The Best Show Yet

I should be doing reading for class, but it's really quiet in the Tanner building and there's that one guy on the phone who won't stop talking. It's just the right amount of noise to be irritatingly distracting. So I'll write instead.

Yesterday I spent most of the day at work. Fridays are really busy at the paper and I read through countless pages to get things ready. Typically I don't put headphones on while I work so people can get my attention if they need it. But it was an emotionally draining week and I just wanted to shut everyone out. I needed some alone time.

So I turned to Guster for my solitude. I have so many dear memories that come to mind when I listen to Guster. They have been my friends for over ten years now and I think of running around my neighborhood with my CD player, holding it so carefully so it wouldn't skip as I jogged around, listening to "Amsterdam" over and over and over.

I think of listening to "So Long" freshman year when I was frustrated with someone.

And whenever "Come Downstairs and Say Hello" comes on I have too many memories to choose from: taking an extra loop around the neighborhood with my sister so we could finish the song, singing along, having a bad day and being reminded to be strong because everything would be okay, and, my personal favorite, hearing the first few notes of the song at my first Guster show two years ago and screaming so loud the whole club could hear me (including the band), putting my arm around Berkeley and knowing that that was a perfect moment.

I've thought about that show a lot the past two years. I've been to a fair number of live shows and that has been by far the best experience I've had (Bruce was second on this list, which should tell you just how much I loved that Guster show). I went with my dearest friends and we were pretty close to the stage (except for the super tall woman in heels in front of us, rude). We all sang every song and danced and had the best time. I was transformed at that show. And you can ask my roommates, I didn't come down off of the Guster cloud for at least a week after that show.

When I listen to Guster, it isn't just about the music. It's about the people and the memories that tie us together. And listening to Guster yesterday reminded me mostly of that show and the joy I had in my heart in that moment. And that made me feel a little more healed and a lot better.

(For anyone looking for a song that will make you feel better every time, check out "Hang On." Guaranteed it will pick you up.) 

On being ready

Here's a link to another editorial I wrote for the Universe.

http://universe.byu.edu/beta/2013/01/11/on-being-ready/

A head full of thoughts

Sometimes you get sick. And sometimes you start another semester of school while you're sick. And sometimes that day is just fine and nothing bad happens and you have a lovely dinner with a dear friend and yet when you get home you find yourself with a head full of thoughts.

And sometimes when that happens you turn to your guitar, Bruce, and you play and sing it out and that helps. And sometimes you watch episodes of Grey's Anatomy because it is pure escapist fiction and you have a parasocial relationship with the characters and you just need that. And sometimes that head full of thoughts makes it hard to sleep even though you're tired and sick.

But at least it's nothing more than a head full of thoughts. And overall life is good. And maybe sometimes it's good to have a head full of thoughts because it means that you're on to something. And it may just take some time to clear those thoughts out. But I'll take it. I'll relish in forward moving.

Perfection

Today was a perfect day.

Really and truly it was. I can't think of anything I would have changed about today (almost, ahem the three hours it took me to make pizza ball monkey bread, but I'll forgive you because you're bread and you ended up being delicious).

Among other things I was able to help at a bridal shower and catch up with old friends, attend a baptism, pretend to study with a friend, grab dinner with another, go see a play, and see even more friends at a winter party.

I hadn't been to a baptism since my mission three years ago. This baptismal service, though held mostly in Spanish (which I was able to surprisingly understand fairly well), had such a sweet and powerful Spirit in the room. I am so happy for Gabriel and his decision to be baptized.

Tonight I went to a local community theater's production of "A Christmas Carol." A friend was a part of the production and he was gracious enough to offer me a ticket to his cast's opening night performance.

(Guys, if you do nothing else this holiday season, go see a version of "A Christmas Carol" near you. I'm sure you can find a production. Or rent one of the various movie versions. I had forgotten what a powerful story of change it is. Though Dickens wrote to his time, imploring those in his society to love a little more and judge a little less, we still need to hear and apply the same message.)

