Life With La2

my name is latu and i am a high school drop out

2011-11-08T11:13:00.000-07:00

when i was 11 years old, i was in the 6th grade. my teacher was named mrs. day. she was a wide-eyed, bushy-tailed, first year teacher. looking back now, i am sure she was convinced she would conquer the world, one impressionable child at a time. she started out the school year by letting us know she had driven by our houses the week before. there was no explanation or justification. she just let that loom in the air. i knew for a fact my house was the most ghetto in the class. i was the only one in my class from the poor area in our school boundary. the other kids were from richer neighborhoods slash were rich. :) at least to a poor 11 year old!

mrs. day paid me lots of attention, right from the beginning of the year. the unfortunate thing is that the last thing i wanted as an 11 year old was attention from my teacher. at the time, i felt like she hated me and picked on me. if there was a teacher's pet (which there most definitely was) i was the opposite. while other children had the opportunity to turn in assignments late, the teacher was very strict about the late assignment policy with me. i spent countless reward days or holidays working by myself in another classroom, unable to participate in whatever the class was doing. i was not disrespectful; i was still much too young to understand that i could do what i wanted at school, even if the "rules" forbade it.

on a field trip, the class waited in line to get our sack lunches out of the box. when my turn came in the line, i grabbed my lunch, rather than wait for her to hand it to me. she thought that was proof that i cut the line, and made me go to the back; ignoring my pleas that it was really my turn. instead, i walked off and cried by myself. i didn't eat lunch that day. i was so embarrassed and felt so hopeless because she hadn't even listened to me. i wrote book reports about books i had read, and was told the books were too childish for a 6th grader (at least one of them was a book i read with my friend in the class. it wasn't too childish for her) i was often not allowed to go to computers, as i was behind on my work. i wasn't allowed to check out reading books for the same reason (i needed to focus more on my school work)

one chilly day, i forgot an assignment at home. terrified that i would not be able to turn it in late, i decided to run home and grab the assignment. i was 20 minutes late, and the teacher took me outside to talk about my "attendance problem". mind you, i was a naive 11 year old CHILD. i was trying, and it did not seem like she saw it at all. i had no idea that you could stand up for yourself to adults, that everything they said was not gospel truth. i didn't know that i could tell my mom what all was going on, how i felt about this teacher, how much i hated school. i really just thought that if your teacher hated you, you were so outta luck.

in my eyes, that teacher was evil. i came to hate her. during christmas break, i envisioned creative ways i could have a class change. i plotted ways to get her to like me, but in the end i basically gave up. i endured the last half of the year, but i hated every moment of it. school stopped being fun and became monotonous and a punishment. recess was my only solace, and i became depressed. for the first time in my life, i was failing at something. i hated the feeling and i hated the teacher.

that feeling moved on with me from 6th to 7th grade. 7th grade was a ridiculously hard grade for me. but, rather than dutifully attend, i began to just sleep through my morning classes. in one term (with about 45 days) i had 27 absences and 16 tardies in my first period class. it became painfully obvious that i had not learned anything in math or science from 6th grade. this sounds really dramatic, but i truly feel that 6th grade year set the stage for the rest of my academic failure. i struggled all through 7th and 8th grade. 9th grade was better, but only because i had one amazing teacher. and high school. let's not get into high school or the reasons i dropped out with three packets to complete and in the last week of school my senior year.

the point is that until my 6th grade year, school was fun. it was a place that i excelled at, a place i felt safe. after my 6th grade year, my perspective changed and school became a punishment. i did not see the point in trying anymore. i know that a lot of people feel basically the same way, but a lot of people did not have the experience i had with mrs. day. no matter the argument, 6th grade changed my life.

a few years ago, my mom filled in some blanks for me in the mrs. day story. i guess during a parent-teacher conference (no, not the ones where you bring your parents into the classroom and show off your desk and artwork. the kind where you stay outside the classroom and your mom meets with the teacher by herself) mrs. day let my mom know that she felt i was not living up to my potential. thus, she (as a first year teacher with no children) decided she would "push latu" so that i could meet my potential. i don't know what exactly she was pushing me towards, but you can be sure that, as a high school dropout and (now) statistic, i did not meet her potential. i have thought for a long time that i didn't hate her, but i would mos def tell anyone who asked what a bad teacher she was. i guess no one's asked yet. i am just telling anyways.

knowing this has put so many things into perspective. mrs. day hadn't hated me. i was just her project. i am sure she saw me as the perfect storm; minority, poor, a girl. she was going to change my life. she was a brand-spanking new teacher, and she already had found the perfect project child. while i am sure her intentions were good, she truly did not understand me or anything about basic child psychology. she did not understand the damage you can do a child by making them a failure. by planting the seeds of hopelessness and despair in a child. i am one of the 10.3% of american high school students that dropped out in 2004. quite the statistic to be proud of.

i never saw mrs. day after 6th grade. i believe she moved out of state because her husband had finished school. i strongly feel like if mrs. day wanted children she could "push" toward their potential, she should have taught high school. at least those kids know for sure that adults are not perfect.

stupid cancer

2011-10-27T18:33:00.001-06:00

hi. my name is latu and i'm an obsesser. i obsess about basically everything, but at any given time, i have a huge obsession that occupies most of my time. depending on the time, it's been different things. this summer, i obsessed about my school schedule for the fall. i ended up making over 2,000 changes to my schedule. and i only knew that because the system locked me out as i was trying to make even more. i had to go into school and talk to the director of something (and by talking to her, have to deal with her biotch of a secretary, who was wearing a waaaay too short skirt...) and find out that i broke the system by making over 2,000 changes in a single semester... i was the second person to ever do it. i felt awesome :)

my current obsession is brain cancer. i constantly troll through blogs and websites, looking for brain cancer stories. i have subscribed to a brain cancer mailing list and get updates on various people and their brain tumors. one thing that has amazed me since joining is the sheer amount of people who have been absolutely crippled by brain cancer. i read heartbreaking stories (and even more heartbreaking obituaries) about people who had their first brain tumors years and years ago or people newly diagnosed. the most harrowing was a girl my own age, who had medulloblastoma-- the same type of cancer as masey--when she was 3. back then, she was an absolute miracle because she made it out of surgery and was studied by doctors around the country because she made it past the 5 year mark from diagnosis.

as a result of her treatments, this girl was severely mentally retarded, paralyzed from the waist down and suffered many health problems including heart failure, seizures, the loss of both kidneys and a subsequent transplant, and a liver transplant, to name a few. you see, back when she received the ground-breaking treatment that saved her life, doctors did not really understand the late-effects of large amounts of radiation to the brain of a toddler. they did not understand that in order to avoid damage to organs like the kidneys and liver, chemotherapies could not be given alone. they need adjuvants to off-set some of the effects. in some cases they just did not know that besides curing cancer, radiation and chemotherapy causes cancer.

this girl was a miracle. she survived the draconian cancer practices back then, but she most definitely paid a price for that survival. she died peacefully in her sleep last month after being diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia (AML) a secondary cancer that came as the result of treatment of her original brain cancer. the world of childhood cancer treatments have made leaps and bounds since this girl underwent her first treatment, but it still has leaps and bounds to go.

since masey started his cancer journey, i have been humbled and so grateful for the faceless masses who went before. for the children who found out the hard way that radiation to the brain can cause mental retardation. for the children who have lost kidneys because cysplatin was the only option to kill their brain tumors. for the children who have gotten aml from cytoxan. for the children who suffered the agony of a brain tumors before we knew that steroids would reduce the swelling and pain. for all the children who have gone before. these children have been a constant thought in my mind. without knowing, without consenting, their experiences have silently effected masey's experience.

i am constantly grateful for those children. after hearing the girl my age's experience, the silent horde of children has a face. has a story. is so much more real.

today, mason is not free from the side effects of cancer. he'll never get the hearing back he lost. he has the potential to lose more. the years to come may bring with them learning disabilities. he may never move beyond a 4 year old's mental development. we will always cringe when mri time comes around or when he throws up or gets a headache. the fear will be a constant companion. masey will never get back the childhood he's missing while he spends his days quarantined in the safety of our house or in a hospital bed. he will wear emotional scars for his whole life. a part of his personality will be forever changed. there is still the potential for heart, kidney, liver problems or secondary cancers.

but he is here. my little bestie is here. anything else that comes along for him is absolutely do-able. and i'm sure he'll do it with his same smile and carefree attitude. it's nothing compared to what he's already done.

cancer happened. cancer sucks. but our lives will go on.

people talk

2011-10-15T14:44:00.000-06:00

so, i feel like all humans have the desire to talk. maybe not talk, but communicate. they want to connect with other humans and allow the thoughts in their minds to find legs and walk to the person next to them. whether it is a baby crying, a person so sick that all they can do is squeeze a hand or blink their eyes, we want to be connected to the world. a lot of the time, i feel like this blog is my connection to the world.

sometimes, i just want to communicate. i don't care that no one reads or responds. i don't care that my words are not profound or world-changing. i just want to communicate. a lot of the time, the things i have to say are really hard to say. so i write them. when i am in the mood, words flow out of my fingers like water. it's a hard sensation to describe; it just happens. i always sit down to the computer, or in the rare instances i am without one, a piece of paper. and i write. i never know what will come out, and it never ends up the way i think it will at the beginning, but i write like my life depends on it.

