A little cone humor for you

A good friend of mine was back in town today, and we stopped at Aggie Ice Cream for some yummies. This gem greeted us at the counter.

First Day of Work

This is my new office. I suppose that's a bit of a misnomer, since it implies that there's an "old" office, when in fact this is the first office I've ever had. A bit of a thrill went through me when I reported for work this afternoon at one PM and heard, "You have your own office over here." I almost feel like a real grown-up!

To back track just a bit -- Obviously, the kick in the pants I got last week, combined with my computer biting the proverbial dust, did the trick. A good friend told me about this position, but I was initially reluctant to apply because it's not full-time, but half-time instead. I was wanting a full-time position for several reasons, but one of the most pressing was my upcoming 26th birthday (a month from today! crazy!). Turning 26 means I can no longer be on my parents' insurance, and gaps in insurance coverage can cause problems down the line. But when you're starving, metaphorically speaking, you can't afford to quibble with the available food not being 100% organic health food -- you've got to take what you can get. Plus, I knew they would seriously consider me because of my background and experience, and I wasn't getting a lot of consideration (*cough*or any *cough*) the other places I was applying. So I applied, and I interviewed last Thursday, and just a few hours after my interview they called me up and offered me the job and told me to come in Monday.

Here's the skinny on my current place of employment. I work for the Intensive English Language Institute at USU. The name is pretty self-explanatory -- it's a place where people come to learn English. Intensively. It serves mostly international students, but there are a few students who are US residents, mostly immigrants and refugees. My job is to do the "grunt work": filing, answering email inquiries, spending time on the telephone with insurance companies trying to straighten things out for students, copying, compiling orientation packets, scheduling catering for some events, etc. I work half-time, so basically I show up after lunch and close up the office at 5pm. Sadly, I only get three days off for Christmas (which I admit I'm a little puzzled about, since there are no students around).

Since there is currently a workshop going on that is being run by our faculty, I haven't really met anyone besides the IELI adviser, the IELI director, and one or two faculty. Oh, and the IT guys who came to help me get my computer set up. The only real work-y thing I did today was answer a phone while everyone else was out. I'm not yet in the system and I'm still fairly clueless about everything, so I spent the day reading the orientation packet and figuring how to get my (Windows 7 - ugh!) computer to let me type in Korean. I'm excited for the semester to start and for the students to get here, because I love students. And because presumably I'll know a little more about what's going on and be more comfortable in the office and know more people. I'm really excited about this job, even if I am doing "grunt work", because I feel so passionately about IELI's mission to help international students learn English and have a wonderful experience at USU and in America. I'm also hoping to be able to keep working my old job at the high school, since it's only in the morning and this job is only in the afternoon. That way I'd be working 35 hours a week, almost full time, which would keep me busy and stop me from sleeping too late in the mornings. We'll have to see how that works out, though.

Blah Blah Blah

Hello, world. How are you today?

I just recently discovered the easiness of Dropbox for myself. Goodness, why did I ever email anything to anyone? It's so nice to be able to give someone a file without worrying about attachment limits on emails. I know, I know. I'm soooo behind the times (my little brother in middle school had a Dropbox account before I did).

In other news, there's a wasps' nest in the chimney of our bathroom fan. Me + wasps = not happy me. I was stung once (at least, I'm pretty sure it was a wasp - it stung my back and I didn't see it, so I can't be 100% sure), which was not my favorite experience. I'm thinking about making my brother come over and take care of it. Someone suggested that wasn't very feminist of me, but I'm secure in my equality. I have no need to prove it by killing spiders or mowing lawns or getting rid of wasps' nests. I'll gladly trade doing laundry for any of those things.

In other other news, I'm applying for a job in USU's Office of Admissions, where I'd mostly be reviewing applications and helping out students and faculty and doing general office work. I'm okay with that. It seems that Logan is the place for me right now, as much I might wish otherwise at the moment. I honestly thought I'd move on quickly after graduating, but it's not working out that way. It's not that I hate Logan, I was just planning on living somewhere a little bigger and not cut off from the rest of the world by a canyon that's dangerous to drive through in the winter. Plus, I'm dying to travel the world. I guess that'll have to wait. Anyway, I've been spending an inordinate amount of my life the last few days working on my resume and cover letter for this application. I want to get this job. Not just because I'm weary of looking for one, but because I've literally grown up on college campuses and I genuinely the atmosphere. And I am passionate about learning and I believe in higher education. It's nice to be able to get behind what you do; in fact, I think it rather necessary. So here's hoping my time and prayers will bring me the result I think I want!

