We all know that it is so much more entertaining to live in a fantasy world than it is to live in reality. And if I'm going to live in a fantasy, I want to have the super-uber-perfect guy to be there right by my side. So that got me thinking - who would I pick? And as I can't leave anything up to chance, I decided to give the fates a little help on this one. So, blogger kids, I give to you my top ten list of guys I wish were real....or at least a viable option. And I'll try to explain who they are, where they are from, and why they are on the list.
1. Mr. Darcy (of any version....do I need to explain this one?)
2. Mr. Rochester (specifically the Toby Stephens' Rochester - he may be crazy, but he makes crazy look so DANG appealing)
3. Edward and/or Jacob (I'm cheating on this one, because it really should only be ONE guy, but hey - if one isn't real, I'd gladly take the other. See Twilight series for more information on this dilemma)
4. Gilbert Blythe (Anne of Green Gables - he waited how many years? Hook me up with some of that Canadian love!)
5. Jim (from the Office - Office Olympics anyone? Need I say more?)
6. Dean Forester (Gilmore Girls....but the Dean from seasons 1-2...beyond that, no thanks)
7. Orlando Bloom (be it a sprightly, arrow-wielding Elf or an honor-bound driven Pirate, he can make any girl swoon. Savvy?)
8. James McAvoy (you know- I'm in a phase. I'll get over it. Until then, watch the Penelope trailer and see if you join me.)
9. Fred Weasley (LOVE HIM. Hilarious. Talented. Wizard. *sigh* Don't get me started on his tragic demise, okay? I'm still in mourning)
10. Gerard Butler! (the real-life Gerard, the Phantom Gerard, the Dear Frankie Gerard, even the Lara Croft Gerard...if you don't know why he should be on the list...well, I'm sorry for you. A life without Gerard is not worth living!)
So there you have it. This is not set in stone, so be ready for changes in the line-up, last minute additions, and popular vote-ins. And so, dear friends - who would you put on the list?
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Flavor of the Day
I am a creature of habit. I do basically the same things every day while at work and at home – same lunchtime routine of eating an apple and a peanut butter bar in the park, same wake-up time, same GMAT prep every evening…. these routines generally don’t change. And yet, despite what I do that would make each day seem mundane and monotonous, each day is distinct. Different outfit to wear, different amount of traffic on the roads, different food cravings…each day is just uniquely it’s own - with its own particular flavor.
I’m sure we can all agree that some days are more flavorful and appetizing than others. Those are the triple-brownie, caramel-striped with toffee nugget days when a special boy calls, you find the perfect pair of shoes on sale AND in your size, or you are just in a good groove that day and you swear that little leprechauns are jaunting all around you, sprinkling their good luck in your path because everything just goes well. I love those days. Then there are the other days. You wonder what the fates were thinking when they created that flavor of a day. It’s akin to a mocha-pistachio swirl, with a handful of cayenne-pepper covered cherries. It is just nasty upon first bite, and it does not improve upon further consumption. Those are the days when you wake up with a headache, you have a flat tire, you make forty gazillion mistakes at work (and are told about each and every single one), and there is pointless road construction on the way home, so it takes 48 minutes to get home instead of 21. You never want to repeat those days again. Then you have the days in the middle. The cookies-and cream, mint-chocolate-chip type of days. The normal ones. They are perfectly pleasing to the palate. But by the time you’re done with them, you are ready for a break. Something new. Something different. Another flavor, shall we say. These are the good days, where by the end of them, you’re satisfied with all that you’ve done, but are ready to go to bed and experience what the next day’s flavor is. Because you know it will be different.
Are you having good flavor days? And if you would classify them as not-so-good flavor days, are you going to do something to change them into yummy flavors? It’s possible – it just takes a little bit of effort, and a lot of courage…just like going back and asking the ice cream man for a scoop of a different flavor – it all starts with us.
So – with that said - what’s your flavor today???
