I love Fall. I love Autumn: it’s my favorite. Rexburg autumn and I do not seem to get along as well as Madera autumn and I did. I miss my Mexican-smog-thriftstore-Dad and Mom- Siblings-Grandma’s house-Pookie-St. Joachim’s bells- fall. The fall in Rexburg is flu-hatethatboy-stress-homesick-cold-dateless-hatethatboy-frustration-sleepiness-barnsourness-exercise-selfdoubt-selfhate-pride-humility-hatehatehatethatboy autumn.

I just realized (was reminded by my Friend, the Holy Ghost) that life is grander and bigger that Rexburg. Life is more than the culture that is crated at BYU-Idaho. I mean more than just some SINGLE FEMALE who is an ANIMAL SCIENCE major. I am not just a JUNIOR. I am more than FRIEND: or will be someday. I am not just SUPERVISOR. I am Daughter, Princess, pal, roommate, animal scientist, livestock reproduction specialist. I am journalist, blog-writer, future career-woman, aunt, world traveler, pet-owner, music lover, tax-payer, fashionista, member, womanhearmeROAR!

There is such a culture here. Dating is wealth. Facebook friends are currency. Marriage is the arrival to Shangri-La, and the rest of us are struggling peons, climbing and laboring in vain to find perfection. These may be (minor) exaggerations, but SERIOUSLY!!

I was talking to God last night. I asked if, maybe, could I please have help to not worry. I asked that marriage and thoughts of it might be put in the back of my heart, because I have nothing that I can do to speed its arrival. I pleaded that I might grow up and stop having crushes so easily, “because its breaking me,” I told Heavenly Father. I asked if I might prepare for marriage in the way that I prepare for a mission: by the way that I live. My preparation will be pure living, kindness, practice loving on roommates (gag) and family (YAY!). the preparation for both will be the same in that I don’t really want to actively search: I can’t search for something that a God keeps hidden until His time is right. I won’t anymore. I used the phrase “back of my heart,” at least six times. Because I am breaking.

I won’t be murdered by something that I have little influence over. I will die by bungee-jumping, or steeple-chasing, or mountaineering, or beach-lying. I will not die in the prison. My mind is my prison, sometimes. No longer: my jailor is now in the back of my heart. I will be happy: this life is the time for happiness. Someday I will live somewhere else, hopefully somewhere where the Mormon community is the minority. PLEASE?

Maybe I am learning to lay things at the Lord’s feet. I am doing my best: I am my most attractive, my most charismatic, my most lovely, my most intelligent, my most hopeful, my most wonderful and brilliant. If that is not enough for these damn boys, then I am getting out of dodge, because I am brilliance. They just don’t want to play in the light. Fine, then.
I’m not bitter. Or, I’m trying not to be. Grimace.