My Former and Future Book-Loving Self

I grew up reading. My whole family is filled with book lovers. In a house without television for 7+ years, it was inevitable that this uncoordinated little girl would choose to stay indoors to read a book. Or to scour the library shelves weekly for new books to read. Inevitable I tell you.
 
However, once I hit college, I discovered the power of the Internet and the expanse known as YouTube and Hulu. To add to it, I was forced to read—every day. And not interesting things, mind you. The tedious textbooks filled with science jargon and boring theories. Even the books for my major and minor were, at times, difficult take on. In short, this once devote book lover came to hate reading.
 
It’s not something I’m proud of. But it’s a fact.
 
Ever since, I’ve struggled to rekindle my old love.
 
And struggled I have.
 
I think I read five books last year. Maybe.
 
My heart aches because I know that my Goodreads to-read list is at 136 books and counting. I know that I will never be able to read all the books that I want to in this lifetime. And new classics are being written every year. Nevermind the fact that I should probably re-read some books so I can actually appreciate them now that I'm older. It's all so overwhelming!
 
Have you ever watched The Twilight Zone? There’s an episode called “Time Enough At Last.” It may be one of the saddest episodes. I encourage you to watch it because I love The Twilight Zone, so I won’t ruin the ending. But just know that the ending is truly heartbreaking for a book lover. And at times I can relate to poor Henry Bemis who just wants to read in peace, dangit!
 
So, in an effort to get my butt in gear in regards to reading, I’m declaring to the world—and by world, I mean my small blog audience of five people—that I’m determined to read at least 25 books in 2013, 20 required and 5 variables*.
 
Here’s my list of 20 must reads for this year.
 
1. Mere Christianity – C.S. Lewis
2. The Screwtape Letters – C.S. Lewis
3. The Infinite Atonement – Tad R. Callister
4. Tuesdays with Morrie – Mitch Albom
5. Peter Pan – J.M. Barrie
6. Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption – Laura Hillenbrand
7. The Scarlett Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne
8. Ender’s Game – Orson Scott Card
9. The Diary of a Young Girl – Anne Frank
10. Rebecca – Daphne du Maurier
11. Man’s Search for Meaning – Victor Frankl
12. The Glass Castle – Jeannette Walls
13. Devil in the White City – Erik Larson
14. 7 Habits of Highly Effective People – Stephen R. Covey
15. The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett
16. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
17. The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Built a Village in the Forest, and Saved 1,200 Jews – Peter Duffy
18. Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy**
19. The Sky is Everywhere – Jandy Nelson***
20. The Fault in Our Stars – John Green


*I'm up for suggestions! Befriend me on Goodreads!
**I actually started this book last summer but only got about 40% of the way through. I'm determined to finish it this year.
**Don't judge me. I think I need some YA fiction somewhere in this list.

The Post in Which I'm a Grouchy Old Woman

I like music. I like music a lot. I also like attending concerts. However, some concert experiences are marred by stupid and annoying people.

I’m no stranger to pop/rock concerts. My first concert was Maroon 5, with Sara Bareilles opening for them. It was the day after I turned 16. Needless to say, I felt so cool.

Later that summer, I saw Chicago with my mom. Yes, that Chicago. Gotta love rocking out with all the baby boomers.

My mom had to bail on the Fleetwood Mac concert, so my dad took me. I remember him with his back turned and fingers in his ears. I found out just last week that he did, in fact, enjoy the concert. However, he has sensitive classical ears, hence the look of pain throughout the guitar and drum solos.

Since then, I’ve seen James Taylor, Billy Joel (!!), Mika, The Fray (with Jack’s Mannequin), Snow Patrol (with Plain White T’s), Modest Mouse, She & Him, SHeDAISY (not sure if this really counts since half the crowd was children, but I’ll include it), and Ellie Goulding.

At the James Taylor concert, there were a group of college-aged kids, who were probably drunk. They were dancing and singing and yelling during James Taylor’s performances. As an avid James Taylor fan, my mom was irritated that they were so disrespectful during the songs. She didn’t understand why the kids were yelling during songs. At the time, I dismissed because I thought she obviously didn’t understand the way concerts work.

