Don't Eat Live Crocodiles

That was the advice I gave my brother today before he went into the MTC. See, we were talking about how death by food was such a lame way to go. Unless you're doing something epic, like trying to eat a live crocodile. I don't even remember how we got onto the topic.

But that's just how my relationship with my brother is. We don't need a reason to be the way we are. We just are.

And yes, my little brother, my wonderful, awesome, talented, genius little brother is officially in the MTC now. We just dropped him off, and, at my mom's orders, I'm blogging about my experience so that she and my dad can feel like they were there. Unfortunately, I've already written the more serious, sentimental version of the experience on Brian's missionary blog so if you want that version, you'll have to go there. These are just a few lighter moments I had with him before he left.

So. While Brian was here for school last semester, he and Michelle had this little bit going where he'd flirt shamelessly with her. Since there's a six-year age difference, it was always a little strange to watch. Well, he asked Michelle to "wait" for him last night. I felt slightly uncomfortable in the wake of the faux melodrama that unfolded. It included a warped rendition of "Will I Wait for You?" from Saturday's Warrior. Just so you know. Discomfort explained. 

This morning before we left, he and I may or may not have annoyed Grandpa by finishing off the delicious peanut butter bars (which, incidentally, may have started the topic of death-by-food and eating live crocodiles), but Grandpa couldn't exactly get too mad since, you know, Brian's a missionary and all. And Grandma and Grandpa are too proud of him for being the first grandchild to serve a mission that there's really no chance of them even getting mad at him.

He also had to get one last "little brother" moment in. I'd flopped back down on my mattress (on the floor in the front room) because I was still a little sleepy. My cousin decided to be nice, and threw a blanket over me. "I'm just trying to help," he said, when I gave him a look.

Right on cue, Brian reaches over and grabs the corner of that blanket. "I'm not," he declared as he yanked it right back off, wadded it up, and threw it at my face. Thank you, little brother. I love you too.

Brian also had one more sweet little brother moment too. Walking up to the temple to take pictures, I looped my arm through his and told him was enjoying it while I still could. "That's right," he replied, "because when I get back, I really hope you'll have your husband on your arm." Aw. *squee* Who could ask for a sweeter, more thoughtful little brother? I think he's wanted to do more damage to the crazy guys I've dated than I have. Fortunately, he never has, but it's nice to know that he's thought about it. And that he really wants me to find my happily ever after. Just like I'll be super stoked for his after he comes home.

All in all, I'm glad I got to spend the last two days with my little brother. He's pretty awesome. I'll still be snail mailing him, so it's not like I'm going to be completely out of touch with him for 2 whole years. In fact, I'll be better at writing him than I've ever been in my entire life. He already knows he should feel special, trust me. :)

It might sink in a little bit later, and I might cry, but in truth, I really don't feel inclined to cry at all right now. He's doing the right thing with his life, and how on earth could I ever feel sad about that?? My mom always taught me that we should embrace every phase of life for the promise it holds, and that's exactly what I'm doing.

Plus, Brian's going to be on his mission during 2012, when the world is supposed to end. So he'll be safer than most of us. Assuming of course that the world is going to end in May 2012... between you and me, I have my doubts about that.

So what is there to worry about?

Oh yeah, eating live crocodiles. That's bad. He's not supposed to do that.

Feelin' Smiley

Just so you know:

I may or may not have gotten my dream job.

More details when I know for sure.

But it does mean I'm smiling an awful lot right now.

Also, my brother is going into the MTC on Wednesday.

Another reason to smile.

And General Conference is this weekend.

Still smiling.

I still have purple boogers.

That makes me smile.

Free cheesecake in British Lit class.

That equals another smile.

Running into friends in awkward places (like Victoria's Secret).

A few days old, but still smiling about that one, too.

Life is good.

That gets the biggest smile of all.

Fackeltanz!

Let me just begin by saying that I. Love. the. Festival of Colors! And who wouldn't? A million packages of colored, scented chalk dust chucked into the air, with an uncanny propensity to be inhaled and choked on. Who wouldn't love that? Okay, so a lot of people wouldn't. But it's a blast to get completely coated in neon-colored powder.

Savannah, Michelle, Kristina, my date, and I went to the first color throwing this morning, wading through snow (which turned to mud by the time we finished). But when you cram a couple thousand people onto a hillside, you stop worrying about snow.

This is our before shot. Trust me. The after shots are pretty obvious. By this time, we'd finished this crazy awesome Hindu dance that got us sweating, so we definitely didn't notice the cold anymore. Probably a good thing.

