I-I-I-I Work Out

Sometimes, your boyfriend really wants you to work out with him. And while you might think that this is working out,

the boyfriend might not agree. Which is unfortunate, because his version of working out might be a 45-minute military training thing that he invented that includes push-ups, planks, jumping jacks, crunches, squats, arm circles for AN HOUR.....and sundry other things.

Working out so hardcore is actually kind of fun if you are motivated by your goal to get Venus dimples by the time you go back on-track. But no matter how fun it is, it can also be extremely tiring.

Which is why, sometimes, your roommate ends up taking this picture:

and sending it to you the next day.

After all, who doesn't love a good post-workout nap on the perfectly clean carpet of their 6-girl college apartment?

Lumberjacks

Some people put up fake Christmas trees. Some people put up real Christmas trees. I'm not saying that one is better than the other.....but let's be honest. Real Christmas trees are better than fake ones.

Some people buy real Christmas trees from a lot. Some people chop down their real Christmas tree. Again, I'm not saying that chopping down your own Christmas tree makes you better than other people. But it might. 

This weekend, Kailyn, Caitlin, the Jew, Erin and I ventured over to the far corners of Utah:

That's right. We went to Richfield, Utah.

One-stoplight-town, Farmville, home-on-the-range, we're-from-the-country-and-we-like-it-that-way, Richfield. We made a brief stop at this place:

"Are we going there someday?" "I don't know, you tell me...."

Once we were done there, nothing could stop us from getting to Kailyn's beautiful home! Except for the one stop sign in the town. We met her family, talked up one of our friends to make a good impression on Kailyn's family in his absence, and then took a nap, all of us piled on Kailyn's bed.

When we woke up, something was different. We didn't have facial hair or rough, callused hands, but an unmistakable change had taken place: our nap had turned us into lumberjacks.

There were about 8 trucks in the driveway - Kailyn's family believes in trucks - so we all climbed in and struck out for the mountains.  First, the trucks did the hiking. Eventually, we had to get out and do the rest of the hiking ourselves. K-Mom gave us one piece of advice: "When you bring the tree back to the truck, you'll want to carry it down the mountain, not up the mountain. So go uphill to find it."

Our tree was living in a little patch of ankle-deep snow when we found him. He smiled at us with his soft, sage-colored needles, and even though he was a little bit balding on one side, we felt in our hearts that he was our tree. (Or maybe it was just getting dark and we weren't sure how long it was going to take to chop him down or if we would be able to find another one if we left him.....)

Lumberjacks have riveting conversations while they chop. Here's what ours sounded like:

"Hold that pose, can you just wait there a second?" "Wait the lighting was weird! Take it again." "Why do I have an alien head?" "Now you two together. Smile!" "Are you still holding onto the tree? Because it's probably going to fall soon...." "Did you ever txt him back?" "Perfect! I love this one!" "Can that please not go on facebook?"

In case you couldn't tell, at least 3 of us were on our phones or cameras at any given time.

Sawing down the tree was one thing; getting it down the mountain was a whole 'nother task. A mother of a nother task. Gravity swung on by to help us, but it still took all of our Kailyn and Caitlin and Erin's strength and muscles to bring it to Kailyn's brothers. Then it took about 1/18th of their strength to hoist it off the ground and carry it on their shoulders to the truck.

So what did I learn from all this?

Sometimes, boys are like trees. And you have to climb a mountain to find one that you like. And sometimes, he is a little bit balding on one side, or his needles are a little poiky, or he's stuck in the spot where you found him, on account of his roots or whatever.

Sometimes, you need your friends to help you saw down the tree that you want. Wing-girls are so necessary.

Sometimes, you kind of love the tree the moment you see it. But then you still have to cut it down and find a way to get it back to your apartment.

Sometimes, trees look a lot taller when they are laying in the snow than they do when they are standing in the snow. Sometimes, you notice the same thing about boys.

Sometimes, you see all these people coming down the mountain with their trees, and you think how easy it must have been for them to just pluck their tree from the side of the road. But sometimes you're wrong, because probably they didn't pluck their tree or their boy from the side of the road, and probably they had to go through the same process that you did.

Sometimes, there's a tree that really freakin' wants to be your tree, but he takes his sweet time coming down the mountain and puts up such a fuss about it that you almost leave him there on the dead log that he's hanging onto. But then you don't, because he really is the most beautiful tree you've ever seen, and besides that he is really good company, and you like it when he txts you and comes over and even when he eats your food, so whatever. You'll drag him down the mountain even if it kills annoys you, because let's be honest: the chances that he'll end up flying off the truck on the way back to Provo are looking pretty slim, and you honestly believe that one day he will look beautiful, all decked out in lights and ornaments and popcorn in your apartment, and you'll forget about the sap and the splinters and the bruises, and it will all be worth your stupid day month as a lumberjack.

