the outside, but we soon learned to not look in the windows because there are sex shops, prostitute lounges, tattoo parlors, and bars EVERYWHERE. Harsh reality ruined my romantic dream.... but hey, while we're here we might as well enjoy it!

My miny paradise destroyed

There is a hiatus in my moving chaos, so I decided to stop and update the good old blog. I’m sitting in my room, my completely empty room. This room was my safe haven, my fortress. The one place where I was safe from the world. Now it is empty, void of its security. The prayer flags and Tibetan quilt that reminded me to fight for what I believe in and that there is a whole world out there for me to explore are stuffed away. My bed, with its wonderful amazing comforter, that shielded me from a potential falling roof and just all the sorrows life threw at me is also MIA. My desk where I sat and worked for hours on end on schoolwork, which I thought, made up my whole life is vacant. My books, oh my beautiful books, were my companion. One of them always had something to say, to warn, to guide, or to comfort me.
That’s all gone now. When I first painted my room purple, I bragged to the whole world, “I have a purple room.” I was 13 and it was the first time in my life I had my own room and could choose a color to paint it. I don’t really know what led me to purple, but I found it and have loved it. Purple furniture and materials seemed to gravitate to my room. Purple was the first sign of my independence.
Gross, my new room is bubblegum pink. It’s very disgusting. I’m trying to decide what color to paint it. All the vibrant colors seem too childish, while all the tan and soft colors are too grown up.
This new house is twice the size of my old one. If you know me then you know how much I hate, ABSOLUTELY loath big houses. I think they are just a way for people to show off their wealth. So my first reaction to this new house was how much I hated the unnecessary size. But my parents explained their reasoning behind a big house and how they were going to use it to save the world, or whatever. Well my little act of rebellion was choosing the smallest bedroom. I actually rather adore it (well besides the color). It’s got this AMAZING view of the mountains and it’s small enough to make me feel less guilty about owning a big house.
The whirlwind of emotions that come along with moving is the only thing keeping me in SLC, my mind has wandered a few days early to India. I leave on Tuesday for over a month. No more moving stress, no more growing up stress, no more loneliness. I’ll be seeing the real world and enjoying some quality time with my dad. I’m so excited, it’s the only thing that gets me up in the morning. I only have to survive one more day!

One week

It’s crazy how one week has gone by and I seem to be leading a different life. Last Saturday I was prancing around town in a little black dress with my hair straightened and my face all made up, being a fun-loving teenage, high school girl enjoying prom. This Saturday, I’m dressed in a big sweatshirt and leggings with my hair pulled up in a lazy pony tail and no make up on at all because I packed that away in boxes today. I’m a little closer to adulthood as I pack away my childhood and just life in general, go grocery shopping by myself and plan adventures around the world. I’m graduated from high school, all signed up for classes in college,going to parties with alcohol (granted it was in my backyard) and living out of boxes and backpacks. Just a little bit crazy, just one week ago I was dancing at the capitol building with no worries. Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be worry-free again. Or at least my only worries would be about if I could carry a 20 pound backpack down a ten mile canyon or what to wear tomorrow. I didn’t realize that there was stress outside of homework, social circles, and impressing a crush. Now all I think about is boxes… boxes and boxes and boxes. It took four HUGE boxes to fit all of my books, one box for my old school work, one box of memories, and one tiny puny little box for my jewelry, makeup, and perfume. I like where my priorities lie, I love books and memories and care little for how I look.
Even though it’s only been a week since senior prom, I feel a little bit older and a little bit wiser…although in reality, I probably haven’t changed at all!

