Hairadventure

So, I've kind of been meaning to post about my hair for awhile now. Yes, my hair deserves its own post. It's that great.

Okay, okay, so I'm kidding.

Kind of.

No, but seriously.

I'm actually surprisingly vain about my hair. It's the one feature that I pretty much always have a reason to be proud of. Thanks to my mother's training, my high-end shampoo and conditioner, and good genes, my hair is always silky and touchable, no matter how many times I've colored it. So yes, I'm vain about it.

But this is not so much a "Ha! My hair is amazing!" post. More a "My hair taught me some lovely lessons" post.

First things first, you should know that I've been growing my hair out for two years now. It's the longest I have ever, ever had it, and it's taken much care to keep it healthy, especially since I blow dry and straighten colored hair.

So I had a little bit of a scare.

Which I brought upon myself.

I dyed my hair black.

Okay, not like, BLACK black, but yes, the base shade is black, objectively speaking. I wanted my hair to be gloriously dark and, well, I succeeded. It was just, well, darker than I'd planned.

And I hated it. For the first time in my life, I hated my hair. I wanted to strip the color out and try again, but that would probably cost me a lot of the length and smoothness that I love so much.

Man, it was eating at me so badly. And I had important things to do. But major self-image distress has a habit of overriding the ability to focus on anything else, and it was seriously distracting.

It sounds silly, but I prayed for help. I wanted to be able to focus on everything else that needed to be done and stop thinking about my hair. So I prayed about it.

Guys. The Lord answers prayers. Even silly ones. And He did me one better than I'd asked for. I went to church, deciding that I would fake it through comments on my hair if I had to, but I was surprised. I got a ton of compliments. No one seemed to notice that it was black and totally out of character for me. Instead, they said it brought out my eyes, set off my complexion, and so on. By the end of the meetings, I felt absolutely beautiful.

Yes, this is a slightly silly story, but it reinforces the point I really want to make: What matters to us matters to the Lord. Even the little things matter. If it comes down to letting you feel ugly and self-absorbed or reaching out and lifting others, He'll even help you feel better about your hair. He's never going to let you feel miserable needlessly.

I don't know if that comforts you or not, but it sure helps me out. :)

Oh, and the hair in question: (sorry for the selfie)

Ugh, and it's a bathroom selfie. But I swear, it was the only place
where the lighting was good enough, and I was at work anyway.
Please don't judge too harshly. I know what I did wrong. ;)
(And yes, there's red in my hair too. Makes the black less...BLACK)

Why I Love Men (and why everyone should love them, too)

Okay, this post is going to be a little tougher to write. I'm thankful for men.

That's not the hard part. The hard part is why I'm feeling grateful for them right now. I'm going to try not to mention names, but there're a few men in my life who will probably figure out I'm talking about them by the time this post is done. This is not a love letter. This is a thank you.

I've been doing a lot of reading (of course) and I've discovered a few things. Some of them disheartening.

I have gotten old enough that bad things are happening to people my age. Horror stories aren't just limited to people I've never met or heard of. They happen to people I care about. A lot of them involve men. (There are plenty that involve women, too, but I'm setting those aside for this post. This is about the men.)

Some of the most beautiful souls I know have been abused by men.

Men are painted as animals and predators, and sadly, some of the ones I know personally have come to live up to that reputation.

There is a lot of ugly out there in the world. Horrible deeds done by men and women alike. There is so much of it that I stop and wonder sometimes why I'm not afraid to step outside my house every day. Why I'm not afraid to go on dates, to open my heart, and to trust someone unknown to me.

And do you want to know why?

Because I've figured it out.

It's because the good ones outnumber the bad ones. And it's because I've been incredibly blessed to know some of the choicest men placed on this earth.

For every ugly, horrible act committed, there are more unsung heroes who protect, honor, and respect those around them, treating them with the dignity that everyone deserves as a child of God.

My life has been blessed and protected by those men. They are the reason that I don't have my own horror story to bear. I understand that not everyone is as lucky as I am. Boy, do I get that. I am not writing this to look down on anyone struggling to recover from the horrors that other humans can inflict. I simply want to convey that there are good men out there.

There are men who hold doors.

There are men who offer coats.

There are men who look a woman in the eyes.

There are men who take responsibility for their actions.

There are men who know how to use the Atonement and use it every. single. day.

There are men who are devoutly faithful to the woman they love, even if they're still waiting to find her.

There are men who fight off the shackles of sins and mistakes.

There are men who defend life at all costs, even if it means sacrificing their own.

There are men who become everything we always hoped they would be.

Believe me. I know it. I know them.

I wrote recently about meeting up with an old childhood friend and how much it affected me. I was blown away by how amazing he'd become. This isn't the first time that's happened.

I have had the privilege of maintaining a vested interest in two different young men (from two different places I've lived) for well over half my life. Sometimes that meant I had a crush, sometimes that simply meant that I couldn't bring myself to weed them out of my contacts, even if I hadn't spoken to them in years. But these two young men are a major reason that I love and respect men as much as I do.

I always saw them clearly, even when I was young. I could see that they were good, kind, sensitive to the Spirit, and struggling to stand firm and unyielding in a world that attempted to bully them into submission. I've seen them face ups and downs, and yes, even make mistakes. I worried and fretted about them, even if they didn't know it. I was never as close to them as I would have liked, and I went through a lengthy period of no contact with each of them during our college years. In the last couple of years, though, I've gotten to spend some real quality time with each of them.

They. Are. Breathtaking.

I'd always hoped that they would grow up to be amazing men.

They have. In fact, both men, despite their vastly different circumstances, personalities, and hometowns, have far surpassed everything I could have imagined them to be. They are honorable, faithful, steadfast, and kind. They treat women with the most genuine respect that I've ever seen. They love their families. They love the Lord. They take care of their friends. They respect me.

I love them. I love who they have become.

And those two men aren't the only ones I know. My three brothers, my father, my cousins (I often tease that they all married women much better than them, but it really isn't true), my exes, my uncles, my friends' husbands, the list could go on forever.

My brothers spend what amounts to hours and days serving the Lord in their callings and at the temple. My last boyfriend respected me enough to tell me that he was taking his time dating me because he didn't want me to be committed to someone who wasn't 100% sure he wanted to be with me (he also paid me the courtesy of not making me wait at all once he was 100% sure). My best friend's husband makes loving her a priority over his other concerns and surprises her with little services and actions that show how much he pays attention to what she doesn't ask for. My best guy friend spent time, money, and gas picking up the pieces of my heart when I got it broken, even though it cut into his own dating life occasionally. My uncle faced the trial of losing his wife with absolute faith in the Lord. My friend confronted a pornography addiction head-on and beat it into the ground.

Again, the list could go on forever. And that's just in my own life, which is just the tiniest fraction of a percentage of the people in the world.

Yes, there are bad men in the world. But there are so many good ones, too. To those men, I say THANK YOU.

Thank you for honoring and respecting both me and the people I love.

Thank you for rescuing others from the bad things in life.

Thank you for being brave and admitting mistakes.

Thank you for putting the Lord first.

Thank you for inspiring me to be a better person.

Thank you for protecting me.

Thank you for giving me the courage to trust others, because you've never let me down.

I believe in Knights, Heroes, and Prince Charmings because of you.

THANK YOU.

Thanksvember: Cabin Fever

So why am I thankful for cabin fever?

Why, because I simply love that caged, roaring-to-get-out feeling, of course!

Kidding.

In a way.

I actually do appreciate it, but more because I have it than because I like the feeling itself. More specifically, that it kicked in after only two days.

