it's because I'm White, isn't it?

I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that groups of people who preach love and acceptance won't love and accept White people because we are White. I'm frustrated that if I, a White woman, express an opinion about race in the United States, I'm "privileged," "ignorant," "biased," "bigotted," and "intolerant."

Who cares that I've done all that I can to get an outside perspective -- taking classes; reading literature and essays and histories and newspapers; talking to people of other races about their experiences; attending cultural events NOT to say, 'Oh, hey, that Colorfest though,' but to say 'Excuse me? Can you tell me about why this is important to you? Why this matters? What you love about it? What you would like me, someone who is different than you, to know?'; asking the harder, more awkward questions so that I can learn and understand something I've never experienced; attempting to help by becoming educated and active in America in its entirety, not just my White part of it.

It seems that many don't care. Many don't care that there ARE White people who support them, who want to know them, who want to help them, and who want to be equal. Yes -- be EQUAL. NOT be called names. NOT be overlooked for scholarships, jobs, awards, even justice, because we "aren't colored." NOT be beaten down and shoved aside because we "don't understand" and "cause all of the bad things to happen" because of our Whiteness.

Yes, I don't understand completely. I recognize that. I hear stories and I'm shocked. I see the way people get treated and it angers and saddens me. It spurs me to change minds and hearts. It's hard to do where I live, because the population is different. But if I see injustice, or inequality, or meanness, I at least try. Though I don't understand the depth of sorrow and pain that past and present generations perpetuate, I know that many are trying.

Yes. There is racism. Yes. There is inequality. Yes. I don't understand what it's like to walk down a street of white people and be looked at like I'm a freak. 

But I DO understand what it's like to be in a classroom full of minority students and a minority professor and be completely, humiliatingly shut down because of an honest, sincere comment about someone else's experience as a person of color -- and I never spoke in that class again. 

I DO know what it's like to be called a racist because I disagreed with a Latino's opinion.

I DO know what it's like to be called a racist because I disciplined two Black children at the museum where I work when they weren't sharing -- and the only other child, a White child, was following the rules.

I DO know what it's like to walk down a street of full of people of color and be stared at, glared at, and be whispered about because "here come those White kids" with our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with our "White charity," with our "privilege." 

I don't understand it all. But I understand a little.

I'm sorry that there are jerks in the world. I'm sorry that there are people who call names, who pass people over for jobs, who give worse service, who won't listen, who continue to express hate and malice based on color.

However. I refuse to be sorry for being White. I refuse to acknowledge arguments that blame Whiteness alone for social problems. I refuse to accept inequality against Whites, just as I refuse to accept inequality towards those of other races.

We are all, first and foremost, Americans. And as such, as Americans, we each deserve things. Life. Liberty. The Pursuit of Happiness. Freedom to laugh and love and receive aid when it is needed, from those around us and from higher powers.

No one, not one of us, deserves ANYTHING based on the color of our skin. I, as a White woman, do not DESERVE a scholarship. I do not DESERVE a job. I do not DESERVE anything. I work hard for everything that I have. And I work hard to make this world better for everyone who lives in it, no matter what color people may be. You may not think so, because I am White. But boy, let me tell you. If ever there was an advocate for equality for ALL -- you're looking at her. And that includes EVERY color. Because underneath each color is a living, breathing, thinking, hoping human being who deserves rights simply because they live. Every. Single. One.

If you ever see injustice, speak up. If you ever see inequality, confront it. It doesn't matter who it is against -- raise your voice and question. But do so with the understanding that it might have been a mistake. It might not have been based on the color of skin. It might have been done out of ignorance, instead of meanness. So ask the questions. Get people thinking. Change comes when people's HEARTS are touched, when people's MINDS are opened. And hearts will not be touched, nor will minds open, when there is abuse, rudeness, incivility, and attacks on race.

70 years ago, when the world began anew. . .

I missed marking VJ Day yesterday.

The war is over. The conflict has ended. People can breathe again. Tents and tanks are put away; men and women board ships for home. Cities, demolished, start to rebuild. Countries, frightened, weep with relief; weep with sorrow. Deaths are mourned; homecomings are celebrated. Loss is accute. Life is accute, be it present or gone.

Confusion. Exultation. Shock. Rejoicing. Some wondering what will become of them; some certain that everything will be alright from now on. Some surrounded by death and pain, silent; some surrounded by life and joy, clamour.

The war is over. The conflict has ended. Life can begin again.

The more I study WWII, the more I'm convinced that there will always be good people in this world. People who fight for what they believe in, regardless of the cost. And I mean this for ALL sides of this conflict: the Axis forces, the Allied forces, and all those people caught in the struggle.

I believe that most Axis members weren't bad people -- they were good people who trusted their leaders and sacrificed for their countries. Granted, this was mostly the young, while the older generations watched in fear. Terrified to do *their* version of the right thing, but trying through underground networks or by attempting to shelter their children. Not bad people -- people trapped by circumstance; children raised to spread an idea, warped though it was.

I believe that most Allied members weren't bad people -- they were good people who saw a monstrous threat intent on swallowing humanity and spitting it out as something which was, to them, horrific. And so they fought back, for their families, their freedoms, their way of life. They sought to halt an idea, a system that seemed intent on the world's destruction.

Both sides had a goal. Both sides had a belief. Both sides, though one is easily marked the bad and the other just as easily marked the good, were full of good people trying to do what they believed was the right thing. I know that this analysis is somewhat simplified -- it doesn't account for every variable, because that would take pages and pages of documented research to present a sound argument. But simply put, everyone had something they believed in: the Axis' New World; the Allied idea of freedom and safety for everyone, regardless of race, color, creed, religion, or lifestyle.