Here we are putting up our beautiful Teddy:

Cute bum, where ya from?

And here he is, all lit up and beautiful:

An Attitude of Gratitude

Of course, I am thankful for all the typical things: family, friends, food, the gospel, America, etc. Here's what I am thankful for besides those things:

- roommates who understand that my love languages are food and good parking spots

- boys who have 8-packs

- the Park City outlets

- that the one time I ran into an ex, he didn't know about it

- .....and he looked bad anyways

- 4-hour naps on Sunday - these are so essential to my happiness



- my sisters and their blogs

- the Draper temple

It is beautiful inside, seriously beautiful.

- that one time my mom dropped Crisco on Nicole's foot

- that other time when Nicole said, all nurturingly, "Jacob. When I was your age, I had e-coli." And Jacob replied, "What? Whose poop did you eat?"

- that time when Julie was squinting at the menu at Disney World and this employee came along and kindly handed her a menu in Spanish

- all the times when we have started singing at the table, quietly, and then Nicole has joined in, a little louder, so the rest of us have stopped singing, and my dad has looked up from his meal and gotten upset at Nicole

- the mental image I have in my head of Nicole in seminary

- Antoine Dodson....I know this was like 2 years ago but I still want to thank that guy for the hours of entertainment he has provided me with

- that I know how to make frittatas, lemon glaze, meatballs, parmesan broccoli, paper snowflakes, Hootenanny pancakes, and a plethora of other things

- that my roommates can make even more things

- that I don't have a unibrow

- Cassidy Jane Carbaby

- that one time when my dad started singing about a lemon tree at the dinner table

- that one of my students came in on Friday and gave me a piece of paper with a note that said: "Miss Connor you are the best teacher thanks for being my teacher see you after school!" and had a purple jolly rancher taped to it

- Owen Wilson

I don't know what it is, but I love him. And I am indeed thankful for him. 

Unsolicited Life Advice

If you aren't really interested in some life advice, you should teach second grade. These kiddos give me advice I wasn't looking for all the time. It's probably partially my fault for telling them all about my life.

Sometimes I feel like my class consists of about 20 of these.

Here's some advice I got when.....

- I told them I was allowed to wear jeans the next day: "Make sure you wear skinny jeans." Wait, when did I switch to teaching 6th grade?

- I told them I didn't know what to be for Halloween: "You should be a teenager. Cuz that's what you look like anyway." Well, thanks. 'Preciate that.

- I told them I was going to buy a car: "You should get a nice one. Like a Bugatti." Maybe if I had chosen a different career.....

- I told them I wanted to make math a little funner: "All you need to do is bring us candy. Like, a big huge bag for each of us. That would be reallllllyy fun." Let's consider the resulting sugar rush.....not fun for me!

- I told them that the dress I was wearing belonged to my roommate: "You better start wearing your own stuff. She could poison your food, you know."

And today's piece of advice, which came when I was standing innocently around, signing assignment sheets after having said nothing about any boys all day:

K: You should get married.
me: Oh, really? Why?
K: Because you're a teenager.
me: I'm not a teenager!
K: Oh, then you should for sure get married.   . . . . . . . tomorrow.
me: Tomorrow?? But why?
K: Because you're a grown-up.
me: Okay, well I'll work on that then....
C: Yeah! Then there can be two Mrs. Connors!
*Pause*
C: Wait.....
A: Well, you don't have to get married exactly tomorrow.
K: But by Thanksgiving at least.
A: Maybe go on some dates first.
K: No, she's already been on some dates. So now you can get married.
A: But maybe a few more dates would be good?
K: She doesn't need to go on more dates. She just needs to get engaged, then married. Boom.
me: I think your mom is waiting for you....

Who knew there were so many things I never knew?

...and world peace.

So, I just counted, and I have lived with 26 different roommates so far. If you want to count my two weeks at EFY over the summer, I've lived with 29. And I have loved every one of them - some much less than others, but still.

Anyway, in all my vast experience, I am happy to announce that I have discovered the key to peace, love, and happiness in the roommate-dom.

The key is: communication. The rules of communication are:

1. Do it. Say things like, "How was your day?"

Freshman year

2. Communicate about boys. That means you
a. tell your roommates who you like, and
b. when that boy kisses you, you tell your roommates.
c. And you show with your hands what happened.
d. And you put ice cream in the freezer about it.
e. And if a boy ever sends you a txt that just says: "Put ya up against the wall!," you better believe you are sharing that with your roommates.

Fall / Winter 2009 - 2010

3. Say things that you like about each other. That doesn't mean you have to say "I liked when your legs were on me last night," necessarily, but you get the idea.

