tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-252975292024-03-19T06:24:26.489-05:00Inside my mindWARNING: This blog is completely biased and one-sided. This is the way I view it and nobody else!Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-84088631538472791582010-11-02T02:54:00.002-05:002010-11-02T03:17:37.341-05:00SighIt is 3 in the morning. I am listening to Mikey scream his head off. I've been listening to him for quite sometime. We're trying to train him to sleep through the night. I don't know if this is the way to do it and I think I'm going to give in to him soon. I can't stand listening to my baby cry. I have to do something!<div><br /></div><div>Boy am I struggling! Not just with Mikey and his sleep. I've sprained a tendon or ligament in my back and made it horribly worse by giving my friends kid a million underdoggies on the swings on the park. I know I shouldn't have. I could feel my back getting worse, but I can't resist a little boy and watching the glee on his face when I do it. Especially when he yells "Underdoggy!" and I yell "Underpants!" and he laughs his head off. What is it about that word that is so funny to little boys? I haven't been able to lift my kids up. I've barely been able to walk. Don't even mention sleep. My back aches and spasms all night. Even if Mikey wasn't screaming. Trevor has been extra helpful. He's so wonderful that way. But, he can't be here all the time. So I kill myself taking care of my beautiful kids. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think the Lord knew we needed a change of scenery and fast. I still can't believe I'm here. We had such short notice to leave Idaho and get here. I think I'm just now catching my breath. It's a good thing we came. Trevor loves school. I love everything else. I love the weather and the people. The roads have been very easy to get situated with. It's so family friendly here. But I'm still struggling with some postpartum depression. It's been kind of rough. It's been hard with this injury and Mikey being sick last week (almost 105 degree temperature) not to have family around. Thank goodness for being Mormon! I don't know how others move without such an instant network! But I am making friends that are slowly feeling like family as the days go by. So it helps. It's just been hard to have Trevor gone all day. And me alone with the kids all day. Hardly any breaks. No car. Nearly no phone. I feel so trapped here. I'm starved for adult conversation. I'm starved for anything stimulating to my brain. Articles. Books. Talk radio. I'm actually listening to politics because it's something to think about. Something more than "bobble? Milk?" from Allie all day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Allie. She'll be 2 tomorrow. 2! Two. And boy is she. She's so strong willed. She loves the word no. And throwing herself on the ground. My baby girl is growing up. Just today she suddenly looked different. Older. She grows smarter by the day. Picks up several new words. And now she is piecing them together. Bobble and ilk. Peas stop, daddy! And such. It's amazing to me. She was just born. Where did the last two years go? She gets prettier by the day too. I get completely enamored watching those big innocent brown eyes and bouncing curls running around my house. I love my beautiful daughter more than anything. She's so amazing. I don't know what I'd do without her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, Mikey has finally stopped crying. I think I'll try to sleep again. </div>Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com59tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-48967039273411632552010-10-20T07:58:00.002-05:002010-10-20T09:18:37.422-05:00Learned a LessonYesterday, Trevor was gone from 7:30 am to 9 pm. When he got home, we watched our weekly episode of Chuck on Hulu. Immediately after, he got really grumpy and short. Everything I did (or didn't do) made him angry. I'd try to apologize, but that was useless. I tried to explain. Even more useless. Then I laid next to him, stroked his hair and said, "I bet you've had a stressful day." <div>"I did!" came his reply. "It was so long! First I..." And he carried on talking about everything that stressed him. As he did so, I could almost see him becoming putty in my hands. Letting all out and winding down and being my happy, kind, and loving husband he usually is. "Whoa!" thought I, "that was easy." </div><div><br /></div><div>Usually when he gets snappy, I get snappy right back. It's not any easier for me when he's gone. I'm alone with cranky kids all day with no car, trapped in this apartment. There's only so many times I can go to the miniature park down the street and keep my sanity! I could've said this and ranted on and on. And we would've gone to bed grumpy and on opposite sides. Instead, I let him spill his day to me. He was happy. I was happy. We went to bed cuddling, laughing, and talking. I learned a lot from that sentence. I'm gonna have to say "I bet you've had a stressful day" more often.</div>Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-91742190314114583322008-08-28T14:10:00.003-05:002008-08-28T14:19:01.258-05:00HandicappedYou always hear those inspiring stories of people that get paralyzed in an accident and then find hope and optimism and fulfillment in their lives. I always wondered how I would be if that happened to me.<br /><br />I think I'm figuring it out.<br /><br />I'd be frustrated and bitter. Seriously. It would be really annoying! I don't know how people handle it. Ever since I've been pregnant people (especially my classmates) have been treating me like i'm "special." Not allowing me to carry a massage table. Trying to tell me the pressure is ok, when I know they like it deeper. They just don't want to strain me. I get really annoyed. I'm not handicapped! I just have a big belly. I also think (don't worry, my thoughts are changing on this) that some women use pregnancy as an excuse to be lazy. And I refuse to do that! I do get tired and put my feet up more, but I still get plenty done and keep my house tidy and in order. Well, slowly, I have conceded. I have allowed for my table to be carried for me. And since pushing myself on <a href="http://mirandasstories.blogspot.com/2008/08/countdown_24.html">saturday</a>, I've realy had to take a step back. All this week in class, I do lighter pressure. I even had to sit halfway through a russian sports massage I was giving (after arguing with my classmate for 30 min before that about how "I'm fine" and "I don't need to sit. I can do this!") And then I did end up sitting down to finish on her arms. I just get really annoyed being treated differently. I refuse to let myself feel weak, but I've had to change a lot of my habits the last 5 days and take it easier. I'm just glad it's only a 9 month handicap.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-86142167726340507102008-07-25T15:28:00.002-05:002008-07-25T15:49:07.068-05:00Anger is OKFor some reason, I grew up thinking anger is not ok. I don't know why. My mom never told me that. She got angry sometimes. Who doesn't? I guess it just got impressed on my mind because when my brothers got angry they didn't release it properly, so I guess it equated to anger is bad. Well, when I went through therapy (little known fact about me) they told me anger is ok. What? No its not! This was very against my nature. But actually, anger is ok. It's how you handle that anger that is ok or not ok. But anger itself is ok. It's natural. Even Christ got angry at the peddlers in the temple. It took me a long time to let myself feel the pent up anger of years and years and years of suppression. And that was so new to me. So awkward. So unnatural. I learned that when I feel anger, experience it. Let it out in a healthy way.<br /><br />I've forgotton my lesson learned.<br /><br />By nature I really am not an angry person. Really. In the last 8 months there have been lots of events happen in my life that would make any normal person angry. I mean really angry. But anger is not what I felt. I'm pretty sure I suppressed it without even knowing it. And everytime I am around certain people, I feel a lesser version of anger. Loathing? But every time I see them, the anger builds up.<br /><br />Well, the other day while tidying up, I accidentally knocked a glass off the kitchen table. It shattered to pieces. And it felt really good. This surge went through me and I got super mad. I was so tempted to go to the cupboard and throw all of our glasses and all of our plates and anything else that's breakable. I wanted a baseball bat. I wanted to go hit something. Smash windshields. But I didn't. Vandalism is bad. I quickly cleaned it up (kind of) and rushed off to school, because by now I was running late. There is a certain person in my class that really aggrevates me. It took all I had not to deck him in the face that night. Oh but that would've felt nice. But violence is not ok. I was talking to Melissa about how this cup felt so good to break and I want to go break more. I just feel so angry. So enraged. And she was so relieved to hear it. She said she's had the same sensation, and told her husband Theron about it and he thought she was crazy. Maybe she's not crazy. Maybe we're both crazy (perhaps that why we get along so well). And also I know Kathleen and Cassidi have been aggrivated lately too. I told them I want to go to DI and purchase a crappy piece of furniture, a baseball bat, and a whole bunch of glasses/dishes and have myself a good release. They all thought that was a great idea. We've been planning a Girls Night Out for a while, and we decided to include this anger fest as well. We're gonna go into the mountains and beat up furniture and throw glass in a box of some sort (we don't want to be littering now). I think it's a much better alternative than taking it out on my husband or that classmate or something. Right?Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-52007322909724983932008-07-21T11:41:00.004-05:002008-07-21T11:58:45.673-05:00One personAppearantly my mind has been empty for a while....