Holding Out

Tomorrow is December. I have been holding out as long as possible to acknowledge that we are practically in the midst of the Christmas season. I will try not to acknowledge it for ten more hours at least. However, I did put one or two ornaments on my friends' Christmas tree, I did participate in snowflake-making last night at FHE (some of my FHE brothers surprisingly adept at making snowflakes), and I did play a Christmas song on the piano for my religion class today, but only because Brother Alford specifically requested it.

This holding out deal isn't because I don't love Christmas. Let's get this straight: I LOVE CHRISTMAS! The reasons why I don't want to commemorate celebrating until December 1st are as follows:

1. I feel like sometimes Thanksgiving is a little overlooked. Of course it is a major holiday, and everyone loves it because well we get to sit around and stuff ourselves with positively scrumtrilescent food. (Definition of scrumtrilescent: "A thing that is so wonderful that it is not accurately described by the words delicious, glowing or divine. Short hand for 'every word of positive nature in the dictionary at once.'" -Urban Dictionary) Thanksgiving ends and Black Friday commences. There are sales on Thanksgiving Day, people are lining outside of stores at who knows what time in the morning, and there are even post-Black Friday sales. It's just a little ironic and I don't appreciate the fact that we dedicate a whole holiday to gratitude and then the next night (or the evening) of we are dedicating our time to commercialism. I think Black Friday is a great idea, and I for one appreciate a good sale just as much as anyone else, but I think we should postpone Black Friday a week or so.

2. The Christmas season makes me incurably homesick. And I just don't want to start crying willy nilly until the appropriate time. Even when I am home for Christmas I am homesick. The snow and the trees and all the ornaments and songs makes me think of my family and how I wish that we could all cram into one house again for Christmas.

3. The start of the Christmas season also means the start of the end of the semester push and who ever wants to think about that? Not I.

4. Christmas makes me think of money, and I hate that. It's not about money or presents or anything like that. But I get stressed out about all the presents that my parents are getting for me when really I don't need a new coat or new shoes (although I do need those new socks) and I wish that I wasn't so selfish. I'm not going to lie, I love getting presents, but I wish I didn't. I also think too much about what I am going to get others because I LOVE giving people presents. More than I love getting presents. But I always want to give people the best possible presents, but I hate spending money. Yeah, figure that one out for me.

5. Did I mention that it makes me homesick?

So tomorrow I can start listening to Bing Crosby, the Carpenter's Christmas Album, Peter, Paul, and Mary's Christmas Album and my brother's annual Christmas mash up, and then the crying can commence.
Until then: Happy Last Day of November!

Family and Food Go Hand in Hand

First of all, I have never had so much food in my life. Oh wait I have...last Thanksgiving. Oh what a great day it was. I am probably going to eat some pie while I write this. You can grab some pie for yourself as well.

I didn't get to go home to Arizona this year because we were expecting bad weather and it really is too far to drive for just a few (though wonderful) days. But Ettie and I were invited by our cousin Ben to have Thanksgiving with his family. I thought I would miss being home and everything about Thanksgiving in Arizona. But today the sun was shining, it was freezing, but the sun was shining anyways and that was enough for me. I did miss my immediate family very much, but I was with family today. I don't think I stopped laughing today.

Being so far away from home, has made me miss my family more than I ever have before. Being away from them has made me love them even more. I suppose that I took my own family for granted before. Mostly all I want to say is that I love my family more than anything and I can't wait until I can see them again. Happy Thanksgiving!

Mr. Body

I went running this morning (when I say morning I mean this afternoon) for the first time in maybe a month. It's sad really how long the time is between the days I go for a run. I dreaded running in the cold, but I bucked up and donned a sweater and a pair of leggings under my shorts and headed out the door. My lungs froze in my chest as I attempted to take a deep breath of air. The run wasn't very long or hard. Well for me it was both long and hard because I hadn't been running in ages. I got passed by a guy running twice as fast as myself. Maybe three times as fast. All I can say was that he was going fast...or maybe I was just going slow. Both are valid guesses.

