For: New Books

Tyrell and I went in on this book together. We were at Deseret Book, and the book was twenty five dollars. I said that on Amazon, it cost thirteen, the employee popped his head in our isle and said, "I can match that!" So Tyrell and I purchased it together, and he is letting me keep it. He made me read it first: I thought he should since he wasn't even keeping it, and we argued for ten minutes. Then we did rock paper scissors, and he won. He said I had to read it first.


So I spent a great majority of the day reading this book. I'm about a third of the way through.

For: family

I'm grateful for family: the organizational unit of the eternities.

For: childhood

Childhood. All those books I read during school, during bedtime, during chore-time. All of the obedience and disobedience and learning.

All the horses that drew mine eyes quicker than a pancake melted butter. All of the horses I dreamed about. I wish those dreams back into my nighttime to fight the others that sneak in, ghouls and ghosts to haunt me all the live-long day.

The games and pajamas. The treats and siblings. Mom and Dad’s bed.

FOR: kind geeks who happen to be Aggies

On this day, I am grateful for the kind and nerdy people that I meet, most especially this man in my class. His name is Chris.

Chris and his wife, Heather, are both aggies, though she is the quiet golden-child of the Ag department. I only met her because I was talking to my friend Joanna and so was Heather. Joanna, bless her spotless soul, has a hard time loving herself ( I think she gives too much love to everyone else, so her love-o-meter runs low by the time she turns inward) and said something that was a bit self-depreciating. Heather said, “Joanna,” in such a way that I realized that she heard those things often, and encouraged and bolstered Joanna quickly so those ugly-vomit-thoughts wouldn’t have the gumption to stick. I learned this girl’s name, found out she was Chris’ wife, and was instantly in more admiration of him for marrying such a girl, and instantly fond of her, for marrying such a man.

Chris reminds me sometimes of Brandon, my big teddy bear a capella singing machine golf brother. We have to take a school van out to class, because class is fifteen minutes away at the livestock center. The first few days, I was really worried because the van pick-up spot was so far away. I begged them not to leave me, but none of the students really knew me, so what claim did I have on their emotions? Chris, though, became my champion. One day, I got to the van early, and sat in the back. All of us piled in as we arrived, and Christ came later than usual. Ty, the driver was about to pull away as Chris straightened with a jerk and yelled, “WAIT! Is Tori here?” AHHHHH!!!! I praised and sing-songed my gratitude and love for my newfound champion: Chris.

Now Chris always says, “Tori is here: we can go.” What the happiest and sweetest consideration he gives me. I love him too much to be jealous of him or his wife: I bet they’re just the kindest and the quickest at growing in this life. He is my hero, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

The watchfulness doesn’t stop there. He notices when I get frustrated in class. He says, “It’s ok, Tori. You’re brilliant. You’ll get it.” I cannot write the sincerity that he has in all of his language. Today, I was moving seats, with three books in my one hand, and a backpack in the other. “Dear, let me help you with that.” He took the bag from my hand, and practically sat me down, like he would a little old lady.

Maybe the reason I have associations with such people is because I need to gain faith in men again. I know there are amazing men out there: I’m related to many of them. I do forget that there are many, many, incredible men in this world. I think Chris gives me hope that you can be a loving friend without strings or intentions. I think Chris is a symbol of real masculinity: pure, loving language; service; heroism; nerdyness; diligence; contentedness; and joy.

Thanks

Time for a Thanksgiving list, because I'm reading Sister Oaks' book, and she often talks about gratitude in the time of adversity.
Yesterday, I was grateful that I could be forgiven of pettiness, anger, shallowness, and grouchiness. I was grateful that I could make amends with my Heavenly Father for being a brat.

Today, I am ecstatic for me, and liking myself. Last night, I was trying to sleep. I was thinking of my roommate, who is very fit and lovely, and I had the thought, “If I had her body…” But then I was like, no! I honestly rejected the ‘offer’. I like mine better. I am fit and soft and absolutely STUPENDOUS! I had a dance party in my room last night, with me, myself, and I. It was amazing. I plugged in some speakers and danced and flipped my hair and jumped around. I love bodies. I love fitness, and I love what I can do because I live in a temple 24/7.

This was a curious reaction within me, so I tested it a bit more. “Maybe if I was a loud and flirty…” NOPE!! I like my subtle flirtations and glances and soft words. She is not soft, she is whiny and shrill. I am a good whiner, but I try to keep that in my room.

One more time, “Maybe if I treated boys/people the way she does…” Nein. I don’t want to be a bossy woman. I don’t want to constantly correct people, like she does. I look wonderful for dates not just to show off but to show my date how much I appreciate his interest. My appearance and actions and words are my thank you note. She dresses according to who asked her on a date: one boy she dressed down for because she didn’t like him, and corrected and lectured him the WHOLE time they were at our house. I like how I am. I try to build other people (I am a meanie to my binger/attention-emaciated/loud roommate. God and I are working on it).

For all that she has ‘going for’ her, she is just as single as I am, and in a much more bitter and bratty attitude about it, too. I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t switch anything with her. I am just as lovely (we’re not going to say more so. I want to at least appear humbleish). I really sat and pondered, and came to the conclusion that I am very comparable competition. I am a player in this game. She may get up to bat more that I, but I am a powerhouse. I am an unknown Bambino. I still sometimes struggle to make sure that my confidence comes from me, and not from comparison, but it was a lovely thing to realize that I would trade with here, even to lose the pounds. I’m grateful for my voice, my waist, my ankles, my hair, my clothes, my eyes, my nose, and everything! I WIN at being me.

Victor for life.
For these things I am grateful.

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.

Music Video

I've realized that the more odd and random and abstract a video is, the more I like it. This video, White Nights, by Oh Land, is all full of oddness. I accept it fully.

Please notice how the horse's eye is fixed on the camera in a sort of "keep your distance" way. Animals are so hilarious. They tug everything back to reality. I may be caught up in the fantasy land Oh Land creates until I see the wary looks of this Appaloosa. Then I think about what it might be like to ride a tense horse bareback through some mountain lake. Maybe fun... Maybe not.

"Something is about to be born
There's a restlessness in me
Keeps me up until the dawn
There is no silence
I will keep following the sirens
There is no silence
I will keep following the sirens

These dreams under my pillow
In the twilight of these white nights
These dreams under my pillow
In the twilight of these white nights
Of these white nights."