Assuage my reality

Music, men, food, exercise. . .the list goes on. I'm avoiding reality; I'm running from reality; I'm assuaging my reality. I turn the radio up, I eat junk food, I run till I can't breathe and I kiss those I don't even love. I wrap myself up in the noise to distract. Distract from what?

I can't avoid what my life is, can't avoid what I've done, can't avoid what my decisions are making me into. I sit in silence and my mind races. I run from the silence in order to escape the racing. The racing, restless thoughts lead to the truth, the reality. I've messed up, I am messing up and I'm avoiding true thought, avoiding true feeling in order to escape the reality that wouldn't be so bad if I would just embrace it, make the most of it. Whats my reality at this moment? I keep wanting, keep reaching, keep taking the things that aren't good for me.

I become so wrapped up in the noise, I search for the noise, grasp the noise and run with it, I cling to it. I never know silence. I don't let myself. And yet I can't avoid it, eventually it finds me. I sit in that forced silence and acknowledge that my life is too noise driven. The thoughts I feel in the silence are the thoughts that know me best. They say the Spirit whispers with a still, small voice. How can I hear that voice when I won't stop letting the world pervade every moment I am coherently thinking?

The longer I let the noise in, the longer I fail to truly exist. I begin to live for the wrong reasons and as I live for these wrong reasons I begin to lose feelings, lose emotion, lose sensation. The loss is great and I can't recognize it; at least, not until I am stuck in the silence, forced in silence. I realize how restless I am , I realize how heartless I am.

The noise, the rush, the world; I must push it out, push it away. I keep claiming its not me but I am letting it become me, letting it become my reality. I must recognize that I can't turn to the noise for safety, for comfort because it only destroys what I am trying to rebuild. I must embrace the silence and stop trying to assuage my reality. I must look for silence, give myself silence and then I will begin to find good, to do good. Sensation will return, emotion will again exist and feelings reign where they could not with the noise.

What do I fear?

What do I fear? Deer. One time a deer jumped through my bed room window, would have killed me had I been in bed.

What do I fear? Driving. At 16 I nearly killed my family when I pulled out in front of a car that slammed into our car at a speed of 55 miles an hour. Total number of accidents I've been in: 5.

What do I fear? Being left alone. I used to always think my mother would drop me off at soccer, the library, the store and never come back.

What do I fear? The ocean. When I was little a neighborhood boy tried to drown me.

What do I fear? Men. I used to cry when my grandpa came to visit, I was scared of male teachers; they're intentions to me were always cruel ones.

What do I fear? Storms. I remember piling up in the closet under the stairs during a tornado season.

What do I fear? Yelling. I remember my brother screaming that he would kill me as he chased me around the neighborhood on his bike.

What do I fear? Unrequited love. So many times I begin to give my heart only to have it given back because its just not enough.

What do I fear? The public eye. I was so insecure that I didn't have any friends in high school, except my books.

What do I fear? Failure. I never missed a class, never forgot an assignment because failing wasn't an option.

What do I fear? Crying. I can cry but I choose not to, I fight not to.

What do I fear? Weight gain. I'm afraid that I'll get fat and no one will want to be with me, around me.

What do I fear? Being alone. I always wanted to have the stereotypical married life and now I don't even know if marriage is in the cards for me.

What do I fear? Death. I'm not ready to die, I'm not good enough.

Fear. Where do these fears come from? Some are rational, typical and other irrational, foolish, convenient and selfish. I cannot rely on these fears; I must over come them, I am overcoming them.

I do it for the blessings. . .?

I see you in the last days; I see you huddled in your cellar with your family surrounding you and the door locked, the bolt drawn. I see your face as the door is pounded on, as your friends scream, as strangers plead, as children of God beg to be let in and your face is a cold, dispassionate one. Your reasoning? You have none; at least, not a valid one, you never will.

Do you really want to be this person? I am sorry if you do.

When the end comes--and it will-- I hope that I am swept away by whatever catastrophe is out there. I hope I am swept away while I am lifting a child, stitching a wound, serving those around me. It's not about what we want, it's about what God wants.

What is my reasoning? I have none; at least, I strive to have none. I don't care that any act of kindness, of sacrifice, of love done on my part is done for my benefit. Why do I do it? I hear that I'm supposed to help because its good, because I'll be blessed. Is this why I should serve those around me? Is it because I should see the long term blessings?

If this is what it takes for you to do good then by all means, go for it. But I do it because I want to. I do it because there's this innate need in me to reach out to others. There's no way to describe to it, to put a name to it. Psychiatrists, theorists, scientists fight this idea of a natural tendency built within us to do good.

We believe that there's always a reason, a benefit to ourselves for serving someone else. I don't. I believe this idea to be wrong, to be selfish. I don't want to serve someone thinking, "I will be blessed for this" or "they may prove useful to me someday" or "people are watching and its expected." I want to serve because I want to, because I love naturally.

Age old love

Love. Thats what it must be. He nags, calls her names, stares off into space, forgets everything, breaks dishes and is utterly helpless. He's pushing eighty and she's passing seventy. He's had a few heart attacks and with each one he changes, not for the better. He often doesn't speak and when he does its to snap a command, an angry retort or a cruel insult directed at her.

She smiles patiently. She picks up what he's knocked down. She apologizes to those whose feelings he's hurt. Sometimes at night she falls asleep remembering the smiles, the laughs. She remembers the flowers, the kisses, the adventures, the conversations, the trust, the kindness and most especially their love. She drifts to sleep late and he wakes her early with grumbled words, with aches, with pains. She meets his every need, his every demand with a smile. Her patience has no end.

She doesn't know when her day will come, she doesn't know when his day will come but when their day comes she knows it will all be worth it. Love. Its not the lust, its not immediate gratification. Their love is the kind of love that grows and matures. One of the greatest examples of love is the love shared between a husband and wife. Its the dedication when the going gets rough. Its staying together even when you can't stand each other. You remember that its worth it, that its worth working at.

With this love there's no guarantees except the guarantee of the love you will never stop giving, no matter what.

Booby traps

He wrapped his arms around me, drew me closer and jumped back with a yelp. I knew why, I immediately knew why. My date had been booby trapped.

