雨降って地固まる

I hate and love crossroads. I've been told by the people closest to me that I can't let go of anything or anybody. When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares about vacant fields and empty parking lots at dusk. Sunsets made me anxious. I had a recurring dream of being in a huge crowd of kids and backpacks in front of my elementary school waiting to be picked up by my mom, and then the people would slowly dissipate and I'd realize I was the only one left, the sun going down, nobody coming after all.

I've been told I don't act my age, but I don't really care. I feel like being belligerent. When I was on the trail last week, I didn't pull my own weight with the staff. One night we made a staff fire and a student fire. I opted to sit with the teenage boys because I was pissed at the staff as much as they were. It's stupid to have two fires anyway. I want to vandalize something. I want to carve my name in bricks and throw them into abandoned house windows except I know I'd regret leaving my imprints in places possibly filled with ghosts who would recognize my handwriting and haunt me the rest of my life.

So I don't know what my problem is. There's still plenty to be grateful for, despite my own disgust at myself and what I do to people. I used to have these nightmares about punching my little sister repeatedly, not being able to stop. I've dreamed of having roommate fights with broken glass bottles as an undergraduate. I dreamed another time that I had to pull porcupine quills from a good friend's stomach to save his life and tore the hell out of his flesh in the process. I've been accused of holding people's heads underwater, of stabbing, abandoning, hiding. A mission companion told me I was hopelessly selfish and impossible to live with.

I'm just writing to say I get it. Consider this my proclamation that I get this about myself. I am aware. Let me have this pity party and give me a moment to gather my inventory and wrap my bread and cheese once more into my red and white handkerchief tied to a stick, and I'll move along as soon as day breaks. But give me this one evening to sit and dwell and be pissed off at the complexities of day-to-day life and my inability to attract and keep any good thing that will last longer than a fortnight. Women are supposed to be these great nest makers and care-givers and despite the common misconceptions people make, I am no different. I am just your run-of-the-mill Aunt Bea, June Cleaver, Mrs. Brady. But I also don't give heed to the sleeping beauty syndrome of lying around with lips puckered until some guy comes around to give me life. I'm outta here.

what Mormons do before marriage

kissing rugby, originally uploaded by emgillz.

Well, I joined the show choir Latter-Day Voices for a boy who I never hooked up with, but Bro. Salmond and the gang renewed, edified, brightened and changed my life all the same. I'm finally home from a ruthless seven days of performances at seminaries and stake centers from 5:45 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. A few of us joked around about wondering what zones and districts we belonged to because we hadn't felt so physically and spiritually tired and cut off from the world since serving missions. Or eaten so much food at church members' houses.

We stayed each night with a different host family with different choir members. I honestly haven't had as much fun in months. Kissing rugby in the Smithfield seminary was Bro. Salmond's idea and my favorite parts of this picture are the facial expressions and LeAnn's open mouth from The Chair. I think I look sort of fat in this picture, but I'm posting it anyway.

I'm trying to get a job in Logan--it's a marketing position.....I'd be writing creative human interest stories about fishermen and field biologists who use these rugged computers you can chuck into rivers and throw against cliff walls and let bears eat and still check your email afterward. I WANT THIS JOB. But I haven't been called for an interview yet, so...............???? I'd love to stay in Logan. My roommates whom I adore from this year are moving into a house which I just found out is the EXACT house I moved into the fall of 2003. What are the odds, really? And they need another roommate.

And I don't think I'm going to Japan anymore. I want to see my little brother turn 16. I don't want to miss that kind of stuff anymore. I'll go to Japan with Nicole, Ali, and Yessica next summer. Before going back to school. And I'm going to restring my banjo. And I'm coming to Pennsylvania in June to see Aunt Lori and Jen Russell Parkins. That's the update. Nothing too literary about this post........I suppose I always feel like making mass contacts before heading out on the trail just because deep down I feel like I might not come back each time. Like getting on a plane, getting on the suburban that takes me into the wilderness is exciting and foreboding--anything can happen. So here's my shout-out to the internet, hey. I'm off to air out the old wool blanket, duct tape up my tarp, sharpen the machete, and head to bed.

Oh, and I won that round of kissing rugby. As if you wondered otherwise.