I’m sure we can all agree that some days are more flavorful and appetizing than others. Those are the triple-brownie, caramel-striped with toffee nugget days when a special boy calls, you find the perfect pair of shoes on sale AND in your size, or you are just in a good groove that day and you swear that little leprechauns are jaunting all around you, sprinkling their good luck in your path because everything just goes well. I love those days. Then there are the other days. You wonder what the fates were thinking when they created that flavor of a day. It’s akin to a mocha-pistachio swirl, with a handful of cayenne-pepper covered cherries. It is just nasty upon first bite, and it does not improve upon further consumption. Those are the days when you wake up with a headache, you have a flat tire, you make forty gazillion mistakes at work (and are told about each and every single one), and there is pointless road construction on the way home, so it takes 48 minutes to get home instead of 21. You never want to repeat those days again. Then you have the days in the middle. The cookies-and cream, mint-chocolate-chip type of days. The normal ones. They are perfectly pleasing to the palate. But by the time you’re done with them, you are ready for a break. Something new. Something different. Another flavor, shall we say. These are the good days, where by the end of them, you’re satisfied with all that you’ve done, but are ready to go to bed and experience what the next day’s flavor is. Because you know it will be different.
Are you having good flavor days? And if you would classify them as not-so-good flavor days, are you going to do something to change them into yummy flavors? It’s possible – it just takes a little bit of effort, and a lot of courage…just like going back and asking the ice cream man for a scoop of a different flavor – it all starts with us.
So – with that said - what’s your flavor today???
Monday, September 17, 2007
Good Times
Usually when life gets crazy, moments and thoughts get funnier. I haven't figured out if that's because we're going legally insane at those moments and erego, life is just a hilarious show. Maybe it is. Or maybe we just latch on to those funny, spontaneous moments to try to keep us sane. Who knows. But whatever the cause, you live for the moments. So here are some of mine from the past little while:
Cultural Education...Or Lack Thereof
On Saturday night HRH, a couple of her friends, and I went to the India Fest that they hold once a year at the local (ahem - this means the only one in a two-hundred mile radius) Ind
ian temple. It was the first time I had been there and I was excited to go because...hey. How often is it that you can say casually to your friend, "Yeah, I went to the Indian Temple on Saturday." I mean, instant cool factor right there. So we went. It's in the middle of nowhere - actually, it's in the middle of farmer fields, which just made it feel strangely like we were actually in India - or how I imagine it would feel to be in India...minus the humidity, of course. I was a little disappointed because there wasn't much to do, and what there was to do, you either had to pay, stand in a never-ending line, or fight the crowds. Not entirely what I was expecting.
We went up into the temple where they had an appointed story-teller-guide-person-man to tell the story of their culture and religion. We sat down, and I was ready to be culturally edified. Much to my chagrin, I could barely understand the enthusiastic man gibbering off in a mix between Hindi and English. We lasted about 3 minutes and then decided to leave. I remarked to my friend that I was hoping to learn more of their culture and religion, because, sadly, everything I've ever learned about India, I learned from "Bend it Like Beckham" and "Bride & Prejudice." Which, at the time, was a hilarious realization. I mean, India is HOW big and culturally important, and all I can boast after my many years of education and world history classes is that my knowledge of a fascinating country is based on two Indian-influenced chick flicks. My world is apparently very small. That didn't stop me from hoping that Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson would magically show up and get their Indian groove on. Once again, I was disappointed.
What the....?