Since I'm on a bit of a Feist kick at the moment, have another song.

I call this my Victory Series: Announcing that I'm official DONE with my undergrad!

This is me on my very last day of classes, 26 April, going into my last college class.

This is me today, right before my very last undergraduate final EVER.

And this is me afterwards. I mean, I guess I'm happy or something. Or something. Yeah.

And this is what I did to celebrate. I call it The Taste of Accomplishment.

Full-blown panic is starting to set in.




Three more days, three more tests, and one more paper to graduation.

Introducing my room

I've lived in my new place for almost three months now, and I realized the other day that I've yet to introduce it to you. So here's my bedroom. It's messy and lived in, but that's the way I like it.

If you look closely, you can see Kim Soo-hyun on my computer screen. It's one of his shots from the pictorial in Singles Magazine. Click here and you can see it.

This is the view into my room from the doorway.

Pooh is the best man in the whole world. He's snuggly, he never hogs the covers, and he sleeps right next to me ever night without complaint.

This is the pile of books next to my bed. The pictures a little old (the pile's grown), but this gives you a pretty good idea of what I spend my time reading.

Minority / Majority

I wrote this essay for my Perspectives on Race class that I'm taking right now. It's an interesting class, for all that we mostly just sit around discussing the issue more than trying to find an answer. Which begs the question, Is there an answer? We were supposed to write about a time that we were a minority or a time we were discriminated against, so I chose to write about living in South Korea. We were supposed to keep it to two pages (it's a large class, over 80 people), but I could have written a lot more on the subject if I'd had the space. If I had written more, I think I would have included more about what I learned and discussed in greater detail the treatment I received while I was there. But here's what I did get written.



"It's hard to be a minority when you're white and middle-class and living in America. I was never “normal”, per se, but I didn't stick out too much if you just looked at me. Which is why moving to South Korea for a year and a half rocked my world so much.

The United States may seem like the bastion of white middle-class-ness, but compared to South Korea it's incredibly diverse ethnically and culturally. For the first time in my life, I was the outsider in every way it was possible to be outside the norm: I wasn't ethnically Asian, I didn't speak the language, I couldn't eat the food, and the culture was totally foreign to me. I couldn't walk the walk or talk the talk, and I definitely didn't look the look.



My time in Korea wasn't my first experience being a minority – I grew up in an LDS family smack dab in the middle of the small-town, Bible Belt American South – but it was the first time people stared at me before I opened my mouth. In fact, I didn't have to do anything other than exist to get looks, both covert and overt, as I walked down the street. I was used to being “strange” because of what I believed and certain things I did or didn't do, but I wasn't equipped to handle the curious stares and whispers that trailed in my wake. I had years of experience explaining myself and my religion to skeptical and sometimes even hostile listeners; but now I couldn't communicate more than a few halting sentences, and anyway how can you confront people for merely looking at you? What could I have said?

My initial reaction to being so utterly foreign was a crippling self-consciousness. I tried to comfort myself by telling myself that not everyone was staring, but the truth was most people were. I'm average height in America, but in Korea I'm on the tall side. My hair, though light brown, is naturally wavy instead of heavy and straight. Even bundled up against the cold as I was there was no mistaking my double-lidded green eyes, and the weak winter sun and harsh wind only made my skin paler and my cheeks redder. It didn't help that little old ladies would come up to me, fascinated, and pat me on the back. You look just like a doll! they'd exclaim, reaching up to run their fingers through my hair. Is it natural? they asked.



After a few weeks self-consciousness gave way to anger. Stop looking at me! I wanted to shout. I'm just minding my own business, riding the bus just like you. Have you never seen a white girl before?! But of course they probably hadn't, not up close, and so the anger never made it past my thoughts. In time, the anger faded into amusement and the amusement faded into indifference. The stares and the whispers, the pats and the questions and the exclamations – they were all just part of life. It became such a part of life that coming home and fitting in again was almost as much a shock as sticking out had been when I first got to Korea.