What to us is clearly an evil may be obviously good to someone else. Take the current conflicts with ISIS and ISIL: many of them truly believe that what they do is right. And what do we support and perpetuate that others in the world see as evil?

Good people do bad things -- sometimes we know what we're doing is wrong, and we feel too frightened or too unconcerned to change it. Sometimes we don't know it. Does that make those people bad? Evil? I don't believe that it does.

Our perspectives shape the way we see good and evil. I believe that if everyone looked harder for these perspectives, to understand how and why people think and believe the way that they do -- I believe that there would be more love. Less hate. More talk. Less gunfire.

I'm glad the war ended the way that it did. I sorrow for the loss of innocent life that led to Japanese surrender. I understand that many believe that it was the only way, and I have often thought about other possibilities. I wonder what would have happened if talking had been an option, if a greater respect for all human life could have made things change. It didn't happen that way -- and so we can appreciate what goodness DID come from the ending of the Pacific conflicts, and think of all the goodness that can be found in stories of people throughout the terrible time that was WWII.

...

The tears come in quiet moments.
When the night has fallen and the stars awake in the sky;
when the city goes to bed, and the clock creeps slowly on to midnight.

Finally alone -- and I cry.

I cry for the sorrow, the hatred.
The pain. For the hunger and sickness -- for the loss.
But mostly

I cry for the children.

oops...

That awkward moment when you realize that you invited 119 people to your birthday party.

I didn't even realize I had that many people to invite to a birthday party -- those are just the people that I really like and whose company I find enjoyable. I didn't even invite the "maybe" people, which I usually do. Just the "Yes, I want them to know they're invited" people.

Luckily most of them won't come, because that's kind of how these things go. I mean, can you imagine trying to pack 119 people in the same group into a bowling alley? A lot of people don't even like bowling.

Considering I'm highly introverted, I sure do have a lot of friends.

nothing to do but do...

A phrase comes up a lot in conversation these days. I say it, my friends say it, my family members say it -- after we take turns detailing the hard things that we're facing or the stresses brought on by work, school, health, and other things, we say with a shrug and a half-sort of smile, "Eh. What can you do?"

It's as though it's a socially constructed way of saying, "Thank you for listening to my problems, and don't try to help me -- I just needed to talk."

It's true, in a lot of ways. So many things just have to be done, regardless of the difficulty or the heartache. Life doesn't stop for anyone. Unless you happen to have a billion dollars in your bank account, of course -- then you can tell the world what to do and it has to listen. Money talks a lot louder than anything else.

I keep looking at the things in my life and I'm sometimes amazed that I get anything done. I'm honestly baffled that I'm accomplishing anything at all.

Sometimes I look at other people's lives and feel grateful that I don't have their struggles. They're so strong -- sometimes it makes me feel even weaker -- I couldn't do what they're doing.

Everybody's got something. For me, and for everybody else -- despite the physical pain which grows worse by the day, the emotional issues that creep in the background, the lack of sleep due to nightmares and pain, and the immense anxiety caused by deadlines, health problems, bills, and what-have-you -- we just keep going.

Eh. What can you do?

Everything, apparently.

counter attack...

I keep finding a thought spinning around in my head.

"Wow. Look how much you've lost this year."

In some ways, it's kind of true. I have lost a lot. Often it seems that every time I turn around, some big, awful thing happens that leaves me feeling as though I've been decked across the face. 

I've lost important, meaningful things. I've lost a lot of my freedom that comes from living on my own and having a car at my disposal all of the time. I've lost opportunities, I've lost time, I've lost money. And worst of all, I've lost people I never dreamed I would lose -- or prayed and begged the Lord to let them stay.

But amidst all of that gone-ness, there are so many things I've gained. I've gained new friendships, new opportunities, new responsibilities, new dreams, new knowledge, and maybe even new wisdom. I've gained a better understanding of the Atonement, and I've gained a greater sense of the Holy Spirit's whisperings. I've gained patience and compassion, strength and resolve. Well -- maybe less in the patience department, but more than I had before.

I feel as though I'm closer to my family and to God than I've ever been in my whole life, and that's after all of the mistakes I made.

Admittedly, I'd like to give in to the anger that keeps working it's way into my heart. I'd like to curse and cry and scream and let the whole world know how much my heart is hurting -- but I won't. I don't need to.

There are bigger, more important things in this life. I'm holding out for them.

where we're going...

I've had a lot to think about lately.

I'm definitely a planner. I plan my days almost to the minute, working out every detail as I get ready for bed and making sure I'll be where I need to be at least ten minutes in advance. I practice schedules until they're timed perfectly -- for example, my Wednesdays are planned for the rest of the semester. After this morning I know that washing one load of laundry takes exactly 27 minutes, meaning that if I wake up an hour and 15 minutes before I need to leave for school, I can get one load done while I get ready, put it in the dryer, and have a second in the washer before heading off to school. I won't be late for class, nor will I run out of time to do chores, homework, and make dinner (Wednesday is my dinner night and my laundry day -- I added my other chores so I can get them all done in one afternoon).

I think about this and wonder -- if I'm more than a planner; if I am, in fact, a control freak. To have days planned to the minute?

When I think about not having a plan, though...I get anxious. It's why I've been feeling so much anxiety about the coming year. It's no longer if I graduate next year... but WHEN I graduate next year... and all that entails. I don't even know if I'll be accepted to a college that starts in the fall -- most of them begin each January, which means 7 months of doing who knows what while I wait for school to start. Honestly, I don't even know which school I should try and get into -- I don't know what's right.