<br /><br />This morning as Trevor and I were trying to fall asleep after our paper route, he started singing a line from a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iVFmHHxXCVg">Brad Paisley song</a> which is pretty much Trevor's life story. Especially now that we're expecting. Then we started talking about what kind of person Trevor would be if Michael (his dad) hadn't have come into his life. What kind of person Ruth (his mom) would've been. He wouldn't have any sisters, and only one brother. He'd have a different name. He probably would've been raised in Idaho with the help of his grandparents, while is mom worked hard to support her two boys by herself. All other sorts of things came to our imagination. And I really got to thinking (which didn't help falling asleep) what an impact one person really does have. Michael has been such an influence in shaping Ruth into the poised, outstanding woman she is. He has taught (and still teaches) Trevor all about integrity, honesty, priorities, and what being a man is really all about. Not to mention how he's impacted Chris, Danielle, Tyler, Marissa, and me. How this one man just had to love one woman, and it changed everything.<br /><br />Then we got to thinkin what would my family have been like if my dad had stayed around? That one was much harder to fathom. I tried to imagine what my mom would be like if she had been loved all those years instead of abandoned. I tried to imagine what all of my siblings would be like. What different choices we would've made. What we would be like now. Some of the differences I liked, but some I didn't like. I probably wouldn't hate my hometown so much. Or Utah for that matter. I probably never would've became so bitter and so determined to leave this place, which means I would've never went to Connecticut. Which I really don't like. So I think the way things panned out was probably for the better. The trials my family and I have faced have really shaped who I am. And I'm much stronger for all of it.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-26631716400322833732007-08-21T21:26:00.000-05:002007-08-21T21:58:07.559-05:00It's all in me 'eadBoy, a lot is swirling around up there. Where to begin? I've been daydreaming a lot today and retracing the events of this same day one year ago. What a crazy day. Who'd a known that day, that I'd be where I am in a year. And here I am. Celebrating my first dating anniversary- with my husband. Crazy. But it's been the best and hardest year of my life. There was so much I left behind. So much of my life that I gave up. And so much I gained. But I still long for Connecticut every day. I can't wait to go back there sometime next year. I miss the Steinbergs so bad. And even some of their neighbors and the girls' friends. That wild Nicola, that fiesty Mariem, that sweet Julia. Sarah's daily rants of Molly, crazy Michelle, and crazier Becka. I even admit that I kinda miss sitting in the cold watching Sarah at her horse lessons and having her try to get me to come near that thing. She never did achieve her goal of getting me on that horse. I also miss NYC. I sure loved being in that place. It was great. I miss feeling so needed, especially in the church. I miss my ward family. The Vellingas. The Smurthwaites. The Harris'. And Yes, even Brother Bucks dry monthly testimony. I miss the Bishop and his most wonderful wife. And now I am going to miss the triplets. Those little tyrants. This morning Tamara informed me that they have decided it would be better to put the children in day care and no longer need me. I cried all day. I have no idea what I'm going to do with myself. All I know is that I can't nanny again. I recall the words Mrs. Epstein (a neighbor in CT) told me one day while walking the kids to school together. She had been a nanny too. She said "At one point, I finally got sick of falling in love with other people's children and having to leave them." I didn't understand what she meant, really. I was perfectly happy with my dear Bonnie and Sarah. And then I left them. And now, I love those three little terrors and I have to let them go too. I just can't do it anymore. It's too hard. I think of Sarah and Bonnie every day. When things happen to me, random things that only happen to Miranda, I just want to tell Sarah. She loved my crazy stories. Bonnie makes me cry everytime she calls. I have no idea how people put their children up for adoption. I love those girls like their my own. I'd a done anything for them. Leaving them was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to do. That whole family was so wonderful. I miss Mike's daily "Did you ever think maybe I could do both?" and Felice was always there to talk to. I loved our late night talks. Some nights I even miss King Kong, Jezzabelle, and Chippy (our pet spiders). Sadly I had to kill Chippy because he was getting too big to live in my curtains above my bed anymore. I wonder if Jezzy and King Kong are still alive.<br /><br />For a while now, long before that traumatizing accident after the Fray concert, i've been thinking a lot about death. I wonder what it's like. I wonder how it'll feel. I wonder how I'll go. How old I'll be. How much I'll leave behind. Will I go before Trevor? Do I really believe what the Church says about life after death? Is it really that simple?Will I feel any great loss? Or will it really be just natural? I don't know why I'm always wondering about it lately. It makes me nervous. Why would such things be on my mind? Is it because I've known of so many untimely deaths recently? Is it because I'm reading a book about war and death all around? But I've been thinking about it long before I began the series. Hmmm.....<br /><br />On our drive to Idaho a few weeks ago, Trevor and I were talking about the Bridge Collapse in Mississippi. He casually sighed "It's just another sign of the second coming." But then I really started thinking about it. The Second Coming had always seemed like such an abstract idea to me. Something prophesied and true, but never seems like it's actually going to happen. It's just kinda vague. But I started imagining what it would be like. Would I be ready. When I've thought about it before, I've always imagined the joy I'd feel in seeing Jesus Christ again. But this time I thought of it in more of a reality. What about all those I love that don't believe as I do? If it were to come true in my life time, I would think that I'd be happy but also full of sorrow at the same time. I think it'll be a great day of weeping. Sure, there will be joy. But what of our brothers and sisters? What of all those I love so dearly, but don't believe in Jesus or God or anything? I think my heart will be joyous but heavy. It will be so bittersweet in the fullest meaning. Do you think Jesus would weep as well? He surely loves all those as much as (if not more than) I. It brings a new meaning to "the Great and Dreadful Day of the Lord."Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-89023243832444776172007-06-06T22:16:00.000-05:002007-06-06T22:28:12.298-05:00I'm lovin' it.I'm not completely moved in yet. It's hard finding places for your things. Trevor and I have been very blessed. Pretty much everything in our living room is free. We got a very nice black leather couch, futon, and black chair from a very well off friend of my brothers. He was remodeling and wanted to get rid of it, so we kindly took it off his hands. It's all really nice too. Last summer, while Trevor was doing summer sales in California, he met a woman who had a beautiful piano in her garage. She said she didn't want it anymore. He asked her the price. She said that if he could get it out of her garage that day, it was all his. Also lucky for us, Trevor's uncle is in the piano business. He goes to California occasionally and picks up a few, so he stored it for Trevor while he went to Connecticut, and then brought it to us. It is a gorgeous piano. It's got beautiful carvings and real ivory keys. It an antique, but plays beautifully. I love it. We also got a coffee table and end tables from a lady in Leah's ward. So we have a well furnished apartment, for a price I just adore. Once I get all moved in, you can come visit.<br /><br />I love being married. I love that kid so much. He's so great. He's so patient with me, good at resolving conflict, great at massages, full of gratitude and good at expressing it (he learned to for sure from his parents. I've noticed they are like that too.), and handsome, a good kisser, my best friend, and tidy. I could go on forever. It's quite an adjustment to say the least to move in with some. All the boundaries I had before have moved or vanished and it's a bit different. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. I love him so. I love waking up to him in the morning and falling asleep with him at night. Sigh. I highly recommend getting married, at least when it's right. In the right way and the right place. Never never never compromise it.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-92078700775809894452007-04-30T20:54:00.000-05:002007-04-30T21:25:02.977-05:00Can't we all just get along?I am burdened and very surprised at the way my family is acting. Most of all I'm just sad.<br /><br />I feel unsupported. I'm so excited to marry Trevor. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, so why is no one happy with me? Aunts, siblings, my mother, nobody. Except one. The only one that has really even been around Trevor and I a lot. The only one that sees what I see in him. Which is a lot. Because he's an all around good guy. I've been especially sad (it brings me to tears at the thought) that I got a bridal shower in a room full of people I didn't even know, but when I'm in the place that I grew up. With people I've loved and known for years, no one even cares. I was told today that I'm just being selfish. Yes, we need the gifts. I won't deny that. We're poor. Very poor. But it's not really about that. I thought when I found the person I wanted to make eternal families with that I would celebrate with the ones I love. That I would be surrounded with happy and joyful and all that great stuff. They won't even celebrate with me, and I'm being called selfish for wanting my loved ones around.