2 and a half weeks. TWO AND A HALF WEEKS until I go into the Missionary Training Center in Provo to learn to teach in cantonese. I just hope I can make it through... Its starting to hit me and there is SO much I have to get done still. aarrgh. Oh well, I can do it!
vaccines
figure out my blood type?
send letter to mission pres.
buy rest of stuff
take finals
pack/move out of apartment
throw farewell party
take care of insurance stuff
the list goes on but you get the point... Its just a lot to do. good thing my family will be here for the last few days before I go into the MTC so they can definitely help.
4.4.10
16.3.10
Childlike Behavior
Today I got to be a kid again. Emily and I went for a hike but ended up just wandering through the mountains nearby, taking advantage of the beautiful weather. We were making up little stories (or something like that) and finding animal tracks. Following their trails along the sides of the mountains. I felt like I did when I was little and would go 'exploring.'
And tonight when I got into bed I jumped into it. No I didn't crawl into or climb into bed like I usually do. I jumped into it, and that's the way I like it!
And tonight when I got into bed I jumped into it. No I didn't crawl into or climb into bed like I usually do. I jumped into it, and that's the way I like it!
11.3.10
The Airport
I love sitting in the airport. So many people, some busy, some relaxed. The lady across from me sits balancing her checkbook while her husband stares thoughtfully at the sport's section of the Salt Lake Tribune. There is your typical semi-spoiled looking girl with the north face jacket and pink bag. A man in a business suit sits reading a book about trade and finance.
An elderly missionary couple sits together as the wife rubs the husband's sore shoulders. They are on my same flight, and are now explaining why they're headed to Oregon. It really is fascinating. I am leaving on a mission soon myself, but the way their mission is, they are allowed to leave their mission for special occasions. In this case, that is the baptism of their grandson.
My legs start to hurt from sitting in the same position for so long so I readjust right as the child sitting behind me starts to cry. Her mom calms her and I look up. Apparently the sports section wasn't interesting enough. Now the man from the couple is getting out his Ipod and fiddling with it. I wonder what he's listening to? I wonder what kind of man he is. Where is he from, where is he going? I'll never know and they'll never know where I'm going either. The airport is a secret, We're all here to do one thing: Travel.
But why are we traveling. For me I'm going home for the last time before I go on a mission to Hong Kong. For another perhaps a vacation. Another may have lost a loved one and is going to attend a funeral.
An elderly man just rolled up in a strange looking blue wheelchair. A long thin clear cord attaches him to his lifeline: oxygen. As his wife sits next to him she laughs and talks brightly, all while holding the tube and readjusting the pad in her right shoulder. Now she picks up a newspaper and begins to read. I suppose the newspaper isn't really dead. At the airport it seems alive.
Real sound doesn't exist in the airport. You can't hear what is being said, just the saying of it. The only thing distinguishable is the sound of the lady at the desk, announcing the comings and goings of the various flights. One just arrived from Colorado or something. I wasn't really listening. I'm trying to pick up what the old woman with the shoulderpads and dark eyeglasses is reading to her husband. She stops and turns around, her curiosity peaked by some sounds a nearby jet is making.
I'm not really hungry, but sitting here makes me want to eat. If I left my seat, I would find starbucks, odwalla juices, bottled water, some crummy mexican food, and a decent variety of bagels and sandwiches. I know if I eat anything I'll just feel sick afterwards. I've been in too many airports not to have learned my lesson that you only eat if you are REALLY REALLY hungry. Otherwise the bagel, burrito, or smoothie will sit in your stomach as you sit in the stale air of the plane. It festers and weighs you down until after you arrive at your destination.
the man across from me just pulled up his socks before readjusting his shoelaces. His knee high socks are bright red argyle. Quite a contrast to the tan suede shoes and light pink polo he's decided to sport on this trip.
But not to distract from my point. I am not hungry but I want to eat. I am not tired but I want to sleep. I am me, but part of me doesn't want to be. There is something about the airport that is like an escape. It's magical... I mean, I could go anywhere. I could be from anywhere. But as soon as I land I touch back down to reality where I no longer can make up stories about the peoples' lives I invade through observation.
An elderly missionary couple sits together as the wife rubs the husband's sore shoulders. They are on my same flight, and are now explaining why they're headed to Oregon. It really is fascinating. I am leaving on a mission soon myself, but the way their mission is, they are allowed to leave their mission for special occasions. In this case, that is the baptism of their grandson.