My date swore under his breath and I began to laugh in embarrassment. That morning my bra had broken. I thought the recently bought, pink-polka dotted bra was extremely cute and so I safety pinned it in the back. Guess my plan wasn't fool proof (literally, fool proof, not full proof because this guy was a fool) because he ended up getting stabbed by a safety pin. But to make matters worse, we weren't alone; we were on a double date.

I went to fix my broken strap but the task was not so easy and the safety pin dug deep into my back. It was then my turn to yelp as I strived frantically to remove the safety pin. It hurt and I became frustrated. I soon gave him permission to do whatever he wanted just as long as the pin came out. In the end my date had to stick his hands up the back of my shirt and fixed it for me. Awkward? Maybe. Funny? Definitely. Who can say that they've literally booby trapped their date?

Do you know what implications the term booby trap has? According to Wikipedia "A booby trap is a trap designed to kill or severely injure people. As the word trap implies, they often have some form of bait designed to lure the victim towards it."

While this story is funny, I have often found men trying to get their hands up/down my shirt. They must be lured in by something. Guess my breasts are the bait for them. Sadly, during these I instances I've never had a safety pin to get stuck in their hand.

My breasts are "bait" for men but I did put the bait there. I hate when men, of all ages, check out my breasts and only my breasts. I hate constantly checking the covering over my cleavage. I hate spending more money on bras than most girls. I hate that running is often embarrassing and uncomfortable -- breasts are just uncomfortable; especially, for more fully endowed women. I hate when men tell me I'm beautiful while staring at my chest, rude.

Maybe I should look into setting a trap. Smacking their hands and telling them "no" just doesn't seem to work. Maybe if I put some rat traps in there, or maybe my bra could shoot poisonous darts? Hmmm, the possibilities.

My breasts are for one mans hands only.The next time a guy ogles me or starts putting his hand up/down my shirt he will live to regret it. Can I get an Amen sisters?

Abuse isn't just for the twisted

What does it take for you to raise your voice? What does it take to set your temper off? How long before you say something hurtful to someone hurting, pestering or annoying you? Will you ever snap?What happens if you do snap?

I recently taught a lesson about child abuse. Abuse can be physical, it can be emotional and abuse isn't just for the twisted. It starts with one angry moment. One angry moment where you strike out with anger. You strike out and then you justify that anger, that striking. Where does the justification lead? It leads to another angry moment, another lashing out. Its one angry word with no apology that leads to more angry words and soon she's crying, she feelings of utter uselessness, hopelessness. It leads from one slap, two slaps, a beating. . .a killing.

But its not just hitting thats abuse. Oftentimes women think its ok for their husband to insult them and play mind games with them. Its ok for them to constantly berate on their self-esteem, to drag them down, make them feel hopeless, ugly, useless and unwanted. It's ok to pick at all their flaws--even the flaws that they can't change.

They often like to cover up their faults by picking at someone else's faults. They pick until they've torn every part of that person to shreds. The shreds leave them to try and piece together a person they can never be. They are not you, nor should they want to be. Recognize differences and recognize that one insult, one condemning comment can lead to many that hurt, that abuse that individual.

Be careful with your actions. Be careful where those actions lead. Be aware of why you are saying what you are saying. Who are those words really benefiting? Who is that angrily thrown fist really helping?

My point: Be aware of yourself and your actions. Remember that one thoughtless action that is left neglected can lead to more thoughtless, more harsh actions. Abuse isn't just for the twisted. We are all capable of committing some level of abuse. Don't let it be you.

Facing down my fears

The nights will be sleepless, the work will be demanding, what am I thinking? I'm graduating from college. I'm moving to Salt Lake City. My family will be 2000 miles away, all my family. Most of my friends will be in Idaho, four hours away. My connections? Not many. Man prospects? None. Money? Hardly any.

What am I thinking? Can shy little Kaitlin do this? How many people could do what I am doing? Or maybe the question is: How many people with my mentality could do this? I'm shy, self-conscious, and naturally an introvert.

A lot of things frighten me, so what am I thinking? Fear. I'm thinking of fear. I'm so afraid of it all. I'm most afraid of being a disappointment at my job and after that I'm afraid of coming home and being alone.

I think of my lonely trips to the grocery store, the library, the park, the ice-rink. I think of all the times I'll reach for the phone looking to call someone for comfort, looking to hear words of love. And then I'll think of all the people I can't call because they don't want to hear from the lonely single girl or because I don't want them to know how dull my life truly is. They're happily married, they have a social life, they have purpose in their life, people to live for. I don't even have a pet to live for.

I think of all this and I feel empty. I feel confused. And again it comes back to fear, fear, fear, fear. I take this internship, not because I have to, not because I have no choice, not because its expected. I take this internship because I fear what comes with it. I fear. I fear. I fear. But God counsels us not to fear and if I have faith I shall not fear.

So what do I do? I push all these fears from my mind. They are put there to slow me down. They are put there to hinder me. They serve no purpose. I don't need a pity party for me. I need to grow-up. Everyone has different trials-- some more than others. This is my trial and if I handle it well then I will be given even more trials. What am I proving to God when I succumb to my fear, when I choose sin over righteousness? I prove nothing. I show no love. I tell him that I can't handle the trials he's given me. Do I want God to take it easy on me? No. I want him to know that its difficult, its hard but for him I will do anything.

I will face down these fears, these trials. I have no right to feel fear, to be ungrateful, to have doubts. This is an amazing opportunity that has been given to me. I need to take it and make the most of it.

No more fear. No more doubt. I simply must rely on God and do what I know is right. The end.

Their hands

Their hands, they use their hands and take something innocent, something beautiful, something that is a part of them and destroy it.

How does a father, a mother. . . how does anyone beat, torture and kill a child? How? I just don't understand. 3 siblings are missing in Ohio and believed that their father killed them. They're under the age of 7. The corpse of a 3-year-old found in Alabama; It's believed his father killed him and the boys 4-year-old sister. Prior to this his girlfriend would tie them up and stick socks in their mouths and perform other methods of torture. You hear about a woman who stuck her new born babies in containers and kept them in a closet until the smell got a hold of someones curiosity. And then there's the woman who drowned her five children in a bathtub. . .one at a time.

What goes through these peoples minds? Is it a slow, steady slide? Have they always been twisted? There is no excuse for beating and killing a child, ever. I don't want to know whats going through their heads, I never want to really understand these people but I do wish there was a way to stop this from happening.