I wouldn't say that I was particularly prejudiced or close-minded before going to Korea, but my experience there had a profound effect on me. I know what it's like now to be the person that isn't like everybody else. I know what it feels like now to be lumped into a stereotype willy-nilly, with no thought for who I am as an individual. I know how it feels to tamp down on the annoyance or anger that bubbles up when people make off-hand comments casually condemning something about which they know nothing.



It would be a lie to say that I don't have stereotypes and biases of my own, but since my experience in Korea I have tried hard to judge people on their own merits. I resist expecting people to act according to what “everyone” says. I've made a concerted effort to realize that people sometimes have very different ways of approaching life and its problems, and to reserve judgement on people's actions until I've at least tried to see things from their perspective. The outcome of those efforts has been profoundly enlightening, and I have come to see the world in a very different way from how I once saw it.

I don't relish being a minority. I returned to Korea one summer after I'd been back to America for about a year, and on bad days that annoyance and anger would flare up again. It's not particularly enjoyable to be stared at and whispered about and pigeonholed into a certain stereotype, but my life has become so much richer for that experience. My life has changed for the better, and I have become a better person for it. I cannot claim to be wholly without prejudice or bias or stereotype, but I can now recognize more easily when I've allowed them to creep into my judgements or my perceptions of people. My experience as a minority certainly doesn't equate with those whose experiences have been lifelong and overwhelmingly negative, but I can try to empathize based on what's happened to me. But I think most importantly my experiences have left me with a need to reach out to others, to overcome those small things that separate us so that we can learn from each other. Because what makes us the same is so much more than what makes us different."

"Fear thou not; for I am with thee"*

*Isaiah 41:10

I need to get a handle on my life. This I-don't-know-what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-my-life deal is stressing me out to the point of mini panic attacks when I think about it. Which, obviously, does not help me deal with things at all, since I tend to compulsively avoid things that cause me stress. Which, as a friend once pointed out to me, only makes the stress more stressful, because when you finally get back to what was stressing you you now have less time to deal with it. But the older I get, the more my Type A need to have control over things is frustrated by the increasing complexity of the multitude of variables that makes up my life.

It's okay, though. I can take a step back, take a deep breath, and explore my options. I'm not completely alone in this; not only are there lots of people at the school and in church who are trained to help with these kinds of things, the Lord will help me - if I ask for it and I'm willing to work to help myself. I just need to keep that in mind.

Nothing and Too Much to Say

CN Blue - 사랑빛 (Lovelight)

Have you ever thought too much? I liken the feeling to trying to untangle a ball of yarn. The more you try to straighten everything out, the more tangled and complicated it all gets until you just want to hurl the whole mess as far away from you as you possibly can. The upshot of the whole thing is that even though I have so much on my mind, I really have nothing to say. Only old problems getting hashed and rehashed in my head until I just want to cover my ears, jump up and down, and scream. Unfortunately, that's not very productive. It doesn't accomplish much at all. Or anything, for that matter.

Recently I've been wondering why I'm here in Logan. Academically, obviously I'm here to finish school (finally!), but the thing about life is there's never just one reason for anything. Take SJC for example. Ostensibly I went to Annapolis to fulfill a dream I'd had since high school of attending St. John's. But I think the real reason I went there was to have the experiences I needed to decide to go on a mission, which was an important part of my development and growth as a person. And of course I met many wonderful people who have influenced me in many positive ways. Not to mention I gained a unique kind of education that I couldn't have gotten anywhere else or in any other way. And I fell in love with the East Coast and its sense of history. I learned a lot from my years in Annapolis. So...why am I here at USU? What am I supposed to be learning from this experience? Maybe it's too early to tell. After all, I didn't move to Annapolis expecting any of the outcomes that actually arose. Maybe my problem is that I moved here with certain expectations and those things haven't happened. I thought I was coming here for one reason and maybe that's not the reason at all. But then, what is it? I wish I knew. 

Where Do I Go From Here?