And what happens if I somehow end up married in the next year? Or if not -- keep dating, or suffer another heartbreak? I've always heard people say that you never marry the first person you date. Well...one called off engagement and two break-ups later, and we're still making everything work. In fact, it's better than it's ever been. Now people tell me that it's unlikely that we'll not get married. I can't help but wonder, though. I can't help but wonder if he'll stay. Or if I should stay. I know that I want to -- I don't want to be anywhere else. I just wonder if it's right.

What if, what if, what if. I know it doesn't help anything to wonder about things I can't control. It's hard not to wonder -- everything has gotten complicated and grown up in so little time. Peter Pan would be disappointed in me. Luckily for me, Peter Pan was never on my list of "People I will Emulate." No, I've always wanted to be like Clara Barton, or Louisa May Alcott, or George Washington. People who did things. Grown up things.

I wish someone had told my child self to slow down, to not be in such a hurry to grow up. But that begs the question, would I have listened?

No. No...I don't think I would.

the best people...

...are the people who love you no matter how good or how bad you look, feel, talk, or act. And for them I am grateful.

"that girl," who has stuck with me the longest and who has never, ever given up on me. Ever. And we have no pictures together, and she probably wouldn't want me to post one of her anyway. But just so she knows.

My room mate, my friend I didn't know I had until a year after we met, my "mom" away from home.

My role model, my "big sister" I never knew I wanted, my confidante who knows me better than I know myself.

My advice giver, my three o'clock in the morning go-to guy, my "big brother" I always wanted and never had. 

Who I also have no pictures with. And who is ENGAGED! So happy for him!

My partner in crime, my photographer buddy, my friend who loves getting lost.

Honestly? I can't NOT put him here -- even though we broke each others' hearts and it still sucks, and he confuses me like crazy -- 

I'm so glad he's still a part of my life.

holding my tongue...

Have you ever felt so angry that you wanted to break something? Smash something, demolish things into little tiny pieces. Make lots of noise, scream, curse, and shout at the top of your lungs. Let out all of the hurt and anger and sadness. Big and mean and scary -- bigger than ever.

Unfortunately, that's not an option. It's not healthy, and it's stupid.

What I wouldn't give to be able to tell the truth to someone. Especially the people who need to hear it. I wish I could just loose control -- give people a piece of my mind. Make them understand how awful I feel inside. I wish I could let it all go, loudly and irrationally.

Is it weird to want to be unkind? To say everything that's on your mind with no restraint or thought for another person's feelings?

Honestly. I have and always will try my hardest not to do that. It's immature and selfish. And it doesn't help anything, either. At all. 

I hate feeling so angry. I hate keeping so much secret, having no one to tell things to because there are things I can't say and shouldn't say. You know? Because if you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all. And what I want to say shouldn't be said. Ever. Not fair. Not kind. Not okay.

More sleep would be a good thing. More sleep, more fun, and more focus on the good things in life. Because there are a lot of good things in life. Many, many good things.

Proof, once again, that I am far from perfect, and that I have much to learn. Exciting thought, in some ways, that there is always something better ahead and that personal change is always an option, if you're willing to work at it.

worst shift ever...

I do not exaggerate when I say that I had my three worst ever tutorials yesterday. All right in a row.

The first one was awful because a student came in who had a huge statistical analysis research paper due the next day at 5 p.m. She spoke nothing of the writing in the paper, and wanted me to evaluate the observational study she wanted to do that afternoon. I have a little bit of statistical knowledge, but nothing like what she wanted. Stats 121 was the bane of my existence last semester. I didn't know what to do, and I tried to help her as best I could. Plus, she was an international student from China, and she barely understood half of what I tried to explain. 

She was super stressed out about the paper, and kept saying she didn't get what I meant and that I wasn't understanding her assignment. Huh. Imagine that. I'm a writing tutor, not a stats TA! We didn't read any of her paper, and she wanted me to give her all of the answers for writing her thesis, saying "Write what you would say for me." No. Do you want me to lose my job? Because I don't want to.

Tutorial number two was only awful because of the subject material. The guy was great. He's a Women Studies minor, which surprised me so much that I actually stared at him, thinking it was a joke (there are a lot of good guys at BYU, but I find that many of them have a 'women are second class' mentality, even if they don't come right out and say it -- it's a subconscious cultural thing here). But he was serious. I was excited to work with him, until I read his thesis. It was an analysis of the impact that popular literature has on girls' perceptions of the ideal relationship, using the Twilight novels as the basis for his observations. 

I had to hold back tears the whole time, because I kept seeing myself in the paper. After what happened on Monday night -- I've been a bit of a nervous wreck (as my coworkers and room mate can attest to). His paper was really great because it did an excellent job of pointing out instances of abuse, male dominance, and how victims come to behave. But it was really hard to read -- he noticed and asked if I was okay. I sort of shrugged it off and just said that it all sounded familiar. The look on his face was so kind and compassionate. Worst tutorial ever -- not because of him, but because I could barely hold myself together. Mom said I should have given him my number -- yeah, right. Although he was really cute.

Third the worst. I kid you not, it was the worst tutorial ever. The lady who came in for help was probably in her mid-sixties, and she was the rudest, meanest person I have ever met at BYU. She brought in a 59 page paper and wanted me to do all of the citations for her, in Chicago format. I've never used Chicago before, and no one else in the Center uses it. We all use MLA or APA. When I told her that, she got so upset at me, and started bossing me around and telling me that I was unhelpful. "You don't know this format? Well, are you a writing tutor, or aren't you?" Um...yes. And last time I checked, you aren't, madam. 