See, here's the thing about me. I'm an introvert. Surprise! No way! An editor/writer who is introverted?? GET OUT OF TOWN! (Sidenote: I wish you could hear that phrase in Roommate's Scottish grandfather's voice, because it's fantastic.) In addition, I've struggled with mild depression for a few years now. Nothing that's like, "GET LYNNAE TO A DOCTOR!" or anything, but it flares up in the "I'm not going outside no matter what you coax me with" form. So it's not entirely uncommon for me to really want to spend a week or so holed up in my room.

This is usually in its most severe form when I get sick, which prolongs my recovery.

So I got sick this weekend. And I holed up, naturally.

But by the end of the day yesterday, I was desperate to get back to work. I missed it. Which, in and of itself, was a little shocking. In addition, the mindless, time-wasting things I tend to do when I'm in hermit-mode just weren't really all that fun or interesting, and I got tired of them pretty fast.

And you know what? I am so grateful for that. I'm grateful that I enjoy working. I'm grateful that I have discovered things that are more enjoyable to do than waste time on the internet. I'm grateful that, left to my own devices, I won't waste my life away doing nothing. I'm grateful that I like being around people and that I miss them when I'm not with them. I'm grateful that I have natural impulses to do good and fill my time with worthwhile things, because I've often struggled with whether I have those or not.

Luckily, my body cooperated with my desire to get out of hermit-mode, and I'm healthy enough to return to work. Another thing I'm grateful for.

Plus, it relieved my cabin fever. And I'm glad that I don't still have that, because it's a frustrating feeling, even if I'm glad that the urges that produce it exist. :)

Thanksvember: Mommy

 There's a line in the fourth Harry Potter book that I think applies to my post today. I don't have the book in front of me at the moment, but it says something to the effect of "Fleur greeted her parents and walked away, chattering in rapid French." That is so not the line. But that's the gist. Basically, Harry is bewildered and amused by the typically coy Fleur speaking so expansively to her family, and yet he can't understand a word of it.

I feel like a French speaker would think the same thing if they overheard a conversation between me and my mother. We. Are. Chatterboxes.

And it's awesome. I love it.

My mom came out to visit last week to help her mom with some legal and technical stuff, but of course no business obligations could keep my mother from spending a healthy chunk of time with her three oldest children, who all live in Utah.

I got her for both weekends.

Go me.

And I just love talking to her. I love being with her. Man, I just love her. All of her.

Yes. I did just use a How to Train Your Dragon reference. You're welcome.

I love my relationship with my mom. She's my best friend, and it's so easy to talk to her, but at the same time, she is always, always my mother, and that comes with wisdom, perspective, and counsel that I soak up like a sponge. I love that she works hard to understand that her children may have different sensibilities and cultural norms than she did growing up, so she's not constantly nagging at us for not doing things the way she did. My mother is probably the most graceful person I know when it comes to accepting change, including the changes in the world and in her children. She adapts without ever losing who she is, and that is one of the most beautiful things about her.

I'm pretty sure that other people may want to argue with me about this, but I'm convinced that I have the best mom in the world. And I really don't mean that in any generic, trivial way. I'm serious. More than an isolated few people have mentioned that they wish they could have a relationship with their mothers like I have with mine. And I have never, ever been jealous of anyone else's relationships with their mothers, because mine equals or surpasses the best of them. I don't mean this to brag. I am so incredibly blessed to have my mother. I don't deserve her any more than someone else does, but she's mine. Forever.

I will never stop being grateful for that.

Also, Happy Birthday in advance, Mom. I'm half your age for the next year. That feels special, somehow. :)

Thanksvember: NaNoWriMo

So... don't get too excited, because I'm still not writing a novel in a month, but my aforementioned short story? Well, it's not really a short story anymore. I mean it is, because all I've written is a short story, but it's not done because there's more to the story. Know what I mean?

But it is fun. I haven't written for fun like this in a really long time. So it's fun. Let's see how many times I can say the word fun. Fun is a really weird word, when you think about it. Also, it's always been intended to be a noun, which is why everyone has such a hard time with its adjectival and adverbial  usage. Have you ever tried to say "that was funner than what we did last time" and just cringed? But "more fun" just sounds stiff? And forget trying to say "He did something funly." Yeah. Not going to happen. *whispers* That's because it's a noun. You have fun.

Granted, modern English usage has accepted "fun" as an adjective too, and the preferred method is to say "more fun" or "most fun" when qualifying the amount of funness something has. Isn't English grea--HOW DID THIS TURN INTO A USAGE LESSON?? I WAS WRITING ABOUT HOW I'M GRATEFUL FOR WRITING!

Geez, Lynnae. Get your nerdy little butt back on track.

Did I mention I've been writing for like, two whoa, FOUR hours straight, plus proofreading for 8 hours prior to that, so I might be a little loopy? No?

Well.

Now you know.

Welcome back to Lynnae the Writer. She's a bit of a nut. Editor-Lynnae tends to be more polished. Writer-Lynnae usually takes Editor-Lynnae and jams her in the corner, stuffs her face full of cookies, and bullies her into silence. Incidentally, that's also what we do to Editor-Lynnae while online, so I will never judge you for poor grammar online, because Editor-Lynnae is tied up and gagged to spare her from the pain of it all.

Yes, I'm switching in and out of plural first person. It's a weird world in here.

*AHEM*

Back on topic.

This November, I am thankful that my amazing writer-roommate (who, between you and me, is going to be the real author in this dynamic duo because she's just brilliant) is sending off her writer-vibes so strongly that my own urge to write has lifted its sleepy head. I may not be as dedicated a writer as she is, but I appreciate the creative outlet.

In the meantime, in case Roommate ever reads this: AISLEY. YOU GOT THIS. Own that book. I've been betting on you from day one.

Also, for your enjoyment, a slight peek at what an apartment of two writers looks like on a Thursday night (and if that doesn't sound dramatic enough, don't worry, we'll definitely be holed up like this on Friday night, too... who needs boys? (I'm just kidding. I do. I love boys.)): <-- That is not meant to be a frowny face. It is a colon, meant to present to you the following. Oh, who cares. PICTURE.

Me on my fluffy beanbag typing away. Roommate wrapped in snuggie
and cozy hoodie, also typing away. It's a wild night in this house.

Thanksvember: Old Friends

Day 1 of Lynnae's Thanksvember. :)

I'm actually cheating just a little bit and using an experience from a few days ago, but it totally still counts because I'm still in a good mood because of it. So stop that judging. ;)

So I have this friend. We were kids together. Cute, adorable, obnoxious little kids. We were a week apart, and since I was the older one, I never ever let him forget it (proof that the forgiveness of children is truly remarkable, because I was a little snot about it and he still talks to me anyway). I moved away when we were 12 years old, but we stayed in touch off and on all through high school and even saw each other a couple of times. (I may or may not have nursed a crush on him for a decent portion of that time... and if this friend reads this blog and didn't know that... surprise! You do now.)

The last time we saw each other was about 6 years ago, at his brother's wedding in Salt Lake. We fell out of touch after that and got busy with life, significant others, and everything. Hadn't spoken to each other in years.

But we fixed that this weekend, and that's why I'm happy.

We reconnected and reminisced a little over Facebook (make fun if you want, but I'd lost his phone number and email... see? Facebook is good for something!) and I told him if he was ever in Utah, he should stop by and say hi.

Turns out, he was down this last weekend, so I totally ditched my mom (who is in town for only this week) and went to see him.

Guess what? It was awesome. For all you could tell, it might have been 6 days instead of 6 years since we'd last talked. Some friendships aren't ever harmed by the passing of time, and he is one of those friends.