when i write, i feel a connection to the real world. a connection to the whole world. there is just something so liberating and exciting about knowing that anyone in the world can read what i have to say. maybe they'll completely agree and i will find my life twin. maybe they'll hate what i have to say. maybe they'll never even read it. but, i like knowing that they have the possibility is out there.

i guess that is why i blog. i am not a huge fan of sharing my thoughts and emotions with people (unless i am mad, in which situations i should work on not sharing) i am not the person who seeks out anyone to talk to, other than my mother. i don't like that type of interaction. but i love blogging. i am basically guaranteed no one will read it, but at the same time everyone can. it's like the best of both worlds.

that being said, i have noticed a ridiculous amount of people coming to me to confide in me lately. i am not sure why, but that thought spawned this post. so, you're welcome, world!!

fires and Jesus fish

2011-09-05T16:35:00.000-06:00

so, i decided to spend my precious break from school by visiting my grandpa in malad. it was AWESOME!! in every way. well, except one. while i was there, my computer decided to burn up. no, like literally started smoking/a fire. luckily (can you really call that luck. maybe a blessing) it was not until about 90 seconds after i walked into the room (for the first time that day) and picked it up that it decided to self destruct. it was like 2 am, and my grandpa was long asleep, so i did the most logical thing i could think of. i called pene, then began to tear that sucker apart. i mostly wanted to see what exactly had started the fire, and just what my laptop looked like in general. that plan kind of sucked, though. all of the tiny screws on the bottom of the laptop were stripped (it's entirely possible that i stripped them myself with a giant screwdriver....) so i resorted to prying different compartments open with a screw driver.

it was a pretty long process, and in the end i stopped because i got paranoid that i would die of mercury/lead poisoning. i had known the computer was dying, it was pene's for like two years before i ever got my hands on it, but it was still bittersweet. i had just mastered the perfect angle/pressure i had to apply to the screen to get it to work. i had mastered the hold to apply if the fan stopped working, or if the internet went in and out. I knew the exact amount of time to let it warm up before attempting to actually do anything on it, and the specific angle to plug in the charger to ensure an actual charge. r.i.p., heavy, old, slow laptop. i'm trading you up.

in other news, apparently one poster on ksl listened to my advice. i bought a car this weekend. it was marvelously cheap, passed inspection and emissions, has a "noise", leaks transmission fluid and engine oil. it was probably a drug car, as all of the door panels are broken and there is no fabric stuff on the ceiling. it smells of smoke, and had an ashtray FULL of cigarette butts (who knew people still used ash trays??) it's got rust and a born again type Jesus fish on the trunk (wow, that may be offensive) speaking of the trunk, the lock cylinder has been taken out, and i cannot figure out how to open it without it. if anyone feels like they want to assist, feel free to let me know. despite any of that, it was quite a steal, and i kinda like it. or, i will like it once i get a strong enough air freshener to convince myself it was not smoked in. if i had a smart phone, or a camera phone, i would take a picture. if anyone is interested, google "1995 ford taurus" and then imagine the results without a shiny paint job (dark green, or maybe dark blue)

let's see... i also spent a week with my sister talia's kids. because she has marvelous flight benefits, she spent the week in seattle, making earrings, seeing les mis, going to this sweet lady's baby shower, and sleeping for outrageous amounts of time, from what i hear. at home, i enjoyed eating out every night, braving chucky cheese's (what can i say, i needed a good bribe) and just playing the role of stand-in mother.

i found a job (two, actually...) and need to go to the dermatologist. i have a big old mole just under my left eyebrow, and i am now convinced it is cancerous (drama much?) so, i am going to need to have it cut off/biopsied. this sounds vaguely familiar... :)

um, i guess that is all for now...i don't expect i will be posting much this semester, i am taking 18 credits and working 1.5 jobs. peace out, peeps! :)

An open letter..

2011-09-01T00:02:00.000-06:00

To the 40,612 people with car ads on KSL tonight:

So, you are wanting to sell your car? Getting married, joining the army, going off to school, need the money, got in an accident, bought a new one, found out you were cheated and want to turn the tables? Whatever your reason, good job finding KSL. The entire world that is Utah commerce runs on KSL. You're bound to find a buyer. Here are just a few pointers, which I have compiled during my own search for a used car.

First and foremost: the CARS section of KSL is for cars which are for sale. We do not care to hear the sob story about why you need a van that seats 12, runs perfectly and has a wheelchair lift for $50 or less. We do not care that you are looking for a specific shade of lime green VW Bug. We do not care that you are selling your awesome tires/system/floor mats. There are wanted/auto parts sections for posts like that.

If your car payment is over $500/month, what on earth makes you believe someone on KSL wants to take over payments rather than go out and buy their own new, overpriced car?

If your car needs the following, it cannot be said that your car "runs great":
head gasket
transmission
engine
fuel pump
muffler
radiator
thermostat
carburetors
tires
catalytic converter
clutch
gas tank
ball joints
tie rods
axle

The phrases "runs great" and "needs work" are mutually exclusive. Related is this: If you put a phrase like "needs work" or "needs TLC" in your ad, explain!! It will take you literally moments of your life.

Your totaled car without a scrap of still-smooth metal, is not worth $1,000. Even if the engine (which appears to have gone through a metal crusher) were working, it is not worth $1,000.

You are attempting to sell an item worth hundreds or thousands of dollars. Would it kill you to a) post pictures and b) post non fuzzy, actually useful ones? Related, if your ad contains phrases like "will post pics soon" or "as you can see from the pics" and you have not put up pictures, you really are just looking stupid.

A car does not "run great right up until it wouldn't start this morning". There were warning signs. You are just too uneducated to have spotted them, or think we are stupid enough to believe you.

Your transmission/engine/tires/ball joints are not "new" or "just replaced" after 76,000 miles.

No matter how many flowery, happy words you use, $1,500 is not a "newly lowered price" for a 1967 VW Beetle without an engine or tires.

Your car is not worth blue book. End of story. I am not kidding. End of story.

If you have posted your ad more than 10 times in the past few days and no one has called, your car may be overpriced. Please stop posting it until you lower your price (see above advice before determining a price)

So, you got duped into paying $1,500 for a 1988 Corolla that needs a new transmission and head gasket? I am sorry. Not because you were duped, but because you believe you can dupe another buyer into the same trap. Unfortunately, from my experience you may be correct.

It is irrelevant that you have put over $5,000 into the car in repairs the last year. We will all assume everything you do not tell us is broken, works. Your car's value does not increase by the amount you put into it.

In contrast, your car's price should decrease according to the amount of work required to pass safety/IM. People who recognize this are not low balling you. Please stop amending your ads to discourage "low ball offers".

O.B.O. means or best offer. This is an optional phrase. Do not use it unless you are willing to accept less than the list price.

Your 1957 Dodge truck does not get 35 mpg. Please stop trying to make jokes.

The car's in SEATTLE?? W.T.F.?!?! I really have no idea why you are posting on KSL. There are plenty of overpriced, under-performing cars here in Utah.

"I don't have the title, but it is legit" is about the LEAST legit phrase I've ever read in a posting. Possibly illegal, even.

Lastly, if you state in the ad that you prefer to be called/texted/emailed, please be sure that your preferred type of contact info is provided in the ad. "TEXTS ONLY" is only possible when you leave your number. If you want a phone calls only and insist on screening your calls, please clean out or set up your mailbox. Both of those notices are rather annoying to hear from an automated voice.

My fellow KSLers, I really do wish you good luck. I hope that you find the perfect car or the perfect buyer.

Also, thanks for immediately applying my advice to your current and future ads,

Latu

(If there is any doubt as to the legitimacy of the advice above, please spend a few days/weeks trolling KSL for a car and get back to me. But, don't say I didn't warn you)

ketsup

2011-08-03T22:15:00.002-06:00

well, it's been a while since i have posted (again) so i figured i'd throw in a catch up post. i've been pretty busy lately, mostly with school. i have an astronomy class this block and an online english class. i hate/love them both. i hate my astronomy class because the teacher is old school. the kind of old school that assumes everyone is taking his class for the intrinsic educational benefit, not merely to satisfy a general requirement. what this means is lots of homework. and really hard tests. don't get me wrong, astronomy is basically the most fascinating class ever, but it is annoying when i have so much homework. i love that my english class is online and i do not have to commit to a specific class time. i hate that it is online and i do not have to commit to a specific class time :) i realized that i do not have the willpower or the desire to take online classes. i need the accountability of a teacher, physically present, to do well.

i also have decided/realized that it is time to get a job. i cannot justify not having one anymore, and need to be able to have money, honey! no, but for reals, i need a job. :) if you know anyone hiring part time, afternoon work, in orem or northern provo, let me know! i'm down for anything except traveling far :)

i got a puppy. i have always wanted one. i figured it was something i would do when i got married and had some kids. well, seeing as i am officially closer to 30 than 20, i figure my days of waiting are over. as anyone who read about my dog dying knows, i am a new convert to lap dogs. i got a papillon/pomeranian/maltese mix. he looks suspiciously like chiefi, but really only because they are both fur balls. his name is captain, but i like to call him cappie. my dad calls him tevolo (devil) because he has one blue eye and one black. whatever his name, he is cute and i like the little fur ball.

