Shelli Armstrong's Blog, page 7
October 31, 2013
Disappointments
Have you ever stumbled upon a website that has the cutest clothes for ridiculously low prices only to find that the sizes are meant for typical Asian women, and not even close to regular U.S. sizes?
I'm telling you that it happens way too often.
I'm not just saying that they don't have plus sizes. These sites don't carry a size 12. Their XXXL is the equivalent of a U.S. size 10.
Somebody tell me where to get cute, cheap clothes in my sizes.
I'm telling you that it happens way too often.
I'm not just saying that they don't have plus sizes. These sites don't carry a size 12. Their XXXL is the equivalent of a U.S. size 10.
Somebody tell me where to get cute, cheap clothes in my sizes.
ER
Last Thursday, I worked for an hour before I had to go home. On Friday, I went to the emergency room under direction of my doctor. I wouldn't have done it - and I shouldn't have - except, this is something they tell me ALL the time, and I always resist.
Remember that one time my roommate and I decided to make baked goods for boys to prove that that actually isn't the way to get dates? (No? http://shellmarie.blogspot.com/2011/04/trying-to-be-obedient.html) My visit to the ER was kind of like that. I knew that it would be a waste of time and money, but I was sick of hearing that I needed to go and I was sick of dealing with...well, what I was dealing with.
So I went to the ER, and I didn't have to wait even one second in the waiting room, which surprised me. A few nights before that, I had watched this whole video documentary on emergency rooms and saw the pain and suffering of people that go to the ER because they don't have insurance and what not. It made me cry no less than three times. Anyway, they got me in the system (spelled my name wrong) and then I waited. The doctor came in pretty quickly, especially when compared to the rest of the day, and we discussed what was going on. He decided that he wanted an on-call doctor to come see me, so in the meantime, I was to provide blood for my blood work and urine for my pee test.
The lady who did the blood work was not very bright. The whole time I was texting Amy (a phlebotomist of her own right) and sending her pictures of this woman's work. First, she chose to work on my right arm. I warned her that people often have a hard time getting my right arm to cooperate. She didn't let that phase her, instead she picked a vein off to the side and pushed and prodded and got five out of the six tubes of blood required by the dock. It was the most painful draw I have ever experienced. Let's not forget that I have my blood work done pretty frequently - I mean, I have throughout my life, and just recently was on Accutane, which meant monthly blood work. If the fact that this woman hadn't mutilated my arm weren't enough, she also told me that I probably only got my job because I was a girl, and because companies need a certain amount of minorities in their company, and ergo, that was why I was hired. (She later apologized for that little comment.)
When she got me set up for the IV I never needed, she decided to use my left arm. There's barely a mark on my left arm, where she had zero problems finding a vein... I'm just saying. She did have a little bit of an issue putting the needle all the way in, which was just a titch painful whenever I bent my arm to use it... but, at least she found the vein!
I was pretty bored in the ER. There's not really a lot on television during the day. I would have watched Ellen, but her guest was Puff Daddy - P Diddy - whoever the heck he is. I didn't care. So I switched the TV to some musical station and tried to read on my phone. Unfortunately, the book I was reading wasn't very good. And oh, I was naked! except for my hospital gown. That was awkward.
The worst part, besides knowing that I had just spent $100 on a deductible I couldn't really afford, was the catheter. They wanted a "clean" urine sample, and so peeing in a cup was not an option. (Or, it had been an option until there was a shift switch and one nurse wouldn't let me get away with it!) It was maybe not as bad as I thought it was going to be, but it was definitely not a good time.
By that time, I had been in the hospital for four hours. FOUR HOURS and all they did was mutilate my arm and get a pee sample. The on-call doctor was nowhere to be seen, and finally in the fifth hour, the original ER doctor came in, did a quick exam, gave me a prescription for two days at home for rest and another one for pain pills that I didn't ask for.
I left the hospital and only then remembered that I should have asked for them to do some imaging - as that was one of the reasons my doctor had encouraged me to go to the ER in the first place. I set up an appointment with the no-show on-call doctor, and was on my not-so-merry way.
I proved myself right, though. Emergency rooms are strictly for when your organs are falling out, or your limbs are falling off. I will never go there voluntarily again. Instacare for me, all the way. That, or no doctors at all.
Saturday I made a really dumb decision to go horseback riding. Horrible. Terrible decision. It was a pretty day, though, so I can't begrudge the fact that I spent a day in nice weather instead of holed up in my room like I did for the rest of the weekend, Monday, and Tuesday. Luckily, my appointment with the doctor was somewhat a success, and after over dosing on the pills she gave me, I'm happy to say that last night I had the first good night's sleep I've had in over a week, and I'm feeling much better. Hooray.