The festivities start with live music, dancing, and, if you know where to find it, more information about the legends behind the festival. And, to keep ourselves amused, we smear each other with chalk.

The handprints on the butts... that was me. What can I say? I'm trouble. ;)

Then, there's a big countdown (and a sudden surge in the number of people attempting to bodysurf... which is inconvenient) and everyone throws whatever chalk they haven't smeared on their comrades into the air. The sky goes dark (well, purpleish brown), the air suddenly becomes saturated with more powder than even a healthy person should probably be allowed to inhale. After several minutes, most of the dust settles and you emerge looking something like this:

Favorite part about this picture? The guy in the background, joining in our picture. We were less emotive, but that's about how we felt. :)

Some of our original smearing still shows, but we were wearing white, if you recall.

Assuming you don't have face coverings or the presence of mind to keep your mouth closed, you come out looking like a dentist's worst nightmare and suddenly your skin is several shades darker than it should be. You can't escape it, you can't run from it. You just jump in the middle and get as dirty as you possibly can. And if you do happen to look cleaner than most, well, there are a couple hundred clever people (including me, this year) who keep at least one bag of colored chalk in reserve to dump on you and solve the problem of looking too clean at Holifest.

Which is funny, because I did actually manage to look cleaner this year than I did last year. My shirt still looks marginally white.

So I guess that's proof that you can come out of Holifest with salvageable clothing. (Which is good, because even though I bought that pink undershirt to destroy it, I actually kind of like it, so I want to get it clean again). Granted, you'll be sneezing purple boogers for a few days, your hair will turn the shower water purple for at least five minutes, and you may or may not find neon colors under your nails.

But you know what? It's totally worth it! I'm probably not doing a very good job of convincing you, but that's okay. Some people hate being dirty. They don't go. For me, it's a great excuse to get dirty, since my cozy desk job and magazine class don't exactly provide many opportunities for that.

And Holifest is a celebration of springtime (ironic, with the freshly fallen snow on the ground...) which means that it officially marks the beginning of my summer adventures, which will hopefully include hot springs, lava tubes, canyoning, camping, and waterfalls, and, if I'm very very lucky, spelunking.

Oh, and for the record, "fackeltanz" is a German word that basically has to do with torchlit wedding processions for German royals. But we discovered it playing Balderdash and our favorite definition was more along the lines of "maseltov," so the nuance kind of stuck. So throw some imaginary confetti in the air, waggle your fingers and say "fackeltanz!" I promise it will make you feel smiley.

Or maybe that's just me. The word nerd loves new words, and they always make her smile.

So... Blogging...

Geez, I suck at blogging this semester. I realized this as I was going through my old journals last night in a rarer-than-it-should-be trip down memory lane. Since my blog is sort of doubling as my means of keeping record of my life, and since my journaling has gone down the tubes, I think I need to kick it up a notch or two.

Honestly, I think part of the problem is that I still haven't heard yes or no on the Church Magazines internship, and as a result, my entire life feels like it's on hold. I am, however, 99.34% sure that I will know by General Conference. That's the magazines' busiest time of year and by the time they're done rushing a magazine out in four weeks, it'll be May and the summer interns will need to start. Since they're hiring fall and summer interns at the same time, it makes sense that we'll know before they get bogged down in rushing the Conference issue. Granted, all of this is still just theory, but it helps me keep my sanity if I have at least some idea of a timeline. So here's hoping.

On a slightly different note, Brian is flying into SLC on Monday and going into the MTC on Wednesday. AH! I'm starting to feel some of those loneliness pangs as it sinks in that my brother will be gone for two whole years. I have to admit, it will be a little difficult, because he's like my best friend. Fortunately, writing him will be easy. I've promised him snail mail for his whole mission, and I'm committing to it right here, right now. I've never had a missionary I've consistently written to, but my wonderful little brother deserves all the commitment in the world. Which reminds me, I need to buy stamps...

My mom and I are also maintaining a mission blog for him, though she'll probably be doing most of the posting. I'll give you guys the link next week when we put him in the MTC. Please feel free to follow the blog and see what he's up to. He's going to be an incredible missionary, so it will be well worth the reading time. :)

Other than that, life is... life. I go on dates, I watch movies, I write papers. Nothing too thrilling. Just busy being me, and all that that entails.

Oh Yeah, Green

I just remembered that today is Saint Patrick's day. Fortunately, I'm playing night-owl again and writing this at the extreme beginning of the day, but... still. Good thing I remembered in time to actually do something about wearing green, right? Assuming I don't get swept away into dreams when I do in fact go to bed and forget all about the whole green thing.

That's pretty much the extent of my thoughts tonight.