Fall 2010

4. Along with that, you communicate what you like about your roommates to other people. So if your roommate is looking particularly foxy, feel free to inform her boyfriend.

Winter 2011

5. Say things that you don't like about each other. This might sound counter-intuitive, but if you don't say things that are bugging you, those things will just build up and fester in your brain, and pretty soon you will be following rules #3 and #4 through gritted teeth. Here are some examples of successful inter-apartment communications of flaws:
 
"Could you talk like a mute person please?"

"Who left this rib bone on the counter, HEATHER?"

"No offense but you're cheap."

"No offense, but if you use that baby voice one more time, I'm going to kill you."

Fall 2011

 H: I like that shirt, I've never seen you wear it!
K: That's what Shannon said, but I've worn it many times.
H: Really? I'm pretty sure you've never worn it....
K: I've worn it a lot!
H: Maybe in high school, when we didn't know you. *Pause* Or in middle school, when it would have been cool.....

A: Do my eyes look pretty -
C: NO!
A: ....Oh. Okay. I'll just take that as....constructive criticism?

"You have to be careful that you don't get diabetes."

Present day

C: I am going to get obese.
K: And then you will lose a friend.

"Right after I called on you to pray, I regretted it instantly."

K: I don't want to be rude, but will you please not sing along? I just....it's my first time watching and I want to understand what they're saying.
H: You can't understand me singing?
K: No....I can....I just, can you not sing?

I could go on. But I think you get the point: my roommates and I are happy, and it is all because of our great communication.

Other factors contributing to our happiness:

- one roommate randomly brings home Jamba Juice on occasion
- we feed each other numminess
- we have pillow talk
- we stand in parking spaces for each other
- we go to the temple together
- we have roommate photo shoots
- we laugh at each other
- we write indecent news on the white board
- we make pig noises at each other to prevent obesity
- we run stairs together
- we do each other's homeworks
- well, not really....
- we do hardcore parkour
- we dress up together
- we do each other's hairs and nails

but these are just some fun little things that you can do on the side, once you've mastered communication. It's not so hard. It's just a matter of saying what you think :) 

Happy communicating!

TO DO

Off-track is a funny thing. I have three weeks of vacation that no one else has. So, while everyone else is still going about, living their lives and fulfilling their obligations like normal, I am living my life and fulfilling all.....zero of my obligations.

But a life of idleness can be just as exhausting as a life of industriousness, and is much less satisfying. So in order to guarantee my own satisfaction, I have been putting together TO DO lists (I am obsessed with these, so it's really nothing new....) for each day. I'm checking stuff off like a BOSS. Here's today's TO DO list, in case you were wanting to sit in awe of my gumption:

TO DO

- go to the temple with roommates
- make some more punkin seeds
- get from the kitchen to my bed without touching the floor
- practice piano
- download Taylor's new songs
- be nice to Shannon
- organize boots and coats
- grade some shtuff
- figure out my Halloween costume for Friday
- maybe do some step-aerobics if I can find something that will work as a step
- eat some muffins
- set up visiting teaching
- shower
- put on makeup
- go to a concert? with free hot chocolate and free henna tattoos??
- blog
- go to the dolla theater and watch a 3D movie in order to get some 3D glasses
- floss
- buy milk, eggs, bread, laundry detergent, and sugar
- make a TO DO list for tomorrow

I think that a person's strength of character really shows through when they do things that they don't have to do. Here are some of the things I don't have to do that I have already done at some point during this off-track anyway:

- wake up before 10
- wear pants
- floss my teeth
- memorize "Good Feeling" by Flo Rida (actually I'm still working on this)
- listen to Taylor's new album
- about 24 times
- go to class with Caitlin
- go to class with Christine
- grow out my bangs
- make the most bomb amazing punkin seeds of history

Yep. Based on this list, I think my character is pretty strong.

Why won't you kiss me?

We are learning about questions in 2nd grade this week. To introduce the topic, I said: "So there's this boy, and my roommate kind of likes him. She thinks he's kind of cute, and she's really excited because he asked her if he could take her to dinner tonight! So they are going out, like on a date, and she's way excited, but she's also kind of nervous that she won't know what to say. So she asked if I could ask you guys for some ideas of some questions she can ask when she's on her date. What are some words we can use to start off a question?"

Someone said "what." I put that on the board and had everyone think of a question. The questions started out pretty good: What is your favorite sport? What is your favorite sports team? What is your favorite movie? What do you like to do when you're not playing sports? etc.

The next question word we talked about was "How?" We had some good ones: How are you doing? How is your day? And then someone raised their hand and said, "How much do you like me?" And all of a sudden, everyone had thought of a million other questions along those lines. "How much do you love me?" "How much do you want to marry me?" "How many girlfriends do you have?"

