You Are the Best One of the Best Ones

I've been hearing, "Finally!" quite a bit the past couple days. Yeah, I kind of feel that way too. I was thrown for a bit of a loop last weekend, but "finally" Cory told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Now you all know, and we can celebrate. The only reason we say "finally" is because we've been dating non-exclusively or unofficially for the past 2 months or so.

So for those of you who don't know... here's the story:

We met at work back in March. He was dating Kim (whom I adore and speak to often... but it's not weird at all, I promise). I was still dealing with the Eddie break-up fiasco. However, because we worked together, we talked a lot. I thought he was attractive, but he was dating Kim and I was dealing with Eddie. During spring term I heard rumor that Kim and Cory broke up, and while I felt bad for him, I was also a little happy. Just a little bit. You know how we girls can be. But then I left work for the summer for EFY and we didn't see each other for... the whole summer.

So there I was one day, manning the crosswalk to get to the dorms, preventing EFY kids from leaving campus, when there he was. Cory. He was going to class and I was just standing around bullying EFY kids. He was about 15 minutes early to class and stopped to chat. Boy did that brighten my day (uh... this was about when the pneumonia was setting in). Then he had to leave, as to not be late for anatomy.

I didn't see Cory for a couple more weeks. Not until Education week when I went back to work at my normal campus job. And there he was... all week. Better yet, I was promoted and now we had the same title. So I got to see him even more. I think our first unofficial date was me asking him out to ice cream one of the Ed Week nights. I make no promises that this is true though. But I think it is. Then again the next week after we both auditioned for choirs. Then every week (not always ice cream) since then, sometimes 2 or 3 times a week, except for the one week when he went home.

There were a few weeks where I was really frustrated because, though we were going out, nothing was happening. But then I realized if I wanted something to happen, I had to make it happen. Proactivity. It's not a real word, but it's a good thing. So, here we are. I have a boyfriend. After 10 months of being single, I have a boyfriend. And a wonderful one at that! Of his own free will too!

My favorite thing: he doesn't think I'm completely crazy. And if secretly he does, he likes it.

He's very patient with me. Very understanding on my hard days. Especially since, right when I'm starting to feel healthy, some crazy thing comes up to knock me down. He helps me with my homework instead of trying to distract me from it (like I have done intentionally to him... and he's okay with that). I feel completely secure with him. We want the same things. He's taller than me (added bonus for those who know)! He makes me want to be better without me feeling bad about myself. He is genuine and genuinely good. And he makes me laugh so hard sometimes, and doesn't mind when it's at him. My parents like him (which is a real treat)! I'm excited to see him every day, even when it's for 5 minutes, which is never enough. He makes me happier than I've ever been with a guy. Best bonus of all: he's not afraid to be seen with me.

What a good man, right? Definitely the best one of the best ones.

Most recent blog about a boy complete.

This is My Game Face

Okay, so maybe it's not quite like this. I'm not black. I don't have a mustache. I don't have a beard. I have hair. And my nose isn't that wide. But it's close. Squinty eyes. Kind of snarly. Except the right side of my lip is more lateral than vertical. So this is my game face. For now. Hopefully not for long.

Let me tell you why my face is the way it is. I just found out today! After a week of severe eye pain and sensitivity, I got in to see my optometrist. Sure, there's a long waiting time, but the man is good at what he does. So there I was. They take all the standard exams prior to actually seeing the doctor, including the bane of my existence; the eye pressure test. You know the one. You stick your chin on the chin strap. Brace yourself. They tell you to open your eyes as wide as you can. You start to shake in anticipation. They tell you to look at the blinking green dot in front of you. Still shaking. You blink a couple of times and without warning BAM! You pull back from the shock of having air shot into your eye. It might be just as bad as actually being shot in the eye. Maybe.

After this seemingly endless corporeal punishment, I finally see the doctor. Within a few minutes of examination he tells me, "you have one very unhappy eye." What does that mean? But I agree. Because, well, yeah, it hurts like heck. So then he tells me I have an ulcer. "A what?" That's right. An ulcer. I didn't even know you could get those in your eye. But no wonder it hurts so bad. So we figure out that it was probably bacteria that traveled up through my blood stream and infested, eating away at my eye. Sound gross? Well, that's because it is. At least we can treat it.

So now I'm on a daily regimen of antibiotics in eye-drop form. I use them every 2 hours. And I have some gel that I use 4 times a day... I don't know what it's for, but who am I to argue? AND I get to keep my eyes dilated for the next 5 days. Yep, I've got the drops for that too. Meaning it's sunglasses for me... a lot. Which is funny because I can't wear my contacts and I can't wear my glasses and my sunglasses. So I'm blind in the dark. People saying hello to me at school must feel shafted because I recognize the voice and the direction it's coming from, but I have no idea where they are. So instead of flailing around trying to find them, I say hi, no attempt at eye contact, and walk on.

Fortunately I'm finished with all but one my midterms (anatomy included) and one quiz.

And if you see me on campus, or anywhere else, and my face looks a little like the guy above, don't worry. I still love you. I just can't see you and my eye hurts.