Yep.

Sometimes I really enjoy having uncomplicated thoughts running through my head. It's actually a bit of a relief from the large amounts of thinking I have to do the rest of the time.

My Little Man

So, thanks to Qait's sister Rae, I finally have a beautiful picture of the little man who completely owns my heart:

Photo by Rae

Seriously, can anyone blame me for being completely in love with him? Whenever I see him, I get hugs and kisses and every new toy offered to me for inspection. One of the last times I went over, he also asked me to be the one to read him his bedtime story. ^_^ I love being a part of his life, and I can't wait for his little sister Scarlett to join us in July. I'm so lucky to live near my best sisterfriend and her beautiful family.

Oh, and speaking of "little men" in my life, here's a warp back in time:

I used to babysit the two dapper little boys in tuxes. Ian and Christian Frogley were my adopted little brothers. Our adventures included popcorn with chocolate chips, nights of watching Newsies and Stargate, jumping off the balcony onto the trampoline, and tucking them into bed with hugs and kisses (at least from Christian. Ian was too old and "too cool" to get that snuggly with girls back then.)

And then I got to see them over Christmas...

Ian is the tall one in the back, and Christian is the one next to me in the black jacket. The rest are actually related to me, for better or worse. :)

For the record, I'm taller than the girl in the purple dress in the first picture.

That's what 8 years will do to ya.

Ender is going to grow up so fast... :(

Miscellany

Life has been... interesting. And I really need to try to update more often than I do.

Hah. The girl next to me finally moved her backpack, thus confirming my theory that the seat I am now sitting in was in fact unoccupied when I decided to occupy it. Oh the joys of finding somewhere to sit in the JKB, seeing as most of the decently comfortable seats are usually taken. But I got a spot on the comfy couch on the third floor. Go me.

We passed cleaning checks today. As usual. Because we're awesome. This time, however, it was accompanied by a friendly reminder that April cleaning checks are From Hell because of contracts ending. Therefore, we will not pass next time unless we surpass our current awesomeness. It can be done.

I have given thought to doing the 30 day photo challenge that some of my blogging friends are doing, but then realized that I don't take enough pictures. So no 30 day photo challenge.

My attempts at stream-of-consciousness writing don't work nearly as well as Savannah's. I'm too much of an editor at heart, and I desire to make sure that everything I say can be understood by people who read me. Therefore, my form of stream-of-consciousness writing is usually just a string of discrete thoughts.

And yes, I used the word discrete in the mathematical sense. Considering yesterday was mathnerd day *cough* sorry, I meant Pi Day, I feel rather proud of myself at the moment.

Once upon a time, I got up early to write a paper proposal. After staying up late to research for said proposal and getting up early to write it, I then turned it in and found out that it wasn't due until Thursday. Instead of being upset, I'm actually quite pleased. Because I have already started working on the actual draft, and therefore I am ahead of schedule on at least one thing in my life.

I made the realization today that we recognize the shapes of words as much as the combination of the letters that make the word. Correction: I already knew that. But what I didn't know was that my name is completely foreign to me if I only see the last half of it. When I see "-nae" I automatically think of the name Jenae, not my own. Apparently my identification with my own name is tied up in the "Ly" part of it. For some reason, I find that immensely funny.

When I write -- and this is the budding typographic nerd in me coming out -- I have huge descenders, especially on the letter Y. Qs, Gs, and Ps are relatively normal, just not Y. Not sure why. Kunkee, feel free to pun shamelessly on that, if you so desire.

Waiting to hear the results of a job interview is one of the most frazzling things I've ever experienced. Even when I know that I will get called regardless of whether or not they hire me. I pronounce a curse upon all employers who don't call their interviewees. That falls under the category of cruel and unusual punishment.

Related to that, I almost got super mad at my dad yesterday. Not because of anything he did, but just because he called before 5, which meant that my phone buzzed at me and was not Church Magazines calling me to inform me of their hiring decision. The built up nerves and frazzledness just wanted to unleash on somebody and, had I not possessed the presence of mind to remember how much I love my father, I might have exploded on him. Which would have been unfortunate. And difficult to clean up. So beware. Calling me before 5pm for the next several days might be a risky venture. If you must contact me, text. I won't freak out in that case.

Swedish Twister is a delightfully awkward game. We played it for FHE last night. In some ways, it's better than real Twister because you don't have to use your hands and therefore your butt is not waving in the air for the majority of the game. I don't know about you, but I'm okay with that modification. Also, there is no spinner. Another plus.

And yeah. That's my life.