i saw a show the other day that has really stuck with me. i don't really know why, except that it was incredibly sad/impressive. it was about a mother grey whale and her baby who were being attacked by a pod of orcas/killer whales. the orcas attacked them for almost 4 straight hours before the mother and baby were able to swim close enough to shore that the orcas would not be willing to attack anymore. the orcas attack was pretty simple; swim down deep, then speed directly into the side/head of the baby, hoping to cause internal damage with the blows. another tactic was to just eat chunks of his fins while he was alive. you see, even a baby grey whale is too big for an orca to bite through. the most amazing part to me was at one point, the mother whale turned on her back and lifted her baby onto her stomach so the orcas could not hurt him anymore. i guess it is important to note that she could not breathe in this position and had not eaten for something like 9 months, while also nursing her baby. i was just so impressed with the mamma whale and her stamina, and intense will not only to survive, but to protect her young.

i got an anonymous facebook message from (presumably) a treatment girl the other day. she's apparently a pretty angry person. the entire message was pretty long, but the theme of it was an effort to make me mad. she said basically every hurtful thing she could think to say (things like she hopes mason dies, she wonders when my dad will die of his heart problems, my mom needs braces, i'm fat, etc) but all while reading it, i could not help but feel sorry for her. here was this girl who, no matter what she was trying to convince me in the message, was insanely unhappy with her life. her solution to her unhappiness was to write me an anonymous message, from a fake account, and try to make me angry. i really don't know what i ever did to her to make her so mad, and maybe it was nothing. either way, she found an outlet in me. as annoying as it was to get that message, i actually hope she sends me another, the next time she gets mad. maybe being able to vent at someone will keep her from doing something self-destructive.

one more random story. i rode the bus/trax to see my sister yesterday. when i got on the train in sandy, i was the only one in the car and started reading. just a few minutes later, i looked up as 8 or 10 guys sat down in the seats in front of me. not really a huge deal, except these guys all had white t-shirts and had shaved heads. long story short, they were straight out of the prison. a few were completely discharged (i guess that means done with their sentences), but most of them were newly paroled. it made for an interesting ride for a bit, especially the part where a possibly drunk guy began yelling about them just getting out of prison.

anywho, i guess this is as good as most of my monthly posts :) i guess i'll give some more details about the job search later. i've got a few interviews tomorrow.

my dog died

2011-07-10T16:17:00.000-06:00

this is chiefi about a year ago. we'd had him for about 8 months and i still called him wicket (like the ewok) because i thought it was a more fitting name.

i'll spare you from seeing a picture of chiefi yesterday. it was heartbreaking. you see, chiefi got ran over by a car on state street.

i always figured people whose dogs died were just being dramatic. i've sent dogs to the pound before or given them away. it can't be that different, right? WRONG!! oh my goodness, for all of you out there who have had dogs die, i am sorry i judged you. this is one of the most sad things that has ever happened to me. i feel like a person died. like my little brother. i keep expecting to see him or hear the little jingle of his tags when he runs around the house.

chiefi and i had a love-hate relationship, and it was becoming more and more love lately. literally in the last three weeks, chiefi has been growing up. he's not as obnoxious and listens. if you opened the door a month ago, chiefi would bolt out of it like his life depended on his freedom from the house. these past few weeks, he would sit at the threshold until you called him out. he barked at everything, but was also terrified of everything. lately, he's been barking only at actual threats, and actually single-handedly chased a huge dog out of our backyard (that coco completely missed). he was always affectionate, but has been less needy lately. he really was just a cute dog.

i am convinced that chief is the reason coco is still alive today. she was getting depressed and slowing waaay down 18 months ago, before we got chief. the day we brought him home, it was like coco was a new dog. she had been given a breath of life. chief kept her young. i never imagined chief would die before coco. i envisioned us as owners of just a small dog once coco died. this is so backwards.

beyond all that, chiefi was the only thing mason wanted in the hospital. when he had just come out of two surgeries and was uber depressed, mason cried for his puppy. and the hospital obliged. we were given special permission for chiefi to come visit mason, and it made mason's whole week. he smiled for the first time in weeks and it was a turning point in his treatment. he was up and walking again and out of the hospital in amazing time.

a few weeks ago, my dad fell into the lake. chiefi played the role of lassie, freaking out until my dad was safe back on shore. chiefi was my dad's forever companion. he would cry if my dad left without him.

i guess, needless to say, chiefi will always have a soft spot in my heart. when we first got him, i was convinced i hated him because i don't like little dogs. chiefi changed my mind about little dogs forever. he was a sweet dog, and fiercely protective and loyal.

he had gone outside with coco on friday night and never came back. around 2 am, me and coco roamed a one mile circle around our house, calling for chiefi and whistling, carefully stopping to listen for the jingle of his collar. after over an hour of driving around, i gave up and came home. my hope was that someone had found him late at night and would bring him home at a normal hour. the next morning, on the way to mason's curesearch walk, my mom and sister (with mason in the car) saw him, dead on the road.

when i got the call, i did not believe it. chiefi never went farther than the next door neighbor's house. he was too scared, and would come bounding back any time coco did. i convinced vili to drive by, just so i could see for myself. what i saw was heartbreaking. i was shocked, could not believe i was really seeing our chiefi with his innards no longer in. we got a shovel and bag, and brought him home for the last time. my dad could not even talk to us, he was so upset.

i wish i could say that we had a funeral service; that we buried him in a way that signified our love for him and gratitude for his role in our lives. unfortunately, none of us could bare looking at him. burying him was just one step too far in the grief cycle. so, we put him in the garbage can and he was taken by the folks at waste management to the dump. i like to think that was better than leaving him on the road, to continue to be ran over until someone else finally got around to scraping him up and taking him to the dump. at least the ones who did the scraping loved that dog.

phones in pipes

2011-07-03T01:01:00.000-06:00

so, today i am sitting in the exact same room as i was when i started this blog just about 4 years ago.typing on the exact same computer. i had watched the slow, sad decline that is leukemia and it culminated in my grandmother's death. pretty sad setting for this post, right? well it's not all going to be sad. at least, i don't think so. my grandma was not a sad person. she was full of life and happiness and jokes. oh, she was full of jokes. but she was also full of words. i know i've talked about her newsletter before, but man, that woman could express herself! i have a blog that i struggle to post on monthly, and she pumped out 6 page newsletters every week.

it was an awesome time to be in my family. we all knew the intimate details of one another's lives and we were closer as a family for it. i know that every family slowly shifts apart as more generations are added, focuses change, etc. but, it is sad for me to see it with my own! it seems like just yesterday we were getting together for family reunions, my sister (the first granddaughter to marry) was getting married, we had just one or two in-laws at the family functions. today, i only have two uncles who are not grandparents (one of them doesn't have kids, so i don't know if i should even count him) don't get me wrong; i love the in-laws! they make all the adorable chicklets running around possible. but, i also miss the days when we were able to be closer, when our relationships were the tender ones that needed to be nurtured. i miss the newsletters. maybe i just miss my grandma.

tonight, my grandpa asked me to type something up for him. usually, this was my grandmother's task. she would get instructions from him and come into the computer room and furiously type away until she got it done. she was such a cute secretary and grandma. there are a lot of times when i find myself feeling sorry for my cute grandpa. usually in our family, it's the man who goes first. we're a family of many generations of widows. i guess leukemia had it's own opinion about that.

anywho, as i sit here, dead tired from all the pre-4th of july festivities, i can't help but imagine what it would be like if grandma was here. i am sure i would be in the kitchen, chatting with her and getting advice about my life. the dishwasher (or dishwarsher if grandma was saying it) would be running in the background. i would be joined by cousins and maybe an aunt or two. maybe we'd be singing the kids to sleep while she accompanies on the piano. she'd be one of my speed dials, always ready when i need to talk. she'd congratulate me for taking my pills faithfully every day and encourage me to be more outgoing. i would be sitting with her in the computer room, content to just sit while she types something important for my grandpa.

a lot of things would be different if my grandma were still alive. i've been told to get over it before. told that it is time to move on, too much time has passed. i have a lot of choice words for the person who said that. that woman was more than just the woman who gave birth to my mother. she was amazing. i really don't think you can possibly grasp how much she meant to me. tonight, i just miss my grandma.

ketsup, catsup

2011-06-29T15:07:00.000-06:00

throughout mason's treatment, i have been amazed at the knowledge we have now. sure, it's not as much as we would like and i am sure there is a long way to go, but mason has been very blessed.

each time he gets a course of chemo, he also gets various adjuvants to help with some of the worse side effects. we know that with certain chemos, he needs to be monitored until it has left his system, he needs lots of fluids to prevent the chemo from gathering in his bladder and eating a hole through it, etc. every time a nurse or doctor explains something like that to us, i cannot help but feel incredibly blessed. there was a time when medulloblastoma meant death from ignorance. there was a time when it meant death on the operating table. there was a time when it meant organ failure and hearing aids. suddenly, the side effects mason has to worry about are not seeming so bad.

i often think about the kids who found out the hard way that cisplatin causes kidney failure and hearing loss. i think about the ones who found out the hard way that cytoxan causes secondary aml and bladder cysts. i think of the children that are the reason we know radiation to the brain causes severe learning disabilities. the ones who led us to know it also causes sterility. i like to think of them as the brave generation that came before. they were diving into this world of chemotherapy and radiation basically blind.