Like I said, the India Fest was packed to capacity (and probably a little over). There were families, groups of friends, and all forms of human life that you could expect to find at such a gathering. However, I was not expecting one human life to be there. So I was standing around the Henna Tattoo booth, because a couple of the girls with us wanted to get tattoos. And as there was nothing else to do, we accompanied them in the line, discussing everything from career aspirations to how similar Mika is to Miranda. We were standing in a circle, chatting away, when I casually looked to the side of my friend. I saw just a sea of faces, one of which was behind said friend. I looked away, because why pay attention to random faces unless they are Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson? It took me a second after I turned back to our group to realize that I recognized that face. Very well. And not from the movies. I looked back and saw the person still staring at me, with a grin starting to begin at the corners of his mouth. It was my friend Nate. Nate, mind you, is a friend from high school -well -we were friendsish. We eventually became pretty good friends in college. Since being home from Argentina, however, I hadn't seen him much. You know how that works. They have girlfriends and that's just not right to be around too much. He went to Washington DC for the summer and had been back a month. He hadn't called and I hadn't called him. That's just how we work. We catch up every couple of months or so, but nothing too major in between. And quite frankly, I saw his posts on Facebook and heaven help me if I was going to be one of the many girls trying to get his attention. So I refused.
Thus, seein
g him, after about four months of not seeing him, and seeing him when I was not expecting to see him, caused me to have this blank stare and blurt out the words, "Of all the places in the world for you to be, why are you HERE?" That's a nice greeting, now isn't it. He said hey to all and then quickly scurried away to be with his roommates. And that was it. Of all the places to see an old friend who you avoided because of his harem of girls, you see him at the Indian Temple in Spanish Fork, Utah, during the India Fest, on a Saturday night. Which leads me to conclude...."WHAT THE...???"
Fall Colors
I don't think this is necessarily funny, but it's strangely amusing to me. My mom wanted to go up the canyon to see the trees changing colors. It's kind of a tradition with us. And apparently the colors won't last long this year because we had a dry spring or something. I really need to study up on that. Anyway, we went up the canyon, just the two of us. We drove arou
nd, saw the brilliant reds, the vibrant oranges, and the stunning yellows, all mixed in with the greens. It was beautiful. The problem is that I get carsick. I'm good on long road trips, and I just can't read or do anything in cars if we're going on short trips. The real problems start on winding roads. I cannot stop the queasiness once we get on those. I almost didn't get to go to my favorite place in the entire world, Sea Ranch, California, because it's about 45 minutes of coast-hugging highways. And the little roads up the canyon that wind around the different campsites? Almost as bad. So my mom kept on chatting and driving, while I rolled down my window and curled up into a ball. We got lost. Do you know the agony of being carsick and not knowing the way out of the evil one-way roads of camping? Intense, let me tell you. We finally found the little wood post that directed us toward the exit. We got home and I went directly upstairs to my bed and put on Pride & Prejudice on my laptop and laid there for about an hour and a half, until I could move again without feeling like I was going to lose it. That's just life, isn't it? You go do something fun and not normally done, and enjoy it, but then end up curled on your bed for an hour afterward because of carsickness. Joy!
The Pink Ones
I stayed the night and spent part of the day with my cousin and sister last Saturday. I did my GMAT prep (ugghhhhhh), was introduced to Supernatural with a four-episode marathon (not so shabby, but I'm left with the question which really needs to be answered...who is cuter? Jared/Sam or Jensen/Dean? Help!), and vegged just a little. It was needed. So my cousin and I wanted to go to Costco to gas up my car and buy Supernatural Season 2, because apparently it was on sale (actually, it wasn't. My sister should learn not to assume things), and eat the tasters. Yum! My sister wanted to go to her running store to buy new shoes. Since it is very close to Costco, I offered to take her there. Geez. I am so not a runner, let me tell you. I don't know if you've ever had the joy of going into a store which is SO not your thing. The only logical response is to make fun of the things you see, because let's be honest. Half the time you don't even know what the things are for. I mean, squeezable sport gel, anyone?