37

One of my biggest fears is that I’m never going to make a difference in the world. I want to see something and fix it, for example world hunger. Or I wanted to save someone’s life by befriending him or her. I have yet to do either. I’ve been reviewing my high school years and wondering, have I even made an impact on anyone? Is anyone grateful that I’m alive? Then I happened to stumble across Jocelyn’s blog. In her description of herself she says, “I’m an ordinary girl, and thanks to Suzanne, my life revolves around the number 37…” I almost started crying once I saw that. That has been my contribution to humanity. I have implanted a love for the magical number 37 in several hearts.
If you don’t already have a love of 37, let me just fill you in. How I first discovered 37, put anything, anything at all, into the microwave. Depending on the size and frozenness of the item, punch in 37 or 1:37 or 2:37 ect, and the item will work out perfectly. I have experimented with this extensively, and it works I swear. Soon 37 will appear EVERYWHERE you go. Whenever you look at a clock, the time will end in 37. You’ll hear it in movies, open to page 37 in books, and see it on license plates. Like Jocelyn said, you’ll life will soon revolve around this number.
Every time someone enters my family, we give them a number. So my grandpa is number 1 and my grandma is number 2, ect. We figured this all out a few years ago, and I was number 36. I paid little attention to this fact. After my obsession with 37 started, we were eating dinner with my cousins. We were again going over the list of numbers trying to add in a few new names, when we realized we had forgotten to count one of my cousins. Once we counted her that pushed me back to number 37. Once they verified this several times, the whole family called me into the dining room (I was upstairs for some reason). They told me the big news of my number switch. I stood there in shock for about 37 seconds, then I fell to the floor and just started crying. I can’t remember ever being happier. So not only do I love this number, but this number defines me. I am the 37!
After high school no one will probably remember what I looked like or anything that I did, but I sincerely hope that whenever they see the number 37, they stop and think, “hey wasn’t 37 that crazy kid from high school’s favorite number?” That will be my legacy

roller coasters

Last week while in Disneyland I went on my first roller coaster. I know, I know, you must be thinking that I'm a pretty lameo 18 year old. I've never been kissed, been arrested, or gone on a roller coaster. I hear that I'm missing out. Anyways, I decided to face my lifetime fear and get on a roller coaster. Granted the rides at Disneyland aren't the most terrifying roller coasters in the world, but I was still dreading the experience. The night before we went, the only thing anyone could talk about was how excited they were to go to Disneyland the next day, and the only thing I could think about was how I was going to fake sick so I wouldn't have to go. But the time came, I decided I would rather face my fears then being left behind and I boarded the bus.
We went on Pirates first. My friends assured me that this was a slow boat ride that quietly drifts along, so when it went dark and the boat hit a steep drop, I stopped trusting my friends.
We decided to go on Splash Mountain next. Now I was really scared. I could hardly walk because I was shaking so hard. But I looked fear right in the face, okay maybe it was the knees because I was bent over with nerves, and got in that infamous log. All my friends cheered me on, but Kevin was especially comforting. He informed me that the scariest part of the whole ride would be the parts where the log slowly climbed up a vertical track. Everyone who's been on a roller coaster knows the unsettling feeling of being painfully dragged up a hill not knowing what's on the other side. So every time the little log would start to turn upward, Kevin would turn around and say, "Okay, be prepared to drop in 5,4, 3, 2, 1" Some of the times we didn't actually drop, but the time that we did, I held on to the side and tried to scream, unfortunately nothing came out, but I reached the bottom with a small smile on my face. I had done it, I had conquered my fear.
Right now I feel like I'm on a roller coaster being pulled upward. It's the end of high school, childhood, my home, everything. I've reached the end and it's dreadfully scary because I have no idea what to expect on the other side of the hill. All these end of year experiences have been bittersweet; fun and happy, but sad and foreboding. I feel change in the air. It's just right over the hump. Come June 4th life as I know it will be over and I'll be set free in the real world. And let me tell you, it's going to come extremely fast. I'm moving out of my home, then I'm off to India for a month, then off to college, which will be a whole new adventure. I'm really not ready to leave my friends, family, and room behind. I hope this period of not knowing is scarier than the actual adventures.
But the future is pulling at me slowly.... so... 5,4,3,2,1 HERE I COME!

I'm homeless

So it happened. My childhood home is no longer mine. I've had so many memories here. We moved to Uintah Circle when I was in 1st grade. So I've experienced grade school, middle school, and high school from my snug little room. When living in this house, I learned how to read and write, ride a two-wheel bike, shoot a basket, play the flute. I learned how to drive. I learned how to be a friend. I learned to appreciate Jack Beur and Michael Scott. I fell in love. I raised two goats, lots of fish and birds, a dog, a cat, and a sister. I came to love Ghostbusters, Back to the Future, Stand By Me, and Half-baked ice cream. I learned how to read through the night without my parents noticing, thanks to my nifty flashlight and extra batteries hidden under my pillow. I learned who I was and where I wanted to go. I learned to tell stories here. I learned the borat voice. I learned how to touch my elbows to each other behind my back. I grew to know Harry Potter and Elizabeth Bennet. I came to understand injustices around the world. I learned how to be a good neighbor, even if it did cost us a 150 year old tree. I learned to ski. I learned to swim. I learned to run. I learned to laugh at myself. I learned to laugh at others. I learned to stand up for what I believe in. I learned to study hard. I learned German (kinda). I learned to organize. I came to love swimsuit running in snow. I loved "24" family home evenings. I loved delivering food to shut-ins. I loved young womens. Night games. Airsoft wars. Movies in the backyard. Secret rooms. Lighting hitting our house. The bath tub falling through the ceiling. The boxing matches between my dad and I. Me and Karen's dance parties. Yard makeover. Black and White party. My Fair Lady party. I was stretched in all different directions while living in this house. I would hardly recognize that small first grader who moved here 11 years ago.
I can't believe that when I come home from college I won't really be coming home. Sure we'll still have another house, but really, this is and forever will be my home.