This story touched my heart as I looked introspectively to see what I needed to change to be more like the reformed Scrooge. It also reminded me of the reason we celebrate Christmas: Jesus Christ.

I can think of no better way I could have started off this month of service and love. We all have things in our lives that can turn us bitter if we let them. But we can also choose to look outward and love and serve and improve the lives of those around us.

A Life Snapshot

So it's the beginning of Thanksgiving break. But I'm still on campus. Surprise, surprise. I'm in a computer lab in the Brimhall. The building is pretty much empty. Actually, all of campus is pretty much empty. There were about five cars in the parking lot I usually park in. Typically there are about 150. And I even got to campus at 10 a.m.

Currently it's just me and another grad student in the lab. He's the year ahead of me and I don't remember his name. We aren't talking. Obviously.

I'm also trying to find good fonts for a bridal shower invitation that I probably should have finished designing/sent out in the mail last week. Oh well. Jillian will forgive me, right?

And I just wrote a letter of recommendation for one of my former employees for grad school. That was weird. I feel like I'm too young/underqualified to recommend someone for something that I'm currently trudging through.

Oh, and I'm wearing a plaid flannel shirt and no shoes while doing these things.

And listening to One Direction. Proudly. Happily. Teenage-girlishly.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

'Hold on to what you believe'

Here's a sneak-peek into an editorial I wrote for this week's paper. Special thanks to the friends who helped me with an article close to my heart.

http://universe.byu.edu/beta/index.php/2012/11/12/hold-on-to-what-you-believe-2/

Enjoy!

First Snow

Today I left my apartment dressed like the professional I am and ready to be a moderator at the Mormon Media Symposium. I had dutifully checked the weather to make sure that nothing catastrophic was coming my way during the day. I stepped outside to the damp air and the wet ground, careful to make sure I had brought my umbrella for the expected rain. I had even brought a change of shoes (tweed Toms) to switch out of my black heels after I was finished at the symposium. Prepared am I, no?

No.

My first couple of hours at the symposium were so pleasant and I even ducked into the Morris Center to see my former coworkers and current friends whom I haven't seen since quitting my job and going back to school. We had a lovely visit and I went on my way, aware the my shoes were getting a bit damp in the rain and slightly worried that I was going to end up with mud spots on my white pencil skirt, but confident that I was prepared-ish for the day.

And then the snow came. Turns out, today was not just a light rain that made me feel like I was in Portland for the day. No, no. It snowed all day. Not just snowed but snowed. Fortunately an acquaintance from my program gave me a ride from the Conference Center right to the door of the Brimhall. (This is normally a twenty minute walk.) By this time it was dumping snow and I was cursing the time I had put in to straightening my hair. Foolish move, Thomas.

I stayed in the Brimhall safe from the snow, watching it come peacefully down to the earth, covering the world in a blanket of white.

But then it was time to make the trek back up to my car. It was literally twenty minutes, uphill the entire way, in the snow. By the first five minutes my shoes were completely soaked through and my feet were sliding around in them, making it difficult to walk. But don't worry, it was already difficult to walk in my pencil skirt. But fortunately, I had an umbrella and a hood on my coat and my legs and feet started to go numb. And eventually I made it safely (and free of mud stains) to my car—which I then had to wipe three inches of heavy snow off of.

I was vastly unprepared for this day and a bit grumpy that it ruined my plans to see Emily in Midway. I did not feel like Lorelai Gilmore about the snow today—until I was coming home from a friend's house tonight, found that some random person took our covered parking spot (rude), and parked my car in the street by my house.

When I got to my doorstep, I took a minute to look around. Everything was quiet, as only it can be during a snowstorm. Every sound muffled by the celestial enveloping snow that made everything so lovely. All the world was white and perfect and beautiful.

And I was grateful to be a part of it. Welcome back winter. I forgot that I've missed you.