The Heart of Life

This picture doesn't have anything to do with this post, but I like it and it's recent :)
And if you're noticing threads of John Mayer in my titles, clever you...

I write this at the risk of exposing a mildly obsessive part of myself, by the way, but is quite humorous if you've experienced it...

There are certain stages that a girl progresses through, as she waits for a boy to call. The order or intensity of the stages varies, of course, from girl to girl, but they are essentially universal.
The first is anticipation. Maybe there was no said commitment that the boy would call, so the girl just goes on with school, exercise, and social life like any other day. Except this day there are persistent and interrupting thoughts of him. It's a hopeful, wishful stage, and while slightly disappointed to not yet hear his voice, she is for the most part happy and content.
As she moves into the "what-if" stage, things become a little more unpleasant. She begins to wonder things such as "What if I said something wrong?" "What if I forgot to put on deodorant that day?" or, the worst possible "What if he met another girl?" She begins to second-guess herself, that maybe she had just read too much into their (seemingly mutually enjoying) conversation, or that maybe she's not as pretty as she thought she had looked that evening. This is the stage where self-esteem is most easily shot. The classic intrusions of "Is there something wrong with me?" usually creep in right around this time. Since times like these are for some reason always un-busy there is little else to occupy her mind. She is forced to think of the afore-mentioned possibilities and, therefore, life loses its contentment.
The third and final stage is the least pleasant. Here she begins to move the focus away from "What's wrong with me?" to "This is what's wrong with him." You name it: He's not really all that good-looking. He's majoring in what? He probably won't make that much money anyway. He's too skinny anyhow - I'd feel fat around him. She tries to convince herself that she's really better without him, and this crappy situation was really divine intervention. Sometimes friends offer consolation as well: You can do so much better. You were lowering your standards.
And then, right about the time her friends give the best and most convincing reason she is better off without him, he calls. He always does, why did she overthink things? Immediately fluttering feelings purge out any ill will towards him. He offers an apology for waiting so long to call, and she assures him she's been so busy that she never even noticed. Sometimes, if he really is a jerk, he'll try to pass the blame onto her with "Oh, I was waiting for you to call like you said you would [lies!], but I had to hear your voice. What's up?"
I'm still enjoying real-life applications for Homer's epics. Wednesday I was in a reading room in the library (or HBLL as acronym-happy BYU students like to call it) when in walked this boy that I met in the laundry room. Oh, no! I think to myself, There's that creepy guy! Please don't sit by me! I plead telepathically with him. What are the odds that with over 30,000 students on this campus that we end up in the same 40 square feet? I quickly stare down at my text, which just so happened to be the tale of Odysseus. My mind recalls his adventurous scheme of escaping the cyclop's tyrannous jaws of peril, and I begin to plan my own getaway. Although I had a few more "colorful" escape plans, they weren't very appropriate for the library. I settled on the trusted pack-up-and-pretend-to-text-someone-so-you-look-busy tactic. It worked, like always, and I was once again off toward safe Ithaca...er...Raintree.

No Such Thing

I'm sure y'all are all dying to find out how my first few weeks of school have been. In case there were any doubts - I love it! My schedule's a bit swapped so now I'm in Modern Dance, World Dance, Newswriting, Book of Mormon, Missionary Prep, Western Humanities, Technical Communication, and Career Exploration. I don't know how else to describe it - I feel like I'm actually getting an education here, as opposed to the usual college PowerPoint snippets. I feel so enlightened and enriched after class gets out, and I feel like I'm learning. I understand what President Gordon B. Hinckley used to say about education. We're reading the Iliad and the Odyssey in Humanities, and since we studied the background and values of Ancient Greece and how they have influenced our own culture, I have so much more appreciation for the works (as opposed to my inital "this is going to be poopy") and I honestly cannot put them down! And in Technical Communication we're learning to write instructions, so our professor showed us a clip from Brian Reagan's poptart skit (click here for enjoyment). Ok, maybe that part of my BYU experience doesn't sound scholarly, but I was impressed with the creative spin and enjoyed three minutes of humor.
I think one of my favorite classes though is Modern Dance. It's definitely the one I take the most risks in, because we do movements with our bodies that would make the average person feel quite dumb. But I love it. I just feel in that class. I'm not very good at expressing how I feel in words, but somehow it all comes out when I dance. Even if I'm not trying to say anything while dancing, afterwards I just feel understood. Sometimes I feel like I communicated things that I didn't even know I was feeling. And sometimes, dancing communicates to me. My apologies if this doesn't make sense (repeat the "I'm not very good at expressing how I feel in words" line above). But oh the joys of dancing!
Ohmygoodness and speaking of Modern, I have a delightful tale to tell:
So the first day we all form a circle, and I spy this tragically good looking guy come walking towards me (think the emotions of My So-Called Life's Jordan Catalano(click!) and the looks of Ryan Phillipe click! - no joke). Haha, only he's got the theater thing like Tom, so not quite my type. "I like your band-aid," he says as he gestures toward my Barbie bandage. "Thanks," I smile. Is he flirting with me? Is this how boys flirt at BYU? We then move to a different spot in the room, still aiming to form a circle. We still end up beside each other. "Quit following me," he says jokingly. "Um, I think you're following me," I try to say nonchalantly, but since I have no skills with boys the timing was a bit off and I'm sure I just sounded dumb. I really need to work on this.
Not to brag - ok actually I think I will because I'm not used to this - but as of Tuesday I already had both weekend nights booked - sushi on Friday and a BYU dance concert on Saturday - and I have a lovely guy friend still vying for the right to Friday. Life is so good!
But I'm making lots of new friends too in my classes, ward, and the like. People are so friendly here and I actually have to pick and choose - like a Cold Stone ice cream experience - what I want to mix in to my social calender. Stuff going on every night of the week and none of it includes the words "swap" or "keg"? I love this place. Last week I see this girl in my book of Mormon class wearing a Polo shirt and a pair of jockey boots and carrying a monogrammed LL Bean tote. K, so she's so not from here, I think to myself. Turns out she's from Virginia, she's a junior as well who just transferred from Smith College in Massachusetts, and she's been looking for a friend! This girl is absolutely adorable - just popped out of a Brooks Brothers ad - and I love her to death. On her way to dinner one night I peeked in her closet: "Oh cute shoes, Brooke. [notice brand name] Haha, I've never bought anything Burberry before!" "Oh, well I got them on sale." I love her.
Ok, it's not all sprinkles.
One of my roommates is so eating my food. Yesterday I grab my box of Frosted Shredded Mini Wheats to find one and a half biscuits left, just chilling in the bottom of the package like they actually matter. What am I supposed to do with one and a half of these? And this is only one account - there are many more, some involving use of things other than food. I confess I have eaten my roommates' provisions before. I am not innocent. But now, after being on the receiving end, I am fully penitent and have changed my ways. I offer public apology to Hila, for pilfering all those yummy Ritz crackers last year. Interestingly enough, Odysseus's son Telemachus has shared my grief:
"You suitors who plague my mother... You must leave my palace! See to your feasting elsewhere, devour your own possessions... But if you decide the fare is better, richer here, destroying one man's goods and going scot-free (aka MOOCHING!) all right then, carve away! But I'll cry ou to the everlasting gods in hopes that Zeus will pay you back with a vengeance!"
I know, Telemachus. Life is so hard.
Ok, I'm really not that mad - now I'm not, at least - maybe because it's easy to be humorous with the situation. For instance, I considered leaving a note threatening death. Then I realized that my sense of humor isn't shared by many. Or none.