So the worker guy asked us if we needed help, and I pointed to my sister and said, "Help her!" He looked at us funny, and that was my escape cue. My cousin and I ran outside and sat to wait for my sister. Apparently it's a very in-depth process to pick out new shoes. Support, weight, fit, comfort...who knew? At this store, they will not sell you a pair of shoes until you've tried about eight on, and run with all eight outside for a little bit. Then you do shoe challenges, running with one shoe on one foot and another shoe on the other, in order to find the winner. It's a weird world, that running world is. So the cute sales guy comes out with my sister and tells her to run. She runs past us and shouts, "What do you think?" Me, being the girl that I am, shout back, "They're not cute! Don't they have some in pink???" I heard the guy laugh behind me. Yeah, I'm not a runner. It's apparent. So a few shoes later, she runs out, super excited. "THEY'RE PINK!" And they were. These shoes were white, with pink accents. And not just plain pink. Shiny pink in some places. I was sold. And I made sure she was, too. I mean, honestly. Who needs running shoes that make you look ugly? It's all about the image.
And pink does the trick.
Cultural Education...Or Lack Thereof
On Saturday night HRH, a couple of her friends, and I went to the India Fest that they hold once a year at the local (ahem - this means the only one in a two-hundred mile radius) Ind
ian temple. It was the first time I had been there and I was excited to go because...hey. How often is it that you can say casually to your friend, "Yeah, I went to the Indian Temple on Saturday." I mean, instant cool factor right there. So we went. It's in the middle of nowhere - actually, it's in the middle of farmer fields, which just made it feel strangely like we were actually in India - or how I imagine it would feel to be in India...minus the humidity, of course. I was a little disappointed because there wasn't much to do, and what there was to do, you either had to pay, stand in a never-ending line, or fight the crowds. Not entirely what I was expecting.We went up into the temple where they had an appointed story-teller-guide-person-man to tell the story of their culture and religion. We sat down, and I was ready to be culturally edified. Much to my chagrin, I could barely understand the enthusiastic man gibbering off in a mix between Hindi and English. We lasted about 3 minutes and then decided to leave. I remarked to my friend that I was hoping to learn more of their culture and religion, because, sadly, everything I've ever learned about India, I learned from "Bend it Like Beckham" and "Bride & Prejudice." Which, at the time, was a hilarious realization. I mean, India is HOW big and culturally important, and all I can boast after my many years of education and world history classes is that my knowledge of a fascinating country is based on two Indian-influenced chick flicks. My world is apparently very small. That didn't stop me from hoping that Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson would magically show up and get their Indian groove on. Once again, I was disappointed.
What the....?
Like I said, the India Fest was packed to capacity (and probably a little over). There were families, groups of friends, and all forms of human life that you could expect to find at such a gathering. However, I was not expecting one human life to be there. So I was standing around the Henna Tattoo booth, because a couple of the girls with us wanted to get tattoos. And as there was nothing else to do, we accompanied them in the line, discussing everything from career aspirations to how similar Mika is to Miranda. We were standing in a circle, chatting away, when I casually looked to the side of my friend. I saw just a sea of faces, one of which was behind said friend. I looked away, because why pay attention to random faces unless they are Jonathan Rhys-Myers or Martin Henderson? It took me a second after I turned back to our group to realize that I recognized that face. Very well. And not from the movies. I looked back and saw the person still staring at me, with a grin starting to begin at the corners of his mouth. It was my friend Nate. Nate, mind you, is a friend from high school -well -we were friendsish. We eventually became pretty good friends in college. Since being home from Argentina, however, I hadn't seen him much. You know how that works. They have girlfriends and that's just not right to be around too much. He went to Washington DC for the summer and had been back a month. He hadn't called and I hadn't called him. That's just how we work. We catch up every couple of months or so, but nothing too major in between. And quite frankly, I saw his posts on Facebook and heaven help me if I was going to be one of the many girls trying to get his attention. So I refused.