The best part is that time slowed down. After so many weeks where my days ran together and nothing stood out, it surprised me a little bit. There was one point where we were talking and I thought we must have been talking for at least an hour, so I surreptitiously glanced at my phone. 15 minutes. Not even kidding. We managed to fit so much conversation into each second that time was actually crawling by (in the best way possible). I loved it. I had something to savor. Something to hold on to. A reason to wish that time moved slower instead of simply allowing myself to be sucked along with the current. I was with someone whose conversation and companionship I valued very much, and I stopped going through the motions. It was something new (and something old, which made it that much more valuable).

Now I'm not saying that I don't have those kinds of moments with the friends I see all the time, but I needed to reconnect with a friend I never thought I'd see again to realize how special all of my friendships are. Friends are a gift. A gift that deserves to be cherished regardless of whether you see each other every day or every decade. I might have to be stuck in a routine of obligations and responsibilities, but that doesn't mean that I should treat my friends like they're part of that routine.

So yeah. I'm going to do better on that. Love you all, even if I don't see you very often.

Thanksvember

Yes, I know. I'm terrible at this blogging thing. However, Roommate is doing NaNoWriMo (which is National Novel Writing Month, for those of you not up on the bookish acronyms) and apparently it's slightly contagious, because I got bit by the writing bug again (finally). I probably won't be formally attempting to write 50,000 words by the end of the month, but I'm going to attempt my own form of it by blogging more, journaling more, and probably pumping out a short story or two.

Oh, and I have letters to write.

Plus, it's November, and gratitude is a common theme, both in blogs and on Facebook. Sometimes, it seems a little hypocritical to see some of my highly opinionated and often-complaining friends suddenly switch to the things they're thankful for, just because it's November, but it's better than not doing it. I'm okay with my friends softening up and becoming more grateful, even if it's only because of the month. The world can always use a little more gratitude.

Which brings me to the purpose of my post. Because I'm going to try to keep up with things that I'm thankful for this month, and not just because that's what everyone else was doing. I've been sitting on this for a while, actually.

See, I got a promotion of sorts at work. It's not like I'm a manager, supervisor, or anything that sounds cool. In fact, my job description is pretty much exactly the same. I just get to be the team "mom," which means that I come in earlier, keep more copious notes on day-to-day tasks, and serve as the sounding board for the real supervisor's ideas and concerns. It's quite enjoyable, actually.

It came with an unexpected side effect, however, which is that my days are all blurring together. The earlier schedule takes a toll, and because I still (kind of) have a social life (which mostly involves just Roommate), I don't get to bed as early as I like. Somehow, I've been running around in a bit of a daze, stuck in a monotonous routine of work, home, sleep, work, home, sleep.

So where does gratitude come in? (Because it does.)

Well, the fact is that it needs to, because that's my problem. It's not like I'm out of time, or I'm wearing myself absolutely thin doing a million things. My days are usually quite pleasurably filled, but I haven't been appreciating them.

You know how, when you're really happy, you savor each and every moment? You treasure and replay the memories, over and over again, wanting to hold onto them forever? I hope you do, because everyone deserves to have days like that. I want to have more moments like that. Because I haven't really been doing much that I feel inclined to hold onto. Or at least, that how it seems, because I haven't been as grateful as I should be.

Because that's the fastest way to turn a seemingly mundane life into a memorable, wonderful one. It's not by changing everything and going out and doing memorable things (though that is certainly one method). You might be doing exactly what you can and should be doing, bound by schedules and the needs of others to seemingly endless monotonous tasks. But the joy of being human is that we are constantly changing. The world around us is constantly changing. Every day, we are a little different, and the people we encounter are a little different, too. All we have to do is take time to notice.

So that is my goal for this Thanksgiving and Christmas season. I want to notice those little things that are different or special about each day and express gratitude for them. I may not be able to change things up very much (one thing about adulthood: responsibilities and obligations must be met, no matter how much you don't want to meet them) but I can take notice of the things that do change.

And do you know what's cool? The more you notice and express gratitude for change, the more memorable and varied your life becomes. :)

Tweet Tweet

So it finally happened.

I broke down.

Should have seen it coming.

I could only last so long.

Especially given my career in electronic publishing.

Yes.

It's true.

I got a Twitter account.

(Sorry for the melodrama)

I have two, actually. I signed up for my own account months ago, just because I figured I probably should know what this Twitter thing is if I want to stay up to speed with web publishing. Twitter is basically the king of quick, concise advertising and copywriting (or it should be... stupid people ruin that aim, as is the case with pretty much every version of social media). I never posted anything though.

But I figured I'll try it out and see. My personal account is protected, so you'll have to request to follow me, but you can if you want to.

The real reason I'm even sort of active on Twitter at all (as of last night) is that Roommate and I ran out of room on our fridge for the wacky things our friends say. So what do you do when you don't have fridge space?

If you were going to say put it on a wall or a door, that is so 2007, dahling.

You put it online. Duh.

It's actually kind of fun. Since Twitter is only meant for the written equivalent of "sound bytes" anyway, using it as a stream of quotes and blurbs from friends seems like an obviously well-suited thing to do. And it's public. Stalk, share, follow, and smirk to your heart's content. We did it for you.

As for my personal Twitter feed... I have no idea what I'm doing with that yet. It's an experiment.

Respect Him

Disclaimer: I spent weeks on this post, and I'm still not sure I've got it where I want it, but it's about time I posted it. Consider it a small ramble that may or may not make sense.

Little Brother spent Labor Day weekend with me, and it was wonderful. I seriously missed him. I missed his smiles, his good-natured and witty ribbing, his absolutely brilliant brain, and his fantastic sense of humor. But my favorite thing about my brother? I almost always learn something cool from him.

Something you should know about my little brother: He wants me to get married almost more than I want it. And in his new-RM phase, certainly more than he wants it for himself right now. And his opinion matters more than almost anyone else's when it comes to who I date. He's also a really good judge of character and often picks the same guys for me that I pick for myself. 

So at church on Sunday, he quickly identified one of those guys that I would certainly be willing to date if the opportunity arose, and mentioned that he really liked him. Then he said something that I'll never forget: "He seems like the kind of guy that Dad would really respect."

I loved that. Respect. I mean, yeah, I agree that it's important that my dad likes the guys I date, and it's definitely even better if he respects them, too. I'd just forgotten—or never really stopped to think about—how important the word "respect" is to me.

See, it really isn't enough to like someone. There are plenty of people I like well enough. But not all of them have earned my respect.

Typically, when we respect someone, we care about what they think. We consider their opinions and values to have weight and validity, thus deserving our personal consideration and attention. That sounds egotistical, but most of us are. We don't give our attention to things we don't consider worth our time. With those we respect, we are also much more likely to seek and accept their counsel, because we trust them.

I want to trust my man. I want to value his opinion above my own. But I'll be honest, I can't give that freely. He has to earn it, just as I expect to earn his respect. Love without respect just seems lacking. 

Joy Is in the Little Things

So Little Brother is in Utah now.

:)

Wow, that emoticon is the biggest understatement of the century.

Better. Much better.

Roommate and I played Go Fish with tiny Disney Princess cards and got very... vehement about it.

I also read the children's book I wrote in high school to her in what she has now dubbed my "Bartok" voice and our very good (and male) friend walked in while I was in the middle of it. If I hadn't been laughing so hard, I might have been embarrassed.

I had a remarkably delicious hot dog for lunch today. While that's not making any progress whatsoever on my goal to eat healthier, it is still making me quite happy. Enjoy it, Food Baby, before I get rid of you.

My best friend needed my address so that she could send me a letter. Which means I get snail mail (which is a thousand times better than any notification or email). It also means that I will (hopefully) get to enjoy her wacky doodles again, since I'm pretty sure I've never gotten a letter from her that didn't have at least a few of them.

A friend of mine came over last night and vented about his frustrations. That doesn't seem like a good thing, but it was really nice to have a real conversation with him, since my roommate and I don't see him more than a couple times a year.