Remember that one time my roommate and I decided to make baked goods for boys to prove that that actually isn't the way to get dates? (No? http://shellmarie.blogspot.com/2011/04/trying-to-be-obedient.html) My visit to the ER was kind of like that. I knew that it would be a waste of time and money, but I was sick of hearing that I needed to go and I was sick of dealing with...well, what I was dealing with.
So I went to the ER, and I didn't have to wait even one second in the waiting room, which surprised me. A few nights before that, I had watched this whole video documentary on emergency rooms and saw the pain and suffering of people that go to the ER because they don't have insurance and what not. It made me cry no less than three times. Anyway, they got me in the system (spelled my name wrong) and then I waited. The doctor came in pretty quickly, especially when compared to the rest of the day, and we discussed what was going on. He decided that he wanted an on-call doctor to come see me, so in the meantime, I was to provide blood for my blood work and urine for my pee test.
The lady who did the blood work was not very bright. The whole time I was texting Amy (a phlebotomist of her own right) and sending her pictures of this woman's work. First, she chose to work on my right arm. I warned her that people often have a hard time getting my right arm to cooperate. She didn't let that phase her, instead she picked a vein off to the side and pushed and prodded and got five out of the six tubes of blood required by the dock. It was the most painful draw I have ever experienced. Let's not forget that I have my blood work done pretty frequently - I mean, I have throughout my life, and just recently was on Accutane, which meant monthly blood work. If the fact that this woman hadn't mutilated my arm weren't enough, she also told me that I probably only got my job because I was a girl, and because companies need a certain amount of minorities in their company, and ergo, that was why I was hired. (She later apologized for that little comment.)
When she got me set up for the IV I never needed, she decided to use my left arm. There's barely a mark on my left arm, where she had zero problems finding a vein... I'm just saying. She did have a little bit of an issue putting the needle all the way in, which was just a titch painful whenever I bent my arm to use it... but, at least she found the vein!
I was pretty bored in the ER. There's not really a lot on television during the day. I would have watched Ellen, but her guest was Puff Daddy - P Diddy - whoever the heck he is. I didn't care. So I switched the TV to some musical station and tried to read on my phone. Unfortunately, the book I was reading wasn't very good. And oh, I was naked! except for my hospital gown. That was awkward.
The worst part, besides knowing that I had just spent $100 on a deductible I couldn't really afford, was the catheter. They wanted a "clean" urine sample, and so peeing in a cup was not an option. (Or, it had been an option until there was a shift switch and one nurse wouldn't let me get away with it!) It was maybe not as bad as I thought it was going to be, but it was definitely not a good time.
By that time, I had been in the hospital for four hours. FOUR HOURS and all they did was mutilate my arm and get a pee sample. The on-call doctor was nowhere to be seen, and finally in the fifth hour, the original ER doctor came in, did a quick exam, gave me a prescription for two days at home for rest and another one for pain pills that I didn't ask for.
I left the hospital and only then remembered that I should have asked for them to do some imaging - as that was one of the reasons my doctor had encouraged me to go to the ER in the first place. I set up an appointment with the no-show on-call doctor, and was on my not-so-merry way.
I proved myself right, though. Emergency rooms are strictly for when your organs are falling out, or your limbs are falling off. I will never go there voluntarily again. Instacare for me, all the way. That, or no doctors at all.
Saturday I made a really dumb decision to go horseback riding. Horrible. Terrible decision. It was a pretty day, though, so I can't begrudge the fact that I spent a day in nice weather instead of holed up in my room like I did for the rest of the weekend, Monday, and Tuesday. Luckily, my appointment with the doctor was somewhat a success, and after over dosing on the pills she gave me, I'm happy to say that last night I had the first good night's sleep I've had in over a week, and I'm feeling much better. Hooray.
October 23, 2013
Lessons from the Married Folk
Several years ago, one of my dearest friends called and told me that she had started dating a guy. It was obvious withing minutes that she was head over heels. I happily listened as she talked about him and his personality and my dismissive thoughts were quickly replaced with thinking that this was probably going to "work out."
I initially dismissed the relationship because they were both very young. He hadn't served his mission. I wanted her to graduate, have the chance to explore the world, and do crazy and fun things.
