Yesterday, thanks to the giving nature of God, I had a monumental day at work. I got 1.5 times my record in sales. I happened to set the work record. On my own I made a quarter of the sales made total that day. To think, I was planning to call in sick. I expected a terrible day, but the Lord gave me confidence and opportunity and so I made improvements to my mood and wallet. I earned about $100 in an eight hour shift.
The reason I wanted to skip work was because I had only gotten three-ish hours of sleep the night before. After work I managed to force myself to avoid napping. By seven I was exhausted, but, wanting to avoid getting too much sleep, I kept myself up for nearly three more hours. I was asleep by ten.
I woke feeling magically wonderful this morning.
I went to class and turned in my homework!
I came home from the temple to find Julie watching Follow That Bird.
It's just one of those days.
Thank Goodness.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
tough love, baby
Tough love, baby, says Lorelai Gilmore, as she cuts off her beloved daughter.
Tough love.
I have learned many lessons in my life. One of which was about the nature of God. I was walking up a long staircase to campus and ahead of me was a man in his late twenties or early thirties. Next to him was his daughter, of an age where she was just learning to walk. She was climbing each stair on her very own, struggling with intense effort, battling each step and then once having succeeded moving on to the next. Her patient father took each step as she did. When I passed them on the stairs they were perhaps fifty feet above their starting point. As I had traversed that distance the girl had made it up five. I was weighed down with books and fatigue, and I knew that the man could have easily outstripped me even bearing the child in his arms. Why did he sit by and watch her climb on her own, when he was much more capable than she at completing the task? Because someday she needed to be the one standing patiently as her child crept, fell and continued crawling. That is how I learned who God is.
Last night I learned a little more about His relationship with me. That overwhelming feeling of inaptitude and meaninglessness came to a climax. I realized that the time when I had been happiest the last few weeks was during the few seconds between when the phone started ringing and when it was answered. Those were the moments when I had hope. Other pleasant interactions were ways to narcotize myself from feelings of worthlessness.
Last night I prayed, begging to be rid of the feeling, begging for someone I love to love me back. I made myself hot chocolate -the ultimate comfort food- but took only a few unsatisfying sips. what I wanted, inexplicably, was to be found in a little leather cover engraved with a picture of Solomon's temple given to me by my best friend. I opened to the eighth chapter of second Nephi. Now I cannot say that the Lord chose for me to fall behind in my reading, that he planned for me to read only one chapter a night instead of two, but it certainly felt as though on that night I was meant to be reading that chapter.
Please let me be happy.
For the Lord shall comfort Zion, he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.
Please make this end.
Thus saith thy Lord, the Lord and thy God pleadeth the cause of his people; behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trembling, the dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again.
Please let me feel like I am somebody of value.
But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; who have said to thy soul: bow down, that we may go over -and thou hast laid thy body as the ground and as the street to them that went over.
Help me face a new day.
Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.
Please send someone to comfort me.
...
...
...
Nobody came. I waited. I wept. I sobbed my heart out, wringing from it every bad feeling I could conceive. I closed the Book and clutched it like a lifeline. I fell asleep holding it like a teddy bear. The phone never rang, nobody ever came, and I felt abandoned by my Lord, unloved by my Heavenly Father. Yet, even while I hurt I did not turn away hope, but still looked to the verses I had read. I wondered why but did not punish myself in any attempt to punish Him.
When I woke I felt desperate for some time, time to sort out my feelings, time to get work done, time to read the Book that suddenly I craved like air. It was as if I were reassured, though I had asked for the answer to be given me through another, that it was acceptable to take time off to take care of myself. I called in sick, and my boss was lovely about it. Get some sleep, Audrey, I'll see you Friday.
I waited to understand why the Lord had not sent anyone to my rescue, and the understanding came. Tough love, baby. I am he; yea, I am he that comforteth you. Although I trusted in the grace of my God, I did not trust in Him. I waited for help from someone else. I would have given my gratitude to that person. I would have used that person as a prop on which to support myself. Instead, when I awoke, I felt calm and comforted, and slightly rebuked. It was almost as if He had told me to pick myself up and get over it, the way Ted might have. It was almost as if He had pierced me with His gaze, telling me I needed to have more faith in Him, and less in the arm of man. It was completely as if He had taken care of me.
Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit down, O Jerusalem; loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.
Tough love.
I have learned many lessons in my life. One of which was about the nature of God. I was walking up a long staircase to campus and ahead of me was a man in his late twenties or early thirties. Next to him was his daughter, of an age where she was just learning to walk. She was climbing each stair on her very own, struggling with intense effort, battling each step and then once having succeeded moving on to the next. Her patient father took each step as she did. When I passed them on the stairs they were perhaps fifty feet above their starting point. As I had traversed that distance the girl had made it up five. I was weighed down with books and fatigue, and I knew that the man could have easily outstripped me even bearing the child in his arms. Why did he sit by and watch her climb on her own, when he was much more capable than she at completing the task? Because someday she needed to be the one standing patiently as her child crept, fell and continued crawling. That is how I learned who God is.
