"Patience is a willingness to watch the unfolding purposes of God with a sense of wonder and awe—rather than pacing up and down within the cell of our circumstance."--Neal A. Maxwell

I've been dwelling in a middle ground for a while now, and I've discovered that uncertainty is extremely difficult. I thought this might be a unique characteristic of my personality, but then I came home one day to find my roommate having a nervous breakdown because she hadn't heard back from a job offer when HR had said they would email her that day. She said she just wanted to know either way and then she'd be able to cope with the outcome, but waiting was torturous. I understood what she meant, having experienced similar feelings over the past six months. I have about seven different life plans going on in my head, and it's difficult for me to feel stable when I'm not sure which path to follow. Graduation approaches and potential jobs nag. And still I sit on my hands with my heart in my mouth.

Justice Sandra Day O'Connor had a needlepoint pillow in her chambers that said, "Maybe in error, but never in doubt." I loathe cross-stitches, but I think I might need that one. I often study out the parameters of the decision, weigh my options, and then decide. Justice O'Connor tried to study all the sides of the decision and use her best judgment, but none of us can foresee all the consequences of our choices. At some point, the buck stops here. I move forward trying, always, to do the right thing. But I've discovered that right is rarely clear from the beginning; God often allows you to use your own intelligence to make decisions (even vital ones like serving a mission). The greatest thing about God's trust in our ability to make our decisions is he always takes what we give him and makes a beautiful reality out of it. As long as we're trying to do right, we'll never go wrong.

But I've also realized that my impatience is a symptom of my selfishness. I've been reading conference talks and scriptures on patience every single day, and my gratitude for the wisdom of modern revelation has expanded: "When we are impatient, we are neither reverential nor reflective because we are too self-centered. Whereas faith and patience are companions, so are selfishness and impatience. It is so easy to be confrontive without being informative; indignant without being intelligent; impulsive without being insightful! It is so easy to command others when we are not in control of ourselves."--Neal A. Maxwell

My experiences are teaching me to subdue selfishness and wait patiently for God to fulfill his promises. In time, he will bind up my broken heart. "For [I] have need of patience, that, after [I] have done the will of God, [I] might receive [his] promise." (Heb. 10:36). Or, as one of my favorite poets John Keats said, "Time, that aged nurse, Rock'd me to patience."

Ten Things I Don’t Tell People When I First Meet Them

1. I’m addicted to chewing gum. And I like to pop loud bubbles.

2. I sneaked my sister across the Canadian border.

3. I love Nutella. I could eat it on salami and still like it.

4. I once went skinny-dipping at Lake Powell.

5. I have regular nightmares where my teachers are karate villains.

6. I’m in favor of castrating rapists—no repeat offenders.

7. I have a movie star crush on James McAvoy.

8. I hate, hate, hate small dogs.

9. I sing like Barbara Streisand (with laryngitis) in the shower.

10. My life is better than yours.

Rodeo: Pleasant Grove Style

Last Saturday, I went to a rodeo for the first time in my life. My country-dancing roommate (who happens to have a taste for swarthy men) yelled to me down the hall one evening, asking if I would like to go with them to a rodeo. I consented out of pure curiosity.

I don't feel inclined to go to a rodeo again; I can move on with my life. Some of the tricks were cool, but most of the cowboys didn't even score. There was only one hotshot from Lehi who managed to stay on the bull for eight seconds. I'll admit that I did croon with the rest of the crowd when they let the mama horses run around the arena with their brand new babies. But the clown was unbelievably lame. I'm not sure I even smiled during his routine (except perhaps for the part where he pulled out a bra and said it reminded him of Barack Obama--"losing support every day").

My favorite part was when they had the little kids come riding out in the arena on the sheep. Most of the "kiddie" rides ended tragically, with the kids running back--their helmets askew--to cry in the arms of their parents watching from behind the arena fence. But one little girl, Caitlin, held on for a long time and won. Talk about girl-power. She was all of five years old.

Everything western seems bigger. Hips, hair, boots, and booze. I don't know how well I would fit in with a western context, but they certainly seemed like a cheerful bunch.

Lessons in DC

It has been a while since I've posted. I figured it was about time. Here are some of the lessons I learned about life (and myself) while living in Washington, DC.

1. Baked and Wired cupcakes are one of life's supreme joys. Everyone should have one of these cupcakes at least once a month.

2. Sometimes rich and famous people aren't actually that nice.

3. Bring Easter flowers to the receptionist. She'll love you forever and hook you up with job possibilities.

4. When people are laughing in the common room and you're cloistered in your room, discard your homework and go spend time with them. People are more important than assignments.