The more I listened, the more I realized how mature their relationship was. The clincher was when she told me of how he had offended or hurt her by an action or something he said, and instead of bottling it up like I would have thought she would do, she confronted him. And instead of getting defensive or dismissing her, he validated her feelings, apologized, and promised to never do it again.
What?!
I was so stunned. These were 18-year old kids! I knew people ten years older that wouldn't have handled the situation as well as they did. I still don't know if I would have - being on either end. But that's when I knew. I knew they were going to get married. And I knew they were going to make it. He served his mission, and she waited. He took a job at home, and she waited. And when they got married, it was one of the best weddings I'd ever been to. I'm sure it's been an adjustment, and yet, they are happy.
I think it's important to be in a relationship where you feel safe to bring up your frustrations, and talk about what hurts you and makes you feel bad. If you don't feel safe doing that - if you feel like the person is going to get upset, or leave, then you need to reevaluate. I think it's a good indication in dating, especially, that if you can't bring to attention something that the other person is doing is making you crazy or hurting your feelings, that that person is not the one for you. It's never easy to confront someone on their alleged poor behavior, but... you have to be able to do it. And on the other hand, you need to allow for others to come to you and voice concerns and unhappiness at what you do. We are all imperfect, and we all make mistakes, it's so much better in the long run to be able to look at something, apologize, and try to never do it again.
I am still blown away that I learned that from someone so young, and yet, it's one of the many lessons I've picked up as I've observed successful couples interact with each other.
I initially dismissed the relationship because they were both very young. He hadn't served his mission. I wanted her to graduate, have the chance to explore the world, and do crazy and fun things.
The more I listened, the more I realized how mature their relationship was. The clincher was when she told me of how he had offended or hurt her by an action or something he said, and instead of bottling it up like I would have thought she would do, she confronted him. And instead of getting defensive or dismissing her, he validated her feelings, apologized, and promised to never do it again.
What?!
I was so stunned. These were 18-year old kids! I knew people ten years older that wouldn't have handled the situation as well as they did. I still don't know if I would have - being on either end. But that's when I knew. I knew they were going to get married. And I knew they were going to make it. He served his mission, and she waited. He took a job at home, and she waited. And when they got married, it was one of the best weddings I'd ever been to. I'm sure it's been an adjustment, and yet, they are happy.
I think it's important to be in a relationship where you feel safe to bring up your frustrations, and talk about what hurts you and makes you feel bad. If you don't feel safe doing that - if you feel like the person is going to get upset, or leave, then you need to reevaluate. I think it's a good indication in dating, especially, that if you can't bring to attention something that the other person is doing is making you crazy or hurting your feelings, that that person is not the one for you. It's never easy to confront someone on their alleged poor behavior, but... you have to be able to do it. And on the other hand, you need to allow for others to come to you and voice concerns and unhappiness at what you do. We are all imperfect, and we all make mistakes, it's so much better in the long run to be able to look at something, apologize, and try to never do it again.
I am still blown away that I learned that from someone so young, and yet, it's one of the many lessons I've picked up as I've observed successful couples interact with each other.
October 15, 2013
Smartie Pants
The other day I was talking about men and the lack of potential date-able men in my life, and my friend commented that she would love to set me up with some, but that she didn't think she knew any guys that were smart enough.
For some reason this struck a chord.
I've never felt like I am incredibly intelligent. Not to say that I think I'm dumb, because I know I'm not. But I have never felt as though I am smarter than most. I often feel ignorant about different topics (politics, math, the economy, personal finances, etc.) and I'm not nearly as smart as a lot of my friends.
But I think that is the point. I like to surround myself with intelligent people. And even though some of my close friends are not "book smart", they are geniuses in their own right. And I appreciate that.
Intelligence is important to me. I don't know why I'm just now discovering it. I've always liked guys that I felt were smarter than me, because I liked that they could teach me things. I don't want someone who lords it over my head, and becomes patronizing or disrespectful because they think they are not only smarter than me, but also everyone in the whole wide world (I've known people like this that I can't stand).
It bothers me when people are proud of the fact that they don't read. Or if they are uncommonly simple minded, and don't want to do anything about it.
So yes, I guess I do want a man with some brains.
For some reason this struck a chord.
I've never felt like I am incredibly intelligent. Not to say that I think I'm dumb, because I know I'm not. But I have never felt as though I am smarter than most. I often feel ignorant about different topics (politics, math, the economy, personal finances, etc.) and I'm not nearly as smart as a lot of my friends.