I never enjoyed running before. I remember when it took every fiber of my being just to run one lap around the track. But my mom kept going with me every day to the track, sometimes even late at night. She gave me such great encouragement then. I started with one lap and then two and then three and finally four. I remember the first time I ran a whole mile without stopping. It was by no means fast, but it was such an accomplishment for me. I ran that first mile, and then the next day I ran another, and another, and another, I ran a mile every day until I lost count of how many I had run. One evening I went to the track with my dad and I ran two miles for my first time. I had only planned on running one mile as usual, but I had so much energy that I just kept running. Around and around I went until my dad told me to stop. I was ecstatic. I just didn't want to stop. I don't hate running now, in fact I miss running every day.

But I think the most important thing I gained from those years of running was an appreciation for my own body. I was always very self-conscious and didn't love my body. I didn't hate it because goodness knows I would be dead without it, but I had very little appreciation for it. Today I was so grateful for my body even though I couldn't run very fast or very far and I was quickly tired. I am constantly amazed at its adaptability. Our bodies are so strong even in times of illness. So many little (but vital) things have to work together, and it's miraculous that they all do. It's amazing even that our bodies can get out of shape (like mine) and then we can get them back into shape again (like I plan to do). Frankly, I love my body. It may not be perfect, my skin may never be soft, and my nose may always be a little on the large side, but I plan on sticking with this body until the day I die. You can count on that.

Licking Envelopes

I love letters. I love sending letters, I love getting letters. Everything about mail is great, the stamps, the envelopes, the stationary, even the uncertainty of when a letter will come. For the past year and a half (or so) I have been so happy to have good friends on missions. Because of their missions I have had a good reason to send mail and the upside to that is getting mail in return. I actually dread the day when they come home, because then who will I write? Maybe I will just have to keep sending missionaries out...I wonder how long that can last...Hmmm...I may or may not have creeped myself out.

The real reason for this post: I am grateful for letters. I will forever salute the man who invented mail. Whoever he was.

A Slice of Humble Pie

This week is dedicated to gratitude. I decided to be cliche and join the throngs of others posting things they are grateful for on their blogs and on facebook this week in honor of the Thanksgiving holiday. You are most welcome.

Today's "gratitude object" is something I never thought I would be grateful for, and I'm not even sure if I'm actually grateful for it yet. I turned in a paper for my British Literature class today, and my teacher schedules a meeting with us to go over our papers in person. Not a bad concept I think, but it is quite a horrifying position to be in. I have never had the opportunity to watch a paper of mine get graded and I cringed every time her purple pen smeared the margins of my hard work. I must admit that I did not start this paper when I should have, and I may have procrastinated a little, but I did do what I could, and I did work hard. I just may have gotten a little distracted some time during my week. What can I say, I am not perfect, and neither was my paper. However, I felt that it was a good, solid paper. To my dismay, my paper was ripped to shreds. There wasn't a paragraph that wasn't graffitied with that hideous purple ink. The small, smiling lady behind the desk gave me every possible reason to feel as if I was the worst writer in the world while still trying to point out one or two good points. I couldn't see anything but the negative. All I saw was purple ink.

I knew it wasn't a perfect paper, but I did think it was good, even so, I left her office on the verge of tears. I was on the verge of tears for the continuing five or six hours on campus. I started to question everything: What made me think I could write? What made me think I could be an English major? What made me think I could succeed at this university? What else in the world can I do? I felt minuscule and insignificant and just plain awful. I still feel that way. I don't love being an English major. Most days I completely hate it, but I don't feel as if there is anything else in this world that I could do.