My Crazy Parental Unit

My parents are crazy. Flat out. If they read this (which they probably will) they can confirm the facts. They are crazy and they know it. What kind of people say to themselves, "hey, if I rent a car and start driving I could get to San Francisco tomorrow for the protest?" or "Hey, they paved the road up to Mt. Everest base camp,so I want to be the first person to longboard down it!" ?? Well what kind of rash people do that?! None... but hey, my parents are... different.
Ah, lets start with a brief history of them. My mom was the editor of a magazine that she helped organize called Sunstone, one day she hired my dad. Ah, that's when the magic began. My mom was (still is) a crazy liberal, who transfered schools as often as she could... she went to like 5 colleges. My dad on the other hand, was just hard core crazy for the moment he was born. Too many stories for a short blog entry. Anyways... they meet...eventually get married... and take all the money that they got from wedding presents and moved to Africa. They had no jobs or connections, they just got on a plane and moved to Africa. They lived there, doing what they love to do... writing and taking photos. Then they moved back to New York City... had Jamie and I, then back to SLC to have the twins.
So they've been through quite their share of adventures... I would say. I've grown up with my mother telling my dad, "Mike, don't scare the children" almost right after he would start telling us stories. Oh the stories my dad tells. Once, he read out loud the TV guide and instead of telling about real plot summaries, he made up completely new tv shows. But when we said we wanted to watch the one he was describing, he would make up some excuse like, "oh we need cable to watch that one."
Two years ago, he said to my brother, "Let's go to Tibet" and they did. That's just the kind of dad my father is.
He goes longboarding, windsurfing, skiing, and the usual protest.
So the latest crazy thing my parents thought up happened Sunday. They came home from a nice drive in the neighborhood, and they call the real estate agent and wants to sell our house. They saw a house that they wanted to buy... and well... now I get kicked out for a few hours every day so people are come investigate our living space. But really, mom and dad, what are you thinking? Why would you want to buy an even bigger house?! I love our house, it's small, but cute. I've actually always been proud of the fact that I grew up in a house with only one bathroom and no air conditioning. I feel good about not having a big house... and here we are considering this house more than twice the size of our current one! I thought we always planned on downsizing instead of upgrading. I just think it's unnecessary to have a big house... why do we need it for? We don't even have furniture to fill it up? I think we could do much better things with the money that we are going to spend on buying and fixing up this new house.They say that they will sell the house in a few years and give the money to us to start our own families... but I kinda think that they are trying to justify buying an expense house. But hey, I could be totally wrong. Hey, I do love my parents and I think they are amazing... but really, is this what they really want? Hey, they can do whatever they want... but I think they might want to think this one through!
Anyways... I think they'll still be crazy no matter what I say!

High School Musical and such....

Two thoughts today:
The first one happened while I was at the SLC temple. Ah, let it be May... I witnessed 7 beautiful brides with their smiling grooms being received by crowds of family and friends. SEVEN! I was only there for about 40 minutes, and I saw 7 couples begin their journey towards eternal bliss (or something like it). Wow, people are getting hitched left and right. Oh boy in stake conference the SLC temple president spoke, and he said there were 74 marriages yesterday!
Second thought... why in the universe do people worship people who spend their life pretending to be other people? does that even have any merit? Ah, well not to be hypocritical or anything, but I've caught the High School Musical high and have signed up as an extra. I'm super excited to tell my grandchildren that not only was all the HSMs filmed at my high school, but I was actually in one!
Oh brother.... the problem with this blog is that I don't feel like I can write anything, unless it's terribly witty and makes everyone fall off their chairs laughing. So I haven't really written that much... and Miss Garfield hasn't either,( although now she actually has exciting stuff to say). As a result, this blog doesn't have very many entries.
Oh hey... announcement! I'm betraying everything I've believed in all of my life and heading down South.... the dreaded Utah county, for college. The "Lord's university" will never know what hit them!

