The list

Soon after Ryan and I broke up, I was given advice to make a list of all the qualities I want in a man. 

(A little later I was given advice to be more positive. I almost wrote a raving blog post that would have been titled "The Arrogance of Optimism." Instead I decided to be a bit more mature and confront the person who offended me. Thankfully she was super sweet and understanding, and I feel like our relationship really benefited from it. But man, you would have read some opinions if we hadn't talked.) 

At the time, I felt like the advice was given in poor taste and at a bad time. It was a simple solution to my loss--almost like a band-aid to internal bleeding. Just...unhelpful.

(I sometimes really hate all the band-aids people dish out because they don't know what to say. You know when you pour out your soul on someone's lap and then they just shrug their shoulders and tell you to pray about it? How invalidating can you get?? (Not that prayer is ever bad advice. It's more the delivery of the unsolicited advice that bugs me. Even if you don't know what to say, you owe it to the person venting to stay connected and respond with your heart.)) 

I almost wrote a blog post (this is my outlet, you guys) where I planned to take the advice seriously, and then I decided to be act mature... again. I feel like I missed out on a great learning opportunity. So without further ado, here is my list:

My Future Man <3<3<3

1. Athletic/buff/all muscle. I really dig guys who go to the gym, like, all the time. I think they pretty much embody true masculinity.

2. TALL - like, super tall. So tall that my head falls below his nipples. I dream of straining my neck for the rest of my whole life just to glance up his nostrils. I really love that double chin that naturally forms when tall men bend low enough to kiss me.

3. Fluent in at least three languages. I think that's a pretty modest proposal considering that I'm at the Lord's school. It's not all that uncommon, and I figure you have to be pretty lazy if you're not studying another language on top of the one you learned on your mission. (Because everyone worth knowing didn't serve state-side, obviously). 

4. Super duper spiritual. I really wanna marry someone who is going to be an apostle someday. I think my self-esteem would go way up if my spouse was recognized as a spiritual giant. 

5. Prepared to make lots of money. Speaking of being recognized for someone else's work, I think I need to be with someone who is studying to become a doctor. Then I can I can send out Christmas cards with the title "Dr. and Mrs." to all my less fortunate poor and undistinguished friends. BETTER YET--what if he was a business major!? After thinking it over, I think I'd rather marry a future CEO. I think that would make for amazing dinner conversation (especially when politics came up). And maybe I could provide counseling to the overworked interns he employs. Match made in heaven.

6. Really musical. Almost like a prodigy in all the important instruments (piano, guitar, singing,... um... ukulele. I think that's all). You might call me a hypocrite for having really amateur skills, but it totes happens all the time to people I know. I think it could happen to me. 

7. Attractive, but not so attractive that people think, "Her?" You know what I'm saying? So, attractive, but less attractive than me.

8. Ambidextrous. Just because. 

A. Has the same interests as me. It would suck to have to learn about new things that I don't already know about. How tedious would that be!

10. Already rich and able to provide for me. That way he can pay off all my school debt and we can start having babies right away.  

Okay, I am hating this straw-man character the more I write, so I think I'm done with this list. Even though I might know some people who feel these ways, I'm not being completely fair to their views and opinions. You could be aiming for an apostle and totally deserve to feel that way as a virtuous woman nigh unto perfection. I don't really understand why you'd want to have all that pressure in your life, but you're probably a better person than me.

You could also be naturally attracted to men who study medicine or business. Perhaps you came from that socioeconomic class. It's only natural to want the same things you had as a child. 

And it's pretty normal to be attracted to musically talented men. I totally crushed on a guy who played guitar just because he played guitar really well and he was attractive. It's not really on my list, but the charm of musical talent is hard to ignore.

Also, it's hot when guys speak multiple languages. (Sorry for throwing you under the bus earlier, state-side missionaries hahaha. And I realize that state-side missionaries aren't all English speaking. In fact, my good friend who used to live next door served state-side and speaks more than three languages). Also, I don't actually know anyone who has that quality on their list. Someone probably does.

And I can see how it might seem cool to date really tall guys. I once dated this guy that was 6'2" and it really did strain my neck. Also it was awkward to hold hands. But it was kind of cool for the first little bit. We adjusted and mainly kissed sitting. (ALSO, it's hard to ballroom dance with guys who are a lot taller than you. Just throwing in another plug for men of average heights.)

I can also see how it would be difficult to date a man who was much more attractive than you. There's a lot more social pressure for women to be attractive, and I've heard that reaction so many times in my life when a woman scores a guy who is more attractive than her. While a man can walk around proudly with a more attractive woman (a trophy) women can't really do the same thing with men.

And muscular-ness can be really attractive sometimes. I tend not to connect with frequent gym-goers, but maybe someday I will. I'm open-minded haha.