After spending ten minutes trying to help with handouts, the Internet, and a manual, she handed me her 59 pages and told me to read it. I'm not supposed to read students' papers without them -- they read them aloud and I follow along. We're also not supposed to read all of long papers -- especially when we have a three hour wait (yep). When I told her those things, she snatched her paper from me and said, very loudly, "So you can't help me." I was so shocked that I just sat there, stuttering that yes, I could help, but that I had to follow the rules. Then she snorted and said, "So. You won't help me."

I was absolutely stunned. Of course I would help her, but I have to follow the policies and procedures of the Center. I even tried to explain to her that I had to be available to help other students, and I pointed at the line out the door. She just glared at me and said, "Will you help me or not?" I didn't know what to do at that point, and because she was older, I couldn't tell her off like I can a student. And so, for 60 minutes, I sat with her while she read her paper, criticizing me for all of my comments and telling me that I didn't get it. Duh, I didn't get it. She wouldn't tell me about the paper, shushing me when I asked her what the assignment was and saying, "I am reading." She wouldn't listen to anything I said, and if I so much as moved in my chair, she'd stop and glare at me, "You're not paying attention. Listen."

Dana and Chloe saved me. They were watching, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that they were just as stunned and unsure as I was. Eventually, Chloe came over and stopped the tutorial, pointing to the line of students needing help. I was so relieved; I'd been trying not to cry the whole time.

Chloe, Dana, and I have now developed a system of signaling each other if something like that ever happens again. Chloe taught us the ASL signs for "help me" and "do you need help." I'm going to memorize that for future semesters.

Good thing today is not yesterday. Just a bit nervous...the lady is coming back today. I swear, if it's my turn to tutor, I'll fake sick or slip Chloe a note to pull the fire alarm at 20 minutes into the tutorial. Not that we'd ever pull the fire alarm. But it is often a muttered sentiment as one of us leaves the table to help particularly infamous writing students. 

finally figured it out...

For the past couple of days I've been feeling awful. Awful because I don't feel anything. And I don't understand it.

I've thought about it, and I think I know one of the reasons why I don't feel anything, and why I feel awful about it.

Because when I feel something, and I try to talk about it with certain people, I get shut down.

Because when I express my feelings and thoughts, my problems "could be worse." They "aren't as bad as what happened to me yesterday." My feelings and thoughts are "lacking perspective," "missing the point."

Because when I try and ask for help, I'm "doing really well already."

Stop it.

Stop ignoring me.

Stop comparing my problems to yours or to other people's.

Stop disregarding the fact that there are things in my life that are painful, things that break and re-break my heart, things that I feel I have lost.

Stop treating me like I don't matter. Because I matter just as much as you do.

Stop telling me that you'll be there for me and then yelling at me, ignoring me, or belittling me when I come to you.

Just stop it.

Take me seriously. It's the least that you can do. Honestly, it's not like I ask for much -- it's not like I ask for anything. Ever.

Maybe all of this is selfish. And it kind of is. You know what, though? I spend so much of my time worrying about other people and helping them, so much so that my own issues, my homework, my life, gets neglected. Why? Because I care. I make time.

But really. I am doing the best that I can. My heart is broken. I am broken right now. And I'm doing the best I know how to fix it.

When are you going to realize that?

lately...

...thinking...

...I'm beginning to learn what it means to study the scriptures, and let me tell you, it's quite fascinating what you can learn -- so many thoughts and ideas bouncing around
...why do I so often want to go back to the person who caused me so much grief -- or do I even want to go back
...funny how often others pressure me to take care of things that are no longer my problem, and the people doing the pressuring aren't even interested in helping out
...people are hypocritical -- it bugs me how often I, too, fall into that
...snow would be so much more fun if I had a guy friend to chuck snowballs at and then run for my life -- missing Jordan a lot this weekend
...I hate money because I don't have any

...doing...

...migraines, anybody? whatever you do, don't get them
...dishes by hand -- the dishwasher is broken and I don't know how to fix it, but I actually like doing the dishes now
...started watching Big Bang Theory and I'll admit that I really like it, even though I shouldn't
...consistently behind in my homework, no matter how hard I try to keep up
...wishing. lots of wishing
...sleeping -- are you shocked, because I have been
...spent time with my best girl Kayla, whom I haven't played with in months -- Cafe Rio, gas station hot chocolate (which never ceases to be grand), quoting YouTube videos, fixing car wind shield wipers, watching Once Upon a Time, talking about boys and college and dreams, you name it
...oh, my wind shield wiper broke while I was on the freeway yesterday afternoon during the blizzard -- that was fun
...trying not to fret about the future, because I can't control a lot of what happens

...feeling...

...headaches -- a lot
...unable to talk to anyone about anything that's going on in my life because 1) people don't want to listen, 2) people are too busy to listen, 3) people scold me for how I feel/think/act, 4) people use what I tell them to get back at me later on, 5) I'm afraid to ask the people who would listen because they're busy and I often end up having nothing to say
...excited for Christmas time -- the one time of year things feel right, even if they're not
...lonely and isolated, which may have been an unintentional choice on my part
...mad at people who are careless with physical affection -- if I hadn't ever been cuddled, I wouldn't miss it (and I wouldn't miss you as much, either)
...tired and scared -- maybe paranoid
...overwhelmed and short on time -- what I wouldn't give for college professors to realize that every class has homework, and a lot of it, not just theirs
...fat. yes, fat

might explode...