The Mystery of my tear ducts

Last night at Bang Bang You're Dead (which was incredible, by the way, I really haven't had my emotions stirred so much in an East High play before. Kevin was beyond description, it blew my mind that someone could change so much to fit a character. He definitely could do acting later in life, if he ever chose to, so props to him) I sat in the midst of a sobbing crowd. Don't get me wrong, I got the powerful message of the play, and really haven't stopped thinking about it, but I just couldn't get those tears to roll down my cheek. That got me thinking... why couldn't I cry like the rest of the audience? Was there something wrong with me? While pondering this, a powerful experience came back to me. Two years ago, we sent my brother and father on a plane carrying them across the world for a month, the longest time we've ever been separated. After watching them disappear beyond the metal detectors, Miss Karen Stack, Mrs. Stack, and I turned to leave. Not one tear had left my eyes. As we were walking, we saw a huge crowd with balloons and banners containing the words "Welcome Home Elder Robinson!" I stopped in place and exclaimed, "Elder Robinson's coming home! We have to wait and see him!" My mother was used to my eccentric moments, and decided to go along with it. We waited a few minutes and I started to get excited! This young man was coming home to his family. Elder Robinson was almost home! I could just see the excitement in this family, no one could stand still. A crowd of people came through the exit and from it emerged a man in a suit and name tag. His mother broke out from the jumping homewelcomers, and started sprinting towards her son. The love and happiness was strong in the air. To their horror, Karen and mom turned to find me sobbing. Not just one or two tears, but I was full on sobbing. I almost ran toward Elder Robinson... but then I remembered that I actually didn't know him. To this day I can't tell this story without crying (just ask Karen, I'm crying right now)
Another time, my AP Geography teacher announced that our test would be postponed. The room filled with cheers, happy exclamations, and..... sobs. Yes, you read that right, I was sitting at my desk completely crying. Possibly one of the most embarrassing moments, the teacher had to stop class and come examine what was happening. I had been under a ton of stress and just on the edge of a panic attack, and when one big stress was removed, I lost it.
Recently a friend of mine got asked on a date by a boy she likes. That night I laid in my bed, unable to sleep because I was so excited. I kept giggling and letting out small little shouts of happiness. I actually think I shed a few tears of joy. After about an hour of this, I remembered that I wasn't actually going on the date. Then I asked myself this, Suzanne my dear, why in the world, do you live life through other people? I feel more emotion vicariously than I do from my own experiences. I think there might be something wrong with that. When I'm on my deathbed, I'm going to say, "Wow what an amazing life... everyone else lived."So I decided that I'm going to start living my own life! Bring on the tears, baby!
Miss Stack

To go or not to go...

Miss Stack has contributed the most to this blog, as my life provides little excitement worthy of posting.  But as Miss Stack commented on her college dilemma, I will add a few words about mine.

Several of my friends, each of whom I look up to and admire, plan on attending BYU next year, and have done their best to persuade me to follow their examples.  Although I consider myself a U fan, I have nothing personal against BYU.  I do share Miss Stack's fears of an overemphasis on marriage, but, considering my previous dating record, I am not too worried.

And as for curriculum, I feel like either university would provide me with an adequate education for getting into graduate school.  

So when it comes down to it, my greatest point of indecision revolves around my unwillingness to leave the home.  I feel childish in my fear of change and growing up, but I have lived as the happiest of children and I would not want to hurry the end of that era of my life.  If I go to BYU, I know that I will enjoy myself more socially, as many of my dearest friends will call Provo their home this summer.  If I remain in Salt Lake, I will live at home and probably have a limited number of social experiences.  But I still do not feel ready to leave.  My sisters are my confidants and my best friends.  My dad would have no one to talk about sports with, and my mother would not have anyone to give her computer help.  And when my brother returns from his mission, if we attend the same school we would embark on endless adventures. 

Mr. Petersen has proven the most persuasive, and yesterday I almost decided upon BYU because of his reasoning.  Testing my family, I announced the Y as my school of choice.  Instantaneously, both of my sisters burst into tears, and even my dad turned sullen.  We all talked, and I recognized all the benefits of staying home.  By the end of the conversation I announced that I would certainly attend the U next year.  As soon as I made this announcement I felt incredible relief, like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders, and I knew that I chose correctly.

So my choice is made.  I will hold on to the last months of my childhood as a student at the University of Utah next year.  I only hope Miss Stack will follow.