It seems everyday the news reports more and more deaths of children who were killed by their parents. Each time it upsets me, frustrates me, hurts me. I think of the babies I know, the children I know and tears come to my eyes at the idea of any harm coming to them.

I feel sorry for these parents who do this, I really do. But I'm filled with anger and frustration towards them too. Is there a way to make incidents like this less prevalent? Are there signs to look for? What can I do, what can we do to make things like this stop happening? Prevent these incidents? How do we prevent their hands, stop their hands, so we no longer have to bury the tortured, innocent child's hands?

Thanks I am giving

I look at whats happening in the world and how can I not be thankful? 429 people dead in Cambodia after a stampede, 29 miners dead in New Zeal, North Korea going to war with South Korea, people stranded in a blizzard, mysterious disappearance of a college student, the brutal murdering of a family in Ohio and what am I complaining about?

I'm single, I'm alone, I'm graduating, I don't have a job, I'm not in grad school, I'm a screw up, no one wants me, I want my own place. . .blah blah blah. When did everything in my life become about only me?

It's Thanksgiving and what do I have to be grateful for? I think the question is: what don't I have to be grateful for? Right now I am sitting at my mac laptop with a warm blanket wrapped around me and I'm listening to soothing music. I just finished eating pie and playing outside. How ideal is my life? How blessed am I? How undeserving am I of these blessings? Completely.

I have a family that will always love me, that will always take care of me. I have friends that love me, that will always take care of me. I even know almost complete strangers out there that would love me, that would always take care of me.

I need to stop thinking about who doesn't love me, who doesn't want me. I need to work more on loving and wanting. All that I have, all that I am is not my own to claim. I may be "alone" but the beauty of it all is that I'm not really "alone".

I'm grateful, thankful, worshipful of the God that loves me enough to put up with my complaining, my bits of rebellion, my bad attitude, my too often confused and easily impressionable heart. I'm grateful for a Savior that gave up everything, not because He wanted glory, not because of the blessings but because He loves me, loves all of us to give it all.

I turn my face toward the sky, I fall to my knees and I thank my God for the wonderful agency, the wonderful blessings, the wonderful life that he has given me.

Mine forgotten, yours forever remembered

So much to say. So, I won't say

I'll let you read these words, I'll let your mind play

You'll think I mean one thing, then another

Think it has to do with each other, have to do with together

The silence. . .do you hear?

Nothing

It's how I feel, for you I mean

Used to feel so much but as freud say, my slate is clean

I'm born again, born again

Do I remember when? I don't even remember you. . .

Whose this person in my face questioning me through?

So this silence I give

Its not a second chance for us to live

For what is there to live? I don't know you

I have no interest this time, was there a time before?

You keep telling me we know one another

I should recognize you, but there was no before and definitely no after

And so I zip it up and the key I toss away

My mind is empty of you while yours is full of us, of yesterday

And you start to apologize and my eyes ask what

You begin to believe there was no us

Because as far as my mind concedes now there hasn't, wasn't, isn't

Silence, do you hear?

You don't, you won't

I walk away, my mind at peace, at ease

You're left there standing, your head heavy, the thoughts never to leave

Back me up but my numbers will stay low

If I had a quarter for every time I had a practically complete stranger come over and attempt to make out with me. . .I'd probably have about two dollars. I don't understand what it is I am doing that men think I'm easy.

A couple years ago they wouldn't have touched me and now. . . I do flirt but its the ones I don't flirt with that try and make a move. All I did was give him some left overs. I didn't even join in with the eating. I set him at the opposite end of the table. Does that sound like flirting? To make it even better I was tired and so most of my answers were half-butt. I told the guber that I had to leave and do some homework and so we both moved to the door. It had snowed a few inches and so we began the bundling process.

This twerp, with bushy, grinch eyebrows and a body half the size of mine decides he's going to back me up against the door and try kissing me. At first I was so shocked that all I could do was move my head before his lips could touch mine. He ended up on my neck and the whole time he kept twitching--skinny people tend to be like this, must be all that skinny energy--and I made attempts to kindly push him off.

"Why won't you kiss me?" and then "You know you want to?" Sure, maybe I did want to do some kissing, and at first I didn't back off but I blame that on the full moon and the randomness of his actions.

So, I told him my reasons for not making out--at least I was kind enough to say nothing about how unappealing he was and how I would kick myself for letting him get on my list of men I've kissed (thank goodness he didn't get on that list). Here's my reason: I'm keeping my numbers low.

I've already kissed a few guys, but at least I liked those ones and we had a sort of relationship. I refuse to make out with complete strangers or even semi-strangers. I won't let myself become a lip-slut. I think kisses are sacred and special. So if you're thinking of coming over, eating my food and then backing me up against a door to get some action. . .you had better think again.

Ditto

Ditto. The words of "Unchained Melody" and the face of Patrick Swayze swim through my head. I may romanticize love a lot more than I should. Maybe that is my problem. I've always been a mooshy-romantic ever since I could walk. I've fought it harder than anyone I know but I can't completely kill the romantic monster that hides with in me.

As a kid I would always marry the boy doll to the girl doll right after they fell hopelessly in love. Falling in love was never far from my romantic mind. I played house, sometimes by myself and I used to make-up love scenes while I rode my bike(ie. motorcylce, horse, convertible) through the woods and around the neighborhood. The scenes always ended or began where someone always found me, rescued me, wanted me, fell in love with me.

I used to daydream up the most fantastical love scenes. I dreamed of being swept off my feet. Sometimes knights came for me, other times cowboys, bikers, rich men or one of the kids I was crushing on at church.

But its not easy for a little girl to openly be a romantic when she's surrounded by her rough-housing brothers.

So, I pushed the romantic away. I kept it locked it away. For the most part I denied that I believed in love. I won spitting contests, could sword fight any kid in the neighborhood, out-skated all the boys, believed tackling was ok in soccer and acted as though the idea of love were sickening.

The anti behavior became a true feeling, eventually. But, alas, I came to college and my raging hormones started to take full swing. This made it even harder to contain the romantic beast that continually exposed me to hopelessly romantic beatings. But I mistakenly tried falling in love and I usually succeeded but its difficult to truly fall in love when the other party is pitted against you.