there are countless children who did not have it as good as mason. countless kids who unknowingly lost their lives to the pursuit of science. maybe the pursuit of science was their only option. there are still kids who have cancers that we don't know how to cure. i just think that childhood cancer is probably the cruelest invention ever. mason still has some pretty serious side effects to worry about, but he has been so blessed, it's hard to focus on those possibilities.

anywho, go here to find out how you can help mason and other cancer kids. a cure is what we need, and tomorrow is just not good enough for some of these kids.

thoughts

2011-06-24T14:20:00.001-06:00

well, i am at the hospital with mason and pene, he had a hearing test and now is waiting for chemo. right now, he's being evaluated for a study on the cognitive effects of radiation in small children. it's kind of fascinating, but it is like watching someone take the rorschach test. i can't help but wonder what the purpose of the questions he is being asked is. is it bad that i am totally rooting for him to get them all right? is there even a right answer?

masey's being asked to explain some words, and it's quite hilarious. here are some of his answers:
what do you know about glow: if you put a glow on a firefly, it will light up
hero: saves the day
castle: for princesses
swing: you could swing
shoe: it's a shoe. to keep your feet clean
letter: to send to someone
bike: to ride your bike around the neighborhood

i was going to make this post a lot more deep and philosophical, but i decided against it when mason started his answers. i feel like i have to add in that i saw a spot on a local show about a mother who dressed her kids up in stereotypical "indian" outfits when they visited the pueblo ruins. she thought it would put her kids in the mood for the history of where they were visiting. she's selling the kits, too. you know, in case you want your kids convinced that pueblo indians looked just like pocahontas on the disney movie. i think it's a little arrogant and very offensive. it's like dressing up as a "black person" to visit jamaica. if you want to teach your kids history, teach them actual history not stereotypes.

hello

2011-06-14T14:38:00.001-06:00

my name is latu. remember me? it's been forever since i have posted anything, and it was forever before my last post. it's almost embarrassing. the issue is not having something to say. i have no fewer than 17 drafts that i have not posted, but written in the last three months. not drafts with a few words in them, but entire posts. i honestly cannot remember why i did not post them at the time, but now that i see them it is stressing me out. part of me wants to just hit post on all of them, part of me wants to delete them and forget they ever happened. that's about what i ever do when i feel overwhelmed. i get rid of the evidence :) avoidance is an awesome lifestyle! anywho, today i am determined to post something. maybe not anything profound or worth reading, but i have got to post!

i've been doing a lot of thinking lately. i am taking an ethics class, and i have a 3-4 page paper due every day. not too rough for me; they're about ethical topics, so i just ramble like usual. i've never been known not to have an opinion! but, it has caused me to think. a lot. i guess uvu is shaping me into a more well-rounded person as we speak :)

one thing that's been on my mind a lot lately is the past. everyone has those moments in their life, where you suddenly realize that your world and life now occupies two different sides of an event. the before and the after. it can be a trivial event, like an amazing dinner. or it can be completely life-altering, like life and death. because the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, it is very hard to not look back at the before part of your life and feel nostalgic.

the city i live in used to be full of orchards, and called the provo bench. my backyard was once an orchard, and the guy who lived in my house was a geologist of some sort who collected hundreds of rocks. when i was younger, we were constantly finding rocks in our back yard. some of them were normal-looking, some were fascinating. each of them were a link to the before part of our house's history. sometimes, we'll get letters from random geological societies, addressed to whoever built this house. it's interesting to wonder about this house; it is about the same age as my parents, and it is obvious that some parts are additions.

the good old days seem to be so for most people. everyone (barring those with horriffic or traumatic childhoods) sees their childhood as an idyllic, innocent time. definitely better than nowadays. my great grandmother (the oldest relative i ever knew) felt like this, my grandmother felt like this, and i feel like this now. maybe the before, or our past, is just another example of how we're more alike than different.

don't explain your life...

2011-05-08T16:18:00.001-06:00

while talking to my sister the other day, she said something i have not been able to get out of my mind.

she pointed out that my dad has never been anything BUT tongan, thus he could not understand what it is like to try and figure out who he is.

a simple statement, but one that really struck me. i tend to think that my life situation is completely original, there is no one out there who understands what it is like to be me. call it left-over teenage angst, call it whatever you like. in one sentence, i realized how similar our childhoods must have been, my sister and i. we both had the same parents, lived basically the same places, but most importantly, we both had to decide who we were. what culture we more identified ourselves with and, most importantly, what that meant for our lives.

i felt a strange bond with my sister right then. beyond the bond of siblings, or best friends. we were suddenly in the fight of our lives, defining who we were and fighting racial struggles together. it was a dramatic moment, but i don't think i could have it any other way.

you see, this is a pretty sensitive subject for me. i spent my childhood knowing that i was tongan. living in hawaii, people always wanted to know exactly what my heritage was. it was a simple answer for me, "i'm tongan." and then they moved on to the hawaiian-portuguese-chinese-scottish-korean-filipino next to me. as i grew up, the answer to the question became more difficult for me. i started adding in the "half" to my response. suddenly, i went from having one culture to only half of a culture.

we moved to utah, and i continued to be half. i didn't feel like i could claim being white or being tongan. both answers felt like a lie to me. so, i avoided the question until high school, when i firmly decided i was not tongan. i was white. my mom was a girl from idaho, and my grandparents had just moved back to my grandpa's farm there. for the first time in my life, i could walk places that my ancestors walked. i could walk through a cemetary in idaho and find graves from my grandma to my grandpa's great grandparents. my grandparents moved into the house my great great grandpa built. there was family history everywhere. my heritage was suddenly accessible to me and i loved it.

i think another reason i decided i was white is that i was tired of people writing off behaviors or opinions of mine to my race. i was not stubborn because i was tongan. i am just a stubborn person. i wanted the world to know my white side so they could see that stubbornness runs in that blood, too. i didn't skip school because i was tongan. i did it because i was a teenager who was bored with the system. i believed racism was wrong not because i felt it as a tongan. but because i felt it as a white child, too white for some of my tongan relatives.

my dad's closest relatives, his sisters, were all half a world away in australia or new zealand. i became disconnected to that part of me, and wanted to prove to the world that i was not who they thought i was. so, i spent a long time refusing to be, or even act, anything but white. as far as i was concerned, i was just another white utah girl from utah. sure, most white people still saw me as the tongan girl, and i am sure some of them judged me by that assumption, or even made judgments on all tongans based on my behaviors. but i did not care. i knew i was white, and nothing they could say would change it.

then, slowly, a change began to happen. i got into contact with some of my first cousins in aussie land after high school. before i knew it, i was on a plane halfway across the world to australia. for the first time in my adult life, i was acting tongan, doing tongan things and around tongan people. for the first time in my life, i was meeting my tongan family. i was among not just relatives, but CLOSE relatives. i started to rethink some things that i had believed so firmly about myself.

i am not really sure when the change completely happened, and i am sure i am not done changing. but, at this moment in my life, i have never been more content with myself.

i know that i am half tongan and half white. i know that to most of the world, this knowledge means a completely different thing than it does for me. but, for me, i'm ok being both. i am ok with the tongans who think i do certain things because i am white. i am ok with the white people who think i do certain things because i am tongan. and i am even ok with all the other halfs out there, who think i do certain things because i am half. i am overwhelmed with grattitude for the people out there who think i do certain things because i am me. who don't need a cause beyond that.

i know who i am, and i don't really need the world's approval for it anymore. maybe more importantly is that i don't want the world's approval anymore.

the water's always changing

2011-05-03T17:51:00.001-06:00

i found this post in my drafts, and decided to post it. i posted a revised version not long after i wrote this, but have decided i like this one a whole lot, so i'm posting it! (also, the new job i mention at the end is no longer new, and no longer my job. i am now a full time student :)

once upon a time, i worked as a tracker for a junior high. i had two full time jobs, but the tracker job was my favorite. it was usually pretty chill compared to my other job, and i loved being so busy.

one day, though.

that day was horrible. it was just one thing after the other. i was physically tense, and so aggravated. i had to go into the auditorium, so i opened the door, turned on the house lights and just stood there. all i was aware of was the a/c humming away in the background. the rest of the world faded away, and i could literally feel my tension level drop. it was like pulling the plug in a drain.

well, hours didn't pass. minutes didn't even pass. it was literally moments before i was completely calm. even thinking back on it now calms me down. i was so amazed at the turnaround, but i could not explain it. it wasn't until a few weeks later, when i was stressing out that i realized why that room worked miracles.

i ducked back into that room again and promised myself i'd only stay a few minutes. but then i stayed for a while. i lost track of time, it could have been hours but was probably a few minutes. it was then that i realized how calming white noise is. it cancels out other noises and provides a smooth baseline. hearing the humming of the white noise helps to slow my heart rate and loosens up my entire body.

it truly works miracles for me.

since that day, i've looked for other calming places. at my old job, we had timeout rooms that i loved to be in. you could hear the hum of the fans and be alone. i was recreating that day in the auditorium.

i've realized that water has the same effect. it calms me. listening to it cancels out all of the drama, all of the fuss from real life. i can get lost in my thoughts when i'm around water.