I thought that moving to the next question word, "When," would be a good idea. Here were some they came up with for "When:" "When will you be here?" (in case he's running late) "When will you leave me alone?" (in case he's bothering her) "When will you hug me?" "When will you kiss me?"

"It's a first date," I reminded them. "I don't think my roommate will be asking "When will you kiss me" tonight. But you're right! That is a question."

We went on to "where." Those questions sounded pretty similar to the "when" questions.... "Where will you hug me?" "Where will you kiss me?" "Where will you marry me?"

We got a little more creative with "Why-" "Why are we going to this restaurant?" "Why did you want to take me to dinner?" "Why do you like me?" "Why have you still not kissed me?"

"Let's try to stay away from questions about kissing," I suggested. The next person I called on said: "Why have you still not smooched me?" So obviously that worked really well.

And finally, we asked some "Who" questions - "Who told you to take me to dinner?" "Who is your mom?" "Who is your daddy?" (Uproarious laughter followed that one) "Who are your friends?" ("...in case he has friends," my students added) "Who is your girlfriend?" ("...and then you say, 'Is it me?' and give him the stare," K said. "What is the stare?" I asked. Don't worry, every one of my second graders was able to demonstrate their own version of the stare for me.)

If any of my roommates do end up using these questions on any dates, I would like to wish them a very hearty good luck. But even more, I would like to wish a hearty good luck to the boys who end up dating the girls in my class one day.

Unfortunately

I am here to tell you an unfortunate story.

It starts out fortunate, with some cute boys coming and sitting by my roommates and me in Sunday school.

My fortune started to wane a little when I couldn't hear anything that anyone else, the teacher or my classmates, was saying, so I started to color in a missionary letter for one of my best friends.

Which started up the "do you have a missionary?" conversation, which led into the "relationship status" conversation.

Which isn't too unfortunate, until it reminded me that I had to send a txt. And in my head, I was like: "Maybe I shouldn't txt during church. I'm supposed to be paying attention, after all." But since I couldn't hear anything anyway, I figured it would be okay.

So I just leaned myself forward in my little seat. My phone was mere inches from my fingertips.

And then, my heel slipped. I lurched forward. My face smacked the chair in front of me, and every boy in the ward turned to look.

I didn't even know what to do. I turned to the boy next to me and said stupidly, "Did you see what just happened to me?"

Of course he had.

But the story isn't even over there! Because a few minutes later, I decided I could try to get my phone again. I planted my feet firmly on the ground. I leaned forward. My fingers closed around my phone. I started to sit up to type out the txt I had to send.

My phone went clattering to the floor.

I felt like God was really bugged that I kept trying to txt during Sunday School, so I stopped trying then. Unfortunately, this happened several hours ago, and this is still kind of what I look like, in my head:

The Trouble with.....

....my iPad is that sometimes I can't figure out where I left the charger, so I just use it until the battery dies and then I resign myself to never using it again.

....productive Saturdays is that I can spend the entire day in my room, and so can my roommate, and we don't help motivate each other to leave. 

....my awesome roommates is that none of us seems to have a filter, so we can't control ourselves when boys come over and we are excited and just say whatever comes to mind and it is a problem and they will probably never come back, which is sad because they were cute. Just saying.

....taking pictures with the roommates is that they don't all turn out perfect. And some of them turn out downright awkward. And they get posted on facebook anyway.

 ....teaching PE is that all the kids are more flexible than I am.

....Utah is that Provo is not as close to South Jordan as it should be, and Logan is not as close to Salt Lake as you thought, and every day turns into a road trip.

....boys is, well, everything.

....colorful jeans is that I love them so  much that sometimes I just wear the same outfit two days in a row, oops.

....finding a good parking spot is that I never want to leave said parking spot, so social activities start to lose their appeal.

....casual Friday is that I am not allowed to participate. Hmmmph.

....the internet is that you can find anything that you don't want to find. You can find a mugshot of a boy you thought you might have a crush on. You can also find horror stories about girls getting groped at haunted houses. 

 ....every one of these complaints is that people are going to read them and shake their heads and mutter, "First-world problems."

Friendship

Sometimes, friendship means making late-night runs to the grocery store and winding up at the hospital cafe. Where you wind up playing Bingo with the staff. And then you end up winning Bingo, and it ends up being a great night.

Sometimes, it means listening for 20 minutes instead of hanging up when your friend accidentally butt-dials (or booty-calls, whichever you prefer to call it) you. Which sometimes turns into you recording the conversation she has with herself in her car. Which sometimes winds up on your Facebook.

Sometimes, it means going to Little Caesar's for your second dinner in one night.

Sometimes, it means that you are suddenly overcome with the need to eat said second dinner anywhere but at the table. 

Sometimes, it means eating toast and jam for dinner with your roommate and bonding by talking about boys.