I've become increasing more anxious over the last month or so, as I've been thinking about the future. I always thought I knew what I wanted to do, but I'm finding out as I'm studying at USU that I'm less and less sure. I've been so focused on just graduating from college for the last six years that I'd never really worried about what would happen after. Or I just assumed I'd be married by the time I graduated so I'd transition naturally into what I really want to do with my life: being a mother. Well, graduation is getting closer and my marital prospects are still in the "extremely slim to nonexistent" category, and I find myself faced with having to do something after graduation. The problem is, now I'm not so sure what that is.

Should I go to graduate school? If so, which one? And for what? And what's my end goal, that I'd go to graduate school to become or accomplish? Should I take a year off and work? Where? Should I go to Korea and teach English and gain more cultural and language experience while paying off my school loans? Should I go to Korea for graduate school? And how do I avoid becoming too focused on my career in the interim before I get married and start a family, while at the same time working hard and providing for myself and my family's future?

All of this makes me just the teensiest bit anxious. Or more than a teensy bit.

"Of the people, by the people, for the people"

One of the main reasons I chose to come to Utah State was so that I could study what I'm interested in - Korea, or more broadly, Asia. My classes this semester include one on Chinese government and politics and one on the Cold War in Asia, which, for those of you who aren't familiar with either, are filled with a lot of fighting.

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In my Chinese government class, we're working our way to the present day, and are currently learning about the Sino-Japanese War that was a part of World War II (but most people in America don't know about, since we were only involved in an advisory capacity), and the civil war between the Communists and the Nationalist that followed it. It would probably be more accurate to say encompassed it, since the fighting started before the Japanese invaded, was temporarily suspended while China tried to fight the Japanese, and resumed towards the end of the fighting with the Japanese. In my Cold War class we're currently studying the first war in Vietnam. What? you say. There was another war in Vietnam? Yes, there was, and they don't really mention it in history class in American high schools. Vietnam was a French colony starting in the 19th century, and after World War II, the French were reluctant to let such a great source of natural resources go. But the Vietnamese understandably would have liked to have control of their own country, and so the nationalists, led by Ho Chi Minh, started a guerilla war with the French. And left to their own devices, they would have pushed the French right out of Vietnam. Only, Ho Chi Minh and his Viet Minh had Communist ideology. And Communist ideology -- or more correctly, the Communist power bloc -- was exactly what the United States was deathly afraid of in the 1950s. So what do you think happened?

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Needless to say, combined with the events currently taking place in the Middle East and northern Africa, this has really set me thinking. My first thought was to be disappointed that America was so often so quick to put the short-term goal of immediate stability and national interest over the long-term goal of helping the citizens of the country establish a self-sustaining government that followed the voice of the people. For all our rhetoric about democracy and the rights of the people America has historically done more to secure its own economic or political safety over supporting government "of the people, by the people, for the people". Yes, I understand that things are much clearer in hindsight, and that policymakers felt that the Soviet Union controlled any and all Communism in a huge plot to take over the world, and even that when you can't know the future you have to make decisions based on the best information you have. But I still claim the right to be disappointed that my childhood view of the US as the greatest country in the world, Supporter of Liberty, Democracy, and People's Rights, is not as true I was taught it was in sixth grade social studies.

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Reflections on My Life at This Point

When faced with something challenging, or something I just don't want to do, I tend to put it off and off and off until I'm either forced to do it at the last minute or...well, yeah, until I'm forced to do it at the last minute.

Every day I live, and the more experience I gain in this world, brings me to a new appreciation of and respect for my parents. They're not perfect, but they do love me unconditionally and they did their best to raise me after the plan our Heavenly Father has outlined.  I know that they will always be there for me no matter what.

Similarly, I gain a new appreciation for my family. I've been incredibly blessed to have the brothers and sisters that I have. They are my best friends and I am so glad that we will be a family forever, even after we die.

Heavenly Father has blessed me with so many opportunities to develop my character, my talents, and my testimony. I look back on my life and I can see His hand guiding and directing me through some important choices and changes in my life.

And of course this opportunity at USU is just another one. There are a lot of things I'd like to accomplish here, but even if I don't learn to snowboard or rock climb, I hope that I learn the lessons that God would have me learn so I may be prepared for the next step in my life.

"For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened."