5. Physical exercise is a necessity for mental health.

6. Ethiopian food is interesting, but not necessarily to my taste.

7. I want to have a family after all, not just a snazzy career.

8. I love, love, love riding the subway.

9. Large sunglasses make me look like I have a hangover. I wear them anyway.


On other news, spring term is almost over and I am so excited to be finished. I will be working part-time this summer and spending my afternoons hiking, swimming, reading, biking, and enjoying my first break in six years. Oh.... it will be lovely. I'll be taking suggestions for places to hike, but bear in mind that since I do not have a vehicle my range is limited.

Who would you choose?

Rhett Butler?

or George Bailey?

In Defense of Marriage

No, don't worry. I'm not about to go on a political rant.

My boss has me check his email every once in a while to help him keep on top of his very busy and important press schedule. Some time ago while I was doing this, I read an email from his son talking about how he thought the idea of marriage was outdated.

His first sentence was, "Why do people even get married anymore?" He continued on a bitter diatribe about the foolishness of marriage and how people shouldn't make decisions while they're on "emotional crack" (aka in love), and how he had changed so much over the past ten years that he couldn't imagine being stuck in the same relationship with someone for even that long. My favorite part of his email was when he said that if people got married because they wanted to have children that was a ridiculous reason because "I promise you, you can have kids without being married." I was so disturbed by this whole episode that I drafted a response on the yellow legal pad next to my computer:

Marriage isn't just an outlet for the pathetic or the weak--those who lack the courage to face life by themselves. In fact, the inability to give or receive love would be a greater weakness than the ability to be independent. Western society glorifies independence as the be-all-end-all of personal strength, when in reality it fuels its own set of vices--selfishness, cold-blooded disregard for others, and social irresponsibility. In a word, independence often means loneliness. Now, you may equate the capacity to be lonely with a weakness in human character, but I don't. I think that our ability to feel lonely is also an indicator of our ability to still give and receive love.

Love isn't being on crack. One of my best friends once described it as waking up slowly after a long, peaceful night's rest. Love is about choice--choosing to relinquish a piece of your independence in order to build another's happiness. And while you may not be the same person in ten years, that's just the point. A relationship without the perspective of continual growth is stagnant--the difference between a mountain stream and a lowland quagmire. Marriage helps you create a shared experience that provides continual validation. Of course marriage is difficult. But that's also what makes it rewarding.

Also, while it's physically possible to have children outside of marriage, that's not the best way to build a society. The motivation for why you have children matters. If you have children simply because you want them, but you're not willing to give them the best life by providing a stable home environment, then the family disintegrates amidst egocentricity. Of course you can have children outside of marriage. But then again, having children isn't all about you. And while you bring up the escalating divorce rate, perhaps the divorce rate has more to do with the underlying selfishness of western society than it does with the failure of the institution. I've known a number of happy, successful marriages, but they're built on the principles of self-sacrifice and unselfishness, both of which seem to be worthless virtues by your standards.

And now, I must get back to work. I'm studying at the Library of Congress today and my books have just arrived. For the next eight hours, I will be combing through six fat books to find useful information on Theodore Roosevelt. Excellent.

Happy Ash Wednesday

I was making a mad dash to Trader Joe's this morning to try and buy some chicken for dinner group tonight, when I noticed a lady with a dark smudge of black on her forehead. I was rude enough to stare until she caught my eye.

Then, because I rock at being observant, I noticed the old-fashioned Catholic church on the corner-- the St. Something-or-other Chapel.

Then, I remembered the 45-year-old man who sat next to me during lunch a few days ago and hit on me, inviting me to a Mardi Gras party, talking about the exorbitant amounts of complimentary alcohol, and encouraging me to "let my hair down." Lovely.

I'm proud to say I connected the dots. Go me.

So I'm not very up on Catholic holidays, in case you hadn't noticed, but I do know that Ash Wednesday kicks off Lent, the period of fasting. Active Catholics choose to forego something of moderate or deep value to them in the next forty days in the effort to draw closer to God. In honor of this inspiring tradition and because my natural character inclines itself to self-sacrifice, I announce my intention to forego boiled eggs and good grades.

Boiled eggs can speak for themselves. Gross.

Good grades require some explanation. It just so happens that I'm enrolled full time in classes while also working full time for my internship. Realizing that my acceptance to this program included an interview in which they interrogated me as to my seriousness as a student, and also realizing that I could be reneging on my promise to work hard at my classes, I have decided that sleep is more important. My teacher, a political science professor, has also taken it upon himself to use 13th century editing to grade our papers. Now who really knows anything about the writing of the 13th century? All I know is that they used v for u and a large s for f and probably z for e. They also wrote in an era when bizarre still meant handsome, late still meant recent, and gay still meant happy. I will not be defeated by a professor and his prehistoric language. Instead, I choose sanity. And maybe a couple trips to the Smithsonian.