Last night I learned a little more about His relationship with me. That overwhelming feeling of inaptitude and meaninglessness came to a climax. I realized that the time when I had been happiest the last few weeks was during the few seconds between when the phone started ringing and when it was answered. Those were the moments when I had hope. Other pleasant interactions were ways to narcotize myself from feelings of worthlessness.
Last night I prayed, begging to be rid of the feeling, begging for someone I love to love me back. I made myself hot chocolate -the ultimate comfort food- but took only a few unsatisfying sips. what I wanted, inexplicably, was to be found in a little leather cover engraved with a picture of Solomon's temple given to me by my best friend. I opened to the eighth chapter of second Nephi. Now I cannot say that the Lord chose for me to fall behind in my reading, that he planned for me to read only one chapter a night instead of two, but it certainly felt as though on that night I was meant to be reading that chapter.
Please let me be happy.
For the Lord shall comfort Zion, he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.
Please make this end.
Thus saith thy Lord, the Lord and thy God pleadeth the cause of his people; behold, I have taken out of thine hand the cup of trembling, the dregs of the cup of my fury; thou shalt no more drink it again.
Please let me feel like I am somebody of value.
But I will put it into the hand of them that afflict thee; who have said to thy soul: bow down, that we may go over -and thou hast laid thy body as the ground and as the street to them that went over.
Help me face a new day.
Awake, awake, put on thy strength, O Zion; put on thy beautiful garments, O Jerusalem, the holy city.
Please send someone to comfort me.
...
...
...
Nobody came. I waited. I wept. I sobbed my heart out, wringing from it every bad feeling I could conceive. I closed the Book and clutched it like a lifeline. I fell asleep holding it like a teddy bear. The phone never rang, nobody ever came, and I felt abandoned by my Lord, unloved by my Heavenly Father. Yet, even while I hurt I did not turn away hope, but still looked to the verses I had read. I wondered why but did not punish myself in any attempt to punish Him.
When I woke I felt desperate for some time, time to sort out my feelings, time to get work done, time to read the Book that suddenly I craved like air. It was as if I were reassured, though I had asked for the answer to be given me through another, that it was acceptable to take time off to take care of myself. I called in sick, and my boss was lovely about it. Get some sleep, Audrey, I'll see you Friday.
I waited to understand why the Lord had not sent anyone to my rescue, and the understanding came. Tough love, baby. I am he; yea, I am he that comforteth you. Although I trusted in the grace of my God, I did not trust in Him. I waited for help from someone else. I would have given my gratitude to that person. I would have used that person as a prop on which to support myself. Instead, when I awoke, I felt calm and comforted, and slightly rebuked. It was almost as if He had told me to pick myself up and get over it, the way Ted might have. It was almost as if He had pierced me with His gaze, telling me I needed to have more faith in Him, and less in the arm of man. It was completely as if He had taken care of me.
Shake thyself from the dust; arise, sit down, O Jerusalem; loose thyself from the bands of thy neck, O captive daughter of Zion.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
girls just wanna have fun
I have come to the important conclusion that my roommates rock my socks off. They are awesome girls, totally laid back, fun and free.
Emilie is the only one who is older than I in the apartment. She is beautiful in the classic sense, with curves and long, thick hair. Her voice is soft without being breathy. She is a music major, completing her charming femininity. Her sister Caitlin is a sweetheart, completely generous and uplifting. The two girls ought to have a competition to see who is the nicest; only, the game would be rigged because one would surely let the other win. Tarythe and I have known each other for a year and a half now. She is such a hug whore, one of the most openly engaging and affectionate people. Julie is totally random, sometimes to the point of being indecorous but usually it is amusing. She's certainly not bland, as I once thought her. Then there is Cassidy, the youngest in our home. She is quirky and energetic, with just enough sarcasm for me to bond with her. All my roommates love to dance, watch movies, eat, talk late into the night, and in short anything else we can do with each other.
Last night we went to FHE together, singing I Believe I Can Fly at the tops of our lungs. We spun in circles across the parking lot on the way. Afterward we embarrassed ourselves by doing Sweatin' to the Oldies, complete with obnoxious sound effects. We're now in love with Richard Simons. What a hunk!
When we picked up T from work we had loaded ourselves into Cassidy's POS so that the six of us could go out to the Pizza Factory. We went for a celebratory ice-cream party, courtesy of Emilie. Yes, she got kissed. Five of us dipped our spoons again and again into the communal Sundae while T sipped gingerly at her smoothie. We laughed and talked and annoyed our waitress. We tried to calm Em's nerves as she insisted she knew that Rob was going to break up with her that night. We spawned many quote-worthy phrases, and developed "the cassidy". Whenever someone spills in an obvious way, such as flinging food, that is pulling a cassidy.
