Student Perks

Man, sometimes, there are a lot of really great things about being a student. Like Amazon Prime's special (FREE!) student account that provides you with free two-day shipping on all things school related. Just because Amazon likes us poor college students. They saved me about $50 on books. It would have saved me more if I didn't already own half of the books on my booklist.

Also, I might add that I love purchasing software as a student. I had to have my laptop rebuilt by Kunkee after a virus tried to kill it (and largely succeeded) and the software upgrades that might have cost thousands (including my full Adobe Creative Suite) only cost me about $150.

I'm thinking I need to gift myself with some nice things for my birthday next year, since that will be the last birthday I have before I graduate (freaky, no?). That way I can take advantage of all those lovely student perks.

You know, in some ways, I'm really going to miss this whole student thing. I've still got a little time to enjoy it, still, but not much, and I'm starting to look ahead to what I'm going to do when I graduate.

It's funny how we can only plan to the next major step. When I was in high school, all I cared about was getting into college. I couldn't see much past that. Now that I'm in college, I've been relentlessly pounding toward graduation, and now that it's closing in, I'm beginning to realize how enigmatic my future looks. Just this big, hazy, grey mass sitting quietly at the end of these next 16 months. And yes, I spelled grey that way. :)

However, just because I don't know what my future holds doesn't mean that it isn't exciting.

Old Faces

Tonight's been a great night of old faces and old times. I really feel at home again. First, my little brother is up here to attend BYU, and I'm probably driving him crazy as I plan all the things I want to show him. Maybe I should give him some free rein and let him explore on his own.

Then, Will came over to watch a movie with us, just like old times, and it felt so totally natural to have him sitting in the apartment again. Brett pops his head in, with that characteristic smile of his, as though nothing has changed (even though he now lives south of campus...woof. :/). A third knock on the door lets Annette, my favorite roommate-younger-than-me, into our increasingly crowded front room. Mere minutes see her at my side, snuggled up the way she always used to do. And then Kunkee, who is as much a part of our apartment as anyone else, makes his nightly appearance and I just feel so completely at home.

Life has taken all of us in some new and interesting directions. Disappointment, change, growth, hope, altered dreams, and lasting experiences have shaped us into people very different from who we were before. But it just goes to show that good friends, true friends, will always make you feel at home, no matter how we all have changed. Welcome back, guys. I've missed you.

Scaling Mountains

My roommates and I went on a hike on Saturday. We'd read that it was a mild, mile-and-a-half hike, and we thought, "hey, we can do that in no time! Perfect!" Heh. Famous last words. Turns out that mile-and-a-half was steeply inclined and covered in loose shale, which made the footing treacherous and the going difficult. As we hiked, I remembered a friend telling me that humans simply are not built for the mountains. Physiologically, we're just not suited to living at high altitudes and on rocky terrain. And yet we try to go up in the mountains anyway. We're drawn to the mountains, almost irresistibly (at least, it's irresistible for me).

But why the attraction? Why do we want so badly to get up there?

Climbing a mountain takes everything you've got and more. It exhausts every faculty, strains every muscle, and requires every ounce of mental focus to reach your goal. The loftier the peak, the further past your limits the climb will push you. And yet, the view at the top, and the rush of exhilarated triumph makes up for the grueling climb.

So it stands to reason that the loftiest peak would test every reserve of fortitude you've got, right? And what loftier heights can you reach than those you reach in the temple? I think there's a very profound connection between the temple and the mountains. After all, the temple is often referred to as the Mountain of the Lord (and isn't there some documentary on the Salt Lake Temple that's called exactly that?)

And so I begin continue scaling my mountain. I've made it past the foothills. I've had friends and guides who've shown me the trail. The summit is in my view. Yet what lies in between is the hardest stretch. Glaciers, cliffs, sheer rock faces. And at every turn, the mighty force of gravity just waits for the slightest slip of the foot to yank me back down the mountain. It's a climb that would strike fear into even the most stalwart soul.

I am afraid. I'd be a fool if I weren't. But this mountain has something that your typical challenging peak doesn't have: the strongest, wisest, most capable Mountain Guide you could possibly ask for. He never slips, never trips, never so much as shifts his footing. And always, his hands are there to catch you when you stumble. No one scales this mountain alone.

And so, tired though I might be, I dig in again and continue to climb.

The Process of Refinement

Like a lamp,
The Master planned each of us
With His grand design.
~"When He Comes for Me,"April Meservy

Imagine yourself as a clay lamp in the hands of a skilled craftsman. He shapes you and molds you carefully, tenderly converting you from a plain old lump of clay into something beautiful. Perhaps he decides to let one of his apprentices take up the job, and that apprentice, trying hard to emulate his master's skill, puts just as much care into shaping you as the craftsman did. At times, the craftsman places his hand over the apprentice's, guiding the shaping process with such an attention to detail that it astounds even you. You thought you were a lovely lamp. You liked the shape you were. But the apprentice, under the guidance of the master, alters your shape ever so slightly, and you find yourself an even lovelier shape than you were before.

