Mormonish

You should have seen me as a youth: reading my scriptures every day, going to seminary, being the stake scripture mastery champion, going to church when my parents were inactive. I was a fine little example of commitment to religion.

Of course, as life went on I wasn’t perfect, but I knew the church was always there in case I wanted to go back.

I’m not perfect. I don’t read my scriptures every day now. Church is a struggle to attend sometimes. At times I find myself rolling my eyes at talks or silently criticizing lessons, though it’s a nice surprise when I enjoy church because of an especially sensitive talk or balanced discussion.

I was very recently Primary president in two different wards, and I still struggled. I wasn’t perfect, but I worked hard at being the best Primary president I could be.

I don’t know. These feelings creep up, and I don’t know what to do.

As of now, we’re not super devout Mormons. We believe all the fundamental Christlike things. I love people, and I want to serve and help them. I want to be an awesome friend, mother, and wife. An awesome May.

It’s a combination of things, really: personal trials, policies, politics, raising our daughter to be able to make good decisions and be a kind person. Asking “What if?” all the time.

Yet we’re sticking around. Why, if there’s so much grief, so much struggle between the spirit and mind? Part of me needs to wait it out. Something’s going to change, and it possibly could be me, and it could be another bunch of things. Part of me needs to have faith for my loved ones.

I’ll push myself. But when it gets hard and I don’t feel like pushing anymore, I might pause until I feel like pushing again. Maybe one of these days the church I thought I believed in so much as a youth can be a church I can fully commit myself to again.

Hey, Kids

Do I EVER have a blog post for you. But not tonight.

When I get rested and showered and when my homework is back under control, and when the level of inadvertent THC in my body has returned to zero from off-the-charts, then I can think about writing you a lovely post about lovely things.

Because I love you.

But first, attempts to sleep.

Good night, my darlings.

I Went to a French Club Talent Show Last Night

And it was wonderful. Of course some of the performances weren’t as good as others, and the audience had to vote for their favorite sets, and it was awesome.

I think I’m completely starstruck by a certain department head. Je oublie comment parler français when I’m around her. It’s ridiculous.

Yesterday, I took preemptive measures not to be stood up again. Twice. Two different people. I’m getting really tired of people not following through with what they say. Is it the time of year or the weather or something in the water that makes people flaky? Guess what? I’m living in the same dimension of space-time as these people and I’m going through the same gamut of insanity. And it’s not like what I’m asking for is super complicated: just effing show up for lunch during the non-school hour of the day. Or otherwise communicate why you can’t make it. Or, when you say you’re looking forward to meeting up, don’t immediately come up with a bunch of excuses for not being able to make plans. And this isn’t the demanding aspect of my friendship. I’m flexible enough to allow for forgetfulness but it’s happened way too many times in the past couple of months not to categorize the isolated and unrelated incidents as noncoincidental and pure buttholery. Unfair, I know. I shouldn’t take it personally, I know. It’s just life. And life right now is reminding me I can’t depend on people for happiness. Myself  included. We all suck.

I’m just tired, you guys. I’m physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually tired. I don’t love school right now, and there’s just too  much to do and not enough time to do it well.

Those are my excuses. I’m a butthole, too.

Hey, Interwebs, What Conclusions Can I Draw from How You Come upon My Site?

This Shouldn’t Even Count as a Post

I have a library book overdue. It’s a good thing they don’t charge overdue fees based on the book’s size, because this book is 890 pages long. Maybe I should turn it in.

I could really, really use a massage. My body is tired, even though I haven’t really done all that much with it. Maybe I’ll go for a run in a little bit. That seems healthy, productive, and fun.

Maybe I should just take a nap. We had a big seminary class this morning – 10 students, and we could have had 11, but one did a wise thing  (perhaps) and did what I felt like doing and slept in.

What else could I do? Laundry. Clarinet. Study.

I practiced clarinet yesterday. That was actually quite fun.

Goodness knows my brain could use some stimulation.

And no one can have enough clean laundry.

Oh, remember that one scene about the subway performer that I posted a couple of weeks ago? No big news, just working on the next scene of the story. I’m pretty excited about that.

In case you care.

On My Way to Bed.

One of my students asked me to spell incontinent this morning. A scripture verse in 2 Timothy has that word. In that context, it has nothing to do with bodily function control. So, I spelled the word. Then my student told another student that I won the spelling bee. Then I had to explain to that other student that it wasn’t a big deal.

I’m really bushed. Seriously, it’s just fatigue. I wake up at 4 am, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Tuesday morning I made it to sleep around 3 am. So, my body is plain ol’ tired. Since exercising regularly, my anxiety manifestations have gone away. No more stiff neck; no more teeth grinding, therefore no more little chunks of my tongue missing from gnawing on it.

Tomorrow, I continue my passport hunt. It should pop up.

Well, I did not die, but I thought I might.

I am home, and I was feeling fine until a big fist of tired decided to punch me around 10:00pm this evening. I think I’m out for the count.

Photos, details to come. Just a few photos from my camera, though, as my batteries decided to die when I started taking pictures. And the batteries I bought at the convenience store near Bumpass apparently only had a little bit of juice left.

I texted a few of you today after the race: “Lost A LOT of time in the water, but I finished.” I made up a good bit of time biking and running, but the swim was so, so hard for me. Bah.

Thanks for all your support and hoorays and woo-hoos. All of you rock.