Healing and Forgiveness

The best remedy in the world for someone's frustration or grouchiness is not to tell them that they are grouchy (because they probably already know that, and if they're like me, that just makes it worse), but to just sit and listen to them. Because I've come to realize that no matter how unreasonable someone's behavior appears to be, there's actually almost always some reason for it, and if they're grouchy at me, it's often because of something I've done (intentional or no).

Joseph Smith, when asked about forgiving others who are mad at you when you're not at fault, taught this lesson: In your mind, go back to the exact scenario and evaluate your actions. If there is even the smallest chance that you might have contributed to the other person's offense, either by accident or design, graciously accept that revelation of a weakness that you didn't know you possessed. Then forgive and forget. I might also add the inclusion of an apology, as appropriate. That's extremely paraphrased, because even though I taught it as part of my lesson on Sunday, I don't have it memorized. But that's the essential gist of it.

Basically, people just want to be loved and understood. And the fastest way to dispel contention is to show someone who is suffering that love and understanding. I have a favorite President Monson quote:

Never let a problem to be solved cause you to pass up a person to be loved

It's become a personal motto for this year (and hopefully for the rest of my life). I won't say I'm always good at acting on President Monson's advice, because I'm not. But I've made it a goal to try to remember it more often. And the funny thing about it? No matter how angry, frustrated, stressed, or resentful I might feel, if I actually stop and try to understand someone else's frustrations, I often forget about my own. And both of us almost always come out feeling a little more loved and understood.

That's something I've learned this week. I thought I'd share.

Discovery

So I made a discovery today. Way back in September, I applied for a job with BYU Publications and Graphics. I'd really wanted it, and I made it all the way through the application process to the interview, only to be told that they'd decided to go with someone else. I was crushed. Life wasn't easy at that time anyway, and the extra setback was the straw that broke the camel's back. I'd called my mom and sobbed on her shoulder about how everything in my life was going wrong. She'd hastily reminded me that the Lord has a habit of making things that seem to be "wrong" actually work in our favor. At the time, I'd had no idea how that could apply to losing out on that job, but I decided to listen to her advice and trust in the Lord.

Well, six months later, I think I can safely say that I understand why I didn't get that job. At least one of the reasons, anyway. While my current job may not be the standard editing job most editors dream of having, it has been a rewarding experience nonetheless. And most of those rewards have happened since I applied for the Publications job. I work with great people, all of whom have become great friends. I have gained some unique skills and exposure to other departments across campus that I might not have encountered otherwise. I've learned that "editing" my attitude makes as much of a difference as my actual editing does in my job.

So the moral of this discovery? Things work out. They may not make sense at the time, but the Lord knows how to use those setbacks to shape us into the people He needs us to be. Considering my current status of uncertainty, this is a lesson I'm clinging to in the hopes of maintaining my sanity.

To My Father

There are lot of things I've been meaning to catch up on in my blog, but I haven't had the time or the patience to sit down and write them. Not to mention, I'm half-afraid to write at the moment because I'm waiting on the answer to the most important question in my life. And yes, I'm aware that I'm still being annoyingly vague. I will continue to be so until I receive my answer, because thinking about it just stresses me out.

Don't worry, the story I'm about to tell has a happy ending.

Sometimes, I am reminded of how incredibly blessed I am to have been raised by my parents. They are, simply put, utterly incredible. My mom is amazing. She's my best friend, one whom I can always count on to help me out when I'm struggling. But today's entry is specially about my dad.

Now, this story is a few weeks old, but that doesn't make it any less meaningful, and frankly, I owe it to myself and to my dad to document it properly.

As college kids, we all go through some steep learning curves as we strike out on our own and begin building our own lives. Looking back over the last four years, I barely recognize the gangly, shakily-confident teenager who graduated early and flew out on a plane on her own to start college life without her parents. I've learned so much since then, but somehow, I never managed to truly master the art of budgeting.

I won't go into the painful details, but essentially, I found myself trapped in a cycle of too many expenses and not enough income. By the time I cut back on everything but the bare essentials, it was too late. Overdraft issues had kicked in. Distraught and overwhelmed, I emailed my father and begged him for help. Emailed. Because I was too ashamed to call. I knew that I should be old enough to avoid making such big mistakes, but I had nowhere else to turn. I lacked the means and the know-how to fix it on my own.

This is how my father taught me what it means to be Christlike. I can't describe the love and tenderness in his voice when he called me the next day to find out more about my situation. To my complete surprise, he wasn't angry. Not in the least. He didn't even respond with disappointment. Don't get me wrong, he didn't miss a single chance to impress upon me how important it was for me to learn from the mistakes I'd made, but as he guided me through setting up a budget and accounting for my future expenditures, I felt encouraged rather than ashamed.