I just wasted a couple hours. And a little extra because I suck at editing. 

Lord, I cannot be comforted; help thou my choice to not be comforted

I was reading in Ether the other day about Coriantumr and his last-minute repentance. Before his people (as well as the opposing army) were obliterated from years of bloodshed and pointless war, he was told to repent of his iniquities or his entire household would be slaughtered and he would be the lone survivor to witness it. He writes an epistle to Shiz (the incorrigible little shiz) and pleads with him to end the war to save the last remains of the people. Shiz says he would spare the people if Coriantumr would turn himself in. Coriantumr is too much of a coward to do the right thing.

The chapter that precedes his change of heart describes the disgusting consequences of continuing to fight stupid battles.

"And so great and lasting had been the war, and so long had been the scene of bloodshed and carnage, that the whole face of the land was covered with the bodies of the dead. And so swift and speedy was the war that there was none left to bury the dead... leaving the bodies of both men, women, and children strewed upon the face of the land, to become a prey to the worms of the flesh. And the scent thereof went forth upon the face of the land, even upon all the face of the land; wherefore the people became troubled by day and by night, because of the scent thereof." Ether 14: 21-23

I'm glad Coriantumr was finally convinced that he needed to repent once it started to smell really bad, but it's crazy that it took him that long! "He saw that there had been slain by the sword already nearly two millions of his people, and also their wives and their children... and his soul mourned and refused to be comforted."

I can't imagine what that would be like to realize that you are the cause of so much death. I felt for him when I read that. I think this moment in Coriantumr's life captures the sincere desire to have mountains cover oneself for shame ("we would fain be glad if we could command the rocks and mountains to fall upon us to hide us from his presence." Alma 12:14) As I thought about his guilt and shame, I noticed the wording "refused to be comforted."

I might be reading into minute details of a small phrase, but is it possible that God was trying to comfort him? Is it possible that God--though it was too late to repent and not reap the consequences of his disobedience--still loved his son and was reaching out still?

How often do I refuse to be comforted? I might beg and plead for reassurances during hard times, but is there a part of me that really wants to feel the weight of disappointment and loss before I will let myself be comforted?

I was reminded of Elder Bednar's most recent talk last conference "Therefore They Hushed Their Fears." He basically says that we need to have faith and choose to hush our own fears. The Lord has no control over what we choose to do with our fears, and he cannot assist us if we do not first quiet our fears.

I agree that it's ultimately our choice to be comforted, but I do think that God can sometimes give us an extra boost of confidence even when we're choosing to be inconsolable. If the thought of, "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief,"is enough to receive the warmest, most loving reassurance of God's presence and love, I think our Heavenly Father sometimes lifts us out of our despair with something as small as, "Lord, I cannot be comforted; help thou my choice to not be comforted." Even a half-decision or the beginning of the choice to hush our own fears can be enough for him to reach out and help us out of our self-made helplessness. Then it is our choice to keep with it and move forward.

And then if we dig another hole, he'll still reach out to lift us up again. No matter how many times I've given in to despair, he's not left me comfortless. Often he'll let us spend time in the pitiful hole we've made because we keep climbing back in, but he'll keep coming back because he's our father and he still loves us even if we're all masochists sometimes.

I love our merciful God! It's so wonderful to know that we're never alone and that there will always be one perfect being who will never give up on us even when we give up on ourselves! I love the story of the prodigal son and the story of Alma the younger and all the stories about repentance and forgiveness and grace and mercy. And I love this painting:

I don't know what else to say even though I want to keep professing my love for my Heavenly Father. Just know that I know he lives, and that I love him and trust him. In Jesus' name, amen.

On a slightly less spiritual note (only slightly though), this is my new favorite song for the week. I think it applies really well. (Though it probably applies well to all of my blog posts hahaha).

Performance anxiety? Body issues? What's the real problem here?

It's interesting how doing therapy can teach you so much about yourself and how poorly you practice the principles you teach your clients. There are many things that I need to work on to be a better human, but for now, I will share one new nugget of self-discovery...

I am not comfortable in my own body. 

It's not a body image issue; it's a social issue. I slouch all the time. I can't use as much space as other people. I'm really uncomfortable dancing in casual settings. I'm most comfortable in baggy sweatshirts. I can't call out to people when I see them walking by on campus for fear of not yelling loud enough and drawing attention to my inability to raise my voice. I can't freaking project when an acting teacher or director tells me to speak louder. I can't even raise my voice when I'm doing therapy with a group of rowdy kids. And then the staff look at me with these sympathetic eyes, and yell at the kids to pay attention to this timid-looking intern who can't speak loud enough for a group.