I watched a very attractive guy walk over to our bookshelves, pull a book down, and proceed to get very involved in the book while the rest of us talked around him. It was, well, really attractive to see a man get so absorbed in a book that he forgot anyone else was around. Guys, reading is hot. Plus, our books are there to be read. And nobody ever reads them except us.

It was really cool and beautiful on my stroll to the bus stop this morning, and my roommate had opened up the sliding glass door to our patio before she left for work, so I woke up to a lovely breeze and an apartment filled with fresh air this morning. (Don't worry, Roommate, I locked the door before I left.) That put me in a great mood.

I love that there is silver lining to every day, no matter how good or bad it is. Of the guys mentioned in my "Try and Try Again" post, all of them have closed the doors pretty much for good, so dating wise, it's back to square one. I'm surprised at how little I'm actually upset by it.

Perhaps it's because my roommate has been having a rough time at her job, and so, a few weeks ago, I got into the habit of asking her to tell me one good thing that had happened to her each day. She could always come up with something, even if it seemed insignificant. After a while, she started volunteering the information before I even thought about asking her, and it seems that I have adopted a similar pattern into my own life.

And you know what? For the moment at least (since emotions change all the time) I don't really feel glad to be crush-free. That's not to say that I'm upset by it. I just don't really think it's something that should be desired.

Be bold. Dare to wish for that crazy, happy, head-over-heels kind of love. If you don't have it, don't sweat it. There are a lot of other great things to be doing in the meantime. Savor them. Enjoy them.

Do you want to know the thing I'm most grateful for, and the thing that brings me some of the greatest happiness? I feel needed. I took the time and effort to open my heart and my home to people who just wanted a friend. In return, they have done the same to me. Friendship doesn't necessarily lead to romantic love (in many cases, that's a good thing), but romantic love isn't the only kind of love out there. You don't have to be in love to be happy. Sometimes it's enough to love and be loved.

That's what I've figured out this week.

And guess what?

I'm pretty happy.

Gee Whiz Files: Elevate Your Thoughts

I thought maybe I should start these Gee Whiz Files things up again. After all, I'm still working for the Church, it's still interesting, and I'm always correcting people's misconceptions about what it's like. Not that that's the only reason for Gee Whiz Files. Sometimes they're just fun, too.

Other times, like this one, they are perfectly timed and wonderfully applicable to the rest of my life. So, the Church Office Building elevators that I talked about forever ago? Yeah, those. Well, all of them have these little plaques that contain snippets from general conference talks. They call them "Elevate Your Thoughts" (Elevator Thoughts, get it?). I've always liked them. They're nice. It gives you something to read instead of having to make awkward eye contact when you're jammed in with 18 other people for 20+ floors. But I've also largely ignored them in the sense that I'll stare at them every day and still never be able to tell you what they actually say. 

Well, I got in the elevator today, and I just so happened to be in the one that had this quote, and it seemed beautifully fitting, considering the point of my last post. So I took a picture of it. I apologize that it's blurry. The elevator jolted to a stop and then some lady got in and stood between me and the plaque, so I had to work with what I got. 

It's beautiful and perfect nonetheless.

Just remember: sometimes, it's okay to feel like you're barely holding on for dear life. You don't have to be excelling in the gospel to be making progress.

Try and Try Again

Okay, I'm going to get real with you, here. Not that that is some huge deal, because I do it fairly often. I find it cleansing, even if it gets a little painful. But I'm up for some good catharsis if you are.

Sometimes, hope sucks. And dating definitely sucks. Not 100% of the time, but more than most of us would prefer.

Now, I've been pretty happy over the last several months. I've been chugging along, spending time with family and friends, saving money for big things (car, bed, furniture, tv, tablet, and maybe even travel plans, though the last one is only the tiniest of pipe dreams at the moment), diving back into large stacks of good books, deepening my devotion to the Lord, and rediscovering how much I just love everything about my life. 

My dating life was A-OK, pretty much because I didn't have one, and that was totally cool. Being crush-free is a delightful state, I'll be honest. My happiness didn't hinge on whether Mr. Brown-eyes (or blue, if you prefer) talked to me that day or not. I was happy all on my own. 

Then, suddenly, I fell in like. Not love. That's too strong. I was in like. 

There were a couple of guys. One that I was inclined to choose, and one who chose me. For the first time in my life, I actually wasn't sure which one I should actually decide to be interested in. Well, my choice was made for me. Guy A went for someone else; she was one of those girls that you totally adore because she's an angel, inside and out... and all the guys like her too. You can't hate her, because she's the nicest person you've ever met, but it still rips your heart out because every guy you know forgets you're there when she walks in the room. 

"Well, that's fine," I told myself. I've been through that routine before. 

I'd actually never met Guy B. He was a mutual friend. But we started to talk, and he was incredibly enjoyable to talk to. 

Cool. Maybe I can actually do this dating thing. 

However, this whole time, there was this insidious little voice at the back of my head that kept ticking off all the names of every One-Hit Wonder I've had in the last three years. Hey Lynnae, remember So-and-So? You really liked him, too, but he never asked you on that second date. Oh, and That Guy, he seemed interested, but he forgot about you, too. And let's not bring up Mr. Smalls, who actually ran away. Ever notice how you don't really get a chance to even try and see if something might be worth the risk?

But this is different. This time had to be different. I do deserve to be happy. Eventually, all the cards fall into place and it works out.

But not for you. Never for you. You just keep getting tortured, remember? It's like someone sets your favorite cake in front of you, but right as you go to take a bite, it gets yanked away and given to someone else. You can't take this anymore. It just might shatter you this time, right?

Shut up. It's going fine. Look, he wants to bring me flowers. And see that? He just told me I was beautiful. That's pretty awesome.

You'd better hope it's going fine. Because it's going to destroy you to be given up on again. Heartbreak's easier---at least then you feel validated for a little while. But if you don't get a chance with this one, you must be broken. Something must be wrong. You can't take another false-start relationship.

That whispering voice sounds familiar, doesn't it? That's because it's something we all hear. Maybe not about dating, but there's always something that challenges our conception of self-worth. And it always chimes in right about the time we start believing that we deserve to be happy. 

That's what happened for me. I managed to shut it up for a long while because it seemed like things really would be different. For once, I wasn't the one initiating. In fact, it occasionally felt like I was dragging my feet more than he was. 

But then, things out of either his control or mine happened. Plans got postponed. External pressure and stress was placed on him, and he started pulling away. Just like all the others. 

And I shattered. I mean, really shattered. 

It didn't matter that Guy B and I had never met, or that I didn't really know anything about him. We could have ended up having the worst date ever for all I knew. All I saw was that there was someone that could have been important, and everything was falling apart before it even started. Again. 

I got so frustrated. I got angry. I felt like I was being cheated. I'm a big girl. I can take it. I can handle heartbreak. I understand that relationships often don't work out. He might not end up interested in me, or I might not be all that interested in him. That's cool. That's how it goes. But DANG IT, I wanted to try. I wanted to take the risk, go for broke, and see if it was worth it. If it fell apart, at least I would know I'd given it my all. That's all I've ever wanted. 

But time and time again, I kept having the chance to try stolen away from me, like a precocious toddler who keeps getting pushed back from an interesting chemistry experiment by an impatient parent. "Stop that. You're too young. You'll hurt yourself. You can't play with that. That's for someone who's older."

It broke my heart. I think I cried harder over this than I did the last time I went through a breakup. Why was I allowed to get my hopes up if they would get yanked away before I'd even gotten a real taste? 