While Emilie played grownup and arranged her insurance, we held a dance party in the living room. The girls were astounded that I would play along. It only lasted for a bit but I proved myself worthy by demonstrating my moves. Cass wants me to promise to go to a dance with her. We'll see. I don't do well in chaotic situations with loud and offensive music and people I dislike for the mere fact of not knowing them. But as for people I do like, Ted and Seth dropped by, so the six of us girls had someone to dote on. Our "Oopa's!" and flamboyant hugs found targets, filling the room with silly energetic affection.
As the night wound down, so did we, ending the evening with apartment scripture study and prayer. We all felt close to one another as we prayed for each other's welfare and happiness. I think Emilie is emerging as our mother figure. That is why we children all waited up for her as she had a talk with Rob out on the balcony at midnight. None of us five admitted to waiting on Em but none of us found our way to our beds, not even I, the sleep-glutton. When Emilie came back in at the end of the night and, crying, told us that Rob loves her, we loved her too. We found that our love was brimming over and spilling into each other's cups. Sitting on the two beds in mine and Cassidy's room we felt close and intimate. It was a scene straight out of Little Women, a perfect ending to a perfect day, one of many yet to come.
Emilie is the only one who is older than I in the apartment. She is beautiful in the classic sense, with curves and long, thick hair. Her voice is soft without being breathy. She is a music major, completing her charming femininity. Her sister Caitlin is a sweetheart, completely generous and uplifting. The two girls ought to have a competition to see who is the nicest; only, the game would be rigged because one would surely let the other win. Tarythe and I have known each other for a year and a half now. She is such a hug whore, one of the most openly engaging and affectionate people. Julie is totally random, sometimes to the point of being indecorous but usually it is amusing. She's certainly not bland, as I once thought her. Then there is Cassidy, the youngest in our home. She is quirky and energetic, with just enough sarcasm for me to bond with her. All my roommates love to dance, watch movies, eat, talk late into the night, and in short anything else we can do with each other.
Last night we went to FHE together, singing I Believe I Can Fly at the tops of our lungs. We spun in circles across the parking lot on the way. Afterward we embarrassed ourselves by doing Sweatin' to the Oldies, complete with obnoxious sound effects. We're now in love with Richard Simons. What a hunk!
When we picked up T from work we had loaded ourselves into Cassidy's POS so that the six of us could go out to the Pizza Factory. We went for a celebratory ice-cream party, courtesy of Emilie. Yes, she got kissed. Five of us dipped our spoons again and again into the communal Sundae while T sipped gingerly at her smoothie. We laughed and talked and annoyed our waitress. We tried to calm Em's nerves as she insisted she knew that Rob was going to break up with her that night. We spawned many quote-worthy phrases, and developed "the cassidy". Whenever someone spills in an obvious way, such as flinging food, that is pulling a cassidy.
While Emilie played grownup and arranged her insurance, we held a dance party in the living room. The girls were astounded that I would play along. It only lasted for a bit but I proved myself worthy by demonstrating my moves. Cass wants me to promise to go to a dance with her. We'll see. I don't do well in chaotic situations with loud and offensive music and people I dislike for the mere fact of not knowing them. But as for people I do like, Ted and Seth dropped by, so the six of us girls had someone to dote on. Our "Oopa's!" and flamboyant hugs found targets, filling the room with silly energetic affection.
As the night wound down, so did we, ending the evening with apartment scripture study and prayer. We all felt close to one another as we prayed for each other's welfare and happiness. I think Emilie is emerging as our mother figure. That is why we children all waited up for her as she had a talk with Rob out on the balcony at midnight. None of us five admitted to waiting on Em but none of us found our way to our beds, not even I, the sleep-glutton. When Emilie came back in at the end of the night and, crying, told us that Rob loves her, we loved her too. We found that our love was brimming over and spilling into each other's cups. Sitting on the two beds in mine and Cassidy's room we felt close and intimate. It was a scene straight out of Little Women, a perfect ending to a perfect day, one of many yet to come.
Wednesday, September 7, 2005
cat-scratch fever
I want a cat. I miss waking up in the middle of the night to annoying pawing and drooling. I miss that really obnoxious noise they make when you pick them up when they don't want to be held. I like how their ears go back and they flip their tails. I really love how they purr. I miss my cats. I am probably cursed to end up the crazy old cat lady sitting on her porch in a rocking chair. I can hardly wait.
Sunday, September 4, 2005
sounds of silence part two
K emailed me back saying he wants to keep up communication. He said that it did actually take him the eleven days to make up his mind. I don't know what to do with that.
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