However, at the Ellie Goulding concert this past weekend, I think I agree with my mom, which brings me to the topic of this post.

I hate teenagers at concerts.

Actually, this probably isn’t limited to teenagers. It’s Gen Yers.

I hate Gen Yers at concerts.

After this weekend’s adventure, I feel like I’m a grouchy grandma (not a commentary on my mother, I swear) among my fellow Gen Yers.* Please allow me to complain a bit about kids these days as if I were the irritable old woman who everyone's afraid of.

1. The Confessioner
I do not think it is appropriate to yell and scream throughout songs. By yelling “I love you, Ellie!” during a song, you ruin the otherwise poignant song. She isn’t listening to you. She’s listening to her band and trying desperately to sing (in tune) because you paid to see her perform live. Also, she probably already knows that you love her because you are at the concert.**

1a. The Screamer
It is disrespectful and selfish to scream when the performer has explicitly asked the audience for quiet during a song. You are not thinking of others and their concert experience; you are only thinking of yourself. And you wonder why people hate your generation... (Side note: This was for Ellie’s cover of Elton John’s “Your Song,” which is one of my favorite songs. Thanks for ruining it, screamer.)

2. The Wannabe
Related to number one, I find it terribly annoying when people treat the concert like karaoke sing-a-long. I’m not talking about, singing along to yourself. I’m talking about yelling the lyrics, off key, like you’re in your car alone. I’m sorry; I thought I paid to hear Ms. Goulding. No? Oh well, let me know when you and your friends tour next, and I’ll be sure to grab some tickets for that chorus of screaming cats.

3. The Packer
In standing room/general admission concerts, we’re all packed in like sardines. We get that. That’s what we expect. However, when some kid makes the comment “If you’re that close to the stage, you should not be able to put your hands up like that” that is not an excuse to get your friends to make a massive push toward the front. I was comfortable up until that point. Then I just had an annoying shorty with her shoulder unabashedly rammed into my back for the next hour. Not cool, dude. Not. Cool.

So, if you ever go to a concert, please be considerate of the other concert-goers. They paid good money to experience the concert. Please let them.

And since you’ve made it through this rant, I’ll leave you with the music of St. Lucia, the opening act for Ellie Goulding. Think 80s electronic meets African beats meets 2013. Seriously fantastic.
 

My favorite is "Closer Than This," but "September" is also great for a more dance music feel. It will probably be their break-out single.


*In all likelihood, I probably will be that old neighbor yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.
**I realize that this was probably made worse because of the setting we were in. If we were in an outdoor or stadium venue, I don't think this would have as bad. But it's still an issue.

Facebook Rant #1

I’ve thought about deleting my Facebook account several times. I once disabled it for a bit. A whole 24 hours, I think. I meant to go longer, but I got bored.

Usually my reasoning stems from one thing: it can be so incredibly depressing.

Studies have shown that Facebook can lead to depression. People see everyone else’s “perfect lives,” the lives they lead online, which are filled with trips, adventure, and non-stop fun.

But that’s only a small part of my reasoning.

Yes, I still get jealous of people traveling, spending every weekend with friends, or…uh…getting engaged. I think that applies to everyone, right?

You see, I’m a passive Facebook user. I prefer to watch than to participate. I will gladly leaf through dozens of pictures from someone’s trip, but I will hesitantly put up my own pictures—especially when I’m not sure the people in those pictures want them out in the cyber universe.

This is a result of my insecurities, which are many. I wrote a post about one of them once. Maybe I’ll get around to posting it.

Back to Facebook. Though I’m more of a passive user, sometimes I try to interact on Facebook, but I feel like I end up as that Facebook friend. You know, the annoying one who says something that is really stupid and kills the conversation. And then you hover over the unfriend button because you're not really sure why this person is even in your friends list.