Okay, I'm going to digress for the tiniest second right here and make a seemingly unrelated confession: I've watched The Vampire Diaries. I'm not really that proud of it. In my opinion, it's only a few steps above Twilight as far as quality storytelling goes. But there's something that the show emphasizes about its vampires that will be relevant to my story: vampires can turn off their human emotions. Completely. They just switch it off, and they can't feel love, pain, guilt, sorrow, or compassion anymore. 

Got it? Well, that's what I wanted to do. I'd liked not being interested in anybody. It was easy. I just wanted to turn off the part of me that falls in love with people and never worry about it again. 

And the part that hurt the most was the certainty---accompanied by fear---that I never ever would be able to. I knew it. Sooner or later, someone else would come along, and no matter how hard I would try, I wouldn't be able resist getting my hopes up again. I will never be able to not do that. And I was equally certain that this cycle of losing out before I even got to try would also never end. 

I was even a little bit mad at the Lord for it. Did He enjoy seeing me grasping at empty air as each of the dozen or so Possibilities slipped away over the last few years? What was the point of hoping if this was all I was ever going to get for it?

I'm not proud of those thoughts. But I need you to know that I had them. I think we all have them at one point or another.

As I sat there, drowning in my own fear and frustration, I felt one of the worst things I've ever felt in my life. I realized that I'd drawn myself a line that I wasn't willing to let the Lord help me cross. Without even knowing it, I'd given Him an ultimatum and staked my faith on it. I wasn't willing to face this kind of circumstance even one more time, let alone possibly for the rest of my life. 

And as my sweet father asked me (yes, I was on the phone with him at the time---when am I not talking to my parents during these moments?) if I could face being alone like this for the rest of my life and still trust the Lord, I genuinely hesitated. In fact, I almost wanted to say, "No. I give up. I'm throwing in the towel."

That horrified me. For one tiny moment, I was staring into the awful blackness of who Lynnae would be if she didn't trust the Lord. It's the worst thing I've ever felt in my entire life. I will take a hundred heartbreaks, a million One-Hit Wonders or WorstDateEvers rather than ever have to feel like that again. 

It seems like such a trivial thing to have a crisis of faith over. People have stared death and devastating loss in the face without flinching, and I was breaking into pieces over dating of all things. 

But I learned something from it. And maybe others have gone through similar moments, which is why they face much greater trials without shrinking.

I learned that I could be pushed to the very edge of my own limits and still be okay, because the Lord, the one I had been angry at, had almost considered turning my back on, loved me still. His arms reached out and steadied me even as I pounded at Him furiously. 

Because that's how the Lord is. No matter how often we refuse His help and deny His offers to heal us, He still reaches out. Our happiness matters more than anything He receives from us in return. How can I expect to do any less if I want to become like Him?

My favorite quote about love comes from a philosophy book I was reading a couple of years ago:

"Love requires self-sacrifice, binds one's happiness to the good of another, makes one vulnerable to loss and grief, and strengthens one's commitment to the good."

I may not have found the kind of love that leads to marriage and family, but I've loved deeply enough to know that it is always worth it. All of those "missed" chances at love for me, well, maybe they're happy. I hope so. Because maybe at least some of them felt the same way. Maybe they were tired of dating and not finding the right person, too. But they had the courage to take a chance on me, even if it didn't go anywhere. Hopefully they've found women that they can build lives with. 

This wasn't Guy B's fault. If it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. I was breaking long before Guy A or Guy B came around. I even still like Guy B, and that door isn't actually closed all the way, though I'm focusing my energy on friends and family who need me more right now. 

If anything, I owe Guy B, Guy A, and every other One-Hit Wonder or Almost-One-Hit Wonder (and even the WorstDateEvers) that I've ever met the most heartfelt thanks for being the kind of men that would make me want to try again and again, no matter what the risks are. It means that they are all exceptional, and well worth taking risks for. :)

I'm sorry for the long post. But I needed to share. People often commend me on my testimony and my faith. I'm grateful for such commendations. But I also know that many people struggle with their faith. It is to those people that I dedicate this post. I've been there. Our trials and circumstances may be different, but they all hurt the same. 

I love you all. The Lord loves you all. And unlike me, He will never falter or waver for even the smallest reason. Unlike me, He can lift you past your biggest chasms and help you break through your thickest walls. But I will always try.

Gratitude

I really am trying to blog more often. The writer in me enjoys this outlet, but I guess I'm too easily distracted to actually follow through with it. Try and try again, I suppose.

Well, my legally-required two-week hiatus from work turned into three weeks (aaaand there goes my car fund. Again.) but I'm back at work now (with a raise!) and I won't have to be scraping the bottom of the barrel to make ends meet. It's a blessing. Sometimes I wish it didn't come at the cost of my third attempt to gather enough money to buy a car, but a blessing all the same.

You know, a lot of times, I get caught up in all the things I wish I had, and I forget to be grateful for what I do have. So I'm taking stock today. Bear with me, and I apologize if this isn't interesting to you. Feel free to let your eyes glaze over if you want. It's not like I can stop you.

My job. Sure, I've complained about the instability and the constant threat of it finally ending and leaving me jobless and even the tedium of it (and if I haven't complained much on here, trust me, I've done it in person), but I'm so grateful that I have it. Despite all of the uncertainty, what was supposed to be a three-month job has turned into almost a year and a half, and I'm not being kicked out yet. Plus, I get to be working for the Church, my Church, the Church that has defined my life so profoundly that I can't separate my church life from my personal life. My religion has always been a part of who I am, and it's so rewarding to be giving back to it. Working on the scriptures has been, and probably always will be, one of the highest points of my professional life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The temple. My year mark for receiving my endowment is in a week. Despite all the ups and downs, this has been one of the best years of my life. There is tremendous strength in finding and experiencing peace, and there is no place more peaceful than the temple.

My roommate. We have our moments where the tension builds and we get a little snippy (it's part of living together, as anyone who's ever lived with anyone can tell you), but when all is said and done, she's still one of my best friends, and I know that she'll love me anyway.

My family. I love that I can call my parents any time of day or night and they will stop what they're doing to talk to me. I'm also grateful that most of the time, they don't tell me what to do. They just listen and let me sort it out for myself, though they are always willing to provide counsel and advice if I ask them for it.

Last of all, I'm grateful for my religion. I don't know where I'd be without it. I love the Lord more than any one or any thing else in this world. I don't care that I can't prove that He exists. All I know is that I am infinitely happier believing in Him than I would be if I didn't, and I have seen so many people's lives turned around by their faith in the Lord that it feels natural and obvious to follow their example and find the same kind of happiness that they did.

Aaaand She Makes Another Comeback Attempt

Well hello! Welcome back!

Or, well, welcome back to me, since you guys probably checked this more often than I did.

Actually, that's probably not true. I've guiltily glanced at this blog almost every day since I last posted and then closed the tab to pretend that my negligent posting problem didn't exist. But since I usually don't enjoy journaling, and I do enjoy blogging more, I probably should stop living in denial and just suck it up and post. I don't know why I think I don't have time. I managed to blog a lot during college.

Oh right. I did that to procrastinate homework.

Hm. I don't really have anything to procrastinate anymore. Is that my problem?

I'll just procrastinate sorting that out and finish this post. Ha.

So what's new?

I have new jeans. That's probably only relevant to me. Although, if I had a boyfriend, I suppose I could get him to appreciate the cute pattern on the back pockets. Did I just say that out loud? Whoops. But seriously, I haven't bought new jeans in about three years, and my proportions have certainly changed in that time. It's nice to have a pair that fits really well all over instead of being baggy in weird places. Self-esteem=way up. That's why it matters.

I went to Lake Powell with my family. Nope, it doesn't look like it. I'm not tanner or redder or anything. I may have slightly overdone the sunscreening... What can I say? I'd rather be pasty white than Kentucky Fried Chicken.