<br /><br />In church yesterday, my bishop gave the combined priesthood/relief society lesson. He talked of some couples he married civilly since he's been bishop. He told of one couple where it was only them. They brought no family and said they wanted none there. He said what a sad thought that was. He also said that is the marriage that is struggling most. I don't know this couple's circumstances, but I am beginning to feel that way (except for Trevor's side. They've been wonderful. More than wonderful. I feel very welcomed and accepted into their family.) I just wish my family would show to him, my dearest love and treasure, the same kindness that his has shown me. After all, would they like it if I was being treated that way by his family? I don't understand why he's being ostracized. I don't understand why they're being so harsh. I don't understand why they're judging things so quickly about things they barely know. I don't understand the gossiping and the back biting. I don't understand about all the talk about his mistakes and "red flags" when they don't understand the whole background of everything. I don't understand this racism. And yes, that is what it is. I'm not gonna sugar coat it. You're being racist! Stop it!<br /><br />The bottom line is he's not pulling me away. You are pushing me away. I am going to love him until the end, and I have no doubt that he will do the same for me. I love you Trevor J. Williams. I love you with everything I've got.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-7973146638702992662007-04-24T21:19:00.000-05:002007-04-24T21:53:17.218-05:00Wedding complaints and stressesI don't care. I really don't. I don't care if it's green. I don't care if it's yellow. Either way it works. Heck make it pink. I don't care if it's country or rock. As long as it's not quiet or lame. (Ok so country is lame, but Trevor likes it so there's nothing I can really do). The only thing that really matters is that Trevor and I go to the Temple and get sealed for time and all the eternities. Also, I don't want the reception to be lame and boring (which is why I'm looking into dance dance revolution, karaoke, and pudding on flambe.)<br /><br />And as for your opinions on whether you think Trevor is right for me or not, you can keep them to yourself. You've been around him a grand total of five minutes, and you already didn't like him because he's not the one <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> chose for me to marry. And now you're mad because I've made my own decisions on what I want for, oh that's right, <span style="font-style: italic;">my own life</span>. Other dude was great. I'm glad I dated him. I'm glad we had such a good time together. But other dude left, and I sought out adventures of my own. He changed. I changed. I dated lotsa guys (2-3 a weekend at some points) and what I wanted changed. Other dude is not what I want. You'll see when he gets married and is really happy that things are so so much better this way. That she's better for him. And you'll see that Trevor is what I really want. Because he fits everything just right. And he compliments me so much better, and I him. We laugh together. And I just can't wait until we're married. So, if you think that I couldn't tell that you were talking about him as we stood happily in each others presence across the room, then maybe you should think again. I've been to junior high. I recognize those quick glances and hushed tones. Gossiping with others who have been around him even less than you. And now you're gonna wonder when you get my "obligation" announcement why I didn't invite you to the temple ceremony, because we're supposed to be family and we used to be best friends. And you're probably wondering now why I haven't answered your phone calls or taken you up on that free dinner you owe me. Or perhaps you're wondering why I don't come around more because I simply adore your children. Maybe it's because I know my priorities. I know who is going to help me to eternity. I know who I was commanded to cleave unto. I know who I'm supposed to be with. I have never had a clearer personal revelation than when I asked whether to marry Trevor, or see what happens with other dude.. I trust in the One who knows best for me, who knows me best. And there is no doubt that Trevor is to be my Eternal. He makes me happy, and more importantly I love to make him happy. It's the most rewarding thing I can do. I live for the twenty minutes we get to see each other between work and school. My heart aches for him all day. I wait for the time when he can just crawl in next to me after class, and we can hold each other all night. I love him.<br /><br />And man, I wish those invites would get here already. We're little over three weeks away from the big day, and they're not even here yet. Think I'm stressed?Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-63975959297207240712007-03-03T16:30:00.000-05:002007-03-03T16:40:36.909-05:00New job, New place, New lifeWell I started my nanny job for four year old triplets. Two boys, one girl. I love it. They are funner than the funnest fun thing. They take about 4000 times more energy than my last job, but at least I'm never bored.<br /><br />Alyssa is the boss. She rounds up the boys and keeps them in line. She also likes to keep to herself and play dolls.<br /><br />Justin is the cuddler. He's the sweetheart. He's the most calm of the three.<br /><br />Dylan is definitely not calm. He's the one you can't turn your back on for a second. If you do, he'll be in the fish tank eating the seaweed. Believe me, I know. He's done it.<br /><br />Oh but they're so fun. I love storytime the best. When one is on my lap and the other two are leaning on my arms. It makes me want to be a mom sooooo bad. I can't wait to read to my children!<br /><br />The basement apartment I am in is cold. It also likes to collect stinkbugs. So I have a wonderful smell constantly waiting for me. It is also very small. My closet back in Connecticut was bigger than this kitchen. Luckily it is only for a few months until I have a husband and we find an apartment together. The tenants upstairs are noisy. Their children often run rampant in my place. It's like a tornado came through. They're just lucky that I love my little neice and nephew more than anything. I love that they come and jump on my bed and throw my things all around. I've missed them so much. It's great to hang with Leah on my time off as well.<br /><br />Everything is so different. I feel like I've just moved back from a foreign country. Everything is so slow paced and it's driving me CRAZY! It still surprises me how many church houses I see. I'm not used to that.<br /><br />Also, I miss Trevor. I see a lot less of him now that we both work, and his school starts in two weeks. That will be even less time together. Luckily, it's only a few months, and then I'll get to see him every night.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-13071252046400284042007-01-29T07:47:00.000-05:002007-01-29T08:36:14.920-05:00I like it. I like it a lot.I like being engaged. It is a lot of fun. People have been asking me if it feels any different than dating. Nothing has changed much. I feel a deeper level of commitment than just dating. It also opens up doors that we can talk about. Things we need to talk about. Also, it has enhanced how much I love him. I've dated others and talked a little about marriage. I've thought about what life would be like to be with them, but things happen and the relationship ended. Trevor and I had talked about marriage before, but I was still holding off, because you never know. People I thought I was going to marry just didn't work out. But now that we're engaged and I know it is going to work out, it's so much easier to just let things flow. I like talking to him about everything. My favorite is just talking about our days at the end of the day. I love being around him. I have never been with anybody that I've liked to be around so much. I usually need a break from them, but Trevor is just so wonderful to be around. I love him. I can't wait to be his wife.<br /><br />I don't think marriage will be much different. I just can't wait to not have to say good-bye every night. I can't wait to wake up next to him every morning. And, obviously, there won't be any more of those certain temptations to fight. That's hard right now. Except it's not so hard when we're really careful not to be in a situation where it's tempting. I can't wait to make his dinners and pack his lunches and kiss him good-bye for work and just be his wife. I love him so much. He's just perfect for me. *sigh* I'm smitten.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-33101247685035066972007-01-09T16:10:00.000-05:002007-01-09T16:19:24.502-05:00I really don't have much to post this time around. Perhaps that's why it's been so long since I've posted. Sometimes things happen and I start thinking about a bunch of things. Then I think "oh this would be good for my blog." When it comes time to sit down and type, nothin. I got nothin. So this is how I usually start. I find that when I've been typing, things start to come to mind that I can put.<br /><br />My roomate left me today. She announced two days ago that she's moving, and now she's gone. It was quite a surprise. She was planning to move at the end of March, but suddenly decided she'd rather go now. So she spent yesterday and this morning packing, and now she's gone. I'm so surprised, and sad, and kind of relieved. It will be nice to have the place to myself. I can leave my things where I want, and I won't have to smell her fresh baked bread and try to keep myself from eating it. I won't have to have girl talk and refrain from singing loudly in the shower. Oh who am I kidding? I don't refrain from singing loudly in the shower. She quite enjoys it. I always hear her laughing (the walls are paper thin). And I won't have to hear her comments about my performance after I get out of the shower. I won't even have to wait for the shower. Or hurry because I know she's waiting for me. I hate sleeping alone in the place. I get scared. I got scared while she was home for Christmas. And I get lonely. Especially during the day while Trevor is at work. I'm gonna miss her, but I'll see her soon. She moved to Utah, after all.