Sometimes, friendship is falling asleep on a couch in an apartment that is not your own 3+ days a week. Sometimes, friendship is spending more time at this apartment than the actual residents spend there. 

Sometimes, friendship means that you talk about your feelings a LOT. You also talk about how you're feeling about how you're feeling. 

  

And sometimes, friendship means Temple Tuesdays. At 6 in the morning. Which means I have to be getting to bed in like, negative five hours. 

All I'm saying is, I am super lucky to have the friends that I have :) 

Hiatus

My roommate told me a few weeks ago about this thing she does sometimes called a Dating Hiatus. It is just what it sounds like. And when she told me about it, I decided I had to have one of my own.

You guys. This is one grand decision! I am obsessed with my Hiatus. I keep talking about it. I told my dad and he laughed at me and said I wouldn't last 6 days. Which I didn't really understand, since I'm not usually flaky once I make my mind up about something....

Caitlin always says no to dates. Boys always try to ask her out, but she always says no, for one reason or another. I used to think she was crazy. What's not to love about a free meal and a fun activity? But now I think she is on to something.

My dad once told me that a free meal can end up costing you quite a bit, depending on the other person at the table and if you actually want to be spending time with them. I thought he was silly. I am a poor college student! The company would have to be pretty bad if an hour with them was really not worth an entire free meal! But now I can see his wisdom. And I appreciate it. And I agree. Hence, the Hiatus.

Haters gonna hate, and hiatusers gonna hiate :)

June, take your sweet time. May is off to a great start.

Dreams Come True

It's hard to pinpoint when exactly I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I can remember being excited to start school, after hearing about all of Kelly's adventures. I can remember coming home on the last day of school with worksheets that my teacher had left over from the year, determined to save those worksheets for the day that I had a class of my own. I can remember coming up with elaborate lessons for FHE. I can remember telling my teachers that I wanted to be a teacher when I was older.

So it started early - sometimes, I even think it started before I was born. It's the one career I've ever wanted to do. It's been a dream of mine ever since I can remember.

When I was accepted to come here, to BYU, I took a few minutes and browsed casually through the catalog of classes required for an Elementary Education major. The classes all sounded amazing! Teaching math? Teaching science? Instruction and Assessment? These were skills I had always known I would have to develop. I was thrilled to get started.

And then, all of a sudden, I was in a classroom. First-graders were calling me Miss Connor. I wasn't just majoring in Elementary Education anymore; I was teaching.

My classmates talked about doing an internship, where they would have their own classroom, for a whole year. They would get half-salary. They would teach all day, every day. I thought about doing an internship, then thought about not doing an internship. I reasoned that I wasn't ready for that much responsibility. I needed more time to learn how to teach.

I made my decision. I was going to do student-teaching, not an internship.

Sherri, my facilitator, had different plans. She urged me to reconsider. She said she would strongly recommend me for an internship. She gave me the forms.

So I thought about it, thought about my dream, and wondered if maybe I was ready. I had wanted this my whole life. Shouldn't I at least try?

I filled out the forms. I called Joy. I went to an interest meeting. I signed up for an interview. I picked out an outfit. Two days after I made my decision, I found myself sitting in a room in the District Office with Charlotte, Raylee, and Jessica sitting on my left. Eighteen principals and facilitators shuffled through papers and sipped water as they mulled over a decision that would change my life. A bald man with great teeth and bright blue eyes directed the interviews.

I had spent the morning fretting and putting on lotion and lip gloss and going over practice questions again and again. Now, sitting in that room, I noticed that my foot, which hadn't stopped jiggling since the internship meeting, dipped casually up and down as if I was sitting in a hammock.

Our interviews ended and we went back to school. The secretaries asked us how it went. We smiled and acted confident, and went to lunch. The day progressed just like a normal day.

I left the elementary school and went to the Writing Center. I left the Writing Center. I started walking home. I got to my door and reached for my key. My phone started buzzing; Joy was calling.

I took a breath and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Heather? This is Joy, how are you doing?"

She's asking how I'm doing, I thought. That has to be good, right? She would just cut to the chase if I didn't get an internship.

"I'm good, how are you?" I asked.

"Fine, thank you," she said.

I waited.

"Heather, I'm calling you with some good news."

My knees felt weak.

Do you remember how you felt, the morning after your first kiss? Do you remember that feeling when you woke up, and all your memories came flooding back, and you wondered if you were lying to yourself, but you weren't, because it really was real, and that wonderful thing really actually did happen....

That's how I felt the next day. I woke up smiling. I spent the whole day smiling. I wanted to tell random strangers that I was a teacher. I wanted to scream.

Because Jordan School District picked me, and Sherri and Kathy want me to come back and teach at their school, as a second-grade teacher, next year.