Miss Garfield

I'm never going to grow up

After two and a half hours of sitting in a hot sweaty attic of an advertising firm, I made a big decision about my life. I decided that I don't want to grow up and have a job EVER. I want to remain a child forever and frolick in fields of sunflowers. I listened to woman after woman get up there and describe the dull work that they just "love" to do, even if they don't get around to doing it because they have a family to raise. After listening to all these woman, I couldn't think of one thing that I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing. Not one thing. Granted, there was one job that sounded remotely interesting, working as a manager for a non-profit organization. But the dance instructor, family historian, graphic designer, photographer (the only pictures she showed us were pictures of her children), 6th grade teacher, and nurse just didn't have anything interesting to say. It sounds like most of them only do their jobs if they have time after children or when they did do their jobs, it wasn't that meaningful. They ended the night saying that you should turn whatever you love doing into a career... like that's going to work. I love reading and hiking and ummmmm.... I don't know making weird facial expressions at myself in the mirror. How am I going to turn any of those things into a career?
So around the second hour, when I had to hold on to my seat so I wouldn't stand up and pull the fire alarm so I could get out of there, I decided that there wasn't a job out there for me and I should even go to college because I'm just going to hate whatever I get into anyways. I've already had bad experiences in the work place. My first job was as an Italian Ice scooper, I would stand next to a stand in the middle of nowhere all day in the hot summer sun, waiting for people to come by, so I could offer them samples. Being the ignorant responsible 15 year old as I was, I listened to the rule that said no books, phones, iPods, or anything worth living for, on the job. So that was not a good job.
Of course there's always been babysitting. I'm surprised I haven't killed anyone's kid yet. I'm horrible with kids. They general hate me, and run a muck.
The last job was tutoring. I actually really liked this job. I got payed for helping people with homework. Oh, I forgot to mention that another one of my hobbies is homework! I thrive off homework, even though I like to complain. So that was a fun job, but I don't think I actually helped the kids because I would get caught up in the work and do it myself and forget to explain, and they were ok with that because then they didn't have to do homework.
So... none of these jobs seem lucrative or even fun for me. So now I think I'll fall back on pursuing my dream job of pulling up the net behind the goal posts during football games.
At least I have more options that marriage, nannying, and prostitution, to my make my living. Jane Austen's characters had it rough.

My Biggest Fear

Recently I've had college on my mind. I'm still deciding between the U and the Y ( if anyone has any advice about choosing, let me know). For a little while, I was actually pretty certain that I would try the Y for a year... but then I talked to Lauren Evans. Lauren and I grew up together. Our backyards touch, so for many years, she would hop the fence and we would spend all day climbing trees and organizing neighborhood night games. We were even on the same soccer team. In middle school we would carpool together, and in High School she let me borrow her old prom dresses and would discuss which teachers were the best. Then she went to BYU. In her first class of the first day of college, she met a boy. Next week she is going to marry this boy. This BLOWS my mind. A girl that I grew up with, a girl I look up to and completely admire, is old enough to promise herself to a man for the rest of eternity. After one day she had found that man.... one day at the Y. That is my biggest fear. This may sound irrational, but seriously, if I found that one guy, and he proposed, I'm sure I would say yes, regardless of my age. But what if that is next year? I won't really have lived life, gone on adventures, learned about life's disappointments... But I'll be hitched down to a person and have to responsible. Boys are so lucky that they can go on missions at age 19. They have at least two years where they can discover themselves before they are thrown back into the crazy world of dating. I want to go a mission... but by the time I'm 21, I might not be in a position where I can leave everything.
Oh, by the way, has anyone else noticed all the couples around lately? My ward alone has had 5 weddings in the past few months! Five! And we have a puny sized ward. Not only marriages, but it seems like everyone has a significant other. Well not everyone... but a fair amount of people. Weird! Ah, springtime is the time for lovin'!
Miss Stack

My lost love

My romantic history is actually fairly tragic. The fairy tale relationship that we should have had never happened because certain obstacles got in the way. I shall start with the first moment I saw him. It was August 27, 2006, when I strolled nonchalantly into East High's ceramic's room. I recognized a few friends and sat next to them. I was early, or course, so the bell hadn't rung yet. I was conversing with my friends, when I stopped breathing. In walked the man of my dreams, actually he kind of ran because he was late. Anyways, he was about 6 foot, with blond swoopy hair, a hemp bag slung across one shoulder, a Bob Marley shirt hung loosely on him, and (the very very best part) he had rolled up his pants to mid calf. Right then and there I fell in love. There was no way of turning back. I was in this. He crossed the room and sat (conveniently) in a stool facing me, but three tables over. Because of his innocent face, laid back manner, and rolled up pants, I deemed him Tom Sawyer.