The best part of my Powell trip?

This.

Yes, that's a sand castle model of Middle Earth. Yes, my brothers and I built the whole thing. Pretty much from memory. Are we nerds?

DANG STRAIGHT.

It took us two days, and it's probably one of the proudest accomplishments of my life. Which is saying something, considering I have a career and a college degree under my belt. And considering my brothers did most of the sculpting, because I suck at it. I just drew the blueprints. And made a million tiny clay balls for trees in Mirkwood.

I won't overload you with pictures here. The rest will be on Facebook. But here's a couple of my very favorites.

Here's an idea of the scope of the thing. Plus, you get to see my three very awesome and adorable brothers. Lucky you. Conveniently enough, they're in order of age from left to right. They're also showing off the things that they sculpted. Not that you can tell what exactly they're pointing at, but still.

Ben is an artist. This is probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Not bad for wet sand, eh?

He's also a dork. But he's my dork, so I love him. Points if you know what he's doing here.

And of course, the journey shot. Isengard to Mordor. With a little glimpse of our perfect cove in the background. 

We had the best spot in all of Lake Powell. Tiny cove, no outlet, plenty of shade, big sandy beach. It was perfection. I suck a water sports, but I'm definitely a sun, sand, water, and beach kind of girl. I love this kind of camping. Being up in a mountain amidst all the trees and clouds is nice too, but this, this I love.

I have a new phone. (Yes, I'm still telling you a list of what's new--I just paused to show you Middle Earth) Since I love using it, I might be more likely to stay in touch with people. That's important. I guess.

In about half an hour, I'm going to get my hair recolored to the dark brown I love so much. You may not care, but I'm also a little proud of the fact that it's the longest I've ever had it and when the dark brown is in it, it kinda looks like chocolate. And that is awesome.

I finally went to the Manti Temple, where my parents were married, for the first time since I received my endowment. It is, hands down, my favorite temple. Plus it was really cool to feel so close to my parents, even though they're still in Texas right now. It was like I'd taken a little journey into their love story. Awww!

Other than that, life is good. I get a legally-required two-week break from work while they change up my contract (still the same job, though), and it's been nice to get a lot of things done around home and in my personal life that I haven't had the time or energy for before this.

I'm going to try, really, really try, to blog more often. I like it. It's fun. Thanks for being patient with me. Love you all!

A Few Trivia Items about Lynnae's Recent Activities

Thank goodness I haven't had another two-month lapse in writing on my blog, but seeing as how I use the fact that I keep this blog to justify not writing in my journal all that often, it might be a good idea if I actually post useful stuff on it. And by useful I mean personal.

So here are some little-known or at least less-well-known items of interest about my current personal life.

1. I'm rereading Harry Potter in my spare time. It's been a couple of years and I figured it was overdue. As a result, I bring it up more in casual conversation.

2. I'm still working for the Church. Sometimes I get bored with answering the "Are you still with the Church, then?" question, but it's understandable that I get asked that, considering how tenuously stable (yes, that is a deliberate oxymoron) my job is. Given that, I'm back to a slightly-less-stable employment status and so might need to start job hunting soon.

3. The prospect of job hunting honestly makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and sob. I seriously hate it.

4. Tied to that, I'm feeling an unexpected pang at the thought of leaving my job. A few months ago, I would have told you that I'd rather be working at McDonalds than stay with proofreading for my whole life. It's been surprising to realize that in the last couple of months, I've become extremely devoted and attached to my job. I genuinely love it, and the thought of leaving it makes me sad in a way that has nothing to do with the desire for employment stability and everything to do with the fact that I truly do like proofreading. Apparently proofreading is an acquired taste. After a year and a half of it, I've acquired the taste.

5. My roommate is graduated from college and relatively free for the summer, which also frees her up to help me with the dishes. This seems like a trivial thing (but wait, you're reading trivia about my personal life so... ha) but it means a lot to me. I like doing the dishes, but I don't love being the only one doing the dishes. Coming home to a rack of drying dishes that I didn't do is an instant mood-booster. (And suddenly I understand my mother's obsession [as my ten-year-old self saw it] with having us do the dishes so much better. Funny, the things that make sense as you age...)

6. Having my roommate free from schoolwork is nice in other ways, too. We're more likely to have people over, or just sit and talk, or go out and do something fun. Basically, I see her marginally more.

7. The relationship side of my life is no longer quite so broken. I'm not a huge flirt (I really did grow out of that phase a few years ago, so I don't think it'll ever come back), but I'm not afraid of boys anymore, either. Someone wants to bring boys to the party? Sure! Invite them over! Maybe I'll even talk to them!

8. I'm in the early planning stages of gearing up for a Lake Powell trip with my family this summer, which will be utterly awesome. I just need to figure out the bedding situation, because the roll-up blue mat I used last time felt like a bed of lumpy gnomes that liked to kick me in the kidneys.

9. I'm saving for a car (again) and hoping that my job stability allows for me to actually use my nest egg on a car instead of providing for me while I'm job hunting or moving, like it's done the last two times. Not that I resent that my savings covered those things, but it would be nice to finally actually get the thing I keep saving my money toward. Especially since I've reached the breaking point on how long I can put up with not having one.

10. All in all, I'm happy and content, and feeling surprisingly comfortable with just taking things as they come. After some long, hard, painful lessons, I've come to accept that I can't get what I want by angsting about it, so I don't.

Brave

Okay, so this is my lame-ish comeback attempt to my blog. I have dozens of thoughts rolling around in my head, and more than a few things I want to blog about, but I'm going to cheat and settle for a lovely, uplifting video for today.



His name is Peter Hollens and he's a gifted a capella musician. He also happens to be singing my favorite song from Josh Groban's newest album. It's my pick-me-up for those bad days we talked about last time. Or a boost for the already good days. :)

It's Okay

First, to preface this post, I am doing absolutely 100% great today. I'll be seeing my wonderful, soon-to-be returned missionary brother in about 24 hours, and as a result, I'm so up that it's probably been really annoying to my friends the last couple of days. However, I've been musing on the following subject for the last few days and I decided I wanted to share my thoughts with the rest of you.

Now, maybe it's because I can read the subtext in my own posts, but I notice patterns in my blog, especially in the moods in which I write my posts. And I've noticed that a lot of the time, I talk about being up as being the best thing, and when I'm down, it's because I have to fix something. Generally speaking, that's true, but I want to expound.

I had a crummy day a couple weeks ago. Plans got rearranged/canceled on me, my roommate was in a rare "Don't talk to me" mood, and I was just generally not so happy. I knew that I didn't want to be alone with my own thoughts, so I called my mom (because that's what I do---I'm so glad she's my best friend).

After my recent discovery that I can and do enjoy my life exactly as it is, I felt guilty. I had so much to be grateful for. If I felt down, it must mean that I'm forgetting that.

Thank goodness Mom snapped me out of that. "Lynnae," she said, "you can't be up all the time. No one can. It's okay to have a bad day."

Her reassurance formed an interesting contrast to the attitude of a friend of mine from several years ago. This friend used to say that she'd decided never to have a bad day again. I always found it an admirable sentiment, but I never felt like I'd actually be able to do something like that. And honestly? All due respect to my friend, but I don't think it's the healthiest attitude. I think we need to have bad days.

It's important for us to acknowledge that we're limited. Sometimes, we need to come face-to-face with our own darker emotions and recognize that they're making us feel guilty or miserable. We also need to realize that we can't make them go away on our own. Only then can we allow the beautiful power of the Atonement to lift us up. That's what humility really is. It's not beating yourself up for your bad thoughts or feelings, it's openly acknowledging those feelings and being willing to do what you must to make them go away.