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Lately I've been feeling rather sorry for myself that I don't have any friends here at USU. I think it came to a peak this last Sunday morning. I'd made some not-so-good choices Saturday night (stayed up waaaaay too late), and when I'd gotten up to take my grandparents to church (their's is at 9 am and mine's at 12:45 pm), my grandfather refused to get ready in his passive-aggressive way and my grandma said her hair wasn't done so she would only go to Relief Society. So I stomped back down to my room in a temper to watch a Taiwanese melodrama that made me feel even worse because everyone was making themselves miserable through bad choices and miscommunication (such is the melodrama genre). I got ready and was headed out to church only to find that my grandpa was finally ready and determined to go to church. I tried telling him that church was over, but I think the dementia has taken away a lot of his logic and reasoning abilities, and I just couldn't convince him to stay home and wait for my grandmother, so I dropped him off on my way and hoped my grandma would find him (otherwise he would have walked down to the church himself).

Anyway, that morning as I was reluctantly pulling myself out of bed, I'd sent up a little prayer that someone would notice me at church. I wish I could be more outgoing and just integrate myself, and I have been trying, but it's not something I'm really good at. So I sat there as Relief Society was about to start, with an empty chair on either side of me, feeling sorry for myself. The lesson was definitely one I needed to hear, on Elder Scott's talk from October's conference, about building character. In it, I made a comment and said something about my mission, as did a few others. Well, at the end of the lesson, the girl sitting in front and to the left of me turned right around with a bright smile on her face and asked, "Hi! What's your name? Where did you serve, again?" My goodness. It felt like sunshine had flooded into my gloomy soul, and the first thing I thought was, "Thank you, God, for hearing my prayer."

Strangely enough, it turns out that this girl had also served a mission, but not just that -- she'd served in Hong Kong with my brother, and her last name was Sanders! I'd even heard of her before, since my brother had written to us one time about the Sister Sanders people kept asking him if he was related to. The conversation was short and she moved on to her friends almost right after that, but it made such a huge difference in my mood that day. It's amazing how such small things can make such big changes in our lives. I know it didn't mean much - or anything - to her, but it literally was an answer to a very desperate prayer of mine.

And that's not even the end! This morning when I woke up I asked the Lord to help me reach out to others and for others to reach out to me so I wouldn't feel so lonely at school. In my first class, a girl presenting remembered me by name and asked me to read something for her. Before my second class, I saw my cousin coming out of the classroom and got to say hi to him. As I was chatting before class with the one person I've managed to have more than three conversations with and add on Facebook, she invited me to a flapjack party at her boyfriend's apartment this Friday. Going out of that class, I saw my other cousin (his older brother) and got to say hi to him, too. Not five minutes later, on my way to my next class, I saw one of the three missionaries from my mission at USU and got to chat with him for a few minutes. Before today, the most interaction with other people I'd had on campus amounted to running across one of the other missionaries I served with and saying hi on our way to class. Coincidence that today should suddenly be so different? I doubt it.

I've had so many similar experiences with prayer -- lost things were found expeditiously, answers and guidance came, blessings were received, peace was granted, burdens were lifted. Truly, I know that if we but ask, we will receive; if we knock it will be opened to us (see Matt. 7:7-11). I love what the Bible Dictionary entry about prayer says: "As soon as we learn the true relationship in which we stand toward God (namely, God is our Father, and we are his children), then at once prayer becomes natural and instinctive on our part (Matt. 7:7–11). Many of the so-called difficulties about prayer arise from forgetting this relationship. Prayer is the act by which the will of the Father and the will of the child are brought into correspondence with each other. The object of prayer is not to change the will of God, but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant, but that are made conditional on our asking for them. Blessings require some work or effort on our part before we can obtain them. Prayer is a form of work, and is an appointed means for obtaining the highest of all blessings" (emphasis added).

Prayer is one of the most precious gifts God has given us, and it is sadly underutilized by His children -- myself included. I hope that each of us can be more diligent in using this precious gift we've been given, for ourselves and in behalf of others.