I'm Only Good at Being Young...

So I’m growing tired of being mistaken for a freshman. I am a junior and will be 21 years old in December. So one morning I log onto the “internets” to find an article for “Cover Model-Worthy Hair” plastered on my MSN.com homepage. Oooh Oooh! I think to myself Here’s my chance to look older. So I dig into my basket of hair tools (that basically hibernate since my Plain-Jane straightening iron is quick and convenient) and unearth my blowdryer, some styling mousse, and a wide tooth comb. Following the directions more religiously than usual (i.e., compared to my cooking alterations) I blow dry my product-laden hair – upside down and against my normal part, for voluminous purposes – and comb through for a “Cover-Worthy” result. I decide I look older, more sophisticated. That, or I just look like I do when I wear more make-up – 16, and just crawling out of my mother’s makeup counter.The Finished Product?

So armed with my new look I’m off to New Student Orientation at BYU. Nestled in among thousands of freshmen and their empty-nested parents is my little Y-group of transfer students and returned missionaries. Convocation is superior. I soak in the history of Brigham Young University and the Aims of a BYU Education (click here). The president of BYU speaks and tells us that each of us, each and every one of us – myself included – was carefully and prayerfully selected, and that we are here for a specific reason. I hear a similar comment from the dean of the College of Fine Arts and Communications. Then we are treated to a lunch from Jason’s deli (YUM!) on Helaman fields, and the following evening the transfer students have a catered BBQ dinner in the Wilkinson Center ballroom, along with entertainment from one of the University’s bands (there are other fun orientation events going on during this time, but of course I have to highlight the food). During the dinner I consider that I have driven two thousand miles from Alabama to Utah, and here I am eating Barbequed Pork (which I never ate the entire time I was in Tuscaloosa) and enjoying three lovely minutes of Sweet Home Alabama being strummed on violins. The most surprising part of all of this is that when the familiar opening chords are strummed, everyone cheers. I had always thought people only cheered for this song in Alabama. Seriously, why cheer for someone else singing about their home state? I wouldn’t cheer for “Sweet Home New Hampshire.” All humor aside, I’m really excited for the opportunities here that I’m already benefiting from. BYU is most certainly a friendly and uplifting place to be.

This past Monday I make my way over to my new apartment – car all loaded up with the necessities and treasures that I couldn’t seem to part with. I’m teeming over with excitement, but as I carry my boxes up the stairs I see two of my roommates – freshmen – accompanied and aided by their parents. I remember my freshman year when Mom and Dad moved me into the Lakeside dorms at UA. Nostalgia kicks in, and my eyes begin to water. All of a sudden life seems cold and lonely, and I just feel old.

My half, and the bathroom :)

[Smile] but life moves forward, Dad and Libby call regularly, and Mom sends a card in the mail. This morning I wake up to find, in my inbox, e-mails from both my Aunt Bobbie and Papa, along with an adorable YouTube video of my little cousins prodigy-ing the violin. Papa’s e-mail about school is just what I need to hear – as is often the case – and I am in a state of pleasant gratitude. Even if my new mane ritual earns me no new dating prospects, life is still beautiful.