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.