Facebook is yet another opportunity for rejection. A rejection of friendship of sorts. Whenever you make a comment, you are trying to be a part of the conversation. However, when you aren’t acknowledged, it feels like rejection. You have been ignored by others in the conversation.

 

Sometimes it feels like when you’re at a party and you desperately try to be a part of the conversation but then you fail miserably when you say something like “Potatoes are my favorite thing ever” when everyone else was talking about Spider-Man reboot #12. Everyone stares and you're outed as awkward in front of people who don't really know you and don't have evidence to prove otherwise.

 

But then it's even more awkward to delete your awkward comment because everyone has seen it already.*

And when that rejection happens, you're just poor Andy Bernard. And that’s depressing.

 

 

*This instance may or may not have happened this week. And it may or may not have been on the post of a guy I've been slightly crushing on on and off for several years. Granted my comment was related, but by the time it posted, it was not related to the current conversation. Moral of the story: no late-night commenting on people's posts who are not close friends. It's just awkward.

Jackson, Jordan; Potato, Potahto

Remember this niece? Well, I have another gem of a conversation.

Her older sister, who is now officially a teenager but has been acting the part for over seven years, apparently is a music snob.

But not in a good way.

In a way that makes me want to shake some sense into her.

Or sit down and cry at what society and music is doing to today’s youth.

She abhors anything that is not country or Taylor Swift.*

No, I’m not sure how I’m related. I think some genetics went terribly wrong. It may be a defect, passed down from her father** but is ten times worse because she’s a young girl in America today.

I should be glad she isn't a Beibs fan, right?

No matter, I’m determined to similarly educate my niece(s) to the finer things in life, namely good music.

But I digress.

My seven-year-old niece, her teenage sister, and I somehow got on the subject of Michael Jackson. I believe the seven-year-old brought it up. Her older sister promptly told me that she didn’t like his music, which I don’t think is even possible. But that was after the following conversation.

Me: Do you even know who Michael Jackson is?

Teenage Niece: No.

Seven-Year-Old Niece: Yes.

Me: Really? Good for you. Who is he?

SYON: Yeah, he’s a basketball player.

If I wasn’t in a small clothing store at that moment, I probably would have laughed a lot louder and longer than I did. Which would be a lot.

It reminds me of the time my older sister (who was at least 16 at the time) casually mentioned that Louis Armstrong walked on moon.

Yes, he walked on the moon, trumpet in hand.

I like to think he was also singing “What a Wonderful World.”

*Taylor Swift is categorized by herself because I believe TSwift has abandoned whatever country roots she may have had as is evident by her last album.

**At least her father likes other genres, specifically rock, and can appreciate decent music. Nevermind the fact that we had to educate him on how to correctly pronounce Chopin and Tchaikovsky when he joined the family. He fits in just fine now.

Move On

I had a dream the other night.

In this dream, I got what I wanted.

But when I got it, I realized that I didn’t want it anymore.

In fact, I was disgusted by what I thought I wanted.
 

It broke my heart.

And it breaks my heart.

Because this thing that I wanted was real. I’ve held on to this hope that in some universe it will work out. That it will happen. That it should happen.

But this dream was a poignant look at what my wants should be. And how little I know and trust myself.

You see, my issue is that I’m afraid to make mistakes.

I’m afraid to make mistakes and have to live with the consequences. This is why I stick to what I know—to what I’m sure of. I hate making decisions because I’m afraid of choosing the wrong thing. I don’t often go with my gut feeling—I leave my heart and feelings out of it. I go with what makes sense. Reason. Logic. So that makes me research the topic to death before coming to a conclusion. I want to see all my options before moving forward.

But I’ve been coming to realize that you can’t leave your heart out of it. Your gut feeling is the best deciding factor. It’s a winning combination to have your gut and your head agree.

For this thing that I want(ed), my heart says yes. But my head—that voice of reason—only says yes halfway…and only on some days. I knew it then, but I suppressed any doubt, telling myself that I was just afraid. But either way, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to lose, or I’m afraid to move forward.