However, I am grateful that today was a hard day. Some days need to be hard. Some days we need to cry. Some days we need to realize what a huge role God has in our lives. I came to this university without knowing why I was coming; I still don't know why I'm here, but I trust that my Heavenly Father has a plan for me. He knows why I'm here. He knows I have a lot of work to do. He knows that I may have to major in something I don't love because sometimes we have to choose what is smart rather than what is fun or easy. He knows the days when I need to be humbled. Today was that day. Today I was given the biggest helping of humble pie I have ever had to swallow, and I am still feeling a little sick to my stomach. I think I will appreciate the pie more when it has finally digested.

*In good news, there is an update on my Media Project tab!

Harry Potter Week

If I have talked to any of you recently, I may have told you about how my roommate is over and beyond in love with Harry Potter. During the past couple of months, Stephenie has read every book and when I get home from school, she'll try to start a discussion about it. Poor Stephenie, the conversation is not very stimulating because I can't remember a thing about the books even though I read and even enjoyed all of them. Stephenie will say, "Do you remember when such and such happened?" And I will say, "Umm...I don't even know what you're talking about." Or she'll say, "Remember when so and so died?" And I'll reply, "They died?!" I have no idea why I can't remember, it's like I've never read Harry Potter before. But this week, Stephenie and I are going to the midnight showing of the first part of the seventh movie, the wisdom of this decision is yet to be seen. But in honor of Harry Potter week, Stephenie is blogging every day about something Harry Potter-ish. You can see her blog here.

You know, I did start this blog with a purpose in mind, and I can't for the life of me remember what it was...Just like how I can't remember anything that happened in Harry Potter. Oh well. Happy Harry Potter Week! Whatever that entails....I would tell you, but I can't remember...

The Testing Center

I took my first of two midterms this week. Hallelujah!
I think everyone needs to experience the BYU testing center at least once in their life, but since most of you can't, I will recreate the experience for you.

The photo to the right is just a small portion of the testing center. So after hours of studying I entered the testing center. I pulled out my student ID, entered through that center door and covered my picture as much as possible (because it is the epitome of an awful school ID photo) before I handed it to the incredibly grumpy looking young man behind the counter. "English 293," I told him as he quickly scanned my card. He tossed my card back to me and pulled open one of many drawers filled with various tests. He slapped it down on the counter and told me the rules for that particular test and instructed me to grab my test cover sheet from the printer. Then I pushed open the swinging door and entered the testing room. The testing center is always busy and I always have to search for a seat. The room is about 20 or 30 yards short of a football field, though not as wide. The walls are lined with huge windows accentuated by boxes of silk orchids, in between the windows are numerous posters emphasizing "Perseverance," "Endurance," "Diligence," and "Academic Integrity." I really have no idea how BYU expects us to cheat in there because among the five hundred plus students, there is about a one in a million chance that you'll sit next to another student who is taking the same test as you. (Yes, I know it's not possible to have a one in a million chance when there are only 500 people in the room. That was merely for dramatic effect).

Since I am naturally a "people observer," the testing center is one of the most distracting places on the planet. Students are steadily filtering in and out of the room, shuffling papers, listening to opera on their iPods, sharpening pencils, and occasionally sobbing, so I try to get a seat as close to the front of the room as possible so I can look out the windows and not at all the other people in the room. I found a reasonably good spot today, the only problem was getting from the door to my seat. The aisles between desks are only a foot wide, so I minced down the aisles trying not to hit any other students in the face with my bulky backpack. I didn't hit anyone today, but I myself have been hit several times while in the testing center. I settled into my desk and rejoiced that I had found a smaller desk than the one I sat in last week. Last week I took my British Literature test and the desk I sat in was built for a giant. The back of the chair was a good two feet away from the desktop and I slouched over that particular test for three hours. When I walked out of the testing center that afternoon I was a hunchback with a crippled right hand and a twitching eye.

The bad thing about English tests is that you never know how well you did. There is never one correct answer unless you are doing a multiple choice test, which doesn't happen very often. Writing tests take hours and you can never be sure if you did well or if you failed until you get your test back the next class and it is "graffitied" with red pen, which could be a good or bad sign. The good news is, I finished my test and right now that's all I care about. Now I am going to walk home in the freezing darkness and study for tomorrow's midterm. Stay tuned for the next episode from the BYU testing center.