My legs start to hurt from sitting in the same position for so long so I readjust right as the child sitting behind me starts to cry. Her mom calms her and I look up. Apparently the sports section wasn't interesting enough. Now the man from the couple is getting out his Ipod and fiddling with it. I wonder what he's listening to? I wonder what kind of man he is. Where is he from, where is he going? I'll never know and they'll never know where I'm going either. The airport is a secret, We're all here to do one thing: Travel.
But why are we traveling. For me I'm going home for the last time before I go on a mission to Hong Kong. For another perhaps a vacation. Another may have lost a loved one and is going to attend a funeral.
An elderly man just rolled up in a strange looking blue wheelchair. A long thin clear cord attaches him to his lifeline: oxygen. As his wife sits next to him she laughs and talks brightly, all while holding the tube and readjusting the pad in her right shoulder. Now she picks up a newspaper and begins to read. I suppose the newspaper isn't really dead. At the airport it seems alive.
Real sound doesn't exist in the airport. You can't hear what is being said, just the saying of it. The only thing distinguishable is the sound of the lady at the desk, announcing the comings and goings of the various flights. One just arrived from Colorado or something. I wasn't really listening. I'm trying to pick up what the old woman with the shoulderpads and dark eyeglasses is reading to her husband. She stops and turns around, her curiosity peaked by some sounds a nearby jet is making.
I'm not really hungry, but sitting here makes me want to eat. If I left my seat, I would find starbucks, odwalla juices, bottled water, some crummy mexican food, and a decent variety of bagels and sandwiches. I know if I eat anything I'll just feel sick afterwards. I've been in too many airports not to have learned my lesson that you only eat if you are REALLY REALLY hungry. Otherwise the bagel, burrito, or smoothie will sit in your stomach as you sit in the stale air of the plane. It festers and weighs you down until after you arrive at your destination.
the man across from me just pulled up his socks before readjusting his shoelaces. His knee high socks are bright red argyle. Quite a contrast to the tan suede shoes and light pink polo he's decided to sport on this trip.
But not to distract from my point. I am not hungry but I want to eat. I am not tired but I want to sleep. I am me, but part of me doesn't want to be. There is something about the airport that is like an escape. It's magical... I mean, I could go anywhere. I could be from anywhere. But as soon as I land I touch back down to reality where I no longer can make up stories about the peoples' lives I invade through observation.
3.3.10
Hotel Overkill
Arriving in a hotel room is always nice, as long as it's clean and neat and has reasonably comfortable beds.
But the staff at downtown SLC's Courtyard Marriott seem to be going the extra mile. To ensure that my dad has a pleasant stay they did this...
But the staff at downtown SLC's Courtyard Marriott seem to be going the extra mile. To ensure that my dad has a pleasant stay they did this...
23.2.10
Inspiration
I've been inspired to make reading my blog more enjoyable. After reading Bloxygen and the MBP blog among others, I realized how uninteresting mine is. It's not terribly dull I guess, but it could definitely use a little something more.
Initially I thought, "hey i'll write all my funny stories!" but then I realized that I am not exactly the funniest person on the planet, and most of my comic relief comes not from wittiness, but from either facial expressions or stupid crap I do.
Then I figured that maybe pictures would help my cause. But lately I haven't been taking many pictures. After going through my phone, I realized that there was one blogworthy, and relates to the many other previous posts about my job and how interesting (not really) it is.
So everyone... Meet my coworker Ashley. A few days ago Ash and I were loading books onto carts as usual. As she turned the cart around to load the bottom shelves on the cart, the entire thing spilled. This is easily the worst library book spill I have ever seen, and ever hope to see. I included the two shots because the first one shows the mass quantities of books, and the second one shows the height these books reached. wowza.
And it's getting kind of late. Maybe tomorrow I'll blog about the Olympics. Complete with *pictures* of course!!
Initially I thought, "hey i'll write all my funny stories!" but then I realized that I am not exactly the funniest person on the planet, and most of my comic relief comes not from wittiness, but from either facial expressions or stupid crap I do.
Then I figured that maybe pictures would help my cause. But lately I haven't been taking many pictures. After going through my phone, I realized that there was one blogworthy, and relates to the many other previous posts about my job and how interesting (not really) it is.
So everyone... Meet my coworker Ashley. A few days ago Ash and I were loading books onto carts as usual. As she turned the cart around to load the bottom shelves on the cart, the entire thing spilled. This is easily the worst library book spill I have ever seen, and ever hope to see. I included the two shots because the first one shows the mass quantities of books, and the second one shows the height these books reached. wowza.
And it's getting kind of late. Maybe tomorrow I'll blog about the Olympics. Complete with *pictures* of course!!
14.2.10
How to do V-day right...
Smith's knows how to do V-day right.