So, here I am with desire to move forward and yet a desire to go back, which sounds a lot worse when I type it out.

But I know I have to move forward, to move on.

My Superhero Niece

Most people love babies. Me? Not so much. I like kids when they’re older, more like three or four. Why? Because that’s when it’s fun. That’s when I can be more myself—my teasing and sarcastic self.

Some people might say that that’s mean, but I view it as treating the kid more like an adult. I treat them how I do most other people. My sisters probably don’t appreciate me teaching their children teasing and sarcasm at such a young age, but they’re going to learn sooner or later. And I’d rather them learn it from me. I’m pretty dang good at it.

I recently experienced a pure joy in teasing children. I’ve been an aunt for 13 years but only just experienced this situation (that I can remember). And I loved it.

I was talking to my niece, who was nearly seven at the time, about going to an amusement park. She explained to me that my family decided not to go to the park because it was raining.

Me: “Why didn’t you just make it stop?”

Niece: “Well, I lost my power.”
Me: “Your power? Your power to stop the rain?”
Niece: “Yeah, I lost it.”
Me: “Well, you’d better find it quick!”
Niece: “I did. I got it back.”
Me: “Oh, good. So, you’re not going to let it rain tomorrow?”
Niece: “Yeah. It rained a little today. I let it rain a little today, but it won’t rain tomorrow.”

Apparently my niece is Storm. Awesome.

Just Send a Genie My Way

If I happened to come across a genie, who granted me three wishes, I think I’ve figured out what I’d wish for.

1) To be able to eat anything and never get fat.

2) To be able to teleport.

3) To be able to sing like Diana Krall.

Yep. No money. No fame. No wishes for more wishes…because Genie and Aladdin taught me that that doesn’t work.

I think the first two are pretty self explanatory. The third one is one I just recently decided on. It’s probably an unusual choice, but if you heard her voice, I think you’d understand.

Now there are many great singers out there. You have your powerhouses like Whitney, Celine, Adele, Aretha, Mariah, and Beyonce. Then you have your pop stars: Katy, Kelly, Sara, and even Karmin. And then the more classical and vocal standards like Barbara, Bette, Lea, and Judy.

However, I think I’ll pass.

While, they’re all great and I love their music, I think I’d pick Diana Krall’s voice over any of them. It’s just something about that low, jazzy, sultry sound that makes me want it. To flaunt it. And never stop singing.

We Shall Overcome (the Awkwardness of Childhood)

I’ve received a lot of compliments in my lifetime. I’m not bragging; I’m just stating a truth. We all receive a lot of compliments as we go through life.

But have you ever received a compliment that is just…out of the norm? Not something you, or anyone else, are typically complimented on.

You know, something like:

“You have really nice eyebrows. They’re like a model’s.”

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

The first time I received this compliment, I was about 16. It was at a Mary Kay party that was filled with middle-aged women from my church. I think I was the only one there under the age of 40. The host told everyone that I had perfect, model eyebrows. Everyone turned and nodded in agreement. I thought it was just because I still had my youth.

Shortly after that, one of my close friends complimented me on them. We were talking during lunch, and she stops mid-conversation and says, “I really like your eyebrows, by the way.”

Since then I’ve had even more friends mention the modelness of my eyebrows. And it's still just as awkward as the first time.

I was reminded of the awkwardness of this compliment a few weeks ago when my dermatologist and her assistant both said I had eyebrows like a model. But it wasn’t just a quick, “You have nice eyebrows.” It was a minute-long discussion about my eyebrows. And I’m just sitting there, not knowing what to say while they look at and talk about me.

I still don't quite understand the fascination with my eyebrows. However, what I do know is that my eyebrows didn’t use to look good. In fact, they were horrible. Like, I want to destroy every picture of my sixth and seventh grade self. Yes, they were that bad.

Let me explain. 

As I approached my teenager years, I became more aware of those hairs that were making me look like Frida. ("If Brooke Shields married Groucho Marx, their child would have your eyebrows!") My three older sisters no longer lived at home, so I looked to my mother for inspiration.