my new job is directly across the street from the provo river. (yes, the rapist river for those of you who are super specific.) i love going to sit there during lunch. it's nice to just sit and stare at the river. it's fascinating to see the things that float by. i am oddly fascinated with trash that floats down the river. whenever i notice it, i follow it down as far as i can see. little pieces of plastic, just bobbing down the river or bottles floating calmly down the river.

i imagine myself as that plastic, just floating down the river, with not a care in the world. only the next bend in the river to worry about. i think a lot of us would like to be that piece of plastic some days.

throw it all to the wind

2011-04-05T21:52:00.003-06:00

after my last post, i realized the following might be helpful to post :)

when a major event in my life happens, i feel this urge to throw it out to the world. it is part of my processing. i just can't process things fully without making some sort of announcement, usually on my blog. maybe some would call me an attention whore, or an exhibitionist.

i don't think those terms really encompass it.

you see, i do it alone, too. sometimes, i will stress out about a conversation i had, or one i am dreading having, or a completely made up one. i obsess about it, and go over the conversation again and again in my head. after i've gone over it way too many times in my head, i will say it out loud. not very loud, just to myself, and usually just a line or two. i have to be careful if i am around other people; they usually think i am an idiot, or pester me to tell them "the rest" of the conversation. i rarely tell them, because that sounds even more crazy than just plain talking to myself.

it is not the act of people reading these thoughts that drives me to post them on my blog. it is the ability to do so that intrigues me. if no one read my blog (and who knows, they might not) i am not sure i would care much. if i was not able to post my thoughts to the world, though. that would be a different story. maybe i'm just another in that group of adolescents/young adults (like how i called myself young? haha) that thinks the world should be enthralled with my every thought and deed. maybe i'm just a little crazy. maybe it doesn't matter much either way.

this post is a good example of me obsessing about things and needing to throw them out to the universe. i am posting this on my private blog for now, but i know there will come a time when i post it on my public blog. there is just not enough exposure for me to feel validated when i post it on my private blog. in fact, a lot of my blog posts start out as private posts, and get moved over to the public's eye. now you're all going to wonder which posts i did not initially deem appropriate for the public. sorry. beyond this one, i am not sure you'll ever know!

i don't know what it is. i am sure a psychologist would have a heyday diagnosing all my many issues. i just want to embrace the crazy for now!

lakes and coconut trees

2011-04-05T21:21:00.000-06:00

well, at the moment, my dad is stranded in the middle of one of utah lake's marshes. out of gas, cold, and waiting for search and rescue to find him. i really don't know the rest of the story. i just know that my mom got a call from him earlier this afternoon, and she, sila and darl have spent the rest of the day/night trying to find him. i am really hoping that search and rescue is able to locate him; i never thought my father would be the next story of a lost/stranded boater on utah lake.

hopefully, this will turn out like the time he decided to climb a coconut tree for us kids (with a good story)

a long time ago, (i really don't know. probably before i was born) my dad decided to show us kids that he could put on his own pcc show by climbing a coconut tree. he thought the icing on the cake would be carrying a machete up with him and cutting some coconuts down. just like when he was a kid. well, climb he did. just like he was a kid. i am sure it was awesome to watch. once at the top, he proceeded to cut down all of the coconuts from the tree. it was not long before someone realized that dad was not climbing back down like we thought he would. well, it turns out he was stuck. he had climbed up easily enough, but did not remember/know how to get down. the story ends with the fire department having to bring a truck out and pull him out of the tree. not quite the perfect end to his heroic stunt, right? well, it is a great story.

here's to hoping that this newest stunt will result in another great story, rather than anything more serious!

sunday will come

2011-04-01T21:29:00.002-06:00

as easter approaches, i have been thinking a lot about my Savior. about the sacrifice and love and power of his atonement. i was reading the blog of a sweet little cancer fighter, elena. in it, her mother mentioned something that has stuck with me for the past few days. (i think her mom might have even been quoting another family member) but, she said that she has realized that the Lord is serious about testing us in this life. like elena's mom, that prase seemed so simple to me at first. it was not until i thought about it more that i realized the depth of that analysis. life would not be a test if it were easy. i doubt that i would want the rewards that come from a sorrow-less life. it is only through the refiner's fire that we can reach our true potential.

that being said, often, i wish that life could be more simple. i wish that instead of constantly being faced with tiny tests of faith, i could face one big one and get it over with. i feel like i would easily pass an obvious test; someone holding a gun to my head and ordering me to deny my faith. the tests i struggle more with are the small ones; the ones that use the flaxen cord satan is so fond of. those are the ones that trip me up, the ones that i have to be paying close attention to notice. i suppose that is where the seriousness of the Lord's test is. not only because of the eternal consequences it holds, but also because he has tailor-made this test for me. the Lord knows that i could easily and without much effort, pass a huge, obvious test. the things that i struggle with are smaller, more vague issues. thus, the test that is my life, is filled with them.

a few (ok, so like 5) years ago, elder wirthlin gave a talk titled sunday will come. i loved it when i first heard it, and was so glad when a mormonmessage was posted featuring that talk. in the talk, elder wirthlin speaks of the friday that Christ was crucified as the darkest day in the history of the world. however, that dark friday was followed by the sunday in which Christ was resurrected. all the brightness and light that resurrection brought with it were poured out to the world. in one weekend, we saw the greatest sorrow possible, but also the greatest joy. we could not have seen one without the other. here's an exerpt from elder wirthlin's talk:

each of us will have our own fridays, those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. we will all experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. we will all have our fridays.but i testify in the name of the one who conquered death, sunday will come...no matter how dark our friday, sunday will come.

i was a dramatic, emotional teenager. i am not sure i am much changed now as an adult. the thing that stands out to me most is that many of the fridays i experienced as a youth seem so insignificant now. they seem almost comical and simple. even my more recent fridays feel dramatized. it is hard to fully remember those emotionsl; i am gladly removed from them. i can say, though, that having truly felt a friday, i know that sunday will always come. whether in this life or the next, it will come. what wonderful, hopeful news!

in other news, i went to orlando!! and pene has posted some pictures on masey's blog. head over there for an update! (unless you are bitter that, while it snowed here in Utah, florida was 78-90 the whole time)

truth friday??

2011-03-18T04:46:00.000-06:00

haha, so i really thought truth friday would be a super cute title.... until i actually thought about it. i really am not sure why i thought it would be clever. probably because i missed wordy wednesday this week and have been awake since it was officially thursday. truth thursday makes more sense. :)

anywho, truth friday it is!

first bit of truth: it is 3:52am. i am awake, making 5 blankets for a service project on saturday. why am i up right now doing these?? because i have to spend all day tomorrow making a brain cake for masey's make a wish party. (yeah, i thought that was a clever idea, too until i realized that cakes are a LOT harder than the cake boss makes em look...good thing i gave myself a few days and few cakes to practice on) yeah, yeah. why tonight? you might be asking. well, tonight because i am a procrastinator. over a month ago, i decided that 5 blankets over the course of a month are completely do-able and not even inconvenient. well, 5 in a month is not inconvenient. the problem comes when you rationalize that 5 in 3 weeks, or 5 in 2 weeks, or even 5 in one week are not inconvenient, either. my problem is that i let myself decide that 5 in 2 days was plenty of time. until i realized that i will have approx. 3 hours of free time between now and when the service project is. unless you count sleeping hours, of course! so, long story short (can you even say that after the long story??) i won't sleep for a few days, but cancer families will have blankets! haha

i am more excited for the wizarding world of harry potter than disney world... i plan on making myself sick with butterbeer and letting a wand pick me. oh yeah, and sending out postcards from hogsmead by the dozens. let me know if you are going to need one :) dinner at the three broomsticks is going to round out my day. i really don't care if we do anything else, and it's entirely possible that i will start a campaign to go the first night; just for the butterbeer.

it was not until i was probably 22 that i realized that not only can people hear you when you sing in the car with the windows down (i guess i assumed that the wind from driving had an effect on their hearing, too..) but i was even older before i realized they can hear your music even with the windows up. i guess i am not very observant.

i feel incredible guilt when i kill spiders. all i can think about after the fact is that they have a purpose, and a soul. all i can think of when i see them, is to kill them. i hate them so much. i also feel like they know when i've killed a spider recently. they are always looking for revenge.

when i was 14, i shut the window in the shower and broke a nest of eggs open. there was literally a shower of tiny spiders down the wall of the shower, followed by a HUGE (ok, so probably normal sized) mama spider. yes, i was standing in the shower with them. no, they would not be washed down the drain. yes, some of them escaped and are now roaming the house, waiting to attack. the thought still sends shivers down my spine, and now i always precariously reach over the entire shower to shut the window, just in case.

i like most glee versions better than the originals. but i did not like this episode of original songs. i hope they don't make a habit of it.

i hit a racoon once. it was nasty hearing the bones crush.

there is a stack of four suitcases in my laundry room because i am too lazy to take them back downstairs (i'm gonna need to pack in just a few days!)

i have had a recipe for bacon-wrapped jalapeno chicken bites open on my computer for three days, just in case i forget that i want to make them. they sound so amazing.

ok, last truth bit: it's now 4:46 and i am dead. the rest of the blankets will have to wait!

wordy wednesday

2011-03-09T15:44:00.000-07:00

a lot of my cousins do something called wordless wednesdays. basically, on wednesday you post a picture of your stinkin adorable kids and don't put words. pretty simple, right? well, i have no stinkin adorable kids, so i decided to do my own wordy wednesday. you basically post words on a wednesday. super simple. my kind of post.