And after each love affair ended I would promise that I'd still fight it. Even now I tend to scorn the loved and loving. I scorn them, not because I'm jealous but because I'm fighting it, fighting the hurt that I am bound to experience time and time again it seems when I reach for the love that so many others are blessed to have in their lives.

And so I continue to love in vain. But thats ok because I maintain the facade of not. I've denied having ever put any piece of my heart within in reach of a mans greasy, dirt-clogged, fingernailed hands but I did. I claimed it was lust but often times I really was feeling love--at least some degree of it.

I mean, how often will a girl climb into attics and pat down insulation for the man she loves? How often will she walk 1/2 a mile in negative degree weather to see the man she loves? But this man broke me and the man after that broke those broken pieces the one after that took those chipped pieces and ground them under the heel of his boot.

People kept telling me, "you're only twenty, you shouldn't be that hardened, that hurt and you shouldn't care so much about love and marriage." What does that even mean? Does this mean that I have no feeling? Does it mean that I am young and don't really deserve to fall in love? I keep denying and pushing the idea of love so far from me that I truly believe I can't find it or am afraid of what it will look like when I do. I don't think about it often, only at night when sleep evades me.

I even tried fighting love with lust in hopes of freeing my mind and getting a good nights sleep. It was when I was broken, crushed several times that I started making-out with a guy that looked like a puppet from the Labyrinth and whose name rhymed with Model--apparently I have a penchant for dating guys with weird names; at least, this one didn't have a girls name. I thought this would take me further from the idea of love and romance. I thought it would numb me and it did. I soon realized that I didn't like who I was becoming. You spend enough time around a hardened, numb man and you'll start acting like them. I soon learned I'd rather be alone and hurting then numb to feeling as he had become.

No matter how much I fight the romantic, its still there, still fighting. I have this unreasonable idea that anything can happen and if I'm doing everything exactly right then some man will look at me with adoration--not just lust--and I will return that look.

You can't break a romantics spirit, no matter how hard you try. Maybe be it won't happen today, maybe it won't happen this month, this year, this life but someday my prince will say "I love you" and I'll say "ditto."

Arms Wide Open

I ask her if she wants see mommy and she throws her arms out at me. I pick her up, I zip up her coat and she puts her arms around my neck, she looks at me trustingly, she knows where I am taking her. I carry her outside, down the steps and as we round the bend she pushes to be out of my arms. I sit her on her feet. She begins to run and her mother puts out her arms. The little girl who looked so trustingly at me yells "momma" and runs into her mothers arms.

Those arms aren't mine. Those may never be my arms. They're arms that lead to hands that teach, guide, protect, love. I can't imagine the love a mother must feel for her children. They tell me there is no love like it, they tell me I can't fathom it. But sometimes I dream and I begin to imagine. The feeling of something belonging to me, being a part of me. I realize at this moment that I've barely begun to experience some of the greater joys in this life.

The feelings I have now are so selfish. I am working on those feelings but there is almost nothing more selfless than the love of a mother. I can't wait for the day when its all sacrifice all love on my part. I can't wait for the day when the word "mother" will apply to me. I can't wait for her to run to me with open arms.

FEED ME

Every time my stomach growls I picture a giant, green potted plant with its mouth open, saying in a deep, husky voice, "feed me.".

I've recently become a very, very hungry college student. I used to say no to free food offers (FFO) But with the reality of college ending and my debt forever increasing, I've become extremely. . .desperate for food. You would cringe if you knew what I've eaten lately and I'm sure I will cringe someday too.

Because of the lack of food in my life I now feel that it is a requirement for a man to feed his date, his woman, his lover, his wife. Any chick involved in a man's life, any chick that reaches outside the friend term should be fed.

If you ask me on a date, then you had better plan on feeding me. That had better be the first thing we do, since it will probably be my first meal that day. As a matter of fact, if you ask me on a date then you had better greet me at the door with a meal in your hands (in your arms would be even better cause that means theres more)--preferably a hamburger or Teriyaki Express or something that will feed me the next day too.

Forget being a gentleman, forget planning a date, forget it all but DON'T forget the food. Girls deserve to be fed. If I'm going to get dressed up, play put-put, walk around the park, or be chased around in the dark while you are pointing a laser tag gun at me then you had best be feeding me too.

I don't care if your parents disowned you and you're on your own. I don't care if you donate plasma every week because you are so poor. If you take a girl on a date then find a way to FEED her.

Girls, don't let him get by without feeding you. If he doesn't feed you then he doesn't get a second date.

I don't care if you forget to open the door, forget to seat me properly, forget to be a gentleman, forget to even wear your pants. I don't care if you try and make a move on me, I don't care if you smell like garbage. If you feed me a great dinner then I'll make sure we have a good time.

So, FEED ME!

This isn't finished but its how I'm feeling

WikiLeaks recently released 400,000 classified U.S. Army field reports from the Iraq reports. The documents featured information on the death of civilians, detainee abuse and actions by Iran during the war.

Was wikileaks justified in this release? Are they justified in their other releases.

Along with this, does our government stop our speech too much? Do we take advantage of our rights?

The 1st Ammendment says that we have freedom of Speech, the right to speak freely and without censorship.

We cannot place control on the words of our citizens in this country, nor should we ever but our citizens need to think about what they’re saying and why they’re saying it. Do their words accomplish anything? Do they have good intent with what you are trying to say or are you seeking attention and drama.

I sometimes worry that in our need for “freedom of speech” we could be endangering our country but at the same time how often does our government take advantage of this fear and we allow them to silence others?

Are we letting our government slowly taking control of every facet of our lives. What are we, as a country, willing to sacrifice in order to be safe? What are our limits? Do we give up too much freedom in the name of a “safety” and “security?”

These documents could potentially get into the wrong hands and could put our country in a great deal of trouble. They could also get officials in a lot of trouble. Do we want them to be getting into trouble or were their actions justified?

In the name of safety, in the name of security we allow the government to tap into our phone and Internet conversation. Is there nothing sacred, nothing private?

Its not a big deal. They’re just tapping into our phone and internet conversations to guarantee our safety by catching “terrorists.”

But with this one justification we will begin to justify things more and more.

I was told that our country is a democracy but every time I turn around I see it becoming a socialistic nation. While helping the poor and needy is good, shouldn’t we be given that decision? Along with this, are we really just helping the poor and needy?