Well, my mother has always had…interesting eyebrows. I know that now. I’m sure they fit in just fine in the 70s, but now they just look like an upside down Nike swoosh. My 13-year-old self didn’t think to ask for help in shaping her eyebrows or consulting her sisters; I was too independent for that. So my mother’s eyebrows it was.

May you never see a picture of me in sixth or seventh grade.

I was the epitome of an awkward middle schooler: long straggly hair, braces, and bad eyebrows.

Luckily, my sisters intervened and made me grow them out. And then my sister shaped them wrong. So I had to grow them out again and let my other sister do them.

But now I have eyebrows on par with Christie Brinkley, Tyra Banks, and Heidi Klum!

Moral of the story: You can overcome anything! Including bad eyebrows! Also, everyone’s awkward in middle school. It’s a rite of passage.

Next Time, I'll Put a Ring on It

Not too long ago, I went to a movie by myself. I’ve wanted to do it for a while, but for some reason, attending a movie seemed less like an independent thing to do and more like a loser thing to do. I mean, I see those middle-aged men who are sitting alone with their jumbo popcorn and drink in the theater. (And why are there never women sitting alone?) Plus, I live in an area that is highly populated with college kids, some of which I still know. College kids who are usually around my age and go to movies with not one or two friends, but a whole group. Do you understand the social risk that is associated with going to the movie theater alone?

But after not finding anyone nerdy/stupid enough to pay to see the worst movie ever made, I decided that it was my chance to embrace my lonerism and venture into a world that few people dare to go.

The theater was rather full, so I chose a seat in the back row, on the end. There was a guy, who was easily in his 30s, sitting a seat away, also alone. (I later found out that he had chosen not to sit with the people he came with.) I didn’t pursue a conversation with him when he tried to start one because I just wanted to watch the movie and be otherwise invisible.

Somehow, between the beginning of the movie and its end, that seat between us disappeared (no, he wasn't hitting on me; we got an extra person in the row). And then I inadvertently told him that I was married.

I admit that I have always fantasized about faking being engaged/married in order to avoid any unwanted advances—which would be just about any advances—but those fantasies usually involved a fake ring and walking around BYU campus.

However, at the end of the movie, he turned to me as I was packing up and tried to make small talk.

Guy: Hi, I’m Brandon.* What’s your name?

Me: Hi, I’m Mary.  *standing to leave*

Guy: Are you Mary?

Me: Yes. (Wait, didn't I just say that?)

Guy: Oh, that’s really nice.

At least that’s what I thought he asked. But as I walked away, it dawned on me. He wasn’t confirming my name. He was confirming my relationship status.

He was confirming it in the boldest, most direct way possible: “Are you married?”

Sorry, man, I’m really not married. But I’m also really not interested. I’m sorry I lied to you.

However, I think it’s hilarious that I did.

*This is definitely not his real name. I forget his name. I forgot it two seconds after he told me. That’s how uninterested I was.

I Did Not Major in Spirit Fingers

Once upon a time, I worked as a cashier in a grocery store. This grocery store was located in a part of the country known for its hospitality and somewhat fake niceties and the store reflected this. This meant I had to talk to people and act nice. Definitely not me.

For the most part, I enjoyed working at the store. I hated my uniform, which they have recently changed to something more attractive than the blue elastic-banded mom pants, white-collared shirt, and teal vest I had to wear. But I actually liked the variety of people we had come in.

I once carded an NFL player who didn't have his ID. I had no idea who he was, but my store manager came up front to vouch for him. My employees had a good laugh about that for a week.

Another time a lady complained about the girl in the aisle who misinformed her about a special. She, however, did not realize that the cashier girl was the same girl.

But then there was this lady. She and her guy were probably mid- to late-twenties. Somehow we got on the subject of what my college plans were. The conversation went a bit like this:

Lady: "Where are you going to school?"
Me: "Brigham Young University."
Lady: "They have a school named that?"
Me: "Yeah, it's in Utah."
Lady: "Huh. I thought that was just the name of that movie." Walks away.