So Much to Do, So Little Time

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I'm so proud of myself. Today I finally buckled down and did a lot of things I've been putting off for weeks now. I suppose it started last night, when I decided I should probably finally unpack. Three weeks after I moved in. But hey, it's done, right? Unfortunately, the next thing I accomplished should have been finished Saturday night: a paper for my 830 Intro to Islam class this morning. At only two pages, I thought I'd be just fine if I woke up at 530 to finish it. It turns out, if you have to learn APA style when you've never, ever before used it, and research a topic you know nothing about (evidences for Mohammad's prophethood), two hours is not enough time to write a two-page essay. So, needless to say, I did not end up going to class this morning (and I feel really guilty about it). I finished it about 1015, packed up my life, and made it on time to my 1130 class (Cold War in Asia -- we started on the Korean War today!).

During my one hour break before my Study of Language class, I ran over to the International Student Services office and signed up to be a volunteer English conversation partner for an international student. I don't know who it'll be, but I did ask them to give me a Korean if at all possible. I figured I owed it to the universe to pay it forward; this summer when I went to do my thing in Korea, I was blessed with an amazing peer tutor that I'm still friends with and adore to death. I learned more from her than I did from my four hours of class everyday, I swear. That volunteer opportunity is on top of the other two I've already signed up for -- the adult literacy initiative and the ESL outreach run by the community. Now if only I could find someone who would pay me for my time...~sigh~

As soon as I came home, I found a rep from the home care/hospice people talking with my grandparents (and a wonderful neighbor who came over to help interpret). So I sat down and had a talk with him about some options we can explore to help out my grandparents, and some insurance stuff, too. Tomorrow we're going to go talk to a social worker and try and get hooked up with someone who can help us get them enrolled in Medicaid and my grandpa matched up with the VA hospital. But I got the ball rolling on my taxes (thanks, Mom!) and the car's state inspection and registration renewable. And this afternoon I finally got ahold of the bank to request a replacement card for my expired debit card.

I still have so much homework to do, and I haven't had a chance to start on it yet. I really wonder if I'm going to make it through this semester alive sometimes. Or at least, make it through this semester all caught up on my dramas. But the two are practically the same.

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Getting back into the groove of being responsible and doing homework is not fun. It's like getting back into shape: you know it's for the best, but it hurts and you don't really want to do it.

Thank goodness that I find all my classes interesting and engaging. I enjoy going to class in a way that I haven't for...well, a really long time. Even predating SJC and UTM. Maybe the last time I enjoyed school this much was back when I thought kindergarten was the coolest thing ever.

Unfortunately, while the academic aspect of it all is a blast, the social side -- or lack thereof -- is killing me. One of the biggest cons of transferring to a new school was having to start all over again socially. I've never been terribly good at social things, especially when it involves new relationships of any kind. Probably I'm just lazy and complaining, right? Yeah, that's it. I need to get my head on straight and get out there and MAKE FRIENDS.



~sigh~

Things To Do Tomorrow

At least USU gives us MLK Day off. SJC never gives off, not even for Labor Day. Still, no teacher could let a perfectly good long weekend go by with assigning more homework to keep us busy, now could they?

Finish unpacking
Make 김치찌개 (kimchi stew) for lunch!! ^___^
Read textbook intro and Week 2 readings for Intro to Islam
Start researching presentation topic (how Islam views other books of scripture) for Intro to Islam
Read the five million readings I have for Cold War in Asia - US policy in post-war Japan, background on the buildup to the Cold War in Asia, more background reading... (it never ends!!)
Read textbook Chapters 1 and 2 for Chinese Government and Politics
Write 1-2 page position paper on what I know about China (not much) for CG&P
Start researching presentation topic (Liaoning Provence) for CG&P
Read textbook Chapters 1 and 2 for Study of Language
Do the Chapter 2 homework for SoL (which involves -- you guessed it! -- lots more reading)
Go sledding
Start looking over Grandma's family history records
Generally take care of, clean up after, and help out the grandparents

UPDATE
Put together bookshelf
Get the car inspected
Find my lost sanity ~sigh~

Off On A New Adventure

Old Main - Picture here

So.

Yeah.