<br /><br />Oh, the kids are home from school. I guess I'll cut this one short. I miss Kat.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-29039042370722246292006-12-05T15:01:00.000-05:002008-11-15T08:43:14.124-05:00Psychology and Photography<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIOBc6Zg4qToymfrBrpk8ca0oSe_2i4uGPdbU6-UZksunEZvImv-d9HWWKnGBCwTNo4avFGuhVoz5-eT_AIIVyzJ2iTtKVQ-YM_OWZa_p36kKR7u9qPx3KV_CBmTWRdJFvbN3/s1600-h/psych01.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5005135649005397234" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkIOBc6Zg4qToymfrBrpk8ca0oSe_2i4uGPdbU6-UZksunEZvImv-d9HWWKnGBCwTNo4avFGuhVoz5-eT_AIIVyzJ2iTtKVQ-YM_OWZa_p36kKR7u9qPx3KV_CBmTWRdJFvbN3/s320/psych01.gif" border="0" /></a> I'm increasingly interested in my psychology class day by day. We just finished studying motivation and personality. I learned a lot about myself, my motives, my patterns, the gospel (believe it or not), and my relationships. I learned about how much I really tell about myself in my actions. I knew that I told on myself in some way or another, but I never realized the extent to which I tattle. Just reading and studying made me want to change and be better (perhaps to tell better things of myself, and still maintain congruency in my conscience?)<br /><br />Also aiding in my realization was my photography class. When our photography assignments are due, we pin up our pictures on the back wall. Then the professor goes to each and every picture and we as a class pick it apart. We say what components make it a good photograph. Then we interpret the feeling the artist is portraying. We have done this several times, but this time was especially different. As the sememster has gone on, I've talked to and gotten to know all the people in my class, so listening to the mood of their work told a lot about them. Sometimes the mood we interpreted wasn't the mood the artist was trying to portray, but instead a mood that reflected on them (which was true of one of my photos. I tried to portray something getting under our skin, but the class interpreted beauty and new life. They also said a lot of things that revealed me. Pretty weird.) They did that to all four of the photos I displayed. They all had a theme, which I didn't realize, but all four showed the beauty of feminine power. Which is something I focus on and feel as I prepare for marriage and future motherhood (which in my opinion is the ultimate beauty). Very interesting, indeed.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-47871105259070221262006-11-21T14:15:00.000-05:002006-11-21T14:53:17.799-05:00Winding Down<div>So it's been ongoing stress basically since September when I returned from my brother's wedding. It's been one of those 'when it rains, it pours' kind of times. Trevor has seen me through all of it, one thing after another. He's seen a side of me that I don't think any other guy has seen, or would have stuck through. But Trevor did. He's still here, and get this, still in love with me! That only makes me love and trust him more to know he sticks through the hard times. It all could've been worse, but even so, it's still been pretty tough. Things are really tight this month with my car breaking down at all. The repair bill took all of my Christmas money, and most of my moving money. Trevor had been out of a job for a while, and has little money for the holidays. We decided to just stay put for Christmas. It's sad, but we don't have much. And certainly wouldn't have enough for plane tickets. Part of me wanted him to just go on and have a wonderful holiday, but I knew if I suggested it, he'd boycott it immediately. He won't even go to the store without me. I don't think he'd leave me for the holidays. So we discussed our options and resigned to having a meager holiday with just the two of us-something that brought me to tears every time I thought about it. I really wanted to meet his family. He talks about them with such a love. Also, we really have nothing here. Neither of us has any family, and Christmas isn't anything without family. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Well, his entire family has sacrificed getting presents just so we could be there. I was so deeply touched after getting off the phone with his mother yesterday at how much they want their brother to be there. I have the feeling that this is one awesome family. I found some pretty inexpensive tickets today that we can afford, with the help of his family. I'm so excited that we can make it there after all. Although it will still be hard, because I've never been away from my own family at the holidays, I'm excited to be a part of his. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>On top of that, a lot of the stress has dispersed. The car is working fine, and that can finally be off my mind. All the troubles I've been having with "Sally" are over (for me at least). Sure, I came out with no friends, but I'd rather be alone than stuck in endless contention. I'm not alone anyway. I've got my wonderful boyfriend. Also, things are better with him than we've ever been. We love each other very much. We knew there was something special from the get go, but we had some communication issues like crazy. It was very frustrating for a while. But we've been reading "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" by John Grey. It has changed everything. I understand him, and he understands me. We've learned how to grow and support and nourish each other. It feels great. I love him so very much. I can't believe it. I highly recommend this book to all couples. Both married or dating. It will improve everthing. I promise. <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 203px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="313" alt="" src="http://images.amazon.com/images/P/006016848X.01.LZZZZZZZ.gif" border="0" /></div>Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1162921607479955122006-11-07T12:43:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:18.468-05:00I am stressed!There's too much to do and too much to pay for and not enough money! I'm supposed to be moving in six weeks. All of my moving and Christmas money just went to my car. Now I'm stressed. How am I going to do this all? There's no way! Stupid car stupid breaking down. Just when you save up and think you have enough, life happens. Sheesh. <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/images/300/stress.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/images/300/stress.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1159909611915001572006-10-03T15:26:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:18.226-05:00Who am I to disagree?I have not slept well in over a week. Maybe two. How can I? My best friend is in more trouble than she realizes. There's been nothing but contention and tension in my house. I don't do well in contention. I'm much too positive of a person. <br /><br />Here's the story. My best friend, "Sally" is in a relationship with a very controlling and manipulative guy, "Frank". He's emotionally abusive. A lot of people disregard that. But it's real, and it does a lot of damage. Real damage. Believe me, I know. I was dating an emotionally abusive guy for quite a while and it took a lot of work to get past all that damage. Painful, hard, work.<br /><br />Sally has been with Frank off and on for quite a while. Years, in fact. They've even been engaged. Twice. I hadn't ever really been around Frank, but while he was gone, I talked a lot to Sally about him. How she felt, what she thought. She continued to talk to him on the phone every night. She'd talk about how she missed him, but also talk about all she didn't like about him. Things he needs to change. <em>Rule #1 in dating: NEVER try to change him. You gotta like him as is because he's not going to change and it's not fair to expect that of him. If he's not what you want, move on and find what you do want. Don't try and make him what you want.</em> Anyway, I met Frank in the winter. He wasn't very happy. Nor was he congenial. I didn't expect that of him, given the circumstances (which are not important right now). So I didn't judge, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt. <br /><br />Sally continued to talk to him every night on the phone. I never thought this was a good idea. It's not that I didn't like Frank, it was just hard on her. And, I'm sure, hard on him. She knew that she didn't want to marry him, or really even date him at the moment. So why was she dragging it out? That only kept her and him both from moving on. And it was only harder on the both of them. <em> Rule #1 in breaking up: do it all the way. Don't do any of this half stuff. If you think you need to end the relationship, end it. Don't keep them tied to you in any way. Don't be tied to them in any way. Move on. It's hard, but move on. There's someone better out there. </em><br /><br />Frank finally moved out here, and I finally got to see who he really is. It scares me. I have seen the progress Sally has made over this last year. She's come a long way in trying to heal some of the damage he's already done. He came in and undid all of that work. He tears her down, and I can see my dear friend withering and dying inside. I hate it. It's killing me. <br /><br />One night, Frank was over at our apartment. Tension had already been high since Frank didn't get along well with my other roomate "Betty." Betty, Sally, and I had sat down previously and agreed on some apartment rules. One of which was to have guests out of the apartment by 11 pm on weekdays and midnight on weekends. This was to be curtious to each other so that if others wanted to sleep, they could. Frank seemed to have it in his head that only Betty wanted and enforced this rule. Not so. We all agreed on it. If we didn't want it, we wouldn't have agreed. Betty was out of town. I could tell Frank didn't plan on keeping the rule. I