But I think that is the point. I like to surround myself with intelligent people. And even though some of my close friends are not "book smart", they are geniuses in their own right. And I appreciate that.
Intelligence is important to me. I don't know why I'm just now discovering it. I've always liked guys that I felt were smarter than me, because I liked that they could teach me things. I don't want someone who lords it over my head, and becomes patronizing or disrespectful because they think they are not only smarter than me, but also everyone in the whole wide world (I've known people like this that I can't stand).
It bothers me when people are proud of the fact that they don't read. Or if they are uncommonly simple minded, and don't want to do anything about it.
So yes, I guess I do want a man with some brains.
October 5, 2013
Utah
This year, I truly fell in love with Utah. I've liked living here these past years (nine years...nine), but I've always joined the throngs of transplants that long for home, and dis on Utah. But something changed this year. My friends and I have traveled in different areas of Utah - from Moab, to the Salt Flats, to Scenic Byway UT-150, through Logan Canyon to Bear Lake, eastern Utah in Vernal, and even Antelope Island nearby and of course the hundreds of miles driven to get to all of these places, somewhere between all of this, I really did fall in love.
Even though we are unseasonably cold today, I have truly enjoyed the last few weeks we've had of gorgeous fall weather. I love fall in Utah. It rejuvenates my soul. It makes me love Utah even more. So bring it winter! I've got my Christmas tree up, and it's harvest-themed decorated, with the cutest turkey ornaments I could have ever wished for.
Even though we are unseasonably cold today, I have truly enjoyed the last few weeks we've had of gorgeous fall weather. I love fall in Utah. It rejuvenates my soul. It makes me love Utah even more. So bring it winter! I've got my Christmas tree up, and it's harvest-themed decorated, with the cutest turkey ornaments I could have ever wished for.
August 20, 2013
Anxiety
I love when I sit down to write a post and then realize what I was going to say is not quite...right.
For instance, this post was going to try and explain my social anxiety. I doubt most people really realize that it is an issue for me.
But then I Googled "social anxiety" and the article that I read (yes, I read just one) said that social anxiety is a fear of being judged by other people. In fact, it says, "Social anxiety is a discomfort or a fear when a person is in social interactions that involve a concern about being judged or evaluated by others." And that's not exactly what is going on with me. For the record: I don't really care what people think about me. No, let me rephrase that -- I am not afraid of other people's judgments of me. How else would I get away with being as blunt as I am?
Anyway, the problem is the fact that I moved all the way to the big city to meet new people (men) and expand my social (dating) circle...and so far, it's all been moot because I can't find whatever courage, gumption, or other extroverted traits I thought I possessed in order to do this very thing! It's frustrating because the rational side of me knows that there is nothing to be afraid of, and the emotional, messed up side of me is really just getting in the way.
This isn't all entirely new, however, my anxiety is largely diminished whenever I have just one cohort with me in groups of people. Even if I'm off on the side, watching the person be center of attention, or talking to other friends that I don't know, I feel much more comfortable than I do by myself. I don't think that this is somehow abnormal - in fact, I'm sure most people are more comfortable in group settings if they are intimately (and by that, I do not mean romance-novel "intimately") acquainted with someone. I've almost always had that in my life. In grade school through sophomore year in high school, it was my best friend. My junior and senior year it was a different good friend or my sister. My first weeks in Provo were greatly eased by my just-moved-to-town-too roommate, and so on and so forth.
There was one munch and mingle that I went to by myself when I lived in southern Provo, and I had a full blown anxiety attack. This was a year or two after I had gone off anti-depressants, and had not had any issues, except, I was the youngest person in the ward, and I knew only a handful of people, none of them well enough. I felt myself hyperventilating, and close to tears, and I bagged the whole thing. I went home immediately, and it wasn't until I walked out of the crowded hallway did I feel like I could breathe normally. Since then, I haven't had to worry about those situations. Not to long after that, I moved into the Omni and gained a very close-knit, large group of friends; and I've had something along the same lines ever since. (Even in The Single Tree, where I moved in and knew no one and somehow developed friendships with the girls in that ward...Still not sure how it happened, though, none of the friendships have really "stuck", since I moved.)
So now I live by myself (which I still love) and spend a lot of time by myself (which I mostly love) and by the time Sunday rolls around, I am so unused to being around people, that the thought of approaching people, or attending a munch-n-mingle by myself literally has me tearing up and quaking in my boots. I've missed several activities that I've actually wanted to go to simply because my brain could not fathom the idea of going and being by myself. My imagination (of which I have already proven gets carried away) starts putting scenarios in my head of walking into a room and standing there utterly along, tongue-tied, deaf, and mute. Or sitting on the edge of a lake watching everyone have fun while trying to pretend like I am enjoying reading and talking to no one. (Our ward had a campout that I wanted to go to, but could not bring myself to attend alone.)