Why is it so freaking hard for people to just take care of themselves? Why is it so FREAKING hard? If a doctor gives you a medication, TAKE IT (no one can call me out on this one because I have not missed a day in over two months, and even though it's NOT working, I'm STILL taking it because the doctor told me to). If you're hungry, EAT SOMETHING. If you hurt yourself, TAKE CARE OF IT THEN, not when it gets worse. If what you're doing is going to get you into trouble, STOP DOING IT.

In short, don't be stupid. Stupidity is bad for you, and it's bad for everyone else in your life. I mean, you do have a brain. So use the dang thing.

I guess if this was just a one time thing, I wouldn't be so upset. But EVERY TIME I turn around, different people in my life have done something they shouldn't have or not done something they should have done, and it screws life up for them and everyone involved. I mean, come ON, people. How hard is it to think? And not just about how what you do effects yourself, but about how what you do effects others.

Think. Think before you act, or don't act -- contrary to popular belief, life isn't "all about me." Each of us must first do our BEST, and I mean VERY best, to meet our personal needs. It is not fair to expect other people to just drop everything and be there because we have something in our lives that we don't want to take care of.

Friends can only go so far. There comes a point where people can do no more.

That's just the way it is.

Phew. Got that out. Now I can go back to being normal (whatever that is).

can you keep a secret...

You may be asking yourself why I'm putting a secret on the Internet. Well, most of the things I put on the Internet are my secrets. They're different kinds of secrets -- they're not the ones you really can keep wholly to yourself. But they're the things that you wouldn't say to certain people, or the quiet thoughts that people can see on your face, but have no words for because you don't share.

I have a secret. It's a secret a lot of people know about me, which is that I have a lot of white traits in my personality, and my reaction to change or difficulty is often to pull away. I avoid conversation or interaction, mostly because I want to be alone and people won't let me when I ask or tell them I'm busy. Or, if there's conflict, or if I feel afraid, I intentionally isolate myself. That's one of my secrets.

How can it be a secret if people know about it, you ask? In a nut shell, it's a secret because though people see the behavior, they don't know why I do it. The secret isn't the action -- it's the motivation.

I'm not a great communicator. I could be if I forced myself out of my comfort zone, but I get so afraid of offending someone that I end up just agreeing to whatever the person says and go back to door mat status. Or I know that I'm right, but I don't know how to express it. If I were able to argue with someone by writing a paper about it directed at the problem, I'd win every time. Talking about problems, on the other hand? The other person always gets their way, even if it's completely wrong of them, because I get so confused and so flustered that I often can't remember what the original reason for the conversation was in the first place.

And so I shut up. Literally, I shut my mouth and I shut my bedroom door. I turn off my phone, I clean my house from top to bottom, I get ahead in my studies, and I go to bed early. 

Granted, it's not okay to say, "this is just the way that I am -- deal with it." I know that this isn't exactly the best way to handle stuff. Believe me, I'm working on it. Sometimes I just need a break for awhile -- I need to be alone. I need to be away from people. I need to be able to choose when I talk, who I talk to, what I talk about, where I go and who I go with -- being truthful, I get sick of being a door mat after awhile. 

So. There you have it. Another secret courtesy of Georgie. And because you're going to be kind enough to keep it (at least, I assume that you will), I'll even tell you a joke:

A British man and a Swiss man were sitting together in a cafe. The British man, who was preparing to go to Switzerland, asked the Swiss man, "What is the best thing about your country?"

The Swiss man thought about it for a few moments, then replied, "Well, the flag is a big plus."

Pardon me while I snicker to death over here in the corner.

Wah, wah. Peace out, girl scout.

contradiction...

Every once in awhile, I really dislike my job. Yes, tutoring gets tiring sometimes (so much so that I dream about it), and it's frustrating to see a huge line out the door, knowing that people are bored and impatient and mad that they have to wait for so long. However, the days when I dislike my job the most are the days that we're not busy and some sort of discussion begins at the tutor table, discussions that leave me feeling isolated and uncomfortable.

Unlike the majority of my coworkers, I do not fall into the category of "American liberal." My political, intellectual, and social leanings are more along the lines of "American conservative." At the same time, though, I don't like lumping myself in with the so-called conservative crowd. I don't think the same way that a lot of them do. I disagree with them on many issues. I disagree with the liberal crowd as well. The reason why, I believe, is because I try not to affiliate myself with any type of group through name alone -- I want to find a middle ground. Some may call it "going with your gut" politics -- that's what I try to do.

For me, if something doesn't feel right, then it's wrong. If that makes any sense. An explanation is difficult, but I'll try my best. Basically I believe that there is truth and there is not truth. No one person has all truth. Therefore, no one group has a monopoly on all truth, either, because groups are made up of individuals who lack full, complete truth.

At my work, many of the people believe one way and will see no other point of view. Or they pretend to see the other point of view, but in their acknowledgment of the opposing side, they slip in a low-key remark about the intelligence of the different group. There are some who honestly don't care about personal political preferences and when a discussion starts, they comment once or twice and go back to their books, satisfied that they've contributed their statement of agreement with what everyone else is already saying. But it seems as though there isn't anyone who is interested in hearing from the one person who thinks differently -- and if they do hear, they don't listen. Even if they do listen, they look at me strangely and go back to talking with the people who already agree with them. Once again, I'm no longer encouraged to participate.

Countless times I've been blown off or shut down because I think differently. Many times I'm not even invited to join the conversation -- I become an observer from one side of the table, and when I try to interject my point of view, I'm talked over or ignored. Then, when someone does notice me sitting there, listening but not included, the resulting comment I'm asked to make leaves a sudden awkwardness in the air. And that's usually when the discussion ends or moves to a new topic.