We need to have bad days so that we remember to appreciate the good ones. I'm straying into territory that makes so many people groan and roll their eyes, because we've all heard it before. BUT, I'm reiterating it because it's true. If you had nothing but good days, don't you think that you'd get so used to them that you'd forget to notice? We see the trend every day. Think about the "First World Problems" idea. Your day sucks if your internet breaks down or your phone dies. However, there are other people who are so happy simply because they didn't die today. We have been blessed with so much that little inconveniences seem like major problems. If you only had good days, even minor annoyances would turn your day into a bad one.

Now back to the "I need to fix something idea." Did you know that pain is your body protecting itself? You probably did, you smart people. You experience pain because your body is basically telling you that something is wrong and that something isn't good for you, so knock it off. That thing is too hot and will damage you if you keep touching it. That object is sharp. Those germs are wreaking havoc and need to be gotten rid of. You learn from it. If you can, you break away from the thing that's causing you pain. Bad days and bad feelings are our emotional pain receptors. If we pay attention, we can identify what's upsetting us and do something to fix it.

Last but not least, bad days remind us that we're only human, just like everybody else. Like my mom said, we can't be "up" all the time. Other people have bad days too, no matter how happy they seem. You aren't alone. What makes happy people truly happy is that they are okay with having bad days. Rather than living in denial about their negative emotions, they recognize them, acknowledge them, maybe even indulge them a little bit, and then they let them go.

So remember, it's okay to have a bad day. Just remember that, even on your bad days, I love you, your other friends love you, and most importantly, your Heavenly Father loves you.

Love you!

Love, me

Hobbity Happiness

GUYS.

The Hobbit comes out on DVD TODAY.

I'm about to get all kinds of nerdy in here. 

Also, I'm booked this evening. Unless you're coming to watch this fantastic movie with me, do not disturb.

I sort of adore this comic. And come on, you know you sang it.

And Foxtrot, the classic nerdy comic strip:

One more: just to keep in mind. :)

I'm sorry I'm such a huge nerd. But I love Tolkien. I can't help myself. You can blame my dad. It's all his fault for reading The Hobbit to me as a kid.

Frankly, I'm surprised and pleased that it came out so soon, and they didn't make me wait until next Christmas to re-watch this and see the next one. :) 

The Treasure Box, Part III

Not every box she found was a treasure box. And some of the boxes she found became treasure boxes.

One of her favorite boxes was one she'd been carrying around for a few years. She'd originally stored some treasures in it, but a chink in the box had allowed spiders and creepy-crawlies to infest it. She hated spiders. When she first discovered the infestation, she snapped the lid shut and shoved the box into a deep, dark corner, vowing to never touch it again. And for a long time, she didn't.

But she did really like that box. It was the kind that fit in her arms without being too bulky or unwieldy, and it didn't take too much effort to haul it around. So eventually, she decided to be brave enough to crack the lid and look inside.

Most of the nasties had died. It was kind of gross, but much more manageable than living, crawling things. She started cleaning it out carefully, clearing out the debris and wiping away the cobwebs. Before long, the box was glistening and clean again, the original keepsakes revealed once more. Finally, she poked around the outside of the box until she found the chink. It was small, and she meticulously filled it in, ensuring that the box couldn't be re-infested.

It was nice to be able to use that box again.

It became its own treasure box, of sorts. While she didn't place her most valuable treasures in the box, it became home to many keepsakes and small things that she was very fond of.

One day, she came home from work and considered the box where it sat in unobtrusive but fairly prominent place in her living room. It really was becoming a valuable and well-loved treasure box. It might be worth it to put some things of greater value in it.

She put a hand on her pocket. The now-familiar and surprisingly comforting weight of the key in her pocket kept her company everywhere she went. A constant reminder of the promise her father had made.

Maybe...

But the box had no lock on it. It was one of her most prized possessions, true. But the key needed a lock. Her best, most private treasures were stored in the box her father had mentioned. She knew all the contents of the box in front of her, and most of them were smaller and simpler than the wonderful things she'd placed in the treasure box that her father had cleaned out.

Kneeling beside the patched-up, well-polished box, she opened it and sifted through the contents, trailing her fingers lovingly over the various pieces of her life that she'd placed in it. There was room in the box for treasures of greater value. Maybe it was time to add something bigger to the collection in the box.

Or, perhaps, she could clean it out and give it to someone else...

To Brighten Your Day

Here's a little book-nerd humor. :)

Love you all.

Random Things Making My Day Better

Aisley subbing in for my alarm this morning and pouncing on me because she'd gotten a text that made her really happy.

Free carrot cake at work. It had delicious, perfect, cream-cheese frosting and almonds on it. Heaven.

My dad texted me for no reason, just to say hi. I love when he does that. I can usually tell when he does, because he calls me by my pet name, which I also love.

My hand sanitizer that's supposed to smell like pomegranates actually smells more like bubble gum. Normally, that's not that appealing, but it makes me a little nostalgic for those Bubble Tape things I used to get when I was a kid. I loved them back then. Yay! Happy memories!

 Harry Potter movie night tonight, complete with brownies and friends.

Speaking of Dancing...

Okay, we weren't speaking of dancing (though I went to one this weekend). But I needed an excuse to post another TWard video.

Yep. I have a crush. It's true.

I Have a Date!

You know what I love about getting older?

I love watching my siblings growing up. I was on the phone with my stud-muffin little brother yesterday, and we were talking about his birthday (he's 17, can you believe it?) and other, more trivial matters. Mostly about food. Weird, but true.

See, I have this favorite burger place, but it's only in the Austin area in Texas, which means I almost never get to enjoy it, because I'm only home one or two weeks out of the year. BUT! Brian is coming home from his mission in April, and I'll be going home for that, so Mighty Fine and I will be having a delicious, sumptuous reunion.

But then! Ben told me that there was this other burger place that he likes even better. And, of course, the mean little blighter that he is, he started describing the burgers and fries in mouth-watering detail. I had just gotten off work and was waiting for the bus so that I could go home and make dinner. Hello, purest form of torture.

It suddenly occurred to me over the tidal-wave-style rumblings in my tummy that Ben and I should totally go on a sibling date to this superior burger place. And that's when I realized that I love that I'm getting older, because it means that Ben is old enough to drive us to the place and he and I can have a real, honest-to-goodness, one-on-one dinner (or lunch---burgers are acceptable for anytime except breakfast), just the two of us. I don't have to ferry him around anymore.

And I totally love that.

So yeah, I have a date. In two months. With my little brother. It's going to be awesome.

Oh, and I have a date next Saturday, too (not with my little brother). ^_^

Life's pretty great.

New Favorite

On a lighter, more inspirational note from my last post, this is a video from my new favorite YouTuber.



I might have cried. And I might be a little bit in love with him.

I Told You So

Found this quote on Pinterest. It's awesome.

This might be a more open and frank post than I've written in a while, so we'll see how this goes.

You know how you can hear a thing a million times and know what it means, but then suddenly, one day, you wake up and find that you get it? That's what's happened to me this month.

So, we know that one of the most talked-about subjects in the world is love. Everyone has something to say about it. A lot of people have opinions about how to do it right.

Well, one of the best pieces of advice I've ever heard was from my mother (naturally---she's my sage of wisdom, so all my good stuff comes from her). Whenever I got into one of those "I hate being lonely" funks, she liked to remind me that it's vital to be able to find happiness on your own if you want to have a happy marriage. "Marriage isn't about two halves making a whole," she would say, "It's about two whole people working toward the same goals." Basically, if you expected another person to complete you and make you happy, you'd be disappointed. But if you could find ways to be happy on your own, it would be that much easier to find happiness in marriage. In a way, it was a blessing to be single.