Right as Rain

As you might have guessed, it rained today; a steady, chilling drizzle all the live long day. I knew it would probably rain today, but I didn't really remember until I ran outside barefoot and in short sleeves with my phone so that I could have service enough to talk to my sister on the phone. I was freezing after five minutes. Next time I will be prepared and at least have some shoes on. After a good half hour of laughter with my sister, I ran back into the house, put on my shoes and my jacket and drank hot chocolate for breakfast. I thought I was warm enough to walk to school in just a sweater, but oh boy is Utah rain in November different from Arizona November rain...in that we don't really get rain in November. Nevertheless, I went on my merry way, and quickly froze. I walked through several large puddles that I absolutely could not get around unless I wanted to make a major detour. It goes without being said that my pants from mid-calf to toe were completely soaked, as were my socks inside my supposedly water-proof shoes, my jacket was no longer warm, and my bangs were no longer straight. For the remainder of the day I smelled...damp. Not wet like a dog, but just damp and moist. I also missed a few close impalements by the hundreds of umbrellas milling around campus. Eventually, I dried out in time for my last couple of classes, but then I just had to wade through slightly smaller puddles all the way home. It wasn't a bad day, and I loved the rain despite the nasty things it did to my hair. My next few weeks will be filled with attempts to ward off any and all attempts of those around me to listen to Christmas music a month early. I say, it's not time to listen to Christmas music until December 1st. However, I will allow a little leeway for Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving since it does "officially" begin the Christmas season. Bah humbug! (Until December). So while everyone else gets hyped up for Christmas, I am going to enjoy November with the rain and the leaves until it snows...tomorrow.

Progress

I don't really want to write anything about my weekend even though it was great.
It was really great.
I'll just sum it up and tell you that I made progress and made some friends over the weekend. Yay me!

What I really want to write about is the most important thing that happened to me this weekend. Also, it is probably the best thing that has happened to me since arriving in Utah.

On Halloween, we had a special stake conference and Elder Robert D. Hales of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles was there to speak to us. I had the opportunity to sing in the stake choir, and I think that was probably the best choir I have ever taken part in. I have never been that close to an apostle of the Lord before, and I couldn't believe the amazing spirit that was there that day. Elder Hales addressed us as young single adults and expressed the love that President Monson and the remainder of the Quorum have for us. Elder Hales spoke to us about knowing that we are children of God, that we each have a divine potential, that we have each been given special gifts, talents, and unique purposes here in this life, and that only when we truly love ourselves, can we show love for others around us.

In my life, I have experienced many instances where I knew a particular talk or lesson was meant just for me, but I have never felt that entire conference was all just for me. Every word of each talk and every song is what I needed to hear. My Heavenly Father knows my situation. He knows that I get scared sometimes and He knows that sometimes I don't have much confidence in myself and He knows most of all how much I need Him in my life.

Sometimes when I think about how others view The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and I try to put myself in their shoes, I think I can understand how weird we seem to them. We are a peculiar people. An instructor once told me that as Mormons, we are either the largest group of nuts in this world, or we actually have the truth.

Well, we have the truth. When I think about not having the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life, my heart physically aches. I don't know how I would live my life without it. Needless to say, I would be lost. Thankfully, I know who I am. I am a daughter of God who loves me and wants me to find happiness in this life and in the life to come. Because of my Savior Jesus Christ, I can go home to Him. My family can go home to Him. I have a special purpose in this life. I am still trying to find out what that is exactly because I am no cookie-cutter cut out. I am Kelly Marie and because God loves me, I can love myself. I find pure joy through that knowledge and the knowledge that despite my imperfections, my Heavenly Father wants me to come home. I find joy in my family because my Heavenly Father loves them too and He gave me a heart to love them in return. I want to be with them forever. And I can. And I will.

"Thee lift me, and I'll lift thee, and we'll ascend together."