Trust

Trust. 

OED: firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something

I have a hard time with that word.

Why? I am not sure why. 

In fact, yesterday I was talking to someone close to me and he told me that it drove him nuts that I didn't seem to trust him enough to open up to him, that I wouldn't actually let him in. 

I tried. I really did. I wanted to. 

I started trying to tell him about something very close to me, something difficult for me to talk about, and after I told most of it, he asked me if there was a point to the story. 

And that's why. That's why I have a hard time trusting. If you really trust someone with those things, there doesn't have to be a point to the story. You can just tell it. But if there always has to be a point, and I am constantly having to prove myself, I can't be really open. I feel like my open has to be "good enough." And that's not really open. 

So what can I do? Force myself open anyway when I am not even really sure how to do it? To be fair, this person has been very open and vulnerable with me. I realize I do need to learn to be more open. But I don't know how to do that in this situation. 

Am I looking for answers? No, no one reads this blog. I haven't written on it in more than two years. I am just sending this out into the void. 

So This Drunk Girl Walks Into My Apartment...

No, really.
Last night, my friend Brian and I were watching TV in my living room, when this girl walks in the door and says "Do you recognize me?"
I said I didn't, and she says "I just need to charge my phone. Honey, I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to charge my phone, I've got kids."
She said her name was Malea, and she was from the 801. Over and over again. I wasn't sure if she was drunk or high. She held out her phone to me, and Brian ended up going to get his charger, because it fit her phone. I talked to her while we waited.
When Brian got back, I went in the back and told my roommates "There is a girl who just walked in the apartment, and I think she's drunk or high, and I don't know what to do."
So Des went looking for some other guys, because she was a bigger girl, and if she did decide to get mad, I would be useless.
So she is still sitting on the living room floor, and after about 20 minutes, I decide it's probably time we call the police. When she got her phone plugged in and charged (I think she actually just turned it off and couldn't turn it on again) her mom called. She told her mom she had been drinking and she wasn't going to come home until she found her boyfriend, Vili.
I went in the back and called the police, not the emergency number, and told them what happened, that we didn't want her to get into trouble, but that we also didn't wandering down University Avenue in that condition, with no shoes or coat or anything. They sent someone, and while we waited, we just talked to her.
At this point, Dan and Matt had come over, and Jessi and Sam had come home. When Jessi came in, she went on for a while about how beautiful we were, as ladies. That was fun. So we were all just sitting around talking to Malea. Well, mostly she was talking. And swearing. She kept saying she lived in the 801, and something about St. George, but then she got confused. Then, when I came back out again, Dan started to ask her some questions.
"What are you up to tonight?"
"Just hanging with my homies in the 801"
"What's your name?"
"Malea, honey, my name is Malea, honey. What's your name?"
"Dan."
I asked her where her shoes were, and I think that two people talking to her at once really confused her.
"What's your last name?"
"Hill."
"Officer Hill?"
Dan gave her a funny look, because he obviously wasn't a cop, he was wearing scrubs and sneakers.
"No, just Dan Hill."
"N-----You don't gotta be frontin' with me, it's cool."
"I'm not. I'm not a cop."
At this point we were all trying desperately not to laugh, because the idea of Dan as a cop seemed really funny.
"I'm not frontin', I'm not a cop."
Matt piped up and said, "He's a nurse."
She started talking about how great we all were, as Caucasians, for not throwing her out, because she had darker skin than us, and that if someone with darker skin than her came into her house, she would be mad, and that we were upstanding Caucasians. Then she said something about how Caucasians have to protect their GPS's, because brown people come into their homes and terrorists and blow them up and I don't even know all what else.
Then her sister calls, and she hands me the phone and says "Here's my insurance."
I take the phone and say "Hello?"
Her sister starts talking to me, about how Malea was at her house and started drinking and got in a fight with her friend and wandered off. She asked where I lived, and I told her that we had called the police, we weren't trying to get her into trouble, we just wanted to get her home safely. I didn't want a bunch of strangers coming over to my apartment. She said "Okay, she lives off 800 North in Orem," and hung up.
Okay, then. She obviously didn't want to deal with the situation. A few minutes later, the police showed up, and I was kind of worried about how Malea was going to react when they got there, especially since she was right next to the door. But she was very glad to see them, and thanked them and us profusely, some more. They talked to her outside the door, and asked us if we wanted to press charges or anything. We said no, we just wanted to make sure she got home safely. Then they took her away.
It was very entertaining, and something I won't quickly forget.