so, i sprained my ankle (again). apparently, walking and thinking are too hard for me to do at once. i was seriously just walking, not even super distracted, when i felt my ankle pop. next thing i know, i was on the ground. could it happen in one of the many dark, deserted walkways at uvu? nope. it was in the most crowded section, at one of the most crowded times. sometimes i hate my life.

i also cut a bunch of hair off. i can't remember if i already blogged about it, and i'm kinda too lazy to look. so, there you go! i cut my hair! i donated it to locks of love, and imagine that a cute little cancer girl is running around with a pretty new wig. (i don't care what vili says. that's what happened to my hair) now that i cut off all the ends, i am realizing that my hair is really dark! i can't wait for summer and my light brown hair to return.

mason prays that our food will "nursery shrink" our bodies. every time.

i am going to disney world in 13 days. yeah baby! i am so excited. in case any of you have never spoken of the big dw with me, here is the scoop: when my parents were prego with me, they took my older siblings to disney land. that was the only trip my family ever made there. thus, i have lived a sheltered and deprived life, having never been to disney world/land. in 13 days, i'm going to fix all of that, and to top it off, i am going with mason. i hear going with wish kids is pretty awesome :)

when we lived on maui, we had chickens. i had a love/hate relationship with them. the hens were cute enough and laid eggs, which i was always mortified to find out my parents ate. my chicken was called spotty, and he was a rooster. i know what you're thinking but he was not your typical crow in the morning and walk around all day, rooster. he was a filipino fighting rooster, and he was mean. he would peck at our feet and chase us out of the yard every morning when we had to feed/water them before school. (remember that i did not ever wear shoes to school in maui) randomness before the real reason i'm telling you this story: eventually, we moved back to oahu, and gave the chickens to our uncle. my evil rooster, spotty, became a champion cock fighter just like his father. i guess meanness was truly bred into them. hurricane iniki was coming, and we had to board up our windows, etc. i was so offended and traumatized that my parents wouldn't let us bring the chickens inside with us. we had to leave them in the carport, and i was sure they were going to die (they didn't). oddly enough, i don't remember anything else about the hurricane but that. i still might be a little bitter about it :)

vili and i went to a panel type thingy on human trafficking. basically, we learned that, as far as that panel was concerned, human trafficking is any time you do a job and are coerced, forced, exploited, or abused. (something like that. i can't really remember, and it's not really important.) the important part is that vili decided that he was a human slave as a child because he had to do chores and clean. i think he just wants to explore the possibility of getting a scholarship from it.

as excited as i am for disney world, i am about a hundred more times excited to try butterbeer at the wizarding world of harry potter. yeah, you're jealous.

and who says i can't put a picture of something Wonderful for Wordy Wednesday??

march madness

2011-03-05T15:24:00.003-07:00

well, i came into this world in march. the 7th, to be exact. 1986 to be more exact. 9:42 on a friday evening if you are picky.

25 years ago:
pretty in pink was #1 in the box offices that week. the color purple and out of africa both made the top 10. the rest are obscure movies i've never seen. (on second thought, the only one in the top 10 that i've seen at all is out of africa) my birth year was designated an international year of peace by the united nations. the country was still reeling from the space shuttle challenger disaster. the chernobyl disaster killed thousands and affected millions in europe and beyond. halley's comet made an appearance (i don't remember it :) pixar animation studios began. the mir space station was launched. geraldo rivera would open al capone's vault, to be disappointed by a mere bottle of moonshine. 6.5 million people linked hands in hands across america; they raised some 30 million dollars to fight poverty and hunger. fergie married prince andrew. desmond tutu becomes the first black anglican bishop in south africa. it was the centennial of the statue of liberty's dedication. a day in the life of america was shot (nope, i'm not in it, but i could be!) it was a world cup year (mexico). sara came out and hit #1 on the billboard hot 100 charts.

march 7th, 1986 was a beautiful spring day, the temps were in the 50s and 60s. that day, crews found the challenger's crew compartment on the ocean floor, including each of the 7 crew members' bodies. when my mom went into labor, she got to drive herself to the hospital because my dad wanted to wait for a load of rock to be delivered. i guess the new-ness of babies wears off by the 4th :) i was born at holy cross hospital in salt lake, and my entrance set the stage for the rest of my life. all three of my mom's older kids had 'backed up and shot out' as she puts it. she and her doctor were expecting that same thing with me, but they had never met me. after quite a while of hard pushing, the doctor decided to get the forceps. the moment i heard him say that, i backed up and shot out. he barely had time to catch me. i guess i'm only as stubborn as it is beneficial to me. (and yes, my dad made it in time. barely :)

my name was latu siale lolohea (latu after my dad's eldest sister, siale because gardenia is my mom's favorite flower) i was 7lbs 2oz, 19 inches long. by the time my blessing came around, my name was changed to latu sara lolohea. the biggest reason? my grandpa struggled enough to pronounce latu and lolohea, he didn't want to have to remember siale as well. so, my mom named me sara, after the jefferson starship song (which hit #1 in the charts a week after i was born), and an ancestor of hers that was 1/2 navajo, 1/2 paiute. it was a inspired choice; i've always had long, indian straight hair. just like my namesake. :)

i was a happy baby, but a definite mama's girl. when i was two, my mom led the music in relief society (and had another baby) i refused to go to anyone but my mom, so i spent the length of each song screaming at her legs. the sweet old ladies in the ward would try to take me and soothe me, but it wasn't long before they all decided to just let me be and sing over my screaming.

my young childhood was pretty idyllic. i have nothing to complain about. i grew up in hawaii (which i did not appreciate until we moved to utah and i realized the difference) in elementary school on maui, i used my first computer. the computer lab monitor made us wash our hands before we touched them. we didn't want to spread viruses!

a lot of things happened between then and now (it's been 25 years!) but there is one thing that did not. never did i ever think i would be turning 25. i guess i thought that once it really happened, i would already be old and it would not feel so weird. unfortunately, that did not happen. i am trying not to focus on it, 25 is not that old, and it's not like i can change it. so, here's the year(ish) in review:

one year ago today, i was looking forward to trips to arizona, hawaii, and france. i was working at pcs, and had no plans to quit. i began playing rugby and found a love of my life in that game. in june, i quit pcs and began working for a web design company. i went back to working 9-5 and decided i hated it. especially in the middle of summer and its sunny goodness :) in september, i quit that job, broke my sternum, and cancelled my trip to france. october found me working for a group home, which i promptly quit when masey was diagnosed with medulloblastoma in november. christmas was low-key and i started school in january. that about brings my year present.

(hopefully everyone has stopped reading by now, cause here's where i start explaining my life)

this past year has been the most profound of my life, spiritually speaking. i started the past year determined to stop making poor choices. i am ashamed to say that my resolved was short lasted. life started happening, and it was so easy to reorganize my priorities, all the while promising myself it was temporary. it was effortless to forget the changes, move on and continue to fool myself into thinking i was happy. throughout the past year, though, i have discovered a love for the Lord that i could not have known otherwise.

i needed to regress once more; to experience the sorrow of sin and the contrast of true happiness. i do not want this time in my life to be some sort of 'a-ha' moment; to be a huge jump in the graph of my progression. i want it to be just any other time in my life, where i try to be better by taking tiny steps. i do not want this moment in my life defined by one huge step, but by the tiny steps i am consistently making. that sort of progress is progress i can easily manage.

i know now that i will never have an experience like those in ancient days, where an angel appears to me, all thought of sin is eternally gone from my mind, and i become nearly perfect in the blink of an eye. i am just an ordinary nephite, trying to overcome the same pride cycle that my ancestors have struggled with for thousands of years.

baked apple day

2011-02-18T18:41:00.000-07:00

well, today can be summed up with the following story:

today was baked apple day at primary childrens. if you don't know what a baked apple is, you are truly missing out! it's basically a cored apple, stuffed with sugary cinnamon goodness, and wrapped with flaky, delicious pie crust and best served warm with ice cream. i don't like apple pie, but i adore these, and primary childrens is the only place i have seen them. they're to die for. i looove them.

so, with that background, i'll continue. we walked into the cafeteria and realized it was apple pie day. my heart did loops, i was so excited. that is, until i realized that the ice cream machine was broken. don't get be wrong, i am sure the sugary goodness that is baked apples would be good even without the ice cream. but nothing compares to baked apples and vanilla ice cream. after resigning myself to eating it without ice cream, i found out that another little area of the cafeteria had ice cream by the scoop for sale. happy that my life was once more whole, i practically skipped over to get the ice cream. well, i am sure that everyone else had the same idea as me, because when i got there, there was literally just bits of vanilla ice cream in the bucket. (this story is getting really long. feel free to stop at any point) thankfully, a tiny japanese woman was nice enough to work at the bucket for a good 3-5 minutes straight, managing to pull out just enough ice cream for my sister and me.

so, in the end, i got my baked apple, and to top it off, i got it with ice cream! that's about how most of my day went. really good -- bad -- good ish -- really bad -- good

i think it's a pattern :) i started out taking a test in my world music class. i am 100% sure i aced it, and i only needed 10 minutes to take it, which meant that i could amble my way to my other class, not fight the masses and rush all over like usual. really good!