Just to clarify, I did not attend Bring It On University.

Oh the Irony

Consider the following situation:

A person refuses to remove anyone from their Facebook friends list because it will send the message that the deletee means nothing to the deleter—that they have no value.

That same person ignores multiple messages and phone calls from another person. No contact. Nothing.

...

Does anyone else see the irony?

However, no matter how much I think about it, no matter how much I know I should do it, I just can’t bring myself to do anything about it.

Source

An American in London

I have a new life plan.

Yes, it’s true. Two years after graduation and I think I have finally figured out my life.

The details are a little hazy—okay, really hazy—but it’s going to be awesome.

Ready?

I'm moving to England.

I’m moving to England and getting my masters.

It’s a done deal. And by done deal, I mean I thought of it (with help from my co-workers) last Thursday and it sounded perfect.

Do I know when? Where? How? Or even what I’ll get a masters in? No. Those are minor details. But it’s gonna happen; don’t even doubt it.

There’s more to the plan, but that’s for a select few to know.

I'll take afternoon tea here once a month.

I'll traipse about the country of my ancestors...which is pretty much all of England...and Ireland...and Scotland.

 

Everyone will visit me and we'll go see this.

Okay, fine. I’ll tell you the rest of my plan. But I swear I’m not as silly (or girlie) as this sounds. If you do laugh, please don't do it in front of me. I just may cry if you do. Or punch you in the face. Or both.

I’m moving to England and getting my masters and marrying an English guy* who:
  • will have an awesome accent (my PA accent will totally seal the deal for him);
  • will think I'm hilarious because he gets my dry humor (and I'll think he's hysterical);
  • will iron my shirts (I’ll take out the trash);
  • will give me red-headed little girls (but he'll have brown hair, so this might get tricky);
  • and will have the last name “Haven” (so I can name my our son C.K. Dexter Haven).

Oh, and he’ll have good teeth. (I know he's out there!)

Now if only I can figure out how to fund living in England while earning a masters. But my eternal salvation is worth any amount of debt…right? Pretty sure I heard that from a GA.


*I would also settle for any of the following: Christian Bale, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, or Milo Ventimiglia.

9 Reasons Guys Should Date Independent Girls

Last night I got asked out.

And by asked out, I mean my co-worker/co-worker’s friend set me up. And the guy called to formally ask me out.

In the six-minute conversation, said guy made a comment about me being pretty independent.

Uh-oh.

After we hung up, I was thinking that I probably should have better hidden that little tidbit until at least after the first date. Or second.

But this morning, I changed my mind. There is nothing wrong with a girl being independent. (Okay, fine. Yes, there are some issues, but I’m working on them. And to list all the problems would make this post even longer.) But, guys shouldn’t be afraid of independent girls. In fact, they should go after them. And here’s why:

1. Independent girls know themselves. Independent girls know who they are. We are comfortable in our own skin. We have opinions. We probably value our education. This is what makes us independent. We don’t necessarily look to others for validation. This doesn’t mean that we don’t need validation or that we don’t have insecurities—everyone has those. However, an independent girl generally has figured out how to cope. This is the basis of many of the other points on the list, but it’s important.
2. Independent girls don’t need to live by mom and dad. We may want to live by mom and dad, but a truly independent girl doesn’t need to. Some may even need to not live by family. We can live across the country or world. Chances are we already do.
3. Independent girls can go shopping by themselves. Now, I know some guys don’t mind going shopping, but I think that’s mostly because they enjoy the company rather than the actual act of shopping. (But really, who likes to wait and wait outside a dressing room?) However, independent girls are capable of walking into a store and trying on things without someone else. We may enjoy having other people there for a second opinion, but it’s not necessary.
4. Independent girls probably won’t send you to the store for tampons, pads, or the like. This is most likely because we’re convinced you’ll get the wrong thing anyway. Why? Because you’re a guy and don’t know the difference between light, heavy, wings, or no wings. We’ll save you a trip down that aisle. (See about 1:20-2:00 of this clip.)
5. Independent girls can entertain themselves. Don’t want to see the latest chick flick? That’s fine. We can go by ourselves or get our friends to go with us. You want to hang out with the boys for the night? That’s fine too. We’d rather spend it with you, but we also need time to ourselves, so we won't mind if you spend some time with the guys/watch sports/play video games—no grudges.
6. Independent girls have a plan. They generally know what they want out of life, a relationship, or what have you. With you in the picture, the plan might (and probably should) change, but we may hold onto the goals of writing a book or going to law school or moving out of state. Goals may be added that we didn’t seriously consider before—like marriage or not dating a schmuck again.
7. Independent girls will find a way. Maybe this one just applies to me, but I think independent girls will try to fix the problem first. If the sink is acting up, we’ll probably search Google first for an answer before reaching for the phone book. Sure, we may turn the problem over to you, but we won’t mind taking a stab at it. (Yes, I see the issue of hurt feelings if we happen to fix the problem after you are not able to.)
8. Independent girls can be happy in or out of a relationship. This is the key to being ready for a relationship anyway. If you cannot be happy by yourself, a relationship will never be able to fill that void. Independent girls have this down. However, sometimes people (both girls and guys) will take this attitude to mean that independent girls do not need a significant other. It’s true we don’t need one, but it’s more that we recognize that another person is not essential to our happiness. This does not mean that we don’t want to be in a relationship. Many of us still want to have someone to share our life with, but until that guy comes along, we’ll be just fine.
9. Independent girls are in a relationship because they want to be. Going along with the last point, we generally don’t date because we need to be in a relationship. Like I said, we can be happy out of one. This means that when we are in a relationship, it’s because we want to be. In addition, if the relationship just isn’t working for us, we’ll end it.

Like I said, my independence is something I’m working on--not so much that I'm giving it up, but I'm trying to allow others to help me. (I enjoy helping others, so why not let someone else have the pleasure too?) In fact, I’m pretty sure my independence may have been a contributing factor in the demise of my previous two relationships…and all those first dates that didn’t turn into second dates. I remember that before we even dated, my first boyfriend practically had to force me to allow him to carry my bag after an overnight camping trip. He told me, “Stop being so independent. Let me help you.”
 
I think my main point is that indendepence is not necessarily a weakness—not for the girls who are independent or the guys who are pursuing the girls. It can be a good thing. Just don’t let it get the best of you.

So, to my fellow (independent) ladies/girls/women/guys/men/whathaveyous, what are your thoughts on independence? For or against? Pros and cons?
 
 
*For all you feminists or whatever out there who take offense to the fact that I say independent girls, I’d like to say that I’m not a stickler on this subject (even though I'm an editor and should be "PC"). I call men guys and woman girls. It’s a generational thing, I guess. I actually don’t really care to be called a woman (it makes me cringe a bit and think of The Incredibles when Frozone says, “Woman, where is my super suit?!” [However, I think that clip is hilarious.]). Maybe in 20 years I will want to be called a woman, but not when I’m 20-something.

** Yes, I recognize that I generalize. Like everything, take it with a grain of salt. Everyone is different, and independent girls are different in their independence.

Good water

Prior to this blog, I wrote (sporadically) on other blog of mine that I titled “Song of the Day.” While I love music, I wasn’t confident in my opinion, so I discontinued that blog and started this one a few years later.

I found a post I had saved from that blog about the song “Heart of the Matter” by Don Henley. It’s a fantastic song (best version is here). And during that period in my life, I lived by it. Don wrote the song after his divorce. It is all about forgiveness when you have been hurt deeply by someone you love. This is what the song meant to me at that time:

“This month has been kind of an emotional month for me. Not emotional in the sense that I’ve been crying a lot and being dramatic. I’ve had to let a friendship go. I’ve had to move on. I’ve lost the trust I placed in a person I would have trusted my life with. And it’s been difficult. But I am moving on. I came to a realization the other week that I don’t need that person in my life. I don’t want them in my life right now. I’ve learned what I’ve need to learn. They aren’t what I need now. Maybe sometime down the line, we can be friends again, but not now. Especially not now.