Tonsils

Well, I got my tonsils out on Thursday, and it has been an interesting experience. I do not recommend it, by the way, the pain is supposed to get worse around day three or four...and that's just where I am.
But I have noticed some things. I can't really talk at all right now, except for a very very quiet Muppet voice, unless I hurt my throat something awful. So I resort to alternate forms of communication, like text messages. This is great when people are not right next to you, but when they are sitting on the other couch...I have stopped trying to say much at all. I still listen, but I won't say anything unless it's really important. And even some of those things aren't understood by everyone. It's interesting that one of my roommates is better at interpreting than the others. I don't know why this is, but I am so thankful that she is around, or I would be as angry as the narcotics they gave me would let me be.
Also, I miss real food. It's amazing that I ate real food on Wednesday, and it's only Sunday, and I want a cheeseburger and fries so badly it almost physically hurts! I have eaten six or seven popsicles every day, and some tomato soup, but I can not eat that for two weeks. Besides, the food I do eat tastes funny. I don't know if it's my meds, or the fact that I have craters in the back of my throat, but it just doesn't taste that great. I attempted bread yesterday. That was okay, but I don't think that I can do it every day. I am now making a list of all the things I will eat as soon as I can.
I am also super grateful for my family and friends and roommates who have been taking care of me. They, to the best of their circumstances, drop what they are doing to take care of me. Even my three year old nephew, who doesn't really know how I am sick, fed me ice chips (he ate his fair share). The sad thing is, I think he has a steadier hand than I do.
Okay, I can feel the pain pill setting in...that's all for today :)

Cake and Eat it Too?

I was talking with a friend yesterday, and the subject of dating and relationships came up. It inevitably does when he and I get together, not in a "We should date" kind of way, but in a philosophical, sociological debate way. We are both people watchers. The only problem is, he has PowerPoint presentations, with sound bytes, video clips, and acronyms, and I have only my wit and a little charm, which never seems to work on him. Drat.
We were discussing the question of who is better to be with, the person who you are completely comfortable being yourself around, or the one who makes you the best version of yourself.
When I say completely comfortable, I mean with all of your faults. They know about the package of gum you stole when you were seven, the fact that you really can't stand that girl in your ward because she is totally insincere and it bothers you, or more serious things. Problematically, however, this could lead to laziness because it's too comfortable and easy. They accept you for who you are now, and therefore why change? In fact, what happens if you do change and they don't like that? Then you're just screwed.
Conversely, you get the amazing person who makes you feel not good enough. They volunteer at the homeless shelter, work at the temple, and you feel like all of your commitments aren't good enough anymore, so you have to learn new things and take up new hobbies and be all that you can to prove to this person that you are just as amazing as they are. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an extreme example, but the idea is valid. You date someone, or even just like someone and want to date them, so to bring yourself "up to their level" you do everything...no, that's not what I am trying to say. That is being fake. There is a difference between just trying to show them that you have all the same interests and being in a caring relationship and wanting to be a better person so that you can better deserve and serve someone out of genuine love. And genuinely good people can see the difference, because of the light in your eyes.
Ah! You are all saying, I want to find the one who makes me want to be a better person, who helps me bring out the light in my eyes, even though it's easier to be lazy and comfortable. No one ever says they want to take the easy path. The harder path reaps more benefits, so everyone jumps at that. My friend thinks that you have to pick one or the other. But I brought up that it is entirely possible to have both of those. This should not be rocket science. The whole idea is one of growing, correct? No one is ever completely and totally comfortable with someone the first time they meet them, no matter how much they gush about how they just connected and felt like they had known each other forever...let's face it, the first time you meet, if you burp or make some other bodily noise, you are going to be uncomfortable. And as far as making you a better person, that is a continual process, forever! And the idea is that it should be mutual, so these two things should go hand in hand.
When it all comes down to it, it's really about the choice that you make every day. Are you going to be comfortable today? Or are you going to be the best person? And actually, that choice is something that is regardless of any other person out there, dating, friend, teacher. That's entirely up to you. We hold such amazing power in our lives.