So Sunday, while my whole ward was feasting on something that smelled truly delicious, I left. Thinking that if someone stopped to wonder at why I was taking off before the food, I would plead a headache. Only, no one stopped me, so I didn't have to use that age old excuse - true though it was.
So what is my problem? I really am not worried about what people think about me -- unless it's subconsciously. I am worried about going in and being that lone person, sitting at a table with no one else, quietly eating while trying not to make longing eye contact at the group of people obviously having fun. I don't want to be the awkward, fat girl with no friends. Which makes this all a giant Catch-22. How can you make friends with people if you don't attend activities? And how can you attend activities if you are near-tears at the very thought of going alone? No wonder people drink as a social lubricant.
For instance, this post was going to try and explain my social anxiety. I doubt most people really realize that it is an issue for me.
But then I Googled "social anxiety" and the article that I read (yes, I read just one) said that social anxiety is a fear of being judged by other people. In fact, it says, "Social anxiety is a discomfort or a fear when a person is in social interactions that involve a concern about being judged or evaluated by others." And that's not exactly what is going on with me. For the record: I don't really care what people think about me. No, let me rephrase that -- I am not afraid of other people's judgments of me. How else would I get away with being as blunt as I am?
Anyway, the problem is the fact that I moved all the way to the big city to meet new people (men) and expand my social (dating) circle...and so far, it's all been moot because I can't find whatever courage, gumption, or other extroverted traits I thought I possessed in order to do this very thing! It's frustrating because the rational side of me knows that there is nothing to be afraid of, and the emotional, messed up side of me is really just getting in the way.
This isn't all entirely new, however, my anxiety is largely diminished whenever I have just one cohort with me in groups of people. Even if I'm off on the side, watching the person be center of attention, or talking to other friends that I don't know, I feel much more comfortable than I do by myself. I don't think that this is somehow abnormal - in fact, I'm sure most people are more comfortable in group settings if they are intimately (and by that, I do not mean romance-novel "intimately") acquainted with someone. I've almost always had that in my life. In grade school through sophomore year in high school, it was my best friend. My junior and senior year it was a different good friend or my sister. My first weeks in Provo were greatly eased by my just-moved-to-town-too roommate, and so on and so forth.
There was one munch and mingle that I went to by myself when I lived in southern Provo, and I had a full blown anxiety attack. This was a year or two after I had gone off anti-depressants, and had not had any issues, except, I was the youngest person in the ward, and I knew only a handful of people, none of them well enough. I felt myself hyperventilating, and close to tears, and I bagged the whole thing. I went home immediately, and it wasn't until I walked out of the crowded hallway did I feel like I could breathe normally. Since then, I haven't had to worry about those situations. Not to long after that, I moved into the Omni and gained a very close-knit, large group of friends; and I've had something along the same lines ever since. (Even in The Single Tree, where I moved in and knew no one and somehow developed friendships with the girls in that ward...Still not sure how it happened, though, none of the friendships have really "stuck", since I moved.)
So now I live by myself (which I still love) and spend a lot of time by myself (which I mostly love) and by the time Sunday rolls around, I am so unused to being around people, that the thought of approaching people, or attending a munch-n-mingle by myself literally has me tearing up and quaking in my boots. I've missed several activities that I've actually wanted to go to simply because my brain could not fathom the idea of going and being by myself. My imagination (of which I have already proven gets carried away) starts putting scenarios in my head of walking into a room and standing there utterly along, tongue-tied, deaf, and mute. Or sitting on the edge of a lake watching everyone have fun while trying to pretend like I am enjoying reading and talking to no one. (Our ward had a campout that I wanted to go to, but could not bring myself to attend alone.)
So Sunday, while my whole ward was feasting on something that smelled truly delicious, I left. Thinking that if someone stopped to wonder at why I was taking off before the food, I would plead a headache. Only, no one stopped me, so I didn't have to use that age old excuse - true though it was.
So what is my problem? I really am not worried about what people think about me -- unless it's subconsciously. I am worried about going in and being that lone person, sitting at a table with no one else, quietly eating while trying not to make longing eye contact at the group of people obviously having fun. I don't want to be the awkward, fat girl with no friends. Which makes this all a giant Catch-22. How can you make friends with people if you don't attend activities? And how can you attend activities if you are near-tears at the very thought of going alone? No wonder people drink as a social lubricant.