From that day forth, I tried everything in my 16 year old power to get his attention or find out his name. Only, a few months later, did I stumble across it. We were doing name plates in clay, and I circled the room and right behind his stool, I stopped and "adjusted" the tools I was carrying and there, perfectly clear, carved out of the moist clay, in teenage boy handwriting was scrawled "Tyler"... but I still thought of him as Tom. Little over a month after that, I got the courage and I talked to him. He was glazing his coil pot over by the sink. I skillfully found that my hands were dirty, so I made my way over to the sink. I washed my hands.... very very thoroughly, as I was washing it, I turned to Mr. Sawyer and said in my most seductive voice, "Nice pot" He looked up at me and gave me a piercing glance and said "Thank you" in the richest most sincere voice I ever heard.
Well after finding out his name and conversing with him, I went ahead and started planning the wedding. I had everything ready. I overheard him say that he was trying to quit smoking, so I even got a temple date.
But here, like in most perfect love stories, fate interrupted our beautiful love. It was the last day of school, I was standing the back of the auditorium watching the seniors' picture fly by. I watched as the face of my beloved graced the screen for a few seconds. My lovely sister, Miss Karen Stack, witnessed my somber look of shock. I turned to her slowly, stood there for a few minutes in a state of numbness. I could feel my heart breaking, and that's when I started crying. I had no idea that he was a senior. I thought we had time. I mean for goodness sakes, I had only one conversation with him. But my time was all used up. Once I got my yearbook, I spent the rest of the day, trying to find him. I didn't know what I was going to say to him, but I just had to have him sign my yearbook and admire his rolled up pants just one last time. I turned the corner, and just a few feet away from me stood the only man I've ever loved. This was my chance, I squared my shoulders and started walking forward. But, again with the fate thing, a certain teacher stood in the way of my happiness. The teacher drilled me about my brother, and by the time I got away from him, Mr. Sawyer was gone. Forever.
I know I shall never love another as I loved Tom... but one day I might be able to reassemble my shattered heart.
Miss Stack

All about the infamous Miss Garfield...

Unlike Miss Stack, I never possessed the wit or vivacity to live up to a comparison to Elizabeth Bennett.  Oftentimes I live as Emma Woodhouse, scheming and gossiping about the romances of others but never expecting love to find me.  Miss Stack often joins me in these ridiculous plans; she did not err when she announced that we live vicariously.

My friends, however, claim I resemble Mary Bennett in my actions, and I admit they are right.  I watch others in their love affairs but feel far removed, and hide behind my attempts at becoming accomplished.  

But I fear I am sounding too morose.  In reality I see myself in some of every Jane Austen character.  I love laughter like Lydia, reason like Eleanor, and appear shy like Jane.  And outside of the Jane Austen sphere, I live to ski, travel, and for the next adventure.

And with my lovely friends and excellent family, I live in a happily ever after...  

Affectionately yours, 

Miss Garfield

An introduction to Miss Stack

Hello,
I am Miss Stack, a flourishing young lady, who just happened to be born in the wrong time period. If I could relate to one Jane Austen character, it would have to be Elizabeth Bennet because I do enjoy a good laugh at the world. I've even had my own Mr. Collins, (remind me to recount that story later), and perhaps an encounter with a Mr. Wickham. But I'm sure one day my Mr. Darcy will come and completely sweep me off my feet.
As for now, I'm acting as Emma, living vicariously through my friends' relationships and sometimes even meddling ( I really need to stop doing that).
I also feel like I could belong in Sense and Sensibility because I have a best friend who is more of a sister to me (Miss Garfield). I'm not sure which one is Maryanne and which is Eleanor, I think we switch off. Or maybe neither of us is very sensible. Possibly Miss Garfield is Eleanor and I'm Maryanne because Miss Garfield often takes care of me. Regardless, we've stuck by each other through the most disagreeable and agreeable parts of High School.
For the most part, I'm an average girl and a hopeless romantic. I'm always looking forward to the next ball and devouring Jane Austen books, faster than I do certain literature that has to do with Vampires. I do believe in happily ever afters, although they don't all have to end in marriage.
Sincerely,
Miss Stack

Our welcome...

Ladies and Gentlemen, 

We proudly present our blog, an insight into our Jane Austen fantasies as we describe the quaint flirtations and glamorous adventures of high school.  We know that few will see this, save our own four eyes, but if you do happen across it on a day of boredom, please overlook our eccentricities and still be our friends.