We don’t offer them the chance to fix their lives, become better people, instead we offer them food stamps and free money. How does this encourage work? How does encourage anything except an increase in people taking advantage of the money the government gives out so wastefully.

Is it justified taking away our speech in the name of safety? Is it justified taking away the money of the productive to help the “poor and needy”? \

Jerks. . .mmmmmmmm

Who ever heard of fighting for a jerk? Shouldn't we fight for men of honor, chivalrous knights who are looking for their princess?

Should we even fight at all? I don't think so. It's a waste of time. I've spent a good deal of time fighting for jerks, many jerks, the worst of jerks or probably the best of jerks because they were tremendous jerks.

I still like jerks, lust for jerks and I make out with the occasional jerk--just one right now, thanks for asking--but I won't fight for one.

I know whats good for me and they're decidedly not. My relationships with jerks can be compared to my relationship with snakes. I'm intrigued with snakes, I dream about snakes, I'll hold snakes, go to the zoo and look at snakes and even read stories about snakes swallowing men whole. Will I ever own a snake? No.

I'll eventually acknowledge that I want more than a jerk. I claim I want to settle down but I must not want to settle down too much. I avoid nice guys. They're a nice idea but they hold no appeal for me right now.

Maybe its because I'm a jerk? I don't know. Jerks. . . mmmmmmm.

Choking on love

You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe? I choked on the last person I loved. I bit into that apple and tried to eat its core and gagged.

My lover didn’t’ catch my breath, didn’t steal my breath, didn’t rob me of breath instead he gagged me for breath. I initially could’ve spat him out but I didn’t want to let go of the tastier parts, the initial sweetness of the fruit. Inevitably he became lodged in my throat.

I stood gasping while friends came and attempted the Heimlich but I would have none of it and I pushed them away. It wasn’t until my face turned blue that I took the chair offered my and I pushed in and up until I forced the core from my throat and forces him from my life. Since then

I’ve choked a little on spit but I’ve never lost breath. I begin to doubt if someone will ever truly take my breath away. I begin to doubt if there will ever be someone that will give and take breath from me.

Boxed in

They stuck me in a box, closed the lid, flipped it upside and down and sat on it. I kicked and screamed but to no avail. Big brothers don’t care much when their kid sister cries unless she’s bleeding or Moms within hearing distance.

While I initially kicked and screamed at this treatment, I soon learned that the trick was to pretend that it didn’t bother me. I’d sit in my prison quietly. While I was suffocating inside I would pretend their torture didn’t bother me.

There are some days where my uncertain future makes me want to kick and scream. Some days I do; I rebel. Most days I don’t. I silently suffocate inside. I ignore it though; I try to trick it away.

I find distractions and sometimes . . .oftentimes they’re not good distractions. Sometimes I bang on the piano, I stick my blades on and skate till I can’t breathe, I spend long hours at the office studying and some times I distract myself with men.

I acknowledge that my life is missing many essential qualities, I admit that my future becomes more mysterious each day and each day I change. I fight the box I’ve been placed in. I fight the confines that I and others have placed around me.

Next time someone sticks me in a box I’ll bring a knife.

This Fairy Tale is not so Stereotypical

I got a lot of angry letters because of this column I wrote for BYU-Idaho's school newspaper.

"Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,” said Shakespeare.

I wouldn’t say that greatness is being thrust upon me, but whatever is being thrown at me is something I didn’t initially want, and is something I am still trying to run from.

I’m a romantic, a fairy tale chaser. I used to believe that I’d graduate high school, go to BYU-Idaho, get married and start a family. I’d spend the rest of my life in a blind daze of happily ever after where the animals talk to me and help me with chores.

I thought I’d spend my day baking cookies, bragging about my kids, gossiping, planning elaborate Relief Society crafts and sweeping dirt under the oven. Somewhere along the way I made a huge mistake.

I should have chosen to be a family consumer science major, but I chose wrong. I decided to be a communication major. To make things worse, I started working for the newspaper here. After that things just went downhill. I made friends. I made connections from there. I became an extrovert and I enjoyed working.

I interned at a concrete company, freelanced for a local Maryland paper, I even worked at a gynecology office, and now I’ve decided to go to grad school.

I should have my masters before I’m 22, since I’ll graduate with my bachelors at 20. My friends who go to other colleges (non-LDS colleges) tell me that I have a lot going for me, that I’m super accomplished and I should go make a name for myself.

I don’t know how it all happened. How dare I give up the notion of getting married before graduating? How dare I become a menace to society? But I decided to anyway.

I’m not insulting those that are already married and I’m not discouraging those who want to get married, but I’m so happy that my fate took me in a direction that didn’t leave me married, pregnant and working to get my husband through college.

I fought tooth and nail for that privilege of marriage, but I just never wanted any of the men who wanted me and vice versa.

It seems that as a woman at “BYU-I-do” you can’t be accomplished until there’s a ring on your finger, but I disagree. I’ve fought that stereotype with the violence of a cornered raccoon, and I’ve come out of “BYU-I-do” single.

There were a lot of close calls, but I decided that I want to be single and graduate from “BYU-I-do” -which is the real accomplishment.

I’ve had this need to “be somebody” slowly, but surely, thrust upon me, and so I’ll go out into the world and do whatever it is I need to do.

Someday I’ll let some loser (because all men are losers) stick a ring through my nose, and I’ll become the stereotypical homemaking momma and be extremely happy; but for now, I choose the freedom of being single.

The Crap Load of Stuff I Plan to Do When I am Married

Goals for marriage and family

(Most of these things I am trying to incorporate in my life now and there is always room for suggestions)

For our Children and Us

· Teach them the right way from the beginning

· I want to say prayers with them the day the are born, before they even understand what praying is, so that it becomes natural to them and so their Heavenly Father is ALWAYS a known part of their life

· I want a neat an orderly home but also a fun home

· Always set a good example for them

· FHE, family prayers, prayers at all meals, Priesthood blessings are all a constant

· Christ as the center of our home

· Education tools available in all areas of our home

· Healthy and good eating habits

· Exercise, activities outside the home: playground, play dates, swimming, soccer, football, biking, hiking, karate, fun family activities

· No relying on yelling and aggression in stressful or frustrating situations

· Set goals as a family, things to work up to and work on

As husband and wife

· Scripture reading and journaling

· I want my husband and I to discuss things, communicate effectively at all times

· Set goals with my husband

· Take care of myself and he will too: annual Drs appointment, weight management, good grooming, good eating habits, dental appointments and clean and neat dress and appearance

· For me I will work when/if necessary but my main focus on the home and family and being a nurturer

· My husband should be the provider, priesthood holder, and protector in our family

· Be an active listener to my husband and children

· Go on dates with my husband weekly, keep the passion between us alive, keep him as my best friend and confidant

· Temple monthly, if not more depending on where we live and our situation

· Be selfless

· Learn our faults and mistakes and repent for them and work on them

· Consistent and complete church attendance

· Dedication to our callings

· Honesty in all our dealings

· Faithful tithing payers

· Always be bettering ourselves, gaining knowledge and trying new things

· Be able to deal with adversity and the trials that come in life in a Christ like and be willing to adapt our plans and goals to them.