August 8, 2013
$$
In order to save money, I am considering the following:
No more wearing make-up.Or getting my hair done.Wearing sack cloth dresses everyday. (Less maintenance, easy to wash and care for, no accessories needed, only one pair of shoes needed...)Changing my diet to 1) 1 bag of carrots a week...and, oatmeal?Becoming even more reclusive than I already am (no social life means less money spent, sitting in the dark saves energy, not going anywhere saves on gas)
Sure, I might just be a homely hermit in this scenario. A 27-year old with gray hairs and blotchy skin...but at least I won't be spending $100 at WalMart for a few make-up products and lunches for work.
No more wearing make-up.Or getting my hair done.Wearing sack cloth dresses everyday. (Less maintenance, easy to wash and care for, no accessories needed, only one pair of shoes needed...)Changing my diet to 1) 1 bag of carrots a week...and, oatmeal?Becoming even more reclusive than I already am (no social life means less money spent, sitting in the dark saves energy, not going anywhere saves on gas)
Sure, I might just be a homely hermit in this scenario. A 27-year old with gray hairs and blotchy skin...but at least I won't be spending $100 at WalMart for a few make-up products and lunches for work.
August 4, 2013
Megan and I have driven to Wyoming two weekends in a row....
Megan and I have driven to Wyoming two weekends in a row. We've taken different routes to get there, obviously, but we've done it. And it's been stunning.
Last weekend, we tried to hit up the Uinta County fair, and ended up driving through the Wasatch Mountains, which are absolutely gorgeous.
This weekend, we drove to Bear Lake and took the "Evanston"-way back to Salt Lake City. There wasn't a forest, but there were thousands of acres of farmland and it was beautiful.
I love being out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but tall grasses, shrubs, clouds, and sunlight (or stars) to color my view. There's something about the big expanse of sky that is breathtaking. And there's a tranquility that you can't find in the hustle and bustle of a city.
I can't seem to get enough.
August 2, 2013
Unique
Last night I went to a little fireside where Sister Elaine Dalton (former General President of the Young Woman's program) was the speaker.
First, I went by myself. Which is fine. I do a lot of things by myself, and I actually like it. But I have found that when I am determined to be by myself, that things don't always work out that way. I always sit towards the front and center of church. I have always done this, and I don't know if that's because that is where we sat when we were growing up, or more, because I like to be front and center so I don't get distracted by other things, which I inevitably do if there's too much to look at. Also, it maybe seems less obvious if I'm towards the front, because almost always, someone will sit down next to me. Which, two someones did. Perfectly friendly girls that made the 20 minutes of earliness pass away quickly (yes, you read that right: I was 20 min early) and offered me a piece of gum.
This is not the first time that I have not had to sit by myself because someone has decided to be friendly and welcoming. I wish that I could be the same way.
I have full pages of notes that I think I will blog about later, but there were two things that I wanted to note about Sister Dalton's talk.
1 - I think a lot of us (as members of the church, as people in society, etc.) think that because The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is primarily run by older men, that they are out of touch or unaware, or too old to understand the things that younger members of the church are facing. I know I've thought it a time or two. But listening to Sister Dalton talk about the things that she was trying to implement amongst the Young Women of the church, I had the impression that our leaders are very aware. They know the troubles we are facing. They understand the pressures and the demands that society and life place on us. They know, and they trust that we can overcome it. They do not counsel obedience because they are sticks in the mud, square, and ignorant. They tell us to be obedient because we need to be obedient. Because blessings and strength come from being obedient.
2 - This fireside was part of a series that my stake had been doing for the Relief Society that they called, "Healthy U". I wanted to go to the workshops, initially, because they sounded interesting, but with family reunions and not attending my ward for a month, I didn't get to any of them. But because we were focusing on our health, Sister Dalton talked a lot about our bodies. She talked about lots of things, and again, I'd like to come back and write down my thoughts about all of it, but one of the things that she said really stuck with me.
She was talking about how we are all made uniquely, and that we were given the very bodies we needed in order to accomplish the things that we were sent on earth to do. If God didn't want us to be different, He would have made us the same. This goes against a lot of criticisms that I hear against the church. There are people who think that we are sheep - taught to do and say and think only one way. But that isn't doctrine. We are all given different skills, talents, and bodies, in order to accomplish different things, to experience different things, and feel and think differently.