"I'm calling to tell you," Joy had said, "that Jordan Ridge - " my school! " - has offered you an internship for next year teaching 2nd grade."

I couldn't even go inside my apartment when Joy was talking to me. I pressed the phone up super-close to my face, so my ear could slurp up every word she said. I thanked her over and over. I pulled out my key, went inside, and collapsed on my bed. My roommate thought I was crying. (I wasn't. Just hyperventilating a little bit.) I called my mom. I fell on the couch. I fell on the floor.

I guess that's just what I do when my dreams are coming true :)

You might need more sleep if....

.....you have been consistently getting 4 hrs of sleep a night.

.....you start out your shift at the Writing Center feeling pretty tired.

.....the paper you are reading over with a student is not the most entertaining.

.....you find yourself swiveling your chair distractingly back and forth in a valiant effort to keep your eyes open.

.....you also find yourself biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from yawning for the 42nd time in the same tutorial.

.....you feel a little drowsy while reading this blog post.

.....you hear yourself talking, and you just hear your voice getting gradually slower and lower.

.....you kind of feel like you're having an out-of-body experience, and you're just watching yourself talk from a foot or two above your own head.

.....you realize, just before the words leave your mouth, that you were about to say: "Sometimes scientists break the rules, right. So are you arguing for the police to come and put them in the pool, since they're being unethical?"

.....you are barely able to remember that this does not make sense when discussing a paper about the medicinal properties of chamomile.

.....you realize, when you remember this, that you just fell asleep while talking.

.....you try to restart your brain and think of something....anything!.....intelligent to say, and nothing comes.

.....your tutee is looking at you with a vaguely concerned expression and doesn't understand any of the questions you ask them.

.....you realize that they probably don't understand your questions because the questions probably don't make sense.

.....you end this remarkably unsuccessful tutorial and go back to the tutor table, feeling a little guilty for the lack of help that you were to your tutee but mostly just feeling sorry for yourself.

.....you go back home, bound and determined to go to sleep immediately after dinner.

.....you don't go to bed until 1 in the morning - again - because you got all wrapped up in roommate bonding, ex-roommate bonding, lesson planning, and the ever-entrancing power of facebook.

.....and the cycle continues.

Gumption? Hullo?

When I went home for the summer, I spent a few days recovering from two long semesters and one very long flight from Utah to Maryland. Kelly and I set up camp on the couches in the living room, slept until noon, ate food and chatted all day, watched Ugly Betty and the Office until 4 in the morning, and occasionally looked for jobs online. But it was just a few days. This is perfectly normal for two healthy college students.

Unfortunately, my dad didn't see it that way. He tried anxiously to be patient with us at first. But then....okay, maybe a few days became two weeks, and he became concerned. I remember one morning in particular, at about 10:30, waking up to a familiar monologue. My dad was sitting by the couch, talking animatedly at me. He said all the usual things: "This isn't normal, Heather. I mean it." "You've got to get up, and get out there, and get a job." "Come on, sit up, come on." There were the occasional interjections: "Oh my pillow! Heather, Heather stop! You're drooling on my pillow!" As I opened my eyes and wiped my mouth, I vaguely remembered getting the same speech the day before, and the day before, and probably the day before that. But then, my dad said something new: "I've never seen you like this. It's like you've lost all your gumption."

Fast forward to this semester. Well, first -- fast forward to two weeks after this speech. I had one full time job, two part time jobs, and one very very part time job. Now, fast forward to this semester. It's probably been the hardest semester for me yet, where classes are concerned. I'm taking 16 credits, and, even though I've taken this many before, it wasn't this difficult. My classload this semester is full of classes that are much less interesting than my classes in previous semesters, and much more rigorous. In short, I don't want to learn about the things that are turning out to be more difficult to learn, making it even worse.

I started out with plenty of gumption. Winter break was a nice refresher for me. I went home, played with my family, visited some friends, and came back ready to tackle the new semester. I tried to be interested in my subjects. Most days, my classes don't start until 12, but I tried to get up at about 8 or 9 every morning to study and work on other things I needed to get done. I signed up to be a mentor at an elementary school. I got a job at ColdStone. I was overflowing with gumption!

Then, suddenly, something happened.....midterms. All of a sudden, school decided to hurt my feelings. Last week, I was slammed with five tests. I was also asked to give a talk on Sunday. As an FHE mom, I had to plan an activity for this Monday. Furthermore, my laptop was stolen on Tuesday, right out of my apartment. Oh, and the mailman told me he hates me and thinks I'm ugly.