Not suicidal

Closing my eyes and putting my pillow over my head used to scare the monsters away. My monsters aren’t the same anymore. They’ve transformed into something far worse, far more frightening. My monsters have become life itself.

What do I do? I’m suffocating as we speak. I never planned to be this frightened, I never planned this far ahead and I never planned to be where I am now. My life seems so shallow and empty right now. It’s filled with work, accomplishments, dreams and me—just me.

My brother was married this weekend. I never thought he’d settle down before me. How many more will fall in love and settle down before I do? How many more will get what I want most?
But of course I have to change what I want. I can’t have what I want. So I sit here and stare at the screen. I think about the forms I have to fill out, the resume that needs some loving, the homework I can’t seem to care about and the future that I can’t foresee.

I’d like to know where I will be in 10 years. I want to know just so I can prepare myself for what I fear will be a lonely 10 years.

I’m a pessimist with the attitude of an optimist. I can put on a happy face for anyone--most of the time--but inside I die.

Alone, this word frightens me more than hell. A pillow won’t stop the monsters from coming at me, from pulling me down and being objectively cruel force that they are. No amount of tears, sleep or food will chase these feelings away. There the feelings of a very mixed up child who wants nothing more than to sit in the corner, wants nothing more than to hide under her bed. But what lies waiting me under my bed.

I will press with my hand, not on the pillow I’d like to cover my face but the door that opens into the next part of my life.

No other

Lose control. Ever get caught up in the moment? I become so caught into that moment; it becomes a day, a week, a month and then my life. I find myself living from moment to moment.

I take no time to think, to reflect. My decisions, while of a mild nature, are unplanned, rash and often foolish. I throw out both of my hands and I say, “pick one.” My destiny held in one of my fists when really it’s held in an embrace.

It’s an embrace I refuse to acknowledge is there oftentimes. It’s easier to pretend, to brush it off, to forget. It’s easy to tell myself that he’s not real, he did nothing and for that I am nothing. I run from my problems, my trials, my enemies and I even run from him.

I lay the blame on him and accept the praise as my own. I acknowledge him not and for that I am often lonely, often alone. I can’t stand to be by myself, to let my thoughts provoke me for I know that if I were to look too closely I would then see a life I shouldn’t be living.

And as I sit here and let my thoughts run rampant I realize what I’ve known all along: I love him. I love him as I shall never love another. I recognize him as my light, my life, my Savior. I can’t use words, a touch to any sense or even emotion to convey this love. I love him and because I love him I shall do as he directs. If I truly love my God then I will obey him. I will obey him.

The plan begins to unfold

I've figured out my life. It's wonderful. I'm going to grad school; I'm hoping the University of Maryland but I am applying for many places. I plan to spend this upcoming semester looking for internships, applying for grad school and losing weight.

It's great to remove all distractions from my life and focus on what is important in life. No more dating. I graduate in December. No one is going to keep me pinned down in Rexburg after that. I am getting out. I need out.

I've given up men, I'm giving up junk food and I'm focusing on what is important. After I graduate in December with my Bachelors in Communication, then I plan to do an internship. While I am doing that I will work part time and get involved in the community around me.

If I can land a D.C. internship then I will be able to live at home for free while I save money. I want to spend my days in D.C. working my internship and my evenings at a Nursing Home or a Homeless Shelter. I want to serve those around me; I know I need to serve more.

I plan to get into grad school and then I plan to get out. I have set some steep goals but I'm following through with them. No one can stop me.

The only thing that could hold me back is my head. Hopefully the Doctors will figure out what is wrong with me and the dizziness will go away. I'm ready to make an impact. I'm ready to do whatever it is I am meant to do.

Once I graduate then I will work my way up to the top. I'm hoping by that time I will have a complete grasp of all the concepts that escape me at the moment. I want to help people, I want to teach them, share what the world has to offer. I want to show the worlds lies. I want to teach others to think practically and use their common sense.

Being single is a lot easier than being married. I will hopefully get a little place and pay off my school debt as quickly as possible. I want to own a little piece of property and have a beautiful rose garden. I want a porch swing, a clothes line, a little pool and a trampoline and I plan to have a pet(s). By this time I will have nieces and nephews and I will be able to dote on them too. I will always be involved with helping the community. Anything to be of service to my country and the people that surround me.

While I am doing this I also plan to re-learn Latin, learn to ride a horse, get a motorcylce license, use a camera properly, travel the world extensively, play the piano masterfully and perform as a stand-up comedian and a singer. This is my life innuce [in a nutshell]. I've already started to make it work out and I'm sure there will be even more things that I do and many trials and hardships but I have a plan.

Why can't we just be friends and nothing more

I can't hang out or go on a date with a single man wihtout them always thinking I am interested in them--when I say interested I mean that they think I'm interested in jumping their bones (Mormon style of course).

I asked him on a date. So what? He asked me on a date. So what? I don't want to seriously date you , marry you, birth your children and clean your house. I was just looking for some fun. If I wanted to date you then I would tell you.

Men think women are bad. Just so you know [men] we don't start looking at rings after you take us on the first date. I don't even think about a second date, most of the time. But apparently men always think we are just soooo into them.

I like to joke and flirt but that doesn't mean that I want commitment. I joke and flirt with a lot of men. Does that mean I plan to date and marry all of them? I don't think so. I'm not planning to practice polygamy the polyandry way.

I've been out with so many guys. I'm a professional at showing that I'm not interested and I'm also a professional at telling a man when I want to be more than just friends.