When I was in middle school, my social anxiety was so severe that I was afraid of getting up to sharpen my pencil. I would imagine everything that could go wrong (e.g., "What if I trip?"  "What if I drop my pencil and I have to bend over to pick it up?" "What if I forget how to use a sharpener when I get there and I have to ask someone for help?" "What if I suddenly get a wedgie while I'm walking up to sharpen my pencil and somehow that wedgie is noticeable through my pants and then someone notices it and makes fun of me and then the whole class laughs at me and then I become wedgie girl for the rest of my life?"). I'm not even exaggerating.

So it's strange that I went into theatre OR that I went into a field that requires a lot of social interaction. 

One time, I was in a mask club, and I was told that I needed to yell at another character in a more believable way. The director was really reasonable, other cast members were encouraging, and the cast member who was the object of my character's anger was trying to provoke me into yelling at him (I think his method was the worst motivator for me).

I tried again. Again, they said I needed to yell louder. I yelled louder. They still didn't believe it. I put what I thought was everything into my next attempt. It wasn't enough, and then people started getting impatient. My director (and dear friend) kindly explained to me how to be angry and yell convincingly as best she could. 

Then the tears came. I can't remember if they actually made it out of my eyelids, but the room fell silent and my friends looked awkwardly from me to each other and then to the floor. It was so embarrassing. My director friend was merciful enough to let us have a break so I could compose myself.

While yelling (or dancing) in general is hard for me, I think what pushed me over the edge was that social pressure. I started to feel like I was walking up to a pencil sharpener with a visible wedgie. 

Even if I don't have to yell at people for a living, I've noticed that my tendency to hide is still an issue in everyday life. It's an issue with the manipulative group of kids I work with. They see my quiet, self-contained demeanor as an opportunity to manipulate me. The other therapists have told me to somehow prove to the kids that they can't pull the wool over my eyes. I just don't know how to change my physicality to reflect that. I'm not afraid of contradicting people or giving kids consequences for bad behavior--I'm just uncomfortable using my body in a way that makes me look assertive.

Does that even make sense?

I feel like I missed an opportunity to grow out of this during my undergrad. I had more performance opportunities than most people, and I was surrounded by weirdos who perfectly modeled how to be at ease in one's own skin. 

Does anyone know of an improv group? Maybe exposure therapy is what I need.

I saw this painting at the Springville art museum the other day. I feel like it reveals the contrived nature of theatre while still preserving the magic and potential felt backstage. It gave me chills. 

I also saw this painting and laughed out loud at the description. I really hope the artist was trying to be funny--especially with this guy's melodramatic pose and his chic moose sweater. Either way, it's still a cool, pixely image.

Once upon a trespassing day

Once upon a time my friend Jordan and I explored a nearly demolished building on campus. Behold:

We entered from this window right here (after clearing some glass):

This is what we first saw inside after entering from the window above:

 

Then this:

We learned that they didn't completely clear the building of school materials.

It was so cool. I think we would have tried exploring more of this section of the building if we had brought breathing masks, sturdier shoes, and thick, working gloves. As it was, we were unable to conduct a deep search with duck feeding attire (i.e., the attire worn on duck feeding dates). 

Far from being ready to stop exploring, I had this brilliant idea to continue our adventure by scaling the second story of the building from the outside. Jordan agreed to come along.

We exited the building from the same window we entered, carefully avoiding the glass and placing our feet on a sturdy bent wire curving upward from the ground. Jordan helped me out a lot for this part. As I stood there awkwardly trying to help him (and not really doing anything helpful), I noticed this red-headed man watching me from outside the fence. At first I thought he was just curious so I waved and smiled, but as he kept staring, I got the impression he didn't approve. Jordan assumed he was someone he knew, but when he called out to him, he quickly walked away in a huff. 

I didn't think much of it as we walked to the other side of the building and tried to climb to the top. I noticed other people staring at us outside the fence of another portion of the demolition site. Before we were able to make it to the second story, the BYU police came. 

Here I was, seconds before they called to us to come over.

It turns out that that guy I saw totally ratted us out. 

WHAT A BUTT-HEAD! 

Who DOES that?!

Seriously! 

I would have loved to see his stupid, judgmental face when we only received a warning (it was a close call, guys--Jordan did a good job at placating those cops (and reminding them that there weren't any signs on the fence telling us that we couldn't explore the area)). So take that, you big dummy! 

I'm so so so so glad we only received a warning. I'm also glad the police officers were really nice. I probably would have cried if they yelled at us. I'm ALSO glad we didn't get hurt climbing through bent metal wires and broken glass (and piles of brick and cement that could have shifted under our feet and left us vulnerable to sharper objects underneath). Yeah, that was pretty stupid.

But what a cool adventure! I think this will count for my goal of climbing the life science building.