was having a hard day, and wanted to go to bed. Trevor was also over with me. It was 10:57 pm. I warned both the boys that they only had three more minutes. Frank, out of nowhere, started yelling at me about what a hypocrite I am. I only keep the rules when I want. He doesn't have to do what I say. I sat there calmly as he treated me this way. When he was finished, I simply said, "All I am saying is that you are a guest, and I'd appreciate it if you acted like one." He went off about how he's not my guest. I said, "I didn't say you are my guest. I said you are a guest." Then I went outside to say goodnight to Trevor. I didn't appreciate that he would treat me like that in my own home. I will not be yelled at in my home. Nor will I be belittled like that. I was mad. I didn't feel like talking at all the next day. Particularly to Sally. I was upset that she would allow him into our home. I was upset that she would allow him to undo all of her work. I was upset that she was regressing. Most of all, I was upset that I couldn't do anything about it. <br /><br />Later that night, after I had calmed down, Sally and I had a talk. Frank and Trevor were both there, anxiously waiting in the living room. They didn't like that their girlfriends were fighting. I told Sally about how much I love her. I told her about when she moved here, it was her first time away from her parents. She was unsure of herself, and unsure of the world. I watched this unsure girl bloom into a beautiful, confident woman. I told her of how this confident woman has gone away and I don't know where she went. I miss her. I also talked to her about what I wanted in life. I want to be that couple that hosts bbq's at their house. I want to be that couple that has a hard time getting out of the church because we talk to everybody. I want to be that couple that is social. I need a guy that can be that with me. I wouldn't want a guy that seems to make enemies everywhere he goes. That jumps to conclusions, that jumps to anger, that accuses. Because it would be hard for me to make friends with a husband like that. I also told her of a girl my brother was dating. Her mother hated my brother. And even though my brother is a good guy, her mother couldn't get past mistakes he had made. This girl loved him and wanted to marry him, but she realized that if she did, it would be a fight for the rest of her life. She would inevitably have to choose him or her mother. She didn't want that fight for the rest of her life. It wasn't worth it. I asked Sally if she wanted that fight for the rest of her life, because that's what she would have. She'd never stop battling. I also told her about love. About how love is not jealous, and love is not selfish. Love is a beautiful thing. Love helps you grow. Love helps you reach your potential. Love is not building one up while tearing the other down. Although some like to say that's love. Love is not a battle. When the right one comes along, everything should fit. Everything just flows. My brother found a woman who fit so much better. Although he wanted it to fit with the other, he's glad he waited. I wanted to create love with my exboyfriend, but try as I might, I just couldn't make it happen. You can't force things.<br /><br />Sally had a lot to think about. She got away from Frank for a few days, and it seemed her head was clear. She knew she couldn't be with him. But once Frank found her again, it was like her brain had escaped her. His thoughts were now hers. He knows exactly what to say to her. He's so good at what he does, and I hate it. After that, Sally was pure livid at me. While Sally was away, clearing her head, Frank tried to get into our apartment. He scared my other roomate, Betty, so much that she wanted to call the police. After that, she announced that Frank was no longer allowed over. I supported her 100% because you should feel safe in your own home. You have that right. She was now scared of him. Sally was very mad about this. She was mad at me about this. But, I was not the one who did this. If you ask me, it was Frank. His actions are reaping those consequences. I didn't like being yelled at, and Betty didn't like being threatened. And somehow this was my fault. I did feel badly. I wanted Sally to have guests and have fun and be comfortable in her own home. But being a guest is a priviledge. If you can't act like one, then you just can't come in. <br /><br />On top of my best friend being mad at me, Trevor was as well. He didn't like the way I was treating Frank "like trash." But the way I see it is Franks actions earned those consequences. I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm not the kind of person that singles someone out and decides to be really mean. I have never been like that, nor will I ever be. But when people start crossing lines and making me feel unsafe, I can not tolerate it. That is absolute. I had to draw the line, and I had to support my roomate drawing the line. <br /><br />Sally was really mad. But all the mean words she said to me one night in the car after I picked her up from Franks house just sounded like Franks words. It didn't sound like my friend at all. I was trying not to be hurt, because I knew it wasn't her. That's not like her at all. And the tension just kept rising. <br /><br />Trevor and I took a break from all this and went down to DC for a weekend. When I came back, Sally had moved out. Betty had kicked her out. I, once again, supported Betty. Sally had broken the rules and let Frank in. Sally would also leave before we woke up in the morning, and didn't return until we were asleep. And when she didn't avoid us, it was nothing but anger. Betty couldn't live like that anymore (in fact, none of us could) and also decided Sally would be happier in a place that felt more like home to her. So Sally is gone. That doesn't mean I don't still worry about her.<br /><br />Before I left for DC, Betty and I expressed our concerns to the Bishop. As head of our congregation, he should know about the welfare of his people. He seemed very surprised by all that was going on, and also gravely concerned. He listened to us, and counseled with us on what we can do. Then he gave us each a blessing. It was the most comforting blessing I had ever recieved. Not only about this whole situation, but all that's going on in my life. My dating Trevor, my decision to move to Utah, everything. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I knew that only the Lord could know those things to say. <br /><br />I was praying to the Lord that night. I asked Him if I am doing everything I could possibly do for Sally. One word came quickly to mind. "Fast." I had not fasted! Why didn't I think of it sooner? So Betty and I fasted the next day for Sally. That evening, I was ending my fast in a prayer for her. I felt a huge surge of comfort come over me. I think everything is going to be ok. <br /><br />Now that Sally is gone, I don't really know what's going on with her. I hope she's ok. I'm still worried about her. I hope that she can make the right decisions. I hope she remembers to council with the Lord. I know He'll guide her. I most certainly love her. She is outstanding. All I want is my friend back.<br /><br />Please, <a href="http://www.recovery-man.com/abusive/abusive_signs.htm">read up on abusive relationships,</a> or <a href="http://www.recovery-man.com/abusive/abuse_rel_types.htm">personality types</a> of abusers. <br /><br />I think the best thing I can do now is get educated on abuse, and let her know that I am here for her if and when she needs me. And also to rely on the Lord.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1158429449871739972006-09-16T12:41:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:18.076-05:00I love you more today than yesterdaySo, I'm really in love with this kid. It's pretty crazy. It used to scare me when I was falling for someone, but I'm not scared with him. He makes me feel safe. I like it.<br /><br />I've been thinking about the dating scene a lot, and how I'm about to be out of it, and how all my dating experience has shaped me and my tastes, and how Trevor fits all of them. The more I learn about him, the more I love him. The more he's for me. <br /><br />I've been with guys that I've really liked, but there's always been a but. I like him, but he doesn't want a lot of kids. I like him, but he's kind of judgemental. I like him, but I'm uncomfortable in telling him what I want. I've been dating all these likes that come with buts. It's been great. I've really learned something with all of them. I've discovered something new about myself with all of them. Example: I always thought I could be a good listener until I started dating one dude who really liked to talk. I realized I can't be the listener. I have to talk too. He never let me have any input and I hated it. I learned how much attention I really do need. I can listen in a give and take convo, but I can't just be a listener. I need a listener. In another relationship, I learned that I can't be with an only child. I need him to be from a big family. I want lotsa aunts and uncles for my kids. It's just something I couldn't get past. <br /><br />I've been making this little checklist in my head. I've been discovering more and more things that I do and do not like. That I need and don't need. It's kinda funny. I'll get done with dating one guy and say "Well, he was fun, but we couldn't have a real conversation." Then the next guy comes along who can have a good conversation, but he doesn't seem to broaden my horizons. Then the next guy comes along who does stretch my mind, but and can be spontanious and have fun, but he's not ambitious. God keeps puting these guys in my path to teach me a little something I want and need. I keep getting the one thing I wanted from the last guy, but discover something else this one lacks, until progressively I get what I want. <br />-----------------------------------------------<br />I've met my match<br />-----------------------------------------------<br /><br />He's all I've been asking for. He's all that I've wanted. He's all to my taste. He's all that I love. God knew what He was doing when I was dating all the Mr. Wrongs. He was teaching me how to recognize Mr. Right. And certainly how to appreciate him. If I hadn't dated all the boys I had in the past 2 years, I don't think I would've appreciated Trevor near as much. I sure love him.