Just saying.
Ps. I actually really like Valentine's day. Even though I've never had "a" valentine per-say, I think its cute and fun and I miss spending a day making valentine's cards in elementary school and exchanging cards and candies.
So Happy Valentine's Day!!
3.2.10
2.2.10
COUGH
I went for a run outside for the first time in a while today. It felt great (until I started to freeze as the sun started to go down). But since I've gotten home I can't stop coughing!! My throat/lungs are buuuurnin' and not in a good way.
Today I had a map quiz in my Middle/South American Geography class. For the two hours my friend Sarah and I studied in the Religion section of the library, probably annoying the poo out of anyone on that floor.
and speaking of poo.. it helped out with remembering some places:
1. Lago Titicaca. Just plain funny.
2. Lago Poopó
3. Potisí
4. Sucre
If you're drawing an approximation of #2-4 on a map, they kind of look like a sideways or upside-down face.
In Bolivia on the Altiplano the high plain they smoke a lot of Potosi.
The Sucre sweeten POTosi (honeybucket) has poopó in it.
and lago titicaca, well that's just a funny name.
and thus we remembered the names of these four places.
Today I had a map quiz in my Middle/South American Geography class. For the two hours my friend Sarah and I studied in the Religion section of the library, probably annoying the poo out of anyone on that floor.
and speaking of poo.. it helped out with remembering some places:
1. Lago Titicaca. Just plain funny.2. Lago Poopó
3. Potisí
4. Sucre
If you're drawing an approximation of #2-4 on a map, they kind of look like a sideways or upside-down face.
In Bolivia on the Altiplano the high plain they smoke a lot of Potosi.
The Sucre sweeten POTosi (honeybucket) has poopó in it.
and lago titicaca, well that's just a funny name.
and thus we remembered the names of these four places.
10.1.10
China Hong Kong
I know things happen for reasons. I know that my patience was needed this past week.
As the end of Christmas break approached, I realized that I would probably not be receiving my mission call until I was back in Utah. At that point, I had decided to register for classes and hopefully find out where I would be serving before the 'add/drop' deadline. I still had my apartment contract, no job, and no idea where or when I would be going.
Saturday I flew back to Provo. I procrastinated my unpacking by checking my email and finding someone in town to hang out with that night. A girl had emailed me, interested in buying my contract, and I made plans to go to a movie with Lara and Tyler.
I emailed the girl, took a nap, and headed out to see the movie. Tyler brought a friend from his mission, Cody, and it was essentially an uneventful night.
On Sunday, Bishop Johnston checked for me online and found out that my call had been sent on the 30th of December. I was really excited because, if you do the math, three days (typical mail time, or so I thought) from the time it was sent (minus new year's day and sunday) was the next day. I went to classes, excited because I was certain the call would come and I could figure out my life from that point: no more stress, no more worrying, etc. just preparing.
But I wasn't so lucky. The call didn't come on Monday, but the girl came to look at the contract. Hayley liked it and decided she wanted to buy it. Tuesday she signed the contract, and by Wednesday morning I had cleaned my apartment, packed, and moved all my stuff to Draper. I was honestly pretty excited to go, if only to be able to hang out more with my older sister, Rachel, and also to be able to sleep in my own room.
By Thursday I convinced myself that it the mail would yet again disappoint, and I would be left without my mission call for another day. My patience was being tried and I couldn't figure out why. In all honesty I may never fully understand why. But I was doing what I needed to do to have some semblance of security despite my uncertain near future. I went to classes Thursday morning, checked the clock about every five minutes--probably more if I am honest with myself, and went down to the computer lab in the basement to work on a homework assignment with my friend Sarah.
About a half hour into our work, my phone finally rang. My mom said the letter had come and I asked her to open it. I walked out of the lab to use my phone. As mom read the first line, I heard my dad (who could see it already) say ''wow.''
I knew it was somewhere good.
I had been preparing myself to hear "Idaho Pocatello" or "Nebraska Winter Quarters" or something to that effect. But no, all I heard was China Hong Kong.
China Hong Kong.
Awesome.
Cantonese.
Intimidating.
Mission.
Possible.
So I went back to talk to Sarah. Turns out her brother is serving there right now.
I called my relief society about getting an apartment in the ward. She served in the China Hong Kong mission, and there was an open spot in her apartment, just two floors below my old apartment.
I signed up for a mandarin class (because everyone said it would probably help me since the characters are at least the same) and Tyler's friend Cody is in it.
Things like this don't just happen. I am so grateful that I am being taken care of. I feel so blessed to soon be able to be a part of the missionary work going on in China.
WOW.
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