Perhaps the awkwardness stems from the fact that I don't affiliate myself wholly with one group or person. I believe that truth can be found in all places, and if one asks to find it, that truth will be given. Some things just feel wrong to me -- much of that has to do with the influence that my faith has on my perspective of the world. God grants us truth if we ask; I ask for truth on a daily basis (no joke -- it helps with school a lot).

One person has called me out on not thinking for myself, of letting my church tell me how to think and who to be. They're wrong. I do think for myself. I make my own decisions. "Separation of church and state," someone said today (not to me -- they were discussing the presidential debate of last night and the reaction of students), "Stop bringing up the church, for crying out loud." Yes, I can see how saying that all LDS people should vote for Mitt Romney because he, too, is a Mormon, is probably not okay. But it's when the person took it a step farther, saying that using religious principles to formulate personal political beliefs is ridiculous, that I got a little bit bothered.

In discussions that I am included in, I don't bring up the church very often. I bring up true principles that I have a testimony of, not referencing them to the church at all. I bring up things that I know to be true. Yes, the church teaches these principles. Yes, the church revolves on the gospel of Jesus Christ. But the principles can be applied to anyone, inside or outside of the LDS church. Asking me to separate church and state in my thinking is silly to me, for how can I be the same person if I allow my thinking and action to be different when engaging with seemingly separate groups? No, I don't force my religion down people's throats. No, I don't condemn others for thinking differently than I do. No, I don't think that difference of opinion is a bad thing. I do think it strange to tell a person to separate faith from thought about other aspects of life -- telling them how to think -- particularly after slamming someone for letting the church "tell you how to think."

How can I be an example of Christ "at all times, and in all things, and in all places" if I don't live the same way in all times, and in all things, and in all places? How can I speak and act in one way at work, and then in another at church, and another in class? Why be two or three or four faced in my dealings with people? And how on earth can I separate my ways of thinking when my faith is so central to my life? No, I won't say things like, "Well, the church says this, and since you're different, you're bad." But I will say that telling me to think in certain ways or not think in certain ways is out of line -- as soon as that happens, those people begin to do exactly what they profess to hate: being told how to think by the LDS church.

Contrary to popular belief, the LDS church doesn't tell its members how to think. It doesn't tell us how to vote. The general authorities come right out and say that civic action is a duty of all citizens, and to vote according to our consciences using the information we have discovered on our own to make informed decisions. Never once do they say, "vote for so-and-so." No. That happens in isolated places and meetings because people are not perfect and are every once in awhile out of line, but it is not a church policy to do this.

I never ask anyone else to think different ways. I don't ask them to split themselves into different people according to who they are with and what they're talking about. Telling me to think for myself, and then telling me in the same sentence to stop letting my faith influence me, is completely contradictory. They call out the hypocrisy of LDS church members, but then they do the same things. That, to me, is absolutely frustrating. It is also a warning to watch myself, so that I don't fall into those same habits.

Truth will out in the end -- I'll find it in my ways, and you in yours. As for now, I will return to my book and sit quietly at the tutor table. I've learned that often the strongest argument is that of silence.

weighing the options...

Three days of talking through pros and cons has left me feeling drained and doubtful. Phone calls in the late (or early) hours of the morning. Visits after work and school. Talking, and not talking -- talking it out, and processing it in silence. Being there when needed as often as possible. Being there to help in whatever way I can.

Lists, mental and handwritten, of information fill my mind and the garbage can. Words of comfort and counsel cross my lips in an optimistic tone, alleviating some of the worry for a little while and encouraging whatever action is eventually taken.

Can I tell you a secret?

I don't feel particularly optimistic. In truth, I feel empty. Empty and lost and unsure and tired.

So many tears. So much worry. 

It's useless to ask why, but I ask anyway. 

Why do these things happen? 

Why do people choose to hurt others? 

Why are people cruel and senseless and irresponsible?

Why are people seemingly so incapable of accepting the fact that what they do effects others, and that the consequences of their stupidity and viciousness leave indescribable amounts of pain in their wake?

Why?

More importantly, what do we do now? No path will be easy. No journey will be short. No direction will be free from pain. Mentally, emotionally, physically -- maybe even spiritually. Nothing about this is, or ever will be, easy.

And another question: not just what should we do now. What do I do now? Two days until a decision must be made. Two days. But then after that, it's not a mere two days. It's every single day for the rest of our lives.

This sounds so dramatic and childish to me -- but it will be every day. That's why being a part of the decision making is so hard. That's why being asked to help is so frightening. The consequences will be life changing. The healing process will be long.

I don't know why I feel so alone right now. I'm not the one who has to make the decision. I'm not the one experiencing all of this. All I've been asked to do is help, listen, offer my thoughts, and run the occasional errand. I just need to be there.

So why do I feel so alone? Let down? Afraid? 

Tell me how you would answer this question: "How can you be sure that you're doing the right thing when what you feel is right goes against everything you've ever known?"

I'm running out of things to say. And we're running out of time.

people are more important than things...

First, I would like to say thank you to all of the people who have written their thoughts about the shooting in Colorado. Each one of you has had different insights that have helped me gain a larger perspective. You have helped me keep anger and sorrow in check, and have helped me begin to move forward again.

I will admit that I have not been kept in check enough, however, to keep from feeling frustrated and upset by the lack of compassion and tact that many Internet users, political lobbyists and campaigners, column writers, and casual conversationalists have shown during the past few days.