following that, i found out a had a 'guest lecturer' in my next class (read: candidate for a teaching position they're hiring. so far every candidate has had a thick accent, and only one has been engaging or entertaining.) as you can guess from that introduction, it was pretty bad.

after that, we headed up to masey's audiologist. the results were GOOD! his hearing hasn't worsened, which means that the radiation did not damage his hearing further. but, we also found out that the chemo he will start on monday has a pretty high occurrence of hearing damage as a side effect. (i took statistics in college. i know where all those numbers really come from) thus, this warning is an ish until it proves itself a bad.

after that, we walked around for a bit and saw the train set before going to the ear-nose and throat doctor. that's where we found the really bad:

i am not a fan of doctors who think that you should revere anything they say and take it all at face value. a doctor is not a god. end of story. thus, when the doctor told us there were no treatment options and that we just needed to wait until his chemo is done to be able to know what we're dealing with, i was angry. now, i know that i am an emotional, dramatic type of person. but i also am good at math. in a perfect world, with no delays and perfect response to treatment, masey is done with chemo in december. i refuse to believe that there is nothing we can do for him in the meantime. i also refuse to believe that an ng tube is a permanent solution.

the real kicker, and what truly made this appointment really bad, was still to come. after i expressed my concerns that we have even less answers about how to help masey and cannot wait 12 months to treat, the doctor dropped this bomb: well, we're not even sure if his cancer will be cured, so...

i could feel the rage building up in my chest. SO WHAT??? i wanted to challenge him. every centimeter of my being wanted to cuss this stupid old man out. i wanted to leap across the room and smack him. i wanted to do something, anything. my breathing became shallow and i had to physically restrain myself. i had to keep myself from full-on glaring at this pompous man, though i am sure he could see the disdain on my face. i could not believe that he really was using the obvious/terrifying (that masey might not be cured) as an excuse to not treat right now. i was truly flabbergasted. i could not force myself to talk because i did not trust myself to be civil. i listened to his feeble attempts to codify us (along with gems of phrases like well, we need to remember that considering all he's been through, it really could be worse -- NOT a solution, excuse, or acceptable answer!) i loathed this man. very seriously.

yes, maybe part of the loathing stemmed from the fact that we are literally on the eve of a possible turning point. masey's having an MRI tomorrow morning, to determine if the radiation was successful. maybe it's been kinda a stressful week for all of us. maybe i've heard some heartbreaking horror stories about medulloblastomas magically reappearing at this mri. maybe those kids did not have any symptoms when their tumors returned. maybe the treatment after the tumor comes back has not been documented successful. maybe i'm a little terrified that that child could be mason. maybe the doctor just should have known when to pull his foot out of his mouth and stop talking.

either way, i was eventually able to get him to truly explain his diagnosis/prognosis/plan of treatment. (even though it took me full on sobbing in his office and unable to talk first :) and pene feels good about it, and so do i, so i guess that's the happy ending/really good part at the end. the end's all that matters, right??

it's back!!

2011-01-24T17:03:00.001-07:00

well, masey is the small-talk topic of choice lately, and i can't really blame people. i'd be super nosy about it too! every time someone asks how he's doing, i feel guilty if i say anything but 'fine' or 'good'. i mean, really, the kid is extremely blessed just to be alive! is it bad luck to bemoan the struggles?

do people really want to know about how he is wasting away before my eyes, and refusing to eat. do they want to know about the surgery he is going to need to repair his paralyzed vocal chord? do they want to know about him choking on liquids and all other foods? about how we have to wait at least a month before he can get into the schedule to have this surgery, and then hope it's before his next course of chemo. otherwise, he will not be able to have it for a few more months. i feel like this is coming across as bratty. i don't mean it that way. i just really don't know how much information people want. so, for all you out there who have asked about masey and i've said 'he's fine', that paragraph is the truthful update. here is one more:

remember this?

yup, masey's sporting the feeding tube again! the blessing/curse has returned!

masey hated his feeding tube the first time around, and putting it in was traumatic (nose bleeding, scratching damaged throat, being held down by strangers, etc) he has dreaded the thought of it ever since. the fear of a feeding tube has often been the only reason this poor guy will gag down his (rather nasty, i might add) medicine.

but he's also lost over 11 kilos since coming home from the hospital (for all you americans out there, throwing a fit about the metrics, 11 kilos is about 24 pounds.) don't believe me? compare:

and these pictures only show his face. lift up his shirt and it's easy to see that this kid is skin.and.bones. he has lost every ounce of baby fat he had, and a lot of muscle mass. this little boy, who was always deceptively heavy and solid, is now anything but. at 115cm (3'9" haha) masey's current bmi is 15.1, which is quite underweight. (especially compared with the 23.4 it was in the hospital)

wow, i kinda got off topic! back to the real topic of this post, that lovely tube stuck down masey's nose/throat. here's a list of reasons the feeding tube will really help masey, no matter how traumatic it was to insert it today:

pneumonia. or i guess preventing it. he had pneumonia in the hospital, and with his lowered immune system (thanks to the radiation and chemo) it would be life-threatening to get it now (oh yeah, why does this apply to the feeding tube? because of masey's vocal cord paralysis, he has been aspirating-or inhaling-liquids, which can build up in his lungs and cause pneumonia. throughout his course of treatment-for the next year-masey will take antibiotics weekly to combat this. eliminating the risk for additional liquid in the lungs will go a long way to preventing pneumonia.)
hydration. any liquids masey drinks must be thickened to more than honey-thick. not only is this nasty to drink as far as texture goes, it is nasty because his drinks are more than half thickening agent, which tastes gross. the tube will keep him hydrated.
it's an ng tube, not the nj tube he had before. this will help him feel full and rely almost solely on the feeding tube, protecting his throat.
nutrition. not much tastes good to masey lately. this will let him get nutrients, and hopefully gain weight and bring his counts up. (the levels of red blood cells, platelets, but most importantly, white blood cells in his blood)

anywho, as much as i would like for this to all go away (masey, too!) i am so grateful that masey is here, and is such a trooper. he's the strongest kid i know, and i kinda like his new addition :)

almost 4 down...

2011-01-20T21:25:00.003-07:00

well, it's almost been 4 years since i started this blog (i guess 3.5 is more accurate) i started it just after my grandma died. i desperately wanted an outlet, and physically writing was way too much effort :) so, i decided to keep an online journal/blog.

this past weekend, talia gave me a journal i got at girls camp in 2007. i wrote a few entries at camp, but most interesting to me was the last entry i wrote. it was dated july 24, 2007. the day after i wrote this journal entry, my dear grandma would lose her battle with leukemia. interjections from me today will be in purple, because i am very fond of interrupting myself :)

before i start, though, here's a picture for those of you who don't want to read on :) it's of my daddy, me, and my sisters back in 2004. i've never seen this picture before, but i looove it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

well, maybe i'll finish about girls camp later, but now i really want to write. i've decided that writing is an escape for me, my thoughts, and just everything. sometimes just out of nowhere, i get a really strong desire to write. today, on pioneer day, we (mom, dad, pene, mase & darl) went to ogden to see grandma. we found out that grandma's decided that she will not be taking any more transfusions, or treatments. it makes me so sad & it has not even set in all the way. it's surreal, life without my grandma. i honestly cannot imagine it. she's been such a constant in my life, no matter where, who or what. she raised me, cared for me, loved me & was always there with advice, love and concern. i felt more like she was my mom more than anyone else in the world besides my mom. until tomorrow, when grandpa decides where grandma's going, i am going to write some of my favorite memories (of grandma)

singing burrump went the little green frog, hickory dickory cranery crow and froggy froggy how are you?
shirley temple movies
graham crackers & frosting sandwiches for summer fun (a summer program) in our own personal little coolers
2nd grade, when i changed my bangs and smiled retarded in my school pictures (both things grandma had told me not to do over and over the morning of pictures. i was pretty sure i was real cute. turns out, i was cute enough to not even buy pictures that year :)
stopping at foodland and then eating lunchables on a huge log while grandpa did work at scout camp
the newsletter weekly (grandma wrote sporadically her last few months)
grandma waking us up with the piano
playing church music on the black stereo every sunday
how beautiful she is
her hassell blue eyes (my grandma had the most striking blue eyes. in fact, so did every one of her siblings and most of their kids. we call them hassell blue after her family)
going to bluewater (a tiny town...actually, it's technically a village, in new mexico where we're basically related to everyone and my grandma grew up)
her patience
her teaching pene to read with the book of mormon (she would have pene look for and highlight specific words during sacrament and at home-Lord, and, thus, etc)
her blue, cool room in hawaii (her bedroom was the only room in the house that had an air conditioner. it was always so wonderfully cold in there)
the tree house (their house had the most amazing tree house with three floors. it was built into a huge tree on a hillside. i fell out of the second story once. it was awesome.)
the convertible (she had a convertible because she was just that cool. in fact, most of their cars were awesome. i remember marveling at how rich they were b/c their car had shoulder belts in the back seat)
going to savers and garage sales
her 800 number (to make sure her family could always talk to her whenever they wanted [and without paying long distance charges] she got an 800 number. i don't even remember when. for as long as i remember. we could call grandma any time, any place and chat it up with her, complain about how unfair something was, or just check in.)
putting dolls on timeout/taking them away (she would take our dollies away when we were mean to them. she'd tell us cps came and got them. only when we could prove we would be good parents would she give them back)

there are so many other things i love so much about her but i'll stop for now. mostly, i just love her. i love her shining points & her short comings. i love everything about her. she's had such an overwhelming influence on my life. i cannot imagine it now, but i know that the Lord is in control. as hard as it is to think, this is part of his plan. my life will continue to go on, with or without grandma. it will never be the same, and i know it is going to be so hard to say goodbye & let her go, but in the end, i know that it is not the end, just a pause on our relationship. as hard as my grandma's death will be, i absolutely know that families are forever. on that hopeful thought, i am going to go! (me too :)

be smart

2011-01-06T22:17:00.002-07:00

well, it feels like the past few days have flown by, but been years long at the same time. i have felt like i should go back to school for quite some time now. i always had an excuse why "now" is not a good time. it's the same story as every other time in the past 4 ish years that i got that feeling. always a bad time, not enough money, no classes open, too busy, even masey's cancer. you name it, i used it as an excuse to justify not enrolling in school.