Thus, seein
g him, after about four months of not seeing him, and seeing him when I was not expecting to see him, caused me to have this blank stare and blurt out the words, "Of all the places in the world for you to be, why are you HERE?" That's a nice greeting, now isn't it. He said hey to all and then quickly scurried away to be with his roommates. And that was it. Of all the places to see an old friend who you avoided because of his harem of girls, you see him at the Indian Temple in Spanish Fork, Utah, during the India Fest, on a Saturday night. Which leads me to conclude...."WHAT THE...???" Fall Colors
I don't think this is necessarily funny, but it's strangely amusing to me. My mom wanted to go up the canyon to see the trees changing colors. It's kind of a tradition with us. And apparently the colors won't last long this year because we had a dry spring or something. I really need to study up on that. Anyway, we went up the canyon, just the two of us. We drove arou
nd, saw the brilliant reds, the vibrant oranges, and the stunning yellows, all mixed in with the greens. It was beautiful. The problem is that I get carsick. I'm good on long road trips, and I just can't read or do anything in cars if we're going on short trips. The real problems start on winding roads. I cannot stop the queasiness once we get on those. I almost didn't get to go to my favorite place in the entire world, Sea Ranch, California, because it's about 45 minutes of coast-hugging highways. And the little roads up the canyon that wind around the different campsites? Almost as bad. So my mom kept on chatting and driving, while I rolled down my window and curled up into a ball. We got lost. Do you know the agony of being carsick and not knowing the way out of the evil one-way roads of camping? Intense, let me tell you. We finally found the little wood post that directed us toward the exit. We got home and I went directly upstairs to my bed and put on Pride & Prejudice on my laptop and laid there for about an hour and a half, until I could move again without feeling like I was going to lose it. That's just life, isn't it? You go do something fun and not normally done, and enjoy it, but then end up curled on your bed for an hour afterward because of carsickness. Joy!The Pink Ones
I stayed the night and spent part of the day with my cousin and sister last Saturday. I did my GMAT prep (ugghhhhhh), was introduced to Supernatural with a four-episode marathon (not so shabby, but I'm left with the question which really needs to be answered...who is cuter? Jared/Sam or Jensen/Dean? Help!), and vegged just a little. It was needed. So my cousin and I wanted to go to Costco to gas up my car and buy Supernatural Season 2, because apparently it was on sale (actually, it wasn't. My sister should learn not to assume things), and eat the tasters. Yum! My sister wanted to go to her running store to buy new shoes. Since it is very close to Costco, I offered to take her there. Geez. I am so not a runner, let me tell you. I don't know if you've ever had the joy of going into a store which is SO not your thing. The only logical response is to make fun of the things you see, because let's be honest. Half the time you don't even know what the things are for. I mean, squeezable sport gel, anyone?
So the worker guy asked us if we needed help, and I pointed to my sister and said, "Help her!" He looked at us funny, and that was my escape cue. My cousin and I ran outside and sat to wait for my sister. Apparently it's a very in-depth process to pick out new shoes. Support, weight, fit, comfort...who knew? At this store, they will not sell you a pair of shoes until you've tried about eight on, and run with all eight outside for a little bit. Then you do shoe challenges, running with one shoe on one foot and another shoe on the other, in order to find the winner. It's a weird world, that running world is. So the cute sales guy comes out with my sister and tells her to run. She runs past us and shouts, "What do you think?" Me, being the girl that I am, shout back, "They're not cute! Don't they have some in pink???" I heard the guy laugh behind me. Yeah, I'm not a runner. It's apparent. So a few shoes later, she runs out, super excited. "THEY'RE PINK!" And they were. These shoes were white, with pink accents. And not just plain pink. Shiny pink in some places. I was sold. And I made sure she was, too. I mean, honestly. Who needs running shoes that make you look ugly? It's all about the image.
And pink does the trick.