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1153942687819934862006-07-26T14:16:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:17.849-05:00Favela RisingI went on a date last weekend with the boy from the last post. Although he didn't do so well the weekend before, he did rather well this time. <br /><br />He took me to see a documentary called Favela Rising. It really made me think. The filming took place between 1991 and 2004(ish). It's about a man named Anderson Sa who was born and raised in the ghetto, or favela, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. After a terrible murder of his brother, the drug trafficker decided he wanted to fight the violence in his favela. He founds a music group with a man by the name of Junior. It revolutionizes not only his favela, but many other surrounding favelas. Gangs dissolve. The number of druglords deplete-all through music and getting kids of the streets. It's an amazing story. You'd have to see it to believe it. <br /><br />My favorite part of the movie is that Anderson and his group make phenomenal music. An international record company signs them. I'm thinking, "Great. That's the way it always goes. He tries to make a difference, gets fame, and sits pretty the rest of his life. He won't help anybody but himself." Well, he doesn't. He refuses to leave the favela. Many asked him why he would do that, when clearly he can afford a better life. He tells them he can't help his community from the outside. Those are his people and he's not leaving them. All their proceeds go back to the community. Back to the kids. Back to the music. <br /><br />The living conditions in the favelas of Brazil are far worse than anything I have seen here. I couldn't believe the way some people live. My first thought was how unbelievably lucky I am to be born where I was born in the conditions of living that I was raised in. I take so much for granted. So much. There's much more suffering in the world than I realize. Daily suffering. <br /><br />My next thought was this; if he can make such a difference in such a hopeless place, then surely there must be something that can happen here. At one point in the movie, the government wanted Anderson to branch out and found a group in a neighboring favela. He explains how he can't. He doesn't know their problems. Music has solved problems in his favela, but he doesn't know the conditions there. He doesn't know the heartache there. He explains how they have to want it. They have to know what to do, then he can go in and help them do it. The solution lies with in. It made me feel somewhat helpless. I don't know their conditions. I don't live their lives, and I don't know, really, what goes on. It has to come from within the community. This change that I seek for them. <br /><br />At what point do we say "Enough" and change our worlds? Although it's wonderful and truly amazing what Anderson did, he had to wait until all his friends and finally his brother had died before he did anything. What can be done?Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1153169407332359452006-07-17T15:02:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:17.675-05:00The dating gameGames. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. I love winning, unless it's Phase 10 with the Vellingas. It's better to lose then. But that's beside the point. The point is dating is, whether we like it or not, a game. So many people complain about the head games involved in dating, and they want to get past them, yadda yadda yadda. But they still play the head games. And when they find someone who doesn't play games like they think they wanted, they get bored. It's unsatisfactory.<br /><br />The truth is, we need the head games. They aren't just games. They are tests. Every little thing is a pass or a fail. Not the whole time. Not eventually. Just initially. It tells us whether it's worth it to invest our time, and more importantly, our feelings. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. <br /><br />So I'm in the game. I'm playing my cards. I've learned new tricks. One's I've never known before. I'm excited to try them out. This game, like every game, is a little different. They all have their quarks and variations. I've studied this player (not to be confused with playa) for a year. I've been interested, but circumstances wouldn't let us start our game. Circumstances have changed. I'm excited. He's cute. He's got character. I like him.<br /><br />The game has dealt me a new hand. He goes for surgery.Twice. I can't say I've been in this situation, but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, this gives perfect girlfriend opportunities. I can visit. Bring him food. Entertain him. Perfect, if I can play them right. Things are going well. One thing I didn't forsee. Medication. This one threw me for the loop at first. I didn't think about that, and he acted kinda funny. I didn't like it. But be patient. That's only temporary. He'll be back to himself in no time. I think I played that round pretty well. Too bad I'm not sure if he can remember it. <br /><br />Next round. First kiss. This rocks. I liked it. But post first kiss is scary. There's pressure on the first one, but not pressure like the second one. First kiss could've been a fluke, or happened on a whim, or just something that happened because he was there, and I was there, and sometimes that happens. The second kiss is where it's at. That one is more planned. That one is more than a fluke. That's going out on the limb. That's pressure. Is he gonna kiss me the next time? Will we acknowledge it? Who knows? I hope it's not a fluke. It wasn't for me. 3 days go by. He never calls. I certainly don't call. That's a bad card. But I'll see him tonight. It's institute. We'll both be there. Is he gonna sit by me? Show in public that we like each other. That things have changed between us? It doesn't go so well, but things were crazy. There were lots of loose ends to tie before the big campout weekend. That's understandable. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. This round is left slightly confused and unsure of the next round.<br /><br />Next round. Camping. One whole weekend for opportunities. This boy is shy. I understand that. In rounds past, I have had to be slightly more obvious that I liked him. It's part of the game. He needed more motivation. But now we are post first kiss. The chemistry is there. Still pressure, but not as much since we have seen each other since. He makes opportunity for alone time. Good move. I take it. Second kiss happens. Nice. Pressure relieved. It's not a fluke. Still the question of "so what now?" He's feeling better from surgery. It's his turn to make things happen. Time for me to step back. Gotta do the dance. See what happens. Hmm. Not much. Doesn't do too good a job at making himself where I am. You know, being around each other. Sitting by me, or standing around me, or going to activities I go to. He makes conversation with others he's more comfortable with. That's ok. He's shy. But he doesn't acknowledge in public very much that I'm there, or that there's something more between he and I than he and everyone else. Not digging that. Campfire that night after not-so-well-played day. I'm feeling kinda done. I'm not gonna try. It's all up to him now. I concentrate on hanging with my friends. We went off to go catch fireflies. Perhaps to avoids some of these stinky he-didn't-play-it-right feelings. But when I join the others around the fire, he does manage to come sit by me. Good move. It shows me something. We sing as he and another play the guitar. He eventually passes it on to somebody else. His hands are free. That's a good sign. He ends up sitting in front of me and leaning on me. Ok. That's acceptable. Everyone's there, so he's being a little more public. That's good. Everyone goes to bed. We walk around in the night, talking. Not holding hands. He doesn't do that very much. We say good night. I get a nice hug. People are still up and talking in their tents, so a kiss would've been no good. The next day, hardly anything. Not very much opportunity for anything, though, with packing and church. When saying good bye, he did give me a hug in front of people. Thats a good sign. That rounds over. Still feeling unsure, but more done. He didn't play his hand well at all. He ditched me in Niagra Falls. He didn't sit by me in the pageant, or in church. That's no good. Also, somewhere in there, I wandered in some poison oak and had a terrible allergic reaction. He didn't act very concerned for my well being. Not a good sign after all the care I took after his surgeries. Not good at all. <br /><br />Today is the day after. I haven't gotten a phone call. Still nothing. I don't feel like he's puting much effort in this at all. I'm feeling more done as the day goes by. I'm still not completely closed off yet. But if I don't get a call before thursday, I'd have to say I'm done. I need some effort. He's got to take some intiative. I did do more chasing with him than I normally do, just because I undertand he's shy, but I don't do all the chasing. I am, after all, a lady.