Under the Willow I Breathe A Prayer

We just finished the BYU Homecoming Spectacular. It was so much fun. Absolutely fantastic. We sing this beautiful piece that is by far my favorite. I don't feel like I've sung a song so beautiful in a long time. I think much of that has to do with the message and the spirit.

Under the willow she's laid with care
Sang a lone mother while weeping,
Under the willow with golden hair,
My little one's quietly sleeping.

Fair, fair, and golden hair
Sang a long mother while weeping.
Fair, fair, and golden hair,
Under the willow she's sleeping.

Under the willow no song is heard
Near where my darling lies dreaming;
Naught but the voice of some far off bird
Where life and its pleasures are beaming.

Under the willow I breathe a prayer
Longing to linger forever
Near to my angel with golden hair,
In lands where there's sorrowing never.


It seems like each performance Sister Applone gives us something to think about. This time she asked us to think about where the mother in this song turns from grieving to hope, then what this mother might be praying for.

One girl made the comment that the only thing this mother might have left in her is this prayer. Her grief is so overwhelming that she can only breathe this prayer, knowing that the Lord will still hear it from her heart.

I can't imagine the pain of losing a child. But I imagine this mother, stricken with grief, not praying for her child. No. I think this mother has more faith than to pray for the welfare of her daughter's soul. I imagine her praying for the strength to continue. Not to move on necessarily. But to have the courage to leave her child's side, to continue in her life, and to live in such a way as to be worthy to return to her precious, golden-haired daughter.

My thoughts then turn to my relationship with my Father. I wonder if I have that same determination to return to Him. I wonder if I longed to linger forever with him. When I sing this song with the choir, I don't imagine myself as a grieving mother. I picture myself with my Father. What it might feel like if I return on Judgment Day unable to live with him. Longing to linger with him. Deep in my heart I breathe a prayer for that same strength, courage, and determination I will need in this life to return to him so I don't have to experience facing him knowing I can't stay. I am far from perfect. I know where I need to be and I want to be there. I'm working for it. Hopefully, for now, it is enough.

Oh yes, L. Tom Perry was at the Spectacular front and center tonight. That was pretty amazing.

Cause You Might Get Run Over or You Might Get Shot

Being cussed out by strangers at 1 o'clock in the morning is one of my favorite things.

Here's how this all went down:

So there I was (I'm told this is a captivating beginning to a story), sleeping. During the night I often times open or close my window right next to my bed depending on how hot or cold I get. What you should know is that my bedroom, along with 8 others, is directly above our underground parking area. As you should know, underground parking is designed so that everyone can hear each sound produced within the parking area, in case of emergencies... So from my bedroom, you can hear each car door, engine, footstep, conversation, or scream, that originates from said parking area.



Last night was no different, except the sound I woke up to was not exactly one I've ever heard at this hour. Oh yes. I woke up to the sound of someone skate/long boarding down the ramp of our underground parking. The fact that it woke me up was frustrating enough, but, trying to improve my patience, I resisted the urge to drop heavy objects out my window in hopes of smashing them, thus stopping this obnoxious noise and allowing me to fall back asleep quite satisfied. I hoped they would stop. Soon. But no. The noise persisted. That whir of small wheels rolling, the crack of the board flipping over, this mysterious person stomping away to catch themselves with the wheels still rolling behind them. I began to lose my patience after attempting to stop, or mute the noise by closing my window. Still, nothing. And I was hot. So I began softly yelling out my window asking this person to stop, go home. I didn't want to wake my roommates, but I got a little louder with each cry. He was either ignoring me, or really didn't hear me. I doubt he didn't hear me.

I was happy and angry when I heard Lauren's door open. She heard it too. This night boarder had roused more than one innocent person from the sweet bliss that is sleep. This just shall not do. It's one thing if I'm the only person affected, but bring my friends into this and it's business time! Someone is going down! Lauren and I were equally angered and charged our way outside for a confrontation. Apparently someone got to them first. More victims! But I didn't realize this initially. So when I thought he was returning to the top of the ramp to make another run, I asked if he realized that people lived here. Yes, perhaps there was a hint of sarcasm and frustration in my voice. Or a lot. But nonetheless, he responded with equal sarcasm and resentment. "Oh, where all the doors and windows are?" This was going to go well. I reply, "Yeah, that's what those are for." And to to try to tone it down since I could sense it would only get worse down this path, "Do you realize what time it is?" That didn't help at all. "You don't have to be a b**** about it!" Huh! A complete stranger, whom I've only had one brief exchange with, as already presumed to judge me. Ah, the kindness of strangers. I snapped. "Hey, I'm only giving you the same consideration you decided to give me." And, my favorite response from this gentleman... "You need to go get f*******!" Wow. Didn't really expect that. Followed by a few "F-you's."

Fortunately our neighbors, whom up to this point I never had a real respect for, chimed in ensuring the guy knew he was skating in our parking area. They actually defended us. And as a reward, this sk8erboi chucked a can at their cars, screaming profanities, as he sped away.

I hope you night was less eventful.