The Reality of Fictional Favorites
I go to church every week and this Sunday's topic in one of our classes was marriage. *Inward groan* Nothing says Hip-hip-hooray like a marriage class in a single's ward. Trust me. Anyway, one of the girls asked about when should you pay attention to the red flags before getting serious, and which flags were important. Quoting the text which the lesson was based on, "there must be the proper approach toward marriage, which contemplates the selection of a spouse who reaches as nearly as possible the pinnacle of perfection in all the matters which are of importan
ce to the individuals." I then made the comment: "Girls, we will not find a perfect guy. Ever. They don't exist. The sad reality is that Mr. Darcy is not real. Nor is Edward. So we need to find guys who come close to perfection in every significant area. But if we are searching for ultimate perfection, we will end up alone, with only our books and chick flicks to comfort us." I got a lot of laughs, but it's true. And as much as I hated saying it (because now I have to admit it), Mr. Darcy is not real. Nor is Edward. That is just the reality of our fictional favorites. Nevertheless, which book am I rereading? Pride and Prejudice. Which book(s) did I read before P&P? The Twilight series. Sometimes I think reality is overrated.
The Arrogance of Men
I don't know how many of you have seen Star Wars Episode Five (or #2 in the original trilogy), but I watched it this weekend and was reminded of a line that makes me want to gag everytime I hear it. Imagine Han, in shackles, ready to be put into frozen hibernation for an indefinite amount of time. The Empire's bubble-head guards are all standing around thinking, "Hey man - is it lunch yet? This Vader dude totally sucks out all my positive energy." And Chewy and Leia are there, watching helplessly. Okay, Chewy wasn't totally helpless. He took a few guards down before Han told him to cut it out and protect the damsel in distress. I'm sorry, has Leia EVER been the damsel needing protection? Okay, don't answer that. So Leia and Han have a farewell smooch and as he is pulled away, she says, "I love you." His reply? Not "I love you, too." Or, "Get me out of this and I'll marry you in a pod-racing second." No. He says, oh so gallantly, "I know." Geez. Of all the arrogant replies. That one is the worst. Does it say that he loves her? That he's committed? Negative, ghostwriter. Rather, it is the detached, emotionally void reply that stems from his inner ego. Talk about arrogance. That always ticks me off.
So, while watching this movie with a group of people I didn't really know that well, I make the reply: "You know, I'd like to be a bounty hunter for a day and take him down." I got a lot of funny looks. Maybe I should try verbalizing all of the mental banter I have before making such comments in the future. Note to self.
The Really Big Brain Cramp
So, I thought GMAT would be bad. That was until I had to translate an engineering report from Spanish to English. Complete with math conversions from the metric scale to what we Americans use. I think that's why all of the above moments/thoughts were so funny or at least note-worthy. I spent the beginning of last week doing this for about 12 hours. Ouch. Not recommended. So don't blame me for being odd. Blame the goo that was me before the translations began.
Living the Kamikaze Life
So, HRH recently chastised me for not keeping my blog up-to-date with my random life occurrences. I apologized because it was the truth, and what else can you say in response to the truth, except…I’m sorry. So I did. And that was about a week ago. I guess I’m slow. Or a slacker. Or just completely overrun by my kamikaze life. Time to explain!
What is a kamikaze life, you might ask? Well, according to the uber-knowledgeable database Wikipedia, kamikaze means in Japanese “god-wind” or “divine wind.” So, its origin is divine, correct? Right. Go with me here on this. Somehow, in the translation of the word and its everyday use in English, it now refers to the suicide bombers of World War II, and basically suicidal action in general. Put the two meanings together, and you get what I mean by living the kamikaze life. There are days when I feel like my life is caree
ning out of control, the warning buttons are beeping at a frantic pace, and I can barely think straight because too much is going on that I can’t even focus on pulling out of the death spiral nose-dive. The kicker, though, is that it all comes from a divine source. No, it doesn’t mean that God hates me and is punishing me by sending things to bring me down to an early demise. Quite the opposite. I am dealing with things that seem bent on my destruction, but in actuality, are sent to help me become who I can and need to be. Is it overwhelming? Yes. But is there a reason for it all? I would have to say yes.