I'll recover, I told myself. I can come back. There's still time before the semester is over. After one particularly bad test on Monday that might as well have been a list of derogatory comments on my appearance for how good it made me feel, I called my dad. He told me how pretty and intelligent I am, per my request. I felt better. I went to bed that night, determined to wake up the next morning at 7 to get ready for a group meeting for a project at 8. I knew, as I closed my eyes, that I would wake up to a better world. I woke up at 7:30. Hmmm. That wasn't really what I had planned to do, now was it? I hurriedly threw on some clothes and make up and miraculously made it to the bus stop in time for the 7:42 bus. I went to my group meeting, then to my floral design class, and then to the library for a nice nap in the fourth floor bathroom with all the couches. I went to my New Testament class, had lunch with Kelly, studied, and went home. I felt pretty good about how well I was recovering so far.

On Wednesday, I intended to wake up at 8 to give myself time to clean for cleaning checks, do my homework, and go to mentoring. I told Aimee and Chelsea both that I need to be up at least by 9, and if they would be so kind as to yell in my sleeping face if I wasn't, I would greatly appreciate it. They gladly obliged, but somehow, I didn't get out of bed until 9:30. By the time I had gotten ready and finished my homework and cleaning, it was too late to go to mentoring, and too early to go to campus. So of course, I decided to take a little nap before going to my first class. It was 11:41 when I woke up again, and I had missed the last bus until 12:12. I considered my options. It was a nice day, and I could walk to school. (I was sure I would be able to make it if someone gave me directions.) My other option was going back to sleep. Which option do you think I took?

I had to drag myself out of bed at 12:35 to get to the bus in time to get to my 1:00 English class. Chelsea reminded me that it was Saint Patrick's Day and picked out a green shirt for me to wear, so I sluggishly changed my outfit and stumbled out to the bus. From there, my day did improve. While on campus, I was very productive. When I went home, I was determined to continue in this streak of gumption.

Sadly, my natural me won, and I ended up at Kelly's apartment, making and eating cookies, chatting, and wandering Raintree with some boys who were considering moving in and had requested a tour. I went back to my apartment and spent about two hours on facebook and other time-wasting websites. I finally eeked out some homework at one in the morning and went to bed.

This morning, my 9:30 floral design class was cancelled (thank goodness). I planned to take the 10:42 bus to campus to work on some homework before my 12:00 New Testament class. I hope no one took the 10:42 bus hoping to see me there, because they would have been sorely disappointed to know that I was still in bed at that time. In fact, I was in bed until about 1:05. All I could think as I sat up and called out, "Hullo??" to my still-at-home roommates was:

Whelp. Guess it's gone again.

My gumption, that is. I really think it's gone. Today marks the second day in a row that I slept through my 12:00 class. HOW PATHETIC!

Tonight, I had quite a bit that I needed to get done. I made a To Do list and turned on Chelsea's laptop. (Since mine was stolen, my roommates have all been super-nice about letting me use theirs whenever I need to. It is making my life a lot easier!) Then, something that shouldn't be so surprising to me happened: I wasted more time. Chelsea came home right when I had started being productive and asked if Aimee and I would like to go see New Moon in the dollar theater. I did want to. It started at 10:05. I could finish my paper, go to New Moon, and get back in time to get to bed at a decent hour.

I didn't finish my paper by 9:40.

I went to New Moon.

How could I refuse? Aimee and Chelsea were ditching their boyfriends, and we were all wearing our respective boy's clothes. Furthermore, on the subject of clothes, Taylor Lautner doesn't wear many in this movie. I can look past Edward's pale chest and sadly lopsided nipples because of this fact alone: Taylor has 10 ab muscles. I counted. This was definitely an event I had to be apart of.

And now, here I am. It's almost 4 in the morning and I am blogging. Blogging.

Of course, I have had good intentions throughout this whole ordeal. Tomorrow, I plan on waking up at 9 and taking the 9:42 bus to campus. I will meet with my group from 10-11, work on my application for the Writing Fellows from 11-12, and go to class from 12-2. I will eat lunch with Kelly and then study until who knows when. We will see how well this plan works out, I suppose. If my gumption continues to be MIA, I really can't be held responsible for my lack of motivation.

Thankfully, I have at least been getting all my homework done. When I am actually awake, I do my assignments. I just did one before writing this blog, in fact...a writeup for my humanities class. The assignment was to pick 3 sins and assign creative punishments to those who commit them, in the style of Dante. Here's what I came up with:

Sin #1: drawing graffiti. People who do this would have to spend eternity trying to graffiti a building while someone bumps their elbow every 2 seconds, messing them up repeatedly. If they get frustrated, someone else will spray spray paint in their face.

Sin #2: stealing a college student's laptop. People who do this would be shrunk down and put inside a laptop keyboard while the college student they stole from types out their term paper.

Sin #3: flirting with missionaries. People who flirt with missionaries would be sentenced to the nunnery. They would spend eternity in a convent, getting smacked across the face every time their thoughts drifted to boys. Also, all the girls whose missionaries ended up marrying a girl who flirted with him while on his mission would flick rubber bands at the flirting girls.