Along that line of thinking, she encouraged us not to hate our bodies and not to wish for a different body... That's hard for me to do, as I would much rather have the type of body that was "a skinny 78 lb., 5'8" girl" (as she kept referring to herself) instead of a...oh, I was probably last 78 lbs in 3rd grade, type.
First, I went by myself. Which is fine. I do a lot of things by myself, and I actually like it. But I have found that when I am determined to be by myself, that things don't always work out that way. I always sit towards the front and center of church. I have always done this, and I don't know if that's because that is where we sat when we were growing up, or more, because I like to be front and center so I don't get distracted by other things, which I inevitably do if there's too much to look at. Also, it maybe seems less obvious if I'm towards the front, because almost always, someone will sit down next to me. Which, two someones did. Perfectly friendly girls that made the 20 minutes of earliness pass away quickly (yes, you read that right: I was 20 min early) and offered me a piece of gum.
This is not the first time that I have not had to sit by myself because someone has decided to be friendly and welcoming. I wish that I could be the same way.
I have full pages of notes that I think I will blog about later, but there were two things that I wanted to note about Sister Dalton's talk.
1 - I think a lot of us (as members of the church, as people in society, etc.) think that because The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is primarily run by older men, that they are out of touch or unaware, or too old to understand the things that younger members of the church are facing. I know I've thought it a time or two. But listening to Sister Dalton talk about the things that she was trying to implement amongst the Young Women of the church, I had the impression that our leaders are very aware. They know the troubles we are facing. They understand the pressures and the demands that society and life place on us. They know, and they trust that we can overcome it. They do not counsel obedience because they are sticks in the mud, square, and ignorant. They tell us to be obedient because we need to be obedient. Because blessings and strength come from being obedient.
2 - This fireside was part of a series that my stake had been doing for the Relief Society that they called, "Healthy U". I wanted to go to the workshops, initially, because they sounded interesting, but with family reunions and not attending my ward for a month, I didn't get to any of them. But because we were focusing on our health, Sister Dalton talked a lot about our bodies. She talked about lots of things, and again, I'd like to come back and write down my thoughts about all of it, but one of the things that she said really stuck with me.
She was talking about how we are all made uniquely, and that we were given the very bodies we needed in order to accomplish the things that we were sent on earth to do. If God didn't want us to be different, He would have made us the same. This goes against a lot of criticisms that I hear against the church. There are people who think that we are sheep - taught to do and say and think only one way. But that isn't doctrine. We are all given different skills, talents, and bodies, in order to accomplish different things, to experience different things, and feel and think differently.
Along that line of thinking, she encouraged us not to hate our bodies and not to wish for a different body... That's hard for me to do, as I would much rather have the type of body that was "a skinny 78 lb., 5'8" girl" (as she kept referring to herself) instead of a...oh, I was probably last 78 lbs in 3rd grade, type.
July 29, 2013
Adventure
My mom used to always tell me that I expect too much. Out of people. Out of events. Out of everything. And because my expectations are so high, I'm bound for disappointment. I'm kind of used to it, now, since it has always been this way, but I recently discovered why.
It's not really that my expectations are too high, so much as they are unrealistic. That sounds worse, and maybe it is. The problem is that my brain operates like a novel. Every time I think of some grand scheme: an adverture, a party, an encounter with someone, I envision it the way it would take place in literature, and not as things actually take place in real life (especially my dull life).
Use the following as an example:
Towards the end of last week, I kept hearing on the radio advertisements for the Uinta County Fair in Evanston, Wyoming. There was a country concert over the weekend, and it made it sound like it was going to be really fun. I decided that it might be a good time to go check out with my good, always-up-for-an-adventure friend, Megan. So I emailed her some details, and we planned our weekend accordingly. I don't know what I was thinking. I was expecting to show up to the fair and for it to look like something out of Charlotte's Web -- lots of animals, lots of food, lots of music, and most importantly, lots of country folk. Preferably, youngish, male country folk that wear tight jeans and cowboy boots.
I picked out my outfit: gingham checkered shirt, brown boots, and new, blonde hair, and I was going to go and at least have some fun with some country guys from Wyoming. Maybe experience a meet cute. Armed with Megan as my wingman, I really did not see a problem with this plan. That is, until we got there. I guess the main fair festivities don't start until next week, and the "carnvial rides" they advertised were in an abandoned lot, with about 10 pepole there. Tickets were $1 a piece, and you needed four of them to ride a ride! It was ridiculous. Plus, it was raining. We drove around trying to decide if it would be worth it to stop, and when we did, Megan paid $10 for us to ride the Ferris wheel. The only people at the fair were not country at all. They were Latinos and hoodlums (kids with multiple piercings in their lips and looking generally scary).