I guess I should clarify. Maybe men get confused because I ask men out on dates all the time. I have no shame and no regret about. Most of the time I ask because they're A) you’re really hot (you'll know this is you if I take a photo of us together--there has to be proof.
B) Dating is fun and I want to establish a real friendship
C) I'm bored and you're an excuse to go eat food
D) I'm bored and I want an excuse to watch a movie
E) I'm bored and you have promise of being entertaining

I'm also starting a tally; I want to see how many dates I can go on before my college career ends --yes, I am that shallow.

Don't let my flirtatious words or actions mislead you. I just want to be friends. If you're worried that I am looking for more then ask me. Share your concerns and I will give your male ego a beating and tell you that I'm just not that into you.

Wanna go on a date?

Creepers and gentlemen

Creepers. We accuse the men we don’t like of being creepers. Why — because they ask for our number, they ask us on dates, they add us on Facebook, they add our friends on Facebook or they stalk us through the BYU-Idaho website? Or is it because they show up at your classes, apartment or hang out spots, even though you never told them where you live or what classes you’re taking?

There’s a difference between a creeper and someone you’re just not interested in. Know the signs and spread the word when it’s necessary if they are a creeper but don’t when they’re not and you just feel guilty because you can’t stand their face.

I’ve had men be interested in me — I’m shocked too but it has happened to me — and I couldn’t make myself like them. But I don’t lead them on. Men are really good at catching the fact that I’m “just not that into you [interested man’s name goes here].” But there are a lot of other girls who don’t give men those subtle clues. Saying yes to a third date, playfully hitting them, laughing at their dumb jokes and flirting are some of the ways men are deceived by our actions.

Don’t lead men on. If you’re not interested then make it apparent. They’re not a creeper because your actions lead them to believe that you are “that into them” and they keep asking you out.

They ask for our number, they stalk us on Facebook and they find us on the BYU-I website because they are interested. Something about you sparked their interest. The smartest way to ask a girl out is in person or at least calling her but some guys are just shy. They’re not creepers; they’re just interested and it’s just too bad you’re not.

Admit that if a savvy, hot, rich man did these things then you would love it and they wouldn’t be a creeper; they’d be a lover and possible father for your child. Heck, I don’t like to get asked out by a guy that I’m not interested in but I don’t call them a creeper. I would never call a bodacious babe a creeper when they stalked me on the BYU-I website, added me on Facebook, got my number and asked me on a date.

Now my second point: sometimes they are a creeper. Sometimes their interest becomes too intense especially when you have given all the hints that you aren’t interested. Sit them down—do it where you can yell and help will come—and verbally tell them that their “attentions” aren’t flattering but instead scary.

I confess; I want "it"

Nobody wants me. Who wants you? We work so hard to be wanted. I work so hard to be wanted. But it seems that no matter how hard I try to chase away my feelings and my interests I can't.

I've been here so long. I've dated (I'm surprised too). I've dumped and I've been dumped. I've grown so accustomed to not being wanted. I've grown so accustomed to putting up a front, so that it doesn't seem that I don't care when I'm not wanted. When I am wanted then I get scared. It hurts more to be dumped by someone who did want you then by someone who never really did.

Sometimes I don't even care or maybe I just distract myself with other things to avoid the fact that I do care and that it does hurt. While this satisfies a temporary need, in the long run all it will leave me with is an empty apartment, twenty cats, 60 hour work weeks with my roller blades, my writing and piano as my company. It will leave me always being the aunt, always being the babysitter and never being the mother. It will leave me as the friend, as the confidant, as the coworker, but never the eternal companion.

While I scoff at those getting married at a young age; I still want it. Sometimes I scoff because it really is ridiculous as to why they are getting married but others times I scoff because I want what they have.

Of course I wouldn't readily jump on the first man to ask as I would have when I started here 3 years ago, but I still want it(I'm going to keep referring to the word marriage or love as "it" because. . .I can). But maybe I shouldn't want. Maybe I should wait for "it" to find me. Because by wanting "it", then my judgment becomes impaired and I have this fear that I would go into "it" for the wrong reasons.

Some people get married because they can't stand to be alone with themselves. They get married because they want someone there that they can baby and fix and use it as an excuse to not take care of themselves. Then again, marriage comes down to caring more about the other person and their feelings rather than your own.

Ughhhhhh! All of it seemed so simple once. You meet a guy; you fall in love; you get married; you work and have some babies and then you retire and he buys you nice things and you bake him good food. Eaaassssyyyy. NOT. At BYU-Idaho --knowing that marriage is eternal-- it's not that easy and being a philosopher and someone who likes to interpret the intricacies of human behavior (even though I claim not to. It's mostly just a hobby)it just makes the idea of "it" all the more difficult.

I'm not complicated. I'm pretty easy to figure out. What makes things complicated is that I make the person I am dating complicated. I wish to be oblivious again. I try and act like the inconsistencies of the men I date and their hurtful words don't hurt. I find things to distract me from the thoughts, from the hurt but they always come back to haunt me. It would be so easy but I can't be oblivious, I can't be desensitized, I can't be numb and I can't be heartless but I sure do a great job of pretending. I had you fooled.

I never want to understand

Murder, rape, torture...these are words we see every day in the news. They are words spoken and seen in our schools, in the grocery store, in our home.

I can't understand the vulgarities of man and yet I am a part of it. I've hurt people, I've watched shows where other intentionally hurt other people, I've seen and participated in causing the mental agonies and agitations of others. Am I bothered by this? Yes.

I can't understand why we would intentionally hurt another being. I guess it starts drop by drop, drip by drip. What I once thought was bad is no longer so evil. Maybe I can't sympathize with killers. I can't sympathize with rationalization, yet the I practice rationalizing what I know is wrong all the time. What has my life come to when all the things I know are wrong I still practice because I can talk myself into them?What has my life come to when I can walk away from another hurting?

I ask for mercy and I give none myself. With each critical judgment I make; I become hardened; I become desensitized. My eyes have become adjusted to the horrors, my ears adjusted to the screams, my hands adjusted to the trigger and my heart adjusted to others hurt.

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to slowly become the critical, hurtful person. I don't want to become what the rest of the world is. I want to love others unconditionally. How do I escape from these things of the world? I can't just hide from the world. I would serve no purpose. Can I simply watch? No.