I think those are pretty appropriate punishments. I can't say I've been personally affected by graffiti, but I feel a much stronger connection to the other two sins.

Let's talk about sin #3 for a minute. (I mean, why not. Four hours of sleep is totally enough to function on.) I have seen a growing trend recently that bothers me quite a bit. It's called, missionaries marrying girls they met on their mission. In every case, they will insist that they didn't do anything wrong. There was no flirting while they were on the mission. Things just turned out the way that they did. They were perfect for each other. The circumstances that they met under are inconsequential, since they didn't start dating until after the mission was over. And who am I to say that this isn't the truth for every one of these couples? I really can't. I'm just saying, it's a growing trend. And as someone who sent off a missionary, even if I'm not waiting for him, I am annoyed by it.

Believe me, I understand the appeal of missionaries. As 19 to 21-year-old boys, they are right about my age. Typically, they are good boys, in tune with the Spirit, happy to serve others, good at talking to people, hard workers. They walk around or ride their bikes a lot, so they're probably pretty fit. They keep their hair a respectable length and never look too scruffy or unkempt. And there's two of them.

So, that's great that you didn't flirt with him. That's awesome that you just really connected over the scriptures. Good for you abiding by mission rules as you purely lusted after the cutie with the name tag.

But if all those things are true, then why the hey are you two getting engaged three weeks after he's released?

This is why I included flirting with missionaries as one of my sins.

Well, I guess I'm going to bed now. Wish me luck in waking up tomorrow?

Mary, Mary....Quite Contrary??

This blog is devoted to my roommate, Mary. She is only my roommate for exactly 7 more days, because she's going to England for a semester, so I have to write about her fast.

When I first met Mary, I thought she was the sweetest person. She is the studious one and the peacemaker in our apartment. Sometimes she drives me places, or makes me food. It's been very pleasant living with her.

This week, our relationship apparently took a turn that I did not see coming. We entered new territory.

We became the kind of friends that snap at each other.

Yes. It's true.

Two nights ago, Mary's home teachers were over and I mentioned something mean that Mary said at the beginning of the semester, the first mean thing I had ever heard her say. Before I even got to the punchline, Mary interjected, "Hey Heather. I'm glad you curled your hair today." I smiled. That was nice, wasn't it? "Thank you..." I started to say, when Mary jumped in again and said, "--because you didn't shower yesterday." Oh. Oh my. Well that wasn't quite so nice anymore was it?

It turns out that Mary really did like my hair, she just forgot that it wouldn't look very good for me if she went around proclaiming the details of my poor hygiene with her home teachers, eligible bachelors in our ward, sitting right there. And in all honesty, this explanation makes sense, when you know Mary. She doesn't ever intend to hurt people's feelings. But everyone lets out something they didn't really mean to say now and then.

So I recovered. Our friendship was back to normal. This morning, she drove me to school. I tried to give her directions. She kindly went the right way regardless of what I told her. I came home from studying and ate a bread stick she made for me. We sat in the living pretending to study and genuinely enjoying one another's company.

Then came the fateful suggestion. "Can I watch a movie?" Mary asked plaintively. "No," I thought, "Don't. I have to study. Please go back to studying, Mary."

Five seconds later, "What can we watch?" she said, and started looking through our collection of DVD's.

All was lost. I would never get anything done with a movie on. My final grade depended on the continued silence of the TV in our living room. I could have gone back to my room, but I was feeling so antsy that I wanted to be somewhere that I could be social and still get my work done. When the TV is on, I turn into a zombie. I get nothing done.

"No," I said, "Don'ttt put on a movie. Let's just..."

Mary interrupted. "I need you to use your big girl voice," she said.

My mouth stopped moving. I just stared at Mary. Her face immediately registered penitence as she turned sheepishly away and laughed. Five minutes later, I was laughing, too, and everything was better. However, we've passed the point of no return. I am sure that from this day on, our relationship will never be the same.

It's ok though. I love Mary :) and I still think she is the sweetest person.

Leggers

A few days ago, my lovely roommate Christine and I came up with a really fun game that we call Leggers. It is amazing at relieving stress. I would highly recommend it to anyone with legs (and/or stress).

Here's how you play. You stand behind the couch and flip backwards so your head is on the couch cushion and your legs are straight up in the air (so you are upside down on the couch, facing away from the couch. Then, you make letters with your legs. Some of the letters, you can only make with two people. Like "A." and "N."

Anyway, Christine and I came up with this delightful little game on Monday at Winnie's house while she was doing homework and my laundry was in the Wyview laundromat. It has many benefits, including:

1. relieving your stress
2. working out your abs
3. improving your bond with your roommate :)