it feels like this is a continuing theme in my life :) well, i am now proud to say that, despite being told by my academic advisor, someone in admissions, someone in collections and my own mind that i would not be able to attend school this semester, i am starting classes tomorrow. i do not plan on stopping, and i in fact refuse to stop. i've seen so well how i get complacent with not going to school, convince myself i'll eventually go back and then never do. i am truly exhausted of that. my mind is wasting away, with nothing to occupy it. anywho, the story of how i got everything in order to go to school could take a long time, and it seems like such a blur now. but i truly am blessed, and i know that this is the path the Lord would have me take.

maybe i'll tell it another day. for now, though, my list of things i wish someone had told me when i was in high school about college:
there are other ways of going to school besides getting great grades in high school and a full ride, academic or athletic scholarship. i remember the day clearly when my uncle made me realize that i could go to school without those things.
books cost a lot of money, and you rarely use them. selling them back is like walking a tight rope...it's only possible if a new edition (read: 4 new pictures and the order of the quizzes/chapters are switched up) has not come out, and you are willing to get a fraction of the purchase price back.
open admissions.
community colleges/state universities. they are not just pathways into a better school. you can get a full-fledged degree for much cheaper.
12-18 credits cost the same. take as many as you can handle to save money.
having a disabled father, who is unable to work=lots of pell grants=no money owed. having this same disabled father will only be of use on your fafsa until you turn 24. take advantage.
fafsa. filling it out is required. also, very useful when you discover the above.
application fees and fees for act/sat are just the beginning-- and very small, looking back.
concurrent enrollment and ap classes really do pay off, and are worth the small fees (see above)
study well for the act/sat. testing out of math is much better than taking math.
waiting years to take a math class sucks. and you forget anything you might have known. there is nothing more annoying than a college counselor pointing out to you that, once upon a time, you got an awesome score on your act math section. (and then letting you know that because you waited so long to go back to school, that score has expired and they will no longer accept it. hello, math 1010)
college is nothing like the movies (which makes me glad :)
college students are poor. like more poor than i can remember being.
student id = bus pass.
there will always be reasons to stop going or take "just one semester"off. not giving yourself that option is best. once you go from poor to working again, it's so hard to go back.
student health center. saved my life a few times.
the right counselor can help you overcome most holds on your record.
you can work on campus, and they are great at accommodating class schedules.
you can get more than one degree,in more than one field.
you are not limited to what you can study by anything but yourself.
start school as soon as you can, and don't stop until you're done. it's worth it.

well, i could go on about the things i wish i knew. but, i'll leave you with a picture of the baldy, masey boy.

i think he looks a bit like this guy:

medulloblastoma

2010-12-22T17:47:00.002-07:00

Looking for information? Medulloblastoma is not always the death sentence it once was. Read Mason's blog for updates on a happy boy, diagnosed with standard-risk medulloblastoma in Nov. 2010.

my nephew masey has medulloblastoma. in case anyone reading this blog already does not know :) i guess i might be able to say had medulloblastoma. most of the things he's suffering with now are secondary to that beast of a cancer with the beastly name.

i've got so many thoughts about it, and i just need to share. if you want an update on him, his blog is always the best place. (he's doing very well currently, all things considered) after the last post i made, though, i decided to research myself. maybe it was a mistake. maybe i didn't really want to hear horror stories of cancer that comes back (medulloblastoma that reoccurs is typically terminal) or see awful pictures of the side effects from the chemo/radiation. maybe i didn't want to see statistics and hear the stories of kids who lost their fights with medulloblastoma. maybe i did. i am not sure there is an actual answer.

the day masey was diagnosed, his sweet nurse in the picu encouraged us to take pictures of him. to document it for him when he gets older. he was going into brain surgery the following morining. i thought she was being insensitive. you see; deep down, i was convinced he would not make it through the surgery.

i just did not see how the big old doctor could stick his hands into masey's 3 year old brain, suck out a tumor and still have things go well. i had seen the massive tumor on the mri. i had watched as the doctor calmly scrolled through the pics and i saw the flip book of the massive tumor. i could not imagine how masey was even alive with that thing in his brain. i heard the doubt in the doctors voice, and sensed his dodging the question of what will come after surgery. he wasn't sure anything came after surgery for masey boy.

i did not have faith at all in the process masey was embarking on. but i also did not have the guts to say it out loud. though it goes against everything i firmly believe (that the Lord does not punish children for the mindless babble that others say) i thought i might jinx the surgery by voicing my doubts.

but he did make it, through two of those brain surgeries. and if we're gonna be specific, he made out like a bandit. some kids are not able to talk or walk or really even move for months on end. some kids need a shunt just to be able to regulate the pressure in their heads. some kids need weeks for their brains and bodies to recover from surgery. masey did not need any of these things. every time a doctor would come in to examine him, they would comment on how well he was doing. in fact, the day before leaving the hospital, when masey rode past his neurosurgeon on the physical therapy bike, the surgeon literally exclaimed with amazement. masey has weathered it all very well so far.

but what does that mean for the future? as much as i firmly believe that masey is a fighter and can kill this (anyone who has seen one of his tantrums or tried to argue with him knows he wins everything he tries) there is the looming fear in the back of my mind that everything can't go well all the time. masey already has side effects from the radiation and chemo. he doesn't eat. its a struggle to get him to drink. his jaw hurts him and he is getting more clumsy. but those seem so small compared to the monsters i see in my mind. i feel like i am hoping for the best, but bracing for the moment when the floor drops out from under us.

i am very grateful for masey's sweet picu nurse, jodi. her suggestion to document his treatment was heaven sent. every once in a while, masey will ask to look at his scar, or to see his birthday party. having pictures to show him has helped him so far, and i imagine one day, when he has a little boy of his own, he'll want to show his family a record of this amazing journey, and proof of the miracle we've witnessed firsthand.

any time i think about keeping a record or documenting or journaling, i thought of my sweet grandmother. in the year 2000, she started writing a weekly newsletter to her family, at first just her children but soon for many more family members and friends. she called it meanwhile, back at the ranch (i think after some line in a western. maybe a famous line from gunsmoke) it was the blog of 10 years ago, and served as her journal for the 7 years she wrote it. during the last 18 months of her newsletter, it served as a record of her fight with leukemia.

grandma always had a soft spot in her heart for masey. he was the only baby she'd ever seen born. she watched masey enter this world just a few months before she departed it. a few months ago, my sister began re-posting my grandma's newsletters for the family to read. looking back, i find it fitting that she had done that, as my grandma and masey share a very special bond beyond masey's birth. they both had cancer. the only difference is one was at the ending of a life and one at the beginning.

did you know?

2010-12-20T18:02:00.001-07:00

well, i have solidly refused to look up any statistics or information on masey's type of cancer, medulloblastoma. my sister is not quite as against it. in fact, she is way too curious to not read all she can about it. usually i am that person, who sucks up information in the hopes that it will make a difference. i'm not sure why we've traded places. but, here is a short list of stats my sister put together. just a few did you knows, because you might have noticed the pretty new buttons on the right of my blog.

that's what i'm here for

2010-12-18T22:34:00.000-07:00

well, my sister pene and i each have lots of strengths. unfortunately, few of our strengths overlap. i am great at expressing myself either through writing or conversation (arguing:) she is great at expressing herself through music, singing and photography. i am great at getting people to give me what i want, she is great at getting what she wants herself. i am great at winging things and never planning, she has the plans and lists down. two sides of the same gene pool.

since masey has been sick, it's been pretty useful. the doctors will come to talk to pene, and she and i literally hear two different conversations. i completely tune out things my mind does not see as important (i like to think it's the fluffy stuff) while she tunes out details. we will talk about a doctor visit after the fact and marvel that we both were present for the same conversation.

but, it helps eliminate the gaps in the information we are given. i am good at being the bad guy. when nurses are not doing something correctly, i am the nervy one who will confront them on it. when something needs to be done and isn't, it is me that finds the nurse and gets her to do it now. pene is good at gaining the compassion and dedication of the nursing staff. i am great at interrupting doctors to ask the questions that pene will not, or has forgotten. she is great at listening and taking care of mason during these visits. i am good at understanding what information a vague question is wanting and only giving that much. pene is good