So what I am dealing with or going through? Don’t laugh because it is a lot for me right now, but it can be summed up in one short acronym – GMAT. I’m prepping to take the evil sucker on October 20th (aka in my world as D-Day. No, not Deliverance Day. DOOM DAY). I’m taking a class at BYU to help motivate me. Oh yes. $335 for a class that is eight hours a week - 4 hours on Thursday evening and 4 hours on Saturday morning. When each class is over, I consider it a success if I remember my name and where I parked my car. My brain is impaired that much. The worst of it all is that I chose to be there. AND I PAID FOR IT, TOO! *Sigh* The sacrifices you make to be able to pursue higher education in the world. I’m also doing math and language practice problems every evening for at least an hour. So that means by the time 8:00 has rolled around, I’ve basically sat around all day, either at work or at home, slowly turning my mind into Leah brain-goo. This means that I need to exercise for about an hour while watching an episode of Gilmore Girls in order to bring me back to a somewhat normal state, and then crash into my bed at night. Add all of this insanity to my normal duties as a daughter, sister, chauffeur to my brother, as well as my desires to have somewhat of a social life on weekends, and you get Leah’s kamikaze life.
I’m sure you have all had moments, days, weeks, or periods like this in your life. You know it’s all leading to something. You just don’t know what. Nor when it will happen. But you put up with the craziness because you know that it doesn’t lead you to the end of the path, but rather takes you to a new one, full of new adventures and twists and turns. So we soldier on - until the day when it all makes sense, and we can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief and say… “A-HA!”
What is a kamikaze life, you might ask? Well, according to the uber-knowledgeable database Wikipedia, kamikaze means in Japanese “god-wind” or “divine wind.” So, its origin is divine, correct? Right. Go with me here on this. Somehow, in the translation of the word and its everyday use in English, it now refers to the suicide bombers of World War II, and basically suicidal action in general. Put the two meanings together, and you get what I mean by living the kamikaze life. There are days when I feel like my life is caree
ning out of control, the warning buttons are beeping at a frantic pace, and I can barely think straight because too much is going on that I can’t even focus on pulling out of the death spiral nose-dive. The kicker, though, is that it all comes from a divine source. No, it doesn’t mean that God hates me and is punishing me by sending things to bring me down to an early demise. Quite the opposite. I am dealing with things that seem bent on my destruction, but in actuality, are sent to help me become who I can and need to be. Is it overwhelming? Yes. But is there a reason for it all? I would have to say yes.So what I am dealing with or going through? Don’t laugh because it is a lot for me right now, but it can be summed up in one short acronym – GMAT. I’m prepping to take the evil sucker on October 20th (aka in my world as D-Day. No, not Deliverance Day. DOOM DAY). I’m taking a class at BYU to help motivate me. Oh yes. $335 for a class that is eight hours a week - 4 hours on Thursday evening and 4 hours on Saturday morning. When each class is over, I consider it a success if I remember my name and where I parked my car. My brain is impaired that much. The worst of it all is that I chose to be there. AND I PAID FOR IT, TOO! *Sigh* The sacrifices you make to be able to pursue higher education in the world. I’m also doing math and language practice problems every evening for at least an hour. So that means by the time 8:00 has rolled around, I’ve basically sat around all day, either at work or at home, slowly turning my mind into Leah brain-goo. This means that I need to exercise for about an hour while watching an episode of Gilmore Girls in order to bring me back to a somewhat normal state, and then crash into my bed at night. Add all of this insanity to my normal duties as a daughter, sister, chauffeur to my brother, as well as my desires to have somewhat of a social life on weekends, and you get Leah’s kamikaze life.
I’m sure you have all had moments, days, weeks, or periods like this in your life. You know it’s all leading to something. You just don’t know what. Nor when it will happen. But you put up with the craziness because you know that it doesn’t lead you to the end of the path, but rather takes you to a new one, full of new adventures and twists and turns. So we soldier on - until the day when it all makes sense, and we can sit back and breathe a sigh of relief and say… “A-HA!”
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