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1152124910524307162006-07-05T13:41:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:17.474-05:00SadnessMy ward is great. It is a very...unique....ward. I'm definitely not in Utah anymore. On one hand, you've got the very rich and rather wealthy people. Some families have expensive *cough* nine million dollar *cough* mansions. On the other hand, a majority of my ward is from the Ghetto. The ghetto of ghettos. The poverty in this place is unbelievable. <br /><br />Last week, I had the oppurtunity to miss sharing time and go to relief society. A woman was there who was baptized, but hadn't been there for years. She took the oppurtuntiy to speak out about how we're hypocrites and unfaithful because we aren't bringing her to church. We don't dare go in the ghetto. Those of us who do have cars, myself included, have a full car everysunday. I know a couple that brings two cars just to get others to church. I have gone in some scary neighborhoods to pick people up. I know another family who only has one seat in their car, but still goes to get someone. Some families come in pieces just to get to church, and they all meet up at the building later. There is a lot we do. We just don't have enough cars to get everybody. My ward as about 5-600 members, but only 100-150 show up. There are a lot of inactives. We do our best, but it's impossible to seek them all out every sunday. Those who want to go, go. They find rides. They call around. It gets done. Sometimes I even make two trips just to get people to and from church. It happens.<br /><br />This last sunday, I was sitting in sharing time, and it seemed there was an abundance of adults there. The kids were behaving well, and it was rather sparse because of 4th of July weekend. I thought, "I could probably sneak out unnoticed and go to relief society." But then I thought, "No, I like to sing with the kids." So I decided to stay in sharing time. It was grand. Appearantly, in relief society there was, once again, quite an uproar. The lesson was, of course, patriotic. How we should be thankful for our freedoms. One woman piped up about how america is fake. There is no real freedom for black people. That got everyone fired up. Another one talked about how they lied to her when she left africa. She thought this would be a better life and now she's stuck. She's stuck in poverty and danger. Although I can't completely understand what they go through everyday, I still would like to say that the only think that keeps us stuck is not the color of our skin, but the state of mind we are in. Oprah Winfrey was raised in aweful circumstances. Look at her now. I could say the same for Condaleeza Rice. The color of their skin didn't limit them. I know that of all the people in the ghetto, I can only really think of 2 examples, but still. It's not impossible. <br /><br />I was discussing with a friend (who also missed this uproar) on monday night about a dear lady in our ward. She is a single mother of six children. She is raising them to the best of her ability, but they are barely surviving. She struggles and has stress i could never imagine. I have been to their neighborhood to pick them up for church. Frankly, it terrifies me. I hate being there. I hate getting out of the car. I would hate to have no choice but to raise my kids there because I have nowhere I can go. Her power is being turned off this week. She's scared and stressed. My friend and I were discussing ways we can help her. What can we do? Just listening to these circumstances and what a loss she's at, it just...it breaks my heart. All of this breaks my heart. Sometimes I think, if I were a millionare, I could help so many people. I'd build a big house and they can stay there and live, and their children could be raised well. But really, that's impossible. Then they learn to be mooches. It's not so much money thats the problem (although it can be a big part of it) it's mindset that's the problem. It's not what we can do for this woman. Frankly, I have enough in saving to help keep her power on for another month, but that's not really what she needs. She needs to learn how to live. How to budget. How to save. How to earn. They don't need gimmies. They need life skills. That's when I don't know how to help them. I'm barely only learning these life skills as well. It's only a matter of months before I have my first appartment. I'll have rent, and groceries, and utilities. It just breaks my heart that I can't help them more. <br /><br />I was also thinking how lucky I am. How grateful I should really be. I take way too much for granted. At this point in life, as I date and find the person I want to marry, and find the life I want to lead, I weigh my options. I want a college graduate. Someone with ambition. We don't have to be millioinares, but I'd like to not have to live paycheck to paycheck. But even if we were living paycheck to paycheck, I know that we would never be in that kind of neighborhood. I know that no matter how bad things got, we would never ever wind up there. That is not even an option. I have family that would help out, and I just know that I will never live in that part of town. But some just don't have that option. That is all they've ever had, and that's all they ever will have. It's hard to escape the poverty. It's such a cycle. It really just breaks my heart.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1151327438386143752006-06-26T08:07:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:17.050-05:00Update:The couple I talked about below have agreed to be married (which was the biggest obstacle) and baptized! They are getting baptized July 16th!Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1150400856774412352006-06-15T14:46:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:16.368-05:00With all my heartFor the past couple of weeks, I've been going to an investigators house with the Sister Missionaries. Usually it's just one woman, but I've heard a lot of her significant other. Today I met him. <br /><br />We taught the plan of salvation. Before we could even start, he started asking us all these questions, and whenever we wanted to move onto another part, he'd ask a question right into. You couldn't have written a script better than this. As we were leaving, Sister Smith invited them to church. She also mentioned that afterward there was a baptism if they'd like to see that. He said "I'll be there. I want to get baptized, but I want to see how it's done first."<br /><br />I was floored. It was the most amazing of lessons. Everything he's been wondering his whole life had been answered, and he received it. He'd tell us stories of his thoughts in his childhood. His father was catholic, his mother protestant. He never agreed with either. He had too many unfulfilled questions. As he told these stories about why our answers made sense, I was watching him talk and could tell that he's been prepared in these instances since he was very young to learn of this Gospel. I know this church is the completely true church of God. It makes too much sense not to. I love the Lord, and I know he loves his children. I am so grateful that I was able to take part in this experience.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1150292302358543422006-06-14T08:00:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:16.169-05:00Healing and the Spoken WordI've got nothing. I think too much. I think about stuff I want to write on this, but when I think it, I don't have time to type it, and when I have time to type it, I don't remember what I was thinking. So I thought, maybe if I just started typing, something would come to me. <br /><br />I said something the other day. I said "Music is my medicine." And it's true. I wrote a song, probably one of my favorites, because it's so authentic. It's from a place I dared not touch. A place I didn't want to go to. A place I was ready to bury and ignore like I've done so many times before. <br /><br />But that's not the real me.<br /><br />Not so consciously I decided that I wasn't going to be fake anymore. I was tired of it. It's time to be honest. Back in the day, I was the entertainer. The rambunctious-daring-energetic-funny-always-happy-nothings-wrong person. Fake. I didn't want to do that anymore. If I'm sad, I act sad. If I'm annoyed, it'll show. I don't pretend things just don't bother me anymore. Although, honestly, I don't get that bothered easily anyway. I could never have any down time at home. I always had to be...what's the word...bouncy. I think because I was so truly deeply sad that a)I didn't want it to show, and b)I didn't want anyone else to feel that, so I tried to make them happy. It doesn't really work unless I'm truly happy myself. <br /><br />Words, I've discovered, are a wonderous thing. I use them now. Not in the way I used to. Not bubbly and conversational and filling up silence. Now they're honest. I say what I think and feel, no longer worried that it will make someone else sad. It's not my job to keep everyone else afloat. I drown. But I do help if I can. It's amazing how many doors it's opened up, and how many it's closed. <br /><br />For example, there is a young man, we'll call him "Bob" who really liked the ladies, and really wanted some companionship, but struggled when it came to being around them. He came off all sorts of wrong. He had very good intentions, but not good ways of showing that. I got a very wrong impression of him in the beginning. As I got to know him, and his character, better, I realized what a really great person he is. But his problems in the dating field persisted. People all around were expressing worry. "Somebody should say something." "Somebody should help him." But nobody would say anthing. Why? Too hard? Afraid? Awkward? Yeah. Well, instead of saying somebody should, I did. We had established a friendship, and some trust. So I told him honestly, but kindly, what was happening. Awkward? Yeah. It was. Hard? A bit. I couldn't get out what I wanted to say, and sometimes I could've come off the wrong way. Worth it? Totally. He's changed some things, and gotten what he wants. <br /><br />Why don't we speak out?