I won't let myself become desensitized. I won't watch as a brother, a friend, a stranger hurts and I simply observe or worse walk on by. I never want to understand or empathize with the cruel intentions of others. I would much rather live naive and judge without question, hope with faith, and love without condition.

Life would be easier if I would learn to commit

I'm scared of commitment. I'll commit to my job, I'll commit to my class, I'll commit to God but ask me to commit to a man and I can't, I won't. I've become used to my routines, my way of life. If I want to leave then I leave. If I want to skate, if I want to leave town, if I want to go play piano, if I want to stay up late then I do it.

I've learned to like my independence too much. I learned to not want a man to make me who I am and now I just don't want one, unless I am extremely bored or I feel there is a competition to be won by getting them. It's not that I want a bad guy, it's not that I can't handle a good guy. I just don't want to give up my life.

It seems that men--whether subconscious or not--want a woman in the home. They want a woman to cook, to clean, to have their children. I want all of that but I also want me. I'm afraid that if I date someone, marry someone then they'll want me to give those things up.

I like my freedom. I have goals: Grad school, get a job, pay off my own debt, go to the city and live it up. I know I am being selfish. But I'm afraid that if I marry someone and give up my life then I won't be a good wife, be a good mother. I used to dream of prince charming. I used to want to be a romantic. I was the ultimate romantic. I had it beaten out of me. Life came at me with a hammer and nailed my feet to the floor. I no longer float, I'm nailed to the floor.

Commitment scares me and I have no idea. I run after non-committal men because I don't want to commit either. I run from nice, good looking guys who seem to have everything and want to give me everything. Someday I will hopefully stop running but not today and not tomorrow. I'll keep dating, keep hoping that my feelings will change. Maybe its just an off week but I can't commit.

If you only knew

He kissed me once, asked me what I was thinking and all I could say way, "if you only knew." Typically this isn't what I say after a first kiss. It's not what I would say anytime after someone kissed me but the phrase, "if you only knew," haunts me with every turn I make.

It's not like I know a lot but...well...if you only knew. My friend got engaged to my ex and all I could think was, "if only you knew." If she only knew what a mean, angry person he was. If only people knew how I really felt. If only I knew how I really felt. The phrase, "if only you knew," plays a strong roll in the most painful parts of my life.

When I think of the think of the things I've lost, the things I've felt and the things I've seen and someone asks me why I'm upset. All I can say is, "if only you knew." If they only knew how I felt when I heard her moaning in the other car, when I saw my sister bleeding and crying. If they only knew how I felt while I sat in the ambulance. If they only knew how I felt when he died. If they only knew how I felt when I couldn't love him. No one knows how you feel, no one can tell you how you feel. We can guess, we can sympathize and maybe empathize a little.

When someone seems heartless, or they don't respond the way you would like to your emotions then try to tell them how you feel. We get so offended when others don't understand how we feel but how can they understand when they have never felt that way? "If you only knew," but you'll never know. Only God and you can know. Don't expect others to fully understand but give them a chance to try and grasp how you feel. If you only knew how I felt, let me try and tell you.

Forgetting is divine

It's become apparent that when I want to forget someone or something then I can really forget them/it. I don't miss them, I don't remember them and I don't even think of them. Of course when I want to remember and miss someone I can. I only miss good people though. I only miss good people that need me to miss them and that I need to miss.

Sometimes I miss my family. They're amazing, why wouldn't I? I don't pine over them, I don't even cry over them but I still miss them. But when it comes to men I can wipe a six month relationship clean from my mind. It's such a blessing. I missed my missionary for a few weeks. He was a good guy and I'm really excited to see him again but our last summer we spent together...forgotten, unless I try and remember it.

Six months with a non-committal, mentally abusive jerk and I was upset for only a couple days. Prayers, amazing friends, family and better men made me feel better. I want to forget something from my past and I can. Sometimes it's a pain because I never remember some of the things that I want to but in truth I'd rather have it this way then remember all the crap I've been dragged through. I'm happy to block out the painful and look toward the future.

Rollerblading will be forever

I was rushed to the emergency room on Tuesday night by my roommates. Why? Rollerblades. I have no idea how it happened but one moment I was gliding down the street and then next I'm laying next to the curb with my head in my hands.

My true love didn't come save me, I didn't receieve special powers but a married man ran over and offered me a ride from his wife who was about to pick him up. With everything spinning I picked myself up and kindly declined his offer. I then skated/limped the rest of the way home.

My roommates originally laughed. They thought I had just scraped up my knee. They thought I had finally fallen. Everyone had wanted me to fall and I finally did. As I lay on the couch, not really able to see out of my right eye, they became worried, especially when they saw the blood on my forehead. Soon the pain became unbearable and I went to the ER for the second time in my life.

Everyone has made fun of me and my blades. They feel no fear in telling me that it's something from the past and I should quit. Quit? Why would I quit doing something I love? As I lay on the hospital bed I didn't think about how short life is, I thoguht about rollerblading.

Yes, I did bash my head on the concrete and there's a scab on my knee the size of my fist but will that stop me? Heck no! If I love something then there's no stopping me. Quit rollerblading? I think not.

I can do better, I’m worth it

I date jerks. Who hasn’t dated a jerk? I’ve dated a lot of them. I don’t know why I fall for the jerks but I do. I don’t want that though. I want someone who wants to be with me, do special things for me. I don’t want to be “back burner girl” or “go to girl.”

I’m through with guys dating me because I am convenient. I am better than that. I deserve better than that. I’m worthy of roses, worthy of noble deeds, worthy of natural affection, worthy of love.

Screw those guys who treat girls like they’re part of their stamp collection. I’m not a stamp, so they can go lick the back of something else. I won’t be another X on their list, another story to brag about, another girl they've mislead with their manipulative lies. I’m a good girl, who (for the most part) makes good decisions, treats people right and doesn’t play games with men.

I’m worth it all. I’m worth working for. I’m tired of being the one who does all the work. I shouldn’t be the one writing the cute love notes, walking to see them, feeding them, saving them money. I’m worth more than that. I’m worth the sacrifice. All I ever asked for was a little attention, a little time.

I didn’t even get that. I realize now that I deserve more than that. I won’t feel guilty asking for time, asking for affection, asking for love. If they can’t meet my demands then they can take a dive. I do what it takes to make a relationship work, I don’t see why they can’t either.