Yesterday ended my first week of classes at USU. My first impressions went something like this: Wow, this campus is so big. Look at all that snow and they're still having classes! There are so many people! A syllabus? The classes are so big and hardly anyone ever talks...Man, I have a ton of reading to do. Blackboard? What? It's not that thing in the front of the room? Oh, you mean we get our homework online? Wow, we're actually talking about RECENT HISTORY! There are right answers to all the questions! I can bring my computer to class? People are calling me by my first name again. Weird. Taking notes...what? All the PowerPoints are on Blackboard so don't bother? Another six readings? ~sigh~


You wouldn't think there'd be much culture shock, coming back to Utah. I mean, I was born here in this very town. I've driven past the hospital I was born in at least ten times since I've been here. I lived here for most of the first half of my life. And yet...there is culture shock. When I walked into church last Sunday, into a room literally bursting with young, single LDS girls, I was...shocked? Not really shocked, I guess. Maybe overwhelmed. But it wasn't really that, either. It was just so different from what I've been used to for my whole adult life (I know, like it's been so long) that I was a little taken aback and didn't know what to think. And always before, I've either been with someone else, or been unique enough to stand out so people would go out of their way to find out who I was. This time, I'm pretty much just another girl in a room full of more than a hundred. Strange.

I think some of the reason I felt discomfited was that suddenly, most of the things that have defined me and made me unique over the last ten years were no longer unique or singular. Plenty of other people had been on missions, speak different languages, have five or more siblings, don't drink, smoke, or mess around, and go to church every Sunday. I'm not saying I lack other distinguishing qualities, just that those were the ones that stood out the most in people's minds. It's taking some getting used to, that's for sure. And the sheer number of people is just...overwhelming. I've never been good at making friends or good first impressions, and I literally know no one, not in my classes or my ward, or my extracurricular activities. How do I even go about making friends when I don't live on campus or have an in into the social scene? Thankfully, by the end of the first week, I know probably five people's names and have had at least a conversation with them. But the prospect of integrating myself into this system is sometimes enough to make me contemplate moving back home and becoming a hermit.

Seeing my grandparents again was a shock, too. I hadn't realized just how much their health -- both mental and physical -- had deteriorated in the few years since I had seen them last, my grandfather especially. I guess I had this idea that they were the grandparents I'd known ten or so years ago when we left for Tennessee, but of course that's absurd. I just didn't expect things to be this bad. I don't regret living here and helping to take care of them, but it's definitely a challenge. I have a feeling I'm going to learn a lot from this experience, even if all I learn is patience.

A Lot of Catching Up

I haven't posted much in the last few weeks, have I? Not for lack of news, but more for lack of motivation, I think.

The biggest news is that I was accepted to Utah State University for the spring 2011 semester, meaning that I will be moving out to Utah in January and (hopefully!) graduating three semesters after that. If not, well. There are worse things than taking eight years to finish your undergraduate, I suppose. I try to ignore the fact that some of my friends will be graduated with their Master's degrees before I even get my undergraduate. Life isn't a race, right?

I'm sad to leave Annapolis. I'm even sad to leave St. John's. I have to admit, it pains my pride a little to graduate from USU. SJC would have looked better, but after I humbled myself some, I realized that there are more important things in life. Like, spending time with my family. Or getting married and starting a family. Or even, just doing what you want to do and not paying to do something you don't. But I do love this place; I'll miss the water, the gorgeous fall leaves, the sense of history and the quaintness that is here. And the people. The people most of all.

I do feel very good about this decision, however. At first, back at the beginning of September, when I was still in school but hating it and contemplating withdrawing, I was so worried about the decision and its implications that I could barely sleep. I waffled between I can't take another minute of this I have to withdraw NOW and But what if I don't get accepted anywhere else? I'll be stuck and unable to graduate, with loans to pay for and no place that will hire me. The worry and indecision followed me around like a cloud, a cloud with wispy fingers that curled around every thought. I labored under the cloud for a few days, until I was almost crazy from the uncertainty of my future. And then one morning, someone randomly said something offhandedly, and the answer to my prayers came all at once, rather like the proverbial sun breaking through the clouds. It's funny how the Lord works like that; so often the answers we need come through other people at the time we're least expecting it. My testimony of prayer and the fact that the Lord answers prayers has been strengthened considerably through that experience; and so it serves a double purpose, not only as the answer I needed but also as a testimony to me that the Lord hears and answers my prayers. The Lord's nothing if not efficient.