<br /><br />Why are we so scared of people? I by no means want to be offensive, but honestly, who cares? Why does it matter if someone gets mad? Or never talks to us again? Especially when it really isn't that close of a friend. If it's something that needs to be said, say it. Say it kindly, and with love. I have been in a lot of awkward situations with even more awkward conversations, but none so far have been mad at me. People know when you are being honest and speaking from your heart. And you'll feel a lot better afterwards. I don't keep it in anymore. I'm not fake. <br /><br />So I went to this place that I was ready to bury. I didn't like what came up. There were a lot of old skeletons, but not as many as there used to be. I felt terrible. Deeply sad and broken up. I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know if I could. Finally, when I thought I was really at my breaking point, I sang. I wrote a song of all I had been feeling. All that I wanted and couldn't have, but now I can have whatever I choose to take. It was a hard song to write. I still can scarcely play it and not cry. I sang it to my mom and her sisters when they were here. They all cried too. This one needs to go public. This one needs to be heard. <br /><br />In a lot of ways, I feel healed now. And that is why music is my medicine. My songs have healed me so many times before. As I said in a recent song "I feel the music, love's pure music, heaven puts in me."Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1146490865012526142006-05-01T07:59:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:15.821-05:00The Utah Mormon DebateThere is a post on my friend <a href="http://www.christiefordham.blogspot.com/">Christie's</a> blog about how she's sick of the Utah mormon stereotype. Well, she's (no offense) too Utah to really see. As much as I argue, I don't think she'd ever get it unless she lived outside Utah. Here is my side of the story. I think I'm gonna break down her paragraph piece by piece. <br /><br />"I am so sick of people saying UTAH MORMONS. I'm sick of people putting me in a class and saying that I'm clicky and don't know what the real world is like!" First of all, Christie isn't clicky. She was always outgoing and open minded. I liked that about her. Second of all, it's not mormons that are clicky. People in general can tend to be clicky. We just happen to have a common religion. That doesn't make mormons clicky. It's just what people tend to do. As for not knowing what the real world is like, well, I know Christie has been through a lot. However, there are things that don't happen in Utah that do happen out here. What is the real world anyway? The Chinese have a different reality than Mexicans, or Russians, or Americans, or Brazilians, or Africans, and so on. Utah has a different real world than Georgia, or California, or Massachussets, or Tennessee. <br /><br />"Ok, truthfully, I feel like I've experienced the world." I really, I don't know what to say to that. If you can say that sentence, and actually believe it, then you really don't know what you're talking about. Especially when you've never lived in a different society. <br /><br />"I don't push people out just because they drink or smoke or don't believe in abstinence." Neither do I, but you look at them differently, don't you?<br /><br />"People generalize WAY TOO MUCH!" Aren't you generalizing about people in that sentence? <br /><br />"I hate it when people are always saying Utah Mormons are horrible. We're people too." Yes, you are people, horrible people. No, I'm just kidding. I'm just kidding. You're not. Let's make up a scenario. Let's say a black kid in black clothes, baggy pants, tattoos, gold chains, multiple pearcings, and a beanie walked in church. Any Utah ward at all. Do you think he'd be warmly accepted? How well do you think he'd be fellowshipped? I'll be honest, a year ago, I would've steered clear of him too. A couple of sundays ago, I gave a ride to three kids like that. That is the attire they wore. I was so stunned at how my ward accepted them. It didn't even make a difference what they wore or how they looked. Fact is, most of my ward is from the inner city ghetto. It's a dangerous and frightening place. My primary children grow up there. They see horrendous things every day. I can't believe how caloused a nine year old can be because of the things he has to go through on a daily basis. It breaks my heart. The city I live in is in the top ten most dangerous cities in the United States. Every morning, I wake up to the radio reporting on yet another homicide, yet another rape, yet another gang fight with many innocent casualties. Things I never heard of back home. Things I know my ten little primary kids are seeing every day. Those ten children are stronger than I will ever be. The testimonies of the Saints out here never cease to amaze me. I knew some strong people back home, but I never knew people like this. You can deny it all you want, but Utahns just don't understand. <br /><br />"We're not perfect. Yes, we've been raised in a different way than most people." Raised different? Refer to above paragraph. <br /><br />"The truth is I'm sick of people looking at Utah as a place that is just infultrated with religion. " Utah is a place infultrated with religion! Are you kidding me? How many temples are there? How many church building are there in our home town alone? How many non members do you know? Compared to how many members you know? Can you walk into any store and know there are other mormons in the store? I can't do that. <br /><br />"All around the world there are places where one religion is dominiate and it's not just LDS.Look at people individually!" I talk to this one guy in my class. He is from Pakistan. He's muslim. He comes from a dominately Muslim society. When you think of Pakistan, don't you automatically think of the Muslims? Why do you do that? Why don't you look at people individually? Why don't you look at the women behind those eyes, and behind all their head coverings? Oh, is it because you don't know anyone individually? You just have to make a generalization about their society, don't you? Huh. There's a little food for thought. <br /><br />As for the 'mission' arguement in the comments section of her blog. I'll just copy and paste my comment on that. Missions are a whole different story. Missions are great. You get a lot of experience. You experience the world, but a mission is not your real life. It's different when there's rules and you're watched and you're studying intensely and knocking on doors. How many missionaries come home and continue to do that? That's not their real life. I think there is a big and distinct difference between living life outside of Utah, and going on a mission. I'm not discounting the fact that missionaries did experience the world, but a experiencing the world on your mission and experiencing the world in real life are two different things.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25297529.post-1145972246953725962006-04-25T08:13:00.000-05:002006-11-13T09:55:15.623-05:00When it rains...You know, with everything going wrong-Deaths, loss, frustration, just to mention a few-it hasn't got me down. I'm amazed. <br /><br />Normally, I can get pretty bogged down pretty easily, but I am so happy. There's so much to be happy for! Ever since I've become reactivated in the Church, I've been so happy. Everything's gone right, despite things gone wrong. I'm so happy. The church offers such a different perspective than what's happening in the now.<br /><br />On sunday, not only were my primary kids quiet as I taught class, but they were listening. That has never happened before. Never not once. I actually felt as if they actually got something out of it. We learned about Joseph after he got sold into Egypt and what Potiphar's wife does and how he eventually gets out of jail. They didn't listen to any of that. I could've been talking to the chalkboard for all they cared. But after I finished talking (to the bricks in the wall) I asked them what they had learned. "Nothing." "Pray." General answers. I started telling them what I learned. <br /><br />I learned that you should always choose the right.<em>No matter what</em>, even if it does get you in trouble. Even if you go to jail and lose a lot of your life. Always do what you think is right. I also learned that no matter what, God listens. He listened to Josephs prayers down there. Even though Joseph might not have understood why God seemed to take so long, God still <strong> always </strong> answers prayers. We just have to be patient. I also learned that if you stick to it and stay on the path, God will bless you beyond your comprehension. He loves you so much that he wants to give you everything, and He will if you be patient and good. The last thing I learned is that nothing can go permanently wrong with Jesus Christ. No matter what happens, it will never be permanent because what Christ did was so wonderful that it makes everything right in the end. Nothing can go wrong. <br /><br />The children listened to all that. I could tell it was soaking in. I could even feel the Spirit! The Spirit had entered my classroom! That was one of my New Years resolutions. Get my kids to actually walk away with something for once. Get the Spirit in the classroom at least once. Ok, so I guess that was really two goals, but still. It worked! I had never realized what my testimony could do. All this time I had been trying to get them to learn from the manual or by games, when really all they needed was my testimony. It was quite the experience for me. <br /><br />Today, as with any day, I am listening to <a href="http://www.kzion.com">kzion</a>- an internet radio that plays all LDS music all the time. I love it. I can never get enough of it. The more I listen, the more I want my music to play there. Why am I so afraid to get my stuff out there? Why can't I just do it? It's good. I know my stuff is good. A few songs are even great if you ask me (which is big because I am my toughest critic). I guess it's just scary. When I write silly songs, like "concieted" or "waste of a day," I'm not worried with that stuff. I don't care if people like it or not, or if people criticize it. When it comes to my serious stuff, the stuff that comes from my heart, that's a little scary. I'm scared for people to criticize it. That is me to my very essence. To put that out there, to put it all on the line, out in the open, that's terrifying. But I want to do it so bad. All it takes is just one little leap, right? I'm afraid my legs won't jump. I need to get it done. I want a CD! I want to inspire people and comfort people. Music is the best way I know how. It comforts me so much.Miranda W.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05477086117370358654noreply@blogger.com1