Just as you are about to thank him for his efforts to beautify you, there comes a sudden piercing pain as the apprentice picks up a sharp tool to etch you with the designs that will make you utterly unique. Even as you're crying out in agony as the tool carves deep lines into your shape, you tell yourself that someday, somehow, it will be worth it.

Then, almost as suddenly, the pain stops. Though you can still feel the remnants of the pain, you sigh. But the apprentice gets up and walks away, barely stopping to look back at what he's helped to create. And then, you find yourself lifted and cradled ever so gently in the master's hands. For a brief second, you feel completely safe, and wonder if you're done now.

If only. Searing heat envelops you. Flames lick at your vulnerable sides. Agony. Pure, mind-numbing, all-encompassing agony. Any tears that you could cry evaporate into nothingness, barely providing any relief at all. You scream out for relief, begging your master to make it stop, to turn it off so that you don't have to feel the pain any more. You've reached your limit. Surely the flames will destroy you. And still, the master looks on, his eyes combing over your every detail as the heat continues to sear you to your very core.

How can you bear it? This must be your end. Abandoned by the apprentice, and knowing that the master is only looking on, you wish the flames to simply overpower you. Yet remarkably, you withstand. The details etched by the apprentice grow more and more permanent, your shape more defined. You feel yourself solidifying, feel yourself becoming something much stronger than mere soft clay. The master's eyes gleam with approval and at last, he turns off the heat and pulls you out of the fire, cradling you in his hands as he surveys you lovingly. Still shuddering from the memories of the fire, memories you're sure you'll never be able to erase, you realize that you're very different from what you were before. Something better. You are solid, fixed, molded into the shape the master had planned for you. You can now serve him as a vessel for his light-giving oil.

Does this mean you're done? Perhaps. Perhaps not. The master may see fit to paint you and fire you again. Who knows? But you've come through one ordeal, and you know this: whatever else the master does to you, it will only make you more beautiful, more functional, and better equipped to serve his needs. Because the master never molds an imperfect lamp. And as you look around you at the other lamps, you realize that each and every one of them is stunningly beautiful, regardless of what stage they are in.

It may not be too hard to guess what this story means. I write it because I'm living it. My apprentice, my friend who has so tenderly helped to shape me, has both carved and left, leaving me to be placed in a furnace of refining heat that is both excruciating and defining. A part of me wants to hate the apprentice for leaving me to be placed in the furnace. Couldn't he have shaped me for a little longer? But nevertheless, he has shaped me and made me more beautiful and serviceable than I was before. He is only the apprentice, after all. The master knows when the apprentice's work is done. And so I am required to face the searing heat instead of continuing to be molded.

I don't know when the master will be finished refining me. I may be painted and fired again. Perhaps I'll be filled with oil and given to another apprentice who uses my light to create new lamps. I may be worn down by years of serving the creation of other lamps and have to be re-shaped and added to by the master.

Whatever is in store for me, I am grateful for what I've been through. Yes, the lines etched into my heart are deep and permanent. Yes, the pain is enough to make me beg for release. But without Tevan, without the Lord's watchful guidance, without the refining that only comes from experiencing anguish of heart, I would be much less than I am now. The only feeling I wish to express right now is gratitude. Thank you. Thank you for being the set of gentle hands acting under the Master's supervision to shape me into the lamp I need to be.

The Ubiquitous Pink Ninja

Once upon a time, there was a lovely young woman living in apartment 21 who liked making up stories. One day in early February, she caught a whiff of that Valentine's Day scent in the air and thought that she'd like to write some V-Day predictions for her roommates, just for fun. So she did. And in true Savannah form (for Savannah it was), she definitely went for the not-so-likely scenarios, especially for yours truly. Here was my Valentine's prediction:

Adam will ask her to go dancing. While they are dancing, someone will crash a howitzer full of highly trained orangutans into wherever it is they go to dance, which will go from person to person, breaking their collar bones. Lynnae will be forced to reveal her secret identity as a ninja, perform a series of Matrix-style stunts, and defeat all the evil orangutans. Adam will be so amazed by her awesomeness that he will swear to leave his player ways behind, if she will only be his one and only. Unfortunately, she now has to open an investigation into who sent the orangutans, and doesn't have time for a relationship.

Well, as awesome as that would have been, it didn't come true, but I did send a copy of the prediction along to my best friend Qait. She responded with a letter containing her doodles of the event...

