Comings and goings and things in between

I'm feeling a little nostalgic. Today, I got one of my best friends back. Let me tell you, the reunion was a happy one, involving homemade bread, a demonic cat, and mud. Seeing a face you love after a long time of being without it is very renewing. Being without this precious girl for so long taught me a lot about myself and growing up. But, all things I've learned aside, I'm dang glad she's home. And I plan on keeping her on this continent for a long time.

At the same time, I said goodbye to another friend today, one I've known for a long time but have only truly gotten to know in the past year. Missions are inspired, Reader. I believe with all my heart in the work those young men and women do. I plan to be one of them someday. But realizing that you aren't going to see someone you love for a couple years...well, it's jarring. (Sheesh, this is dangerous. I'm talking to you like I talk with my journal.) 

But I want to tell you something. A mission has more purpose than racking up the baptisms. A mission is about furthering the work of our Heavenly Father. If a mission is used spending your time serving and loving people or even helping companions to grow and understand who they are, it is just as successful as a dozen baptisms. The gospel is about love, not numbers.

 D&C 18:15 And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!

You know something about that scripture? That one soul could be yourself.

Friends are wonderful. Love is central. God is good. Life is special. Stopping to think (and subsequently knock out a blog post) can be invaluable. Thanks for listening, Reader.

Photo by Cliff Gull

Was anyone expecting this?

Yes, yes, I know it's Easter, and everyone ought to be expecting an announcement about a new toothbrush, as it is family tradition to receive brand spanking new toothbrushes from the Spring Bunny. I'm sorry to disappoint you folks, but our Pagan Fertility Festival celebrations yesterday were unconventional. We had a Hunger Games egg hunt that can hardly be expected to follow our normal traditions.

But don't mope in disappointment yet. I may not have gotten a new toothbrush, but I started on a new toothpaste tube. It's not ADA approved, which isn't usually my thing. It tastes suspiciously like cheap peppermint and plaster. Yet some misunderstood, understated part of me sort of likes it. I may keep it around and I may let my prejudices and desire for assured personal health get the better of me. But I think I'll give it a chance, at least for a little while.

A Conundrum of Self

Somehow, it feels like it's time to make choices now. Time to grow up. Time to settle on a future and dedicate yourself to it.

It's really hard when you absolutely love each of your options.

So...what now?

Peanut Breath

Have you ever noticed the dusty wisp that rises out of a peanut shell when it first cracks open?

Do you ever catch your face contorting like a mirror when you see someone expressing emotion on a movie?

Did you ever thank the person who taught you to read?

Have you ever wondered how your heart knows to quicken when that special someone smiles at you?

Did you try to lick your elbow that first time you heard that statistic about how many people can do it?

Have you ever felt alone in a crowd?

Have you ever felt like you’re not alone when you’re the only person around?

Have you ever picked a flower clean of its petals while muttering, “He loves me, he loves me not,” even when you knew the answer?

Do you ever wish you understood more?

Do you ever wish you didn’t know all that you do?

Have you ever wondered whether the colors other people see are the same as the ones you perceive?

Have you ever paused long enough to close your eyes and listen to your own heartbeat?

"Are you Esh's sister?!"

I'm finding myself unable to focus on anything remotely responsible and productive, so why not write a blog post to purge myself of this unproductive humor? Don't answer that. Reasons would be, "You aren't finished with your Sterling Schols portfolio!" and "You have a quiz on the non-cyclic electron flow of light reactions tomorrow and you don't even know what that means!" and "You're in a play that opens in two weeks and you're not quite memorized!" etc, etc, etc. But that's why we're not going to answer that question.

So there's just one thing. Little brothers. That's right. Yesterday, I was informed, "Miriam, no matter how hard you try, you will never be as cool as your brother." I knew it in my heart of hearts before, but now it's crawled its way to the surface. None of my siblings knew--or cared to know--a lick of Spanish when I took Spanish classes, but my entire family wants to learn German when he studies German. People will come up to me in the halls and ask if Esh is my brother and I'll say he is, at which they'll wander away with a hazed grin and a distant gleam in their eyes. So it's true, world. I'm no longer fighting it. I will never be as cool as Esh.

Heh. He'll probably kill me for posting that link. :)

Sometimes I Impress Myself

I was doing homework and snacking on carrots (Oddette's influence on me). As I was typing, I glanced down at the vegetable in my hand.

I used to like sculpting carrots with my teeth while I watched movies, but I've never done it without realizing before.

The Schnob Comes Out at Night

My family's chock full of poets. Or it once was, at least. Here are some amusing examples (forgive me, siblings).

1. I'll start with my own poetry. Yes, I'd written little picture and comic books in abundance, but I believe this was my first poetic endeavor. I think I was eleven or twelve.

THINK

Have you ever, ever, ever

Thought about thought?

Certainly complicated...

And, then again, not.

For when you think, it's actually a thought

Of thinking of thought

But thinking you're not

Your mind's all a-gaggle,

Your logic's a twist

Thought in your mind

As confusing as this.

Thoughts of thought overlap

Over thoughts of think

And think is placed higher

So thoughts of thought sink.

So if you ever

Sit down for a thought

Remember your think

Is sometimes what it's not.

2. My older brother wrote poems more than I did as a kid (which isn't saying much), but would likely be very unhappy if I post any. However, he also made up songs that we, his eager younger siblings, gobbled up and adopted as unofficial family anthems. This one is one that he used to keep our youngest brother from getting out of bed at night.

THE SCHNOB

The schnob comes out at night,

The schnob comes out at night!

The schob is just a butterfly

Or a lava lamp.

But in the dark of night,

When you are fast asleep,

The schnob will creep into your room and turn into a ROCK!

You'd think it'd keep him up, but as long as he was afraid to leave his bed, he'd eventually drop off to sleep. Much dispute has been had over whether the final threat was a 'rock,' as in a stone, or a 'roc,' the mythical bird known to eat elephants. But since both terrified our impressionable brother back then, I suppose clarification never mattered.

3. My slightly older younger brother (concealing actual identities doesn't make for a very smooth read) wrote a book of poetry as well, which he even submitted to a News Gazzette contest and read for a school talent show as a lad. His initial poem in the book was the following.

I'M A POET AND I DIDN'T KNOW IT

I'm a poet and I didn't know it.

To prove this beautiful work,

I must show it.

FYI--I will not blow it.

And this one continues to write like the bones, though his literary prowess has been concentrated specifically on songwriting.

4. Although my sister has not produced written poetry in my memory, I know she has a logophile in her. Yesterday, while Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall: Part 2 (We Don't Need No Education)" blared in the kitchen, my sister said, "They say, 'leave them kids alone,' not 'those,' so actually, they do need education." A girl after my own heart.