Now, she's been telling me this for years. I can remember vividly a conversation on this exact topic about four years ago. We probably talked about it before that, too. And every time we did, I always found myself saying, "Yeah, I know that."And I did. But I didn't really get it.

Some of my friends may know this more than others, but I secretly have hated being single pretty much my whole life (well, since I was old enough to know what it means). Hated. All I ever wanted was to get married. My reasons have shifted and developed over the years, from a selfish desire to have someone who loved me and took care of me to a more mature desire to share a life and learn and grow with someone I can support and cherish. But always, it has been the only thing I really wanted. And I hated anything that kept that from me.

Tying both my desire and my hatred together was fear. I was afraid to let myself enjoy being single because I was afraid that maybe I would actually like it. And if I liked it, maybe I would like it too much. And then maybe I wouldn't want to get married. Or at least, maybe I would become too selfish to be a good wife and mother, because I would have had so much fun being single. It sounds stupid, but I have been subconsciously deathly afraid of that for years.

Over this last month, something just clicked for me, and I got it.

I've been lonely for a long time. Since I've lived in Bountiful, I haven't been able to connect with guys at all, really. My friendships have all been surface-level. I've only had first dates. I watched my friends get into and out of relationships in less time than it took me to get a guy to tell me something more meaningful than his major in school.

It wore me down big time. My friends saw a lot of the emotional turbulence from it, but neither they nor I really understood why I couldn't just snap out of it. I finally threw in the towel. I couldn't flirt, I couldn't catch a guy's interest, I couldn't hold a candle to my friends. So I decided that I was done with it. I was broken, and I wasn't going to get anywhere until I could fix it.

Many of my friends would probably argue and protest the claim that I was broken. Some of them actually did, when I occasionally made mention of it. I appreciate their reassurance. But I really was broken. That fear of allowing myself to be happy as a single woman was crippling me.

Then one day, I had a landmark conversation with one of my coworkers. She was telling me about her sisters. One of them was in a wonderful marriage, the kind we all secretly or openly dream about. The other one was in a so-so marriage. I was nodding in sympathy as my friend described the marriage until she started describing what her sister was like. She was describing me. Right down to the fact that her sister had only ever wanted to be married. Everything else was a distant second place.

Suddenly it clicked. Everything came crashing together at once, and I suddenly recognized that my fear of being single was keeping me from being happy and emotionally independent. I needed to shake that off and be happy.

Well, it was a big moment of self-realization for me. So I did the natural thing. I called my parents. As I rambled my way through my journey of self-discovery, they listened quietly. Then I hit the big, pivotal discovery and stopped, waiting to hear their response.

"That's wonderful, honey."

In that moment, I swear I could hear the smile on my mom's face through the phone. "Mom, you can say you told me so, now," I said.

And, basically, she did. Because she had been telling me exactly that for years. Learning to be happy on your own is the best gift you can give yourself, your spouse, and your children.

You want to know what the best part is?

It works. This has been one of the best months of my life. And I think I'm even more excited about getting married, now.

To You From Me With Love

Happy Valentine's Day.

Indulging the Inner Fangirl

So it's a commonly-known fact that I am a nerd. The biggest collection I have on Pinterest is devoted to geeky stuff. And for those who know me well, it's also common knowledge that Tolkien has held a preeminent place in my nerd-world for over half my life now (in fact, it'll officially reach two-thirds of my life this year (Yes, I calculated that---Editor Lynnae simply had to fact-check herself.))

Well, unbeknownst to me (because I'm inattentive, apparently), part of Tolkien-nerd-Lynnae had been starving because I hadn't read the books since I was about 15. I only discovered this because I was marathoning the movies (my at-least-once-a-year tradition), and my little sister kept asking me "Did that happen like that in the books?" and I suddenly realized to my shame and horror that I honestly couldn't remember.

I honestly hadn't thought about it in years, and had been coasting along on my title of Tolkien Aficionado for years. But how could I claim to be a Tolkien geek if I couldn't remember anything that happened in the books? For shame!

So I've been fixing that. I started rereading the books and I'm glad that I love them as much as I did when I was 8. Honestly, I don't know what my problem was. I stopped trying to reread the books because they felt slow, and my attention span wasn't holding long enough for me to make much progress. Maybe it's because I've been reading reference lists, dictionaries, and indexes for work, but this time around, I'm finding The Lord of the Rings anything but dull.

But watch out! I might be an even bigger nerd now that I'm re-armed with the booklore of Tolkien's world.

Incidentally, I've seen the Hobbit five times already.

Yeah, I loved it that much.

On the Fritz

So my computer is apparently getting more crotchety as it ages and it currently seems to be frenemies with my internet, so we'll see how well this blog-posting thing goes.

I'm not looking forward to spending money on replacing my computer. This one has been so trusty. And when you get a new one, you have to spend all that time getting used to it, and trying not to be tripped up by how the old one felt better and made more sense you, because you knew (or perhaps even caused) all of its little quirks. Plus, all of your lovely custom settings? Poof. Gone. It's like losing your best inanimate friend.

Because I totally have inanimate friends.

First world problems, I suppose. There are a lot of people who can't even afford to own a computer, let alone worry about replacing one.

So that's the main thing on my mind right now. Which is why the first half of this post is about it.

My ability to go to work has been on the fritz over the last month as well. Bouts of sickness picked up first from family over Christmas break, then from my coworkers after Christmas break, then from my roommate who picked up something from her coworkers after Christmas break. It seemed like I was never going to get better.

But I am, now! And I'm reveling in it. My cabin fever (aside from the real fevers) had reached raging proportions, as evidenced by the deep-cleaned bathroom, spotlessly-white sink, and cobweb-free corners-under-the-counters. Apparently the cleanliness of my apartment has an inverse relationship with my physical health, because it's not quite so clean now that I'm feeling better. You'd think it would be the other way around, but there you have it.

Yes, I am aware that I'm rambling inanely. I figure that's better than nothing, though, right?

To Sum Up

Oh hi! Yeah, I'm back. After a ridiculously long time. I hit one of those mental blocks where you know you should update your blog, but it's been so long that you have too much to catch up on, so you just keep putting it off and all the stuff you haven't caught up on keeps piling up.

So yeah. I haven't written.

To summarize:

I'm still employed at the Church. Yay! I'm losing count of how many times I'm 78% sure my contract is ending, only to have it renewed yet again. (Yes, I just made that percentage up.) But I still have a job, which means I can still afford to pay rent and buy food.

Speaking of rent. I have a new place! I mentioned it very briefly last time I wrote, which was two months ago. The novelty of having an apartment all to myself (okay, fine, I have a roommate, so not entirely to myself, but close enough) still hasn't worn off. Sometimes I just like to sit on my couch and soak in the fact that the furniture, decorations, and even the messy dishes in the sink are all mine. After living in the basement of someone else's house for over a year, I don't know if I'll ever get tired of having a space that's mine.

My family came out here for Christmas and I got to party it up with them. WHICH WAS AWESOME. On that note, my little sister is now living in Provo and working at a flower shop. It's great.

My best friend/college roommate is getting married in just a couple of weeks, and I threw her bridal shower last weekend. Here's the thing about that: I hate planning and/or hosting big parties. They seriously stress me out. Luckily, throwing a bridal shower for my friend wasn't that bad 1) because most of her friends out here are also my friends, so I didn't have to worry about entertaining complete strangers, 2) because I love her so darn much that it was easy to forget how much I dislike party planning, and 3) because our friends are freaking awesome and wanted to just get together and have fun. It wasn't all on my shoulders to keep them amused because they're pretty great at amusing themselves. Which makes them sound like five-year-olds. Whoops. ;)

So yeah. In a brief nutshell, that's what's been happening. Hopefully this helped break the writer's block my blog has suffered so badly from.