“I’m happy to come to this bittersweet conclusion after months of trying to figure it out. The following song is one that has carried me through these months that I’ve allowed myself to be put through….

“While my circumstances are not as extreme as a divorce, I definitely relate to this. Especially the chorus….The more I do learn, the less I do understand why. Why they took the actions that they did. Why now? Why not?

“It is all about forgiveness, which I’ve come to learn these past months. Up until this last month, I thought I had the forgiveness part covered. Slowly anger and resentment have crept into my attitude (ex. I woke up this morning with a line from a Carrie Underwood song in my head: “Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights” because I’ve been tempted…). I’ve been angry. I’ve been angry because my trust was destroyed along with a friendship. I mean, I don’t talk to this person at all anymore. I hate that. But I don’t want to talk to this person anymore because of their actions.

“The lesson in church on Sunday was on forgiveness. It’s what I needed. I need to forgive. Again. I need to let it go. Not worry about it. “A bitter fountain cannot bring forth good water.” Getting angry doesn’t do anything for me. It just holds me back from my full potential and from moving on. So I’m working on letting go. I know Heavenly Father can help me with that because He has before. I’m working on letting Him help me.” -June 17, 2009

It's incredibly eerie how similar my situation is to that of exactly three years ago. I remember that lesson in church and who taught it. I shared my current struggle with forgiveness as vaguely as I could. I ended up crying. But I'm so very grateful that I have that time to look back on and know that I'll be okay--that things will be okay and that I can do anything, even really hard stuff like cutting ties with a friend. Or forgiving. Or moving on.

On Faith and Ambiguity

If I could pinpoint one class of my undergraduate career that had the biggest influence on my life, it wouldn’t be one that started with REL. It wouldn’t be the classes spent studying the scriptures or Christian history or even marriage and relationships. Rather, it would be one class—Media Law—that introduced me to a new take on life and how to approach everything and anything.

In early 2009, I took a required media law class, which proved to be a very difficult time for me (though it was also filled with a lot of growth). I honestly remember very little about the class. It was taught once a week for 2.5 hours by a practicing lawyer, Derek Brown. I do remember he was fun, hilarious, and showed some interesting examples when explaining creative license and law.

However, it was the last day of class that had the biggest effect on me. We were assigned to read a BYU speech by Bruce C. Hafen titled “Love is Blind: Some Thoughts for College Students on Faith and Ambiguity.” It’s a great talk that helped explain many of the things I was (and am still) struggling with. (Seriously, go read it. But only after you're done here.)

We discussed the speech in class, with Mr. Brown pointing out some correlations between law, the gospel, and life in general. Again, I don’t remember specifics of the discussion (and I'm kicking myself that I didn't take any notes), but I know that his testimony at the very end struck me enough to write him an email—something I’ve never done with a professor.

I didn’t expect a response. I just wanted to thank him. But I think his response was even more powerful than the testimony he gave in class.

And now I’m in a similar situation to the one I was in when I first read and heard that testimony. It’s a time of change, which I’m resisting because, like most people, I like what I know and what is comfortable. However, like before, I know that change is good and will allow me to grow and learn even more.

I don’t know all the reasons why, and all my decisions won’t be black and white. And sometimes I need to allow that moment for the Spirit to speak to me, without all my thoughts and doubts getting in the way. Three years ago, I learned that my answers come just how Joseph Smith and Brother Brown described—“a feeling of pure intelligence” and “a peaceful feeling that makes me think, ‘yes, I know.’”

Like Brother Brown, I believe that reason and faith can co-exist. Sometimes that’s how you know something is right. When it makes sense and you feel good about it, that could be the answer you are looking for. It’s not always going to be the easiest. And sometimes it hurts—a lot. Like, non-stop crying and a feeling like you don’t want get out of bed. But just know that you’re about to turn a corner to bigger and better things. Because you’re worth it.