So much for my meet cute. And so much for my planned adventure.
Luckily, Megan is a very willing partner when it comes to exploring. So we drove out of Evanston and further into Wyoming. We stopped on the road along some farmland, and I tell you what I was in heaven. The only sound was the wind through the grasses and faint lowing of cows. What do I have to do to get a ranch and a cowboy?! Once we were back in our car, we continued driving and within no time at all, we were back in Utah...wait, what? That's right. Without retracing our steps, we ended up back in Utah and in one of the prettiest spots available! It. Was. Gorgeous. Words cannot describe. Nor pictures capture. We sat in stunned silence at the beauty, and found ourselves whispering in other places because it was just too magical a place.
(This is where I would insert pictures, but unfortunately, do not have that capability at the moment.)
All in all, it was an excellent adventure.
But how much better would it have been if two cowboys had walked up to Megan and me and introduced themselves with their lazy, country drawl. They could have escorted us around the fair and maybe bought us a funnel cake. We would laugh at their witticisms and wonder at all the hard work they have to do everyday. Then they could have offered to take us exploring! And we would've gotten their numbers and planned to meet up later and eventually, I'd marry my cowboy and move to his ranch and spend my time writing and riding horses...sigh, it could have been awesome.
I guess we just experienced a different sort of magical adventure.
It's not really that my expectations are too high, so much as they are unrealistic. That sounds worse, and maybe it is. The problem is that my brain operates like a novel. Every time I think of some grand scheme: an adverture, a party, an encounter with someone, I envision it the way it would take place in literature, and not as things actually take place in real life (especially my dull life).
Use the following as an example:
Towards the end of last week, I kept hearing on the radio advertisements for the Uinta County Fair in Evanston, Wyoming. There was a country concert over the weekend, and it made it sound like it was going to be really fun. I decided that it might be a good time to go check out with my good, always-up-for-an-adventure friend, Megan. So I emailed her some details, and we planned our weekend accordingly. I don't know what I was thinking. I was expecting to show up to the fair and for it to look like something out of Charlotte's Web -- lots of animals, lots of food, lots of music, and most importantly, lots of country folk. Preferably, youngish, male country folk that wear tight jeans and cowboy boots.
I picked out my outfit: gingham checkered shirt, brown boots, and new, blonde hair, and I was going to go and at least have some fun with some country guys from Wyoming. Maybe experience a meet cute. Armed with Megan as my wingman, I really did not see a problem with this plan. That is, until we got there. I guess the main fair festivities don't start until next week, and the "carnvial rides" they advertised were in an abandoned lot, with about 10 pepole there. Tickets were $1 a piece, and you needed four of them to ride a ride! It was ridiculous. Plus, it was raining. We drove around trying to decide if it would be worth it to stop, and when we did, Megan paid $10 for us to ride the Ferris wheel. The only people at the fair were not country at all. They were Latinos and hoodlums (kids with multiple piercings in their lips and looking generally scary).
So much for my meet cute. And so much for my planned adventure.
Luckily, Megan is a very willing partner when it comes to exploring. So we drove out of Evanston and further into Wyoming. We stopped on the road along some farmland, and I tell you what I was in heaven. The only sound was the wind through the grasses and faint lowing of cows. What do I have to do to get a ranch and a cowboy?! Once we were back in our car, we continued driving and within no time at all, we were back in Utah...wait, what? That's right. Without retracing our steps, we ended up back in Utah and in one of the prettiest spots available! It. Was. Gorgeous. Words cannot describe. Nor pictures capture. We sat in stunned silence at the beauty, and found ourselves whispering in other places because it was just too magical a place.
(This is where I would insert pictures, but unfortunately, do not have that capability at the moment.)
All in all, it was an excellent adventure.
But how much better would it have been if two cowboys had walked up to Megan and me and introduced themselves with their lazy, country drawl. They could have escorted us around the fair and maybe bought us a funnel cake. We would laugh at their witticisms and wonder at all the hard work they have to do everyday. Then they could have offered to take us exploring! And we would've gotten their numbers and planned to meet up later and eventually, I'd marry my cowboy and move to his ranch and spend my time writing and riding horses...sigh, it could have been awesome.
I guess we just experienced a different sort of magical adventure.