Asparagus and Radishes...no Aha moments

Okay, so this is about two months overdue, and I should be going to bed like an hour ago, but I really want to write on my blog right now.

A while back we were talking about this in Relief Society. I don't even remember who was giving the lesson, but she was talking about how she had never had any huge miracles or big life altering experiences that gave her a testimony, just little things in her life from time to time that affirmed to her that the gospel was true and that built her testimony. And I am the same way. I think many of us are, since we grew up in the church.

Later I was talking with my mom and she mentioned the fact that in the Book of Mormon the fact that the people are constantly falling away so quickly, and she wondered why. She had been talking with a friend, and they had decided that it was because they were always converted by a miracle. They were converted by the big thing. Only when the people's testimonies were built on the little day to day things were they able to stay strong. Isn't that ironic? We always think that we want the huge Saul or Alma the Younger type of experience, but statistically, the fact that they stayed strong was the real miracle, not the experience that got them to repent and gave them their initial seeds of testimony.

I would rather have a testimony like Asparagus than Radishes.


Stay with me for a minute. I swear it will make sense. Radishes are the fastest growing vegetable out there. You stick the seeds in the ground and *poof* you have radishes. But then what do you do with them? You uproot them! Asparagus, on the other end of the spectrum, can't be harvested until at least three years, and reaches its prime at six to eight years. But once it does, it can grow as much as a centimeter an hour. And that is why I would rather have an asparagus testimony. It takes longer to grow, but it doesn't get uprooted, and once it grows, it's there for good.

That's another thing. We think of a testimony as this static thing that is bestowed upon as like some sort of gift because we read our scriptures, or went to church, because we earned it. A testimony is not a thing, but a process. It is a a solemn attestation as to the truth of a matter http://www.lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-646-15,00.html . I know that the church is true, and so does President Monson. But we do not know the same things. I can guarantee that his knowledge far outweighs mine. But hopefully both of our testimonies keep growing.

It's like the parable of the talents. One of them is given ten talents and another five and another one, and the first two double what they have but the third doesn't. That always used to bug me, because I thought that it should be the other way around, because it should have been the one with only one talent doubling his and the one with many not and getting punished. But I realized that it would be easier and less scary for him to go out and make something of himself. Who has it "easier?" Those with more talents. The Lord isn't asking us to all come out with the same at the end, though. He's just asking us to do something with what he gave us. He isn't even necessarily asking us to double what he gave us. Just do something. He can and will make up the difference if we let Him. So now I understand why it had to be the servant with one talent who had to not make anything of what he was given. Because it wasn't about what he had at the end. It was about making something of what he was given. Even when it was hard and scary.

Spring Snow

Fall Flowers

View from the Bottom


















Words often escape me, anyone and everyone can attest to that. But images never can. I will pursue them relentlessly, and passionately.

Oh Sweet Mystery of Life, At Last I've Found Thee!

Okay, I hope that this does not sound like a bitter diatribe against men. If it does, stop me now. I hear so many men go on and on about how great mystery is in women. Which I'm sure is wonderful. I'm just not mysterious. I can't help myself. I am just too open for my own or anyone else's good. Which I know has made people uncomfortable before. It has also been the reason I have gotten burned before. I guess I just wonder, how does one be mysterious? By not talking about anything substantial? By being coy? What exactly is coy?

COY

-adjective

artfully or affectedly shy or reserved; slyly hesitant; coquettish.

co⋅quette

  [koh-ket]

-Noun

a woman who flirts lightheartedly with men to win their admiration and affection; flirt.

Okay, so we have established that I have to be a sly, affected flirt...not so into that. I'm not even sure I'd know how to do that. People have told me I'm a flirt. Okay, I have ALMOST no bubble. But I would hope I don't come off as affected. Gah! I really hope that!
Actually, I think I have figured some things out since I started this post a few weeks ago. But I'm not going to say. Why? Because that would take away the mystery. ;)