May I just say how very tired I am of seeing people use the Colorado shooting to further their own ends. Be they political, religious, whatever -- the things I have been reading and viewing online and hearing in conversations are ridiculous. There's a little something called empathy, that being the ability to place yourself in someone else's position and attempt to see and feel things the way that person is to gain an understanding of what that person needs. I do not believe that empathy includes turning someone else's horror into an advertisement, a sarcastic meme, or a campaign slogan to carry out personal aims.

Timing, people. It's all about timing. Now is the time for prayers, for letters, for people to take an interest in not just the horror, but in the welfare of those victims of the shooting. Now is the time to focus on what can be done to help the families and friends who are left with empty spaces in their hearts that no poster or promise can heal. Now is the time to think of those who were injured, whether by physical bullets or emotional shrapnel. It is not the time to be funny or sarcastic, or to attack. The attack has already happened. It is in the past -- that cannot be changed -- and the witty comments, snarky remarks, and biting insults are doing nothing to help anyone move forward.

It is about healing. Yes, we must learn from this. We must take into consideration the measures that should be taken to keep something like this from happening again. But it is about the timing. And now is not the time for insensitive words or photos.

Forgive me if I seem close minded or unfeeling. I am not angry, not about the shooting or about the responses to it. I am sure people don't mean to be insensitive. There are so many ways that people deal with tragedies such as this, whether they were there or read about it in the paper. But the focus must be on what can be done for the people who are left to remember the horror they experienced, rather than dwelling on what someone should have done or should have said or what measures should have been in place before. There is no "should have" anymore. There is only "can do."

We live in a society that is all about the moment. We take a situation and try desperately to use it to show how clever we are, or how right we are, or how obvious "the point" of something is. I feel that we as a people are too quick to the punchline and too slow to notice the effect an event has on the individual. We aim to impress the masses, rather than to comfort the one.

We must think before we speak, post, text, and share. We must think beyond the punchline, beyond the political agenda, beyond the religious ideal. We must think of the person -- the person with a face and a name and a family and a future -- for people are always more important than things.

withdraw...

I'm the kind of person who makes plans and sticks to them. I rarely cancel plans, even if I don't feel particularly well. And even though I hate going to parties, I at least try to show up and say hello for a little while.

Lately, though, I've done the opposite. I've made plans, I've rsvp'd to stuff, I've ventured into social functions -- but somehow, I always end up canceling or making as quick an exit as possible. Even at work I find any excuse to hide in the back room, whether it's calling customers or organizing or drinking 6 full water bottles in a five hour shift just so I could retreat to refill and clear my head.

Don't get me wrong. I love my house mate. I love my coworkers (most of them). I love my family. I love my friends. I need people, all of those people in particular.

Right now, though...I don't really want people. It's so hard to hear people say things like, "we need to go hang out to take your mind off of things" or "call me and we'll talk" because, quite honestly, I don't want to go out or talk. I hate getting invited to do things because I just want to stay in my house, cleaning the rooms and cooking meals and spending time with Kala. At the same time, I keep making plans and trying to force myself to make human contact -- I know from experience that it's not good to withdraw completely.

But making plans is the easy part. It's keeping them that's hard. Even sitting in the same room with Natalie was hard after awhile. So was talking with my coworkers tonight. I wonder if part of it is due to my sudden inability to focus on anything anyone is saying. I'll be looking right at Natalie while she's talking to me, but I cannot for the life of me seem to focus on what she is saying. The same thing happened with Tracy and Danielle at work, and my family when we went to the library tonight. It was like a radio that can't hone in a frequency and keeps shooting out static with intermittent, broken, muffled words coming through the speakers.

I just want to be alone. Alone with nothing but white noise in my head and white lights before my eyes.

still a student...

I've been thinking a lot about the first lesson post I wrote. About worrying less about how my life looks to others and more about how it feels to me.

By no means am I a master of this principle, or any of the others that I have written about. I often find myself thinking and acting in ways that are completely against the things I am trying to learn. Sometimes I stop short and tell myself, HEY! Remember that one time when you thought of that one thing and you were going to work on it and become better? Well...better remember it now and QUIT STOPPING YOURSELF FROM PROGRESSING.

Not all of the voices in my head are particularly kind.

Anyway. For example. I've been spending a lot of time on my own lately in the House. Natalie and I see each other in the evenings for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour, but most of the time we're just two friends sharing living space. We both work a lot, I at my three jobs and Natalie at her job and in her volunteering.

This time alone hasn't been lonely time. I rarely find myself feeling sad or upset. Instead, I have found that I am able to get a lot of things done: keeping up with the housework and making sure things are nice; playing with my dog; adventuring with friends; reading; writing; cooking; thinking; singing; perhaps soon drawing.

While I was in the kitchen today, boiling eggs by myself for the first time ever, I stopped and looked around me. Here I am, I thought, boiling eggs and planning meals for the week, debating on whether or not to make a cake or brownies, brainstorming potential primary lessons, cleaning the kitchen, singing hymns and talking to my dog in my Snow White voice, musing on life and its mysteries, mentally checking to see if my camera is ready for tomorrow morning, and trying to figure out which big chore I'm going to complete on Friday night. I looked around the kitchen again and thought, I LOVE my life!

Then another not-so-kind voice (which sounded remarkably like one of the people who works in the same building that I do) said, Yep. You're a total Molly Mormon. You just keep on proving it. You are doing nothing important with your life except cleaning the house, cooking the food, and thinking about the Gospel. Oh my gosh, LOOK AT YOU! You are so NOT awesome. DO SOMETHING with your life, okay? Jeez.