So suddenly Lynnae was not just a ninja, she was a pink ninja. But the formation of her identity was still not complete. Shortly after that, I posted one of those "write a memory you have of me" status thingies on Facebook and Savannah thought it would be a great time to post a "memory" she had of me. Specifically this one:

Oh memories! I remember once, it was you and me, and we went for a drive through the canyon. Yes, it was a glorious trip! We found this little back road with a road block and a danger sign, so OF COURSE we drove around the sign to check it out. We went for about a mile, found nothing, then decided to turn around and come back. Unfortunately, we couldn't find the main highway again, even though there was no turn off, and we had only driven a mile (according to the ever-accurate odometer) down the danger-road. 

We drove back the way we had come for 23 miles before we realized that something had to be horribly wrong. When we turned on the radio, and every single station was playing the twilight-zone theme song, we realized we must have driven through a worm hole. 

We pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car, but there was no ground to step on. Yet, step we did. Ice crystals formed into hardened stepping stones beneath our feet with each step we took. We had gone maybe 10 feet, when we were surrounded by rocks shaped like pike. One of the rocks stood in front of all the others, and said, "Humans, welcome to our world. You stepped through the Weird Wormhole of Wonders, and now you can never go back."

But, there was something he didn't know. I was with you, and you are a howitzer-driving-orangutan-defeating ninja. You ripped off your polo shirt to reveal pink and black spandex beneath (because you are The Ubiquitous Pink Ninja), and unleashed all your pink fury upon the rocks. They shattered, and transformed into orchids, floating in the abyss. 

Then we had to get back through the worm hole, and for that, an evil genius was required. Luckily, you were with me. I am The Nefarious Lady Death-Moon, and evil genius is my specialty. I used my diabolical brain to CREATE my own wormhole, and we drove back through it, and landed in Luxembourg, the tiny country bordered by Belgium, France and Germany. Oops, my bad. I had to use evil genius again to mutate our genetic code in such a way that we sprouted wings and jet-engines and flew back to the canyon, where we drove home, pretending nothing had happened. To this day, no one knows about it, but you and me.

Oh...
And everyone else on facebook. Oops. Sorry about that.

Thus dubbed with the epithet "Ubiquitous" (which means "all-present," by the way -- an epithet that I use to my advantage as often as possible), the Pink Ninja soon developed a personality of her own and moved her secret base of operations to a tulip field in Holland, where her pink uniform could actually serve as a form of camouflage. Since then, she's been occupied with the business of keeping the Nefarious Lady Deathmoon from taking over the world, charming the questionably-evil Catalyst of Evil, and picking up a couple of useful sidekicks along the way. She's a true snark (made up of the best parts of my sarcastic side) and a lover of plain, simple things. The rest of her personality and backstory are still in the works, but there you go. For those of you who ever wondered, when Savannah and I talk about being each other's nemesis, you'll know what we're talking about.

Oh, and by the way, I really want to see this movie now. Not because of any specific parallels between our characters and these, but more because the idea of their relationship is pretty close to how we view the relationship between the Ubiquitous Pink Ninja and the Nefarious Lady Deathmoon. 

Back into the Writing Groove

And no, I don't mean the blogging groove, although clearly I dip back into that more often than I used to. :) I mean the real, true I'm-writing-a-story writing groove. And I'd forgotten how much I love it. I just need a little encouragement and something good to work with, and I have a lot of fun writing.

My roommate Savannah sent me an email a week or so ago containing a brief story written from the point of view of her fictitious alter-ego, the Nefarious Lady Deathmoon. It also contained a challenge to my fictitious alter-ego, the Ubiquitous Pink Ninja, wondering what she would do next. There's a long and amusing history to how my best friend and I ended up with alter-egos that are mortal enemies and got their identities, and I'm working on composing a few pieces of that history to share with my other friends. Unfortunately, right now most of the appeal of the two characters is in the fact that it's an inside joke between me and Savannah. However, as we continue the saga of our two characters, they'll become a little more well-defined and hopefully be able to stand on their own as interesting characters.

This writing situation presents a unique challenge that I've never faced before, since I've never been restricted from writing about a significant character before. Because the Nefarious Lady Deathmoon is the exclusive property of Savannah, I can't write about any of her actions or characteristics without risking violating some part of her character that I don't know about. The only things I can work with are the things that Savannah has already revealed. On the flip side, Savannah has the same problem when it comes to dealing with my character.

It's fun, though. Kind of like a cross between writing a story and playing one of those intense strategy games, since you have to prepare contingency plans and plot elements flexible enough to bend around what the other person writes. And we'll find out who wins. Which makes it more fun, since neither of us have any idea. Kind of like real life, except that this plot progresses much more quickly.

You know, I've given up my plans for writing a book, and I never thought I'd co-author something. Ever. But if this story turns out well, Savannah and I are thinking about polishing it up and maybe publishing it. It would be fun to do together, and it definitely has the potential to be much more original than normal if we write it this way.

Long story short, I caught the writing bug again, and it made me happy. I've forgotten how much I really do enjoy writing.