He gave me a loan of money to help my finances stabilize. And it was a lot of money. More than I could have dared to actually ask for, considering how recently my family has moved and the fact that I have four younger siblings who depend on him.

Over the course of several days, I came to realize that from the second he read my email, he was intending to use that money to help me, and he only waited until I had learned what he wanted to teach me to actually give it to me. In a sense, as soon as I reached out to him, the money was already mine, but it was conditional on my willingness to learn from my experiences.

A little while later, we were talking again on the phone and he asked me why I hadn't come to him sooner. I can never lie to my dad, so I told him the simple truth: that I was ashamed. I'd known for years that budgeting was important, but I simply hadn't paid enough attention to it. I also didn't want to place that burden on my family. I knew they didn't have money to just throw away, and helping me might hurt them. It was then that my father uttered the most Christlike words I have ever heard.

"All I wish is that you had come to me sooner. I could have helped you avoid so much pain and anxiety, and we could have fixed this problem months ago."

There were no I told you so's, you knew better's or why didn't you listen when I told you that?'s. Just a pure and simple desire to protect me from pain. There was no limit to his love. He would have done much more to help me if I had needed it.

And in that moment, I came to understand my Savior on a much more intimate level. I suddenly saw Him, full of tenderness and reassurance, speaking to His children, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He never places a limit on how heavily laden we can be, or how many times we can return to Him to receive rest. The Atonement has no expiration date. No limit to what it can heal. And just as my father only wished to teach me, the Lord does not greet our repentance with criticism and censure. Instead He teaches us, even as He salves the aches of guilt and shame with the reassurance that we are loved.

Through my earthly father, I have come to know my Father in Heaven so much better than I could have on my own. Of all the wonderful things that make my father the man he is, his example of Christlike love and teaching is the most valuable. I hope that someday I can help my own children catch those same glimpses of their Heavenly Father through my example. And I fall short in some way, my children's grandfather will still be the Christlike example that he has always been, and both I and my family will benefit from the loving pattern he has set for us.

A part of me would love to save this entry for a father's day gift, but that is months away, and it can't wait. So I share it with you all. (And hopefully Mom reads this and passes it on to Dad, since I know he doesn't usually read my blog). 

Thank you, Dad. I will always love you for everything that you are.

Hey Look! I've Updated!

Quite a few people have mentioned/complained that I haven't updated my blog in a while. So apparently some people actually like reading about me and my life. Fancy that!

So, in an attempt to make amends for my dismal blogging (which is only marginally surpassed by my dismal journal-keeping... back when I actually kept a journal...) I'll see if I can summarize some of the things that have been absorbing my attention over the last couple of weeks.

Jillian Michaels was destroying me. In a good way. "Shredding" would be the more correct term, I believe. Stephanie and I have been doing her 30-day Shred workout video in the mornings four days a week and oh.my.crap. It is a great workout. I haven't felt this fabulous in ages. Granted, my long weekend of sitting, sleeping, and eating hasn't really improved me much in the last few days, but still. And honestly, I probably should be embarrassed to admit this, but the very first workout very nearly incapacitated me. A super-high-intensity workout of muscles that don't get that kind of exercise normally added up to produce a very sore Lynnae. For about three days, I couldn't help but whimper a little as I went around the business of being me. Happily, that has gone away now.

I recently finished putting together a "personal history" for my InDesign class, which consisted of "bookifying" this blog into a publishable format. Not all of it, of course. Video clips and Calvin and Hobbes strips got left out of the mix, but anything that remotely documented my life found its way into the book. It's been rewarding to look back at last semester and see how far I've come since then. Some of it makes me cringe to remember how hard a lot of those experiences were, but I'm a better person for them, so I'm glad that such a difficult time in my life was fairly well-documented.

Legend of the Seeker. It's a tv show. There are only two seasons of it, thank goodness, because otherwise, much more of my time might have been sucked up into that. I stumbled across it one day and it said that it was about swords and magic and prophecies and wizards and all sorts of fun stuff that happen to be exactly the things I like best. So I got hooked. For better or worse, it's on my birthday wishlist now. :)

Self discovery. Yes, I've learned some rather amusing facts about myself. Namely that I may or may not be a little bit of a runaway when it comes to guys who show interest in me too quickly. It's a complex idea that I'm still working on figuring out, so I'll keep you posted.

Those are the main things that have been on my mind. Well, there is one notable exception, but I'm purposefully trying hard not to think about it until I find out more. So you'll just have to be kept in suspense until later this week. I know, wicked of me, right? >:-)