And for a minute, I started to be ashamed. I remembered all of those things that person told me a few weeks ago, telling me that (and I quote/paraphrase) "your life is so boring -- don't you do anything worthwhile at all?" and "wow, you are such a Molly Mormon -- you like teaching primary. And cake pops, seriously?" and  "next time you make a decision you should think for yourself, instead of relying on the misguided examples of other people."

Remembering those things she said brought me spiraling downwards. I hated myself. Even though I had been angry when she'd said all of those things to me, I believed her words for a second. I AM boring, I thought. I am everything she said I am --  I SHOULDN'T like these things. I should be more adventurous and daring, maybe try something new. I probably shouldn't even like Disney movies.

But as I looked at my reflection in the Kitchen Aid that I was putting back in place, I thought of what I'd proclaimed to have learned. WHO CARES if that person thinks I'm a Molly Mormon? WHO CARES if my life appears boring to her? It isn't boring to me! I like my life. I like teaching primary and making cake pops. I like doing dishes (sometimes) and singing and boiling eggs and cleaning and playing with my dog. I like the way I am. Besides, that person has no idea where I've come from and what kinds of decisions I've made.

You know what? This is my life to live. It isn't hers.

We are all students of life. The person who said those things is learning about life, just as I am. We're both in different places and taking different roads. What I need to remember and continue to practice thinking is that though others may tell me that the life I live is boring and housewife-ish, it doesn't matter. What they think doesn't matter. I feel comfortable this way. I feel happy this way. All of these things bring me joy, and to me they are worthwhile.

I don't plan to change the world. I plan to change myself. That is what is most important.

lesson Two...

God understands your tears just as well as He understands  your words. After all, He gave you both.

If you have read anything that I have ever written, or talked in person or on the phone with me, you will know that it is rare that I am ever at a loss for words. Yes, I'm actually a shy person, but once you get to know me and the walls come down, the flood gates open and out come thoughts, dreams, jokes, laughs, and more.

There are times, though, when I can find no words to express the thoughts and feelings inside my head and heart. There are times when I find myself cradling broken fragments of memories in my fingers -- snippets of conversations replaying in my ears, flashes of faces in my mind, scenes of love and loss stuttering like an old film in front of my eyes -- those broken fragments are often hard to hold. A forgotten moment can have an edge sharper than a knife when it is brought again to light. Even with the times of joy mixed in, the bite of shattered hopes lingers longer than the reminisces of happiness. Finding words can be as difficult as finding peace.

I am a person who must express what I'm feeling and thinking in some way or another. My first choice is through words, be they written or spoken. I have to get things out. Not doing so results in sleepless nights or nightmares, and withdrawal from others, among other not so healthy coping methods. And so the times when I can't find words, when I can't express how I feel...those times are very hard.

Today has been a day of no words. It hasn't been a bad day by any means, but there were things festering inside of me that I was too afraid to look at, because I knew that if I looked, it would hurt. I pushed those things aside -- I've probably been pushing them aside for a few days. But those things will not stay buried for long. Soon I got too tired, and almost too curious, to not look. And I did.

It was one of those moments when I saw much of my life -- where I've been, where I am, where I'm going -- and it seemed as though I was nothing. No matter what, I'm not good enough. Yes, I've accomplished things, but I'm not good enough to be really worth something in others' lives.

I thought of the older man at my sisters' workplace who was fired shortly after he began working there because he couldn't do the work well enough -- he'd needed a job so badly.

I thought of the friend whose parents are upset at her for things she couldn't control -- she would have kept her word if her car hadn't broken down, and if she'd had the money to fix it.

I thought of all of the people who have lost homes in the fires, all of their belongings and possibly pets -- they couldn't forsee that the places they lived in would be in the path of a monstrous wildfire.

I thought of the girl who has become a good friend in a short amount of time, who got in some trouble with a boy and when she told him she was pregnant, he left her, and when she lost the baby he came back and told her it was all her fault -- she deserves so much better than that.

And then the thought came to my mind -- 'you are not enough. Your writing center job, your associate's degree, your high honors, your house, your life -- YOU -- are not enough to help any of those people.'

My heart aches for these people, and it aches more that I can do nothing to help them. It is a literal ache, one that hit me so hard that I doubled over and did the only thing I could do: I began to cry. I leaned against the wall for what seemed like a lifetime, crying and crying because of the pain I felt in my heart for these people and my inability to help them. And another thought came: how could I believe in a God who let things like this happen to people, especially to those who don't deserve it? And why will He not make me enough, when I have constantly tried to give everything to Him?

I then began to berate myself for worrying about things I can't control and for questioning the Lord. I remembered that everything happens for a reason, and it makes people stronger if they will learn from it. You shouldn't doubt, and anyway, you should be praying rather than crying, a not-so-kind voice said in my head. Mid-sob, though, I was hit by something that I'd never thought of before. I was so surprised that I stopped crying. And another voice answered saying, The Lord understands tears. He hears those just as He hears your words.

I was stunned. How had I never thought of that before? All of those times I'd avoided talking to the Lord because I knew that I would have no words to say and I would merely cry -- He gets that. He understands that there are times when I will be unable to speak, to voice the things that are inside of me. And it isn't just when I'm sad, either. He understands the tears of joy just as well as the tears of sorrow.

Tonight the pain I felt has not been assuaged very much. My doubts are not as prevalent, because I'm trying to step back and remember the "big picture principles." I still ache inside for these strangers and friends, and I will not lie and say that the tears have ceased completely. However, I do know that it is not weak to show the Lord my tears. He understands them -- He gave them to me as a gift, a way to express feelings when I cannot explain them through words.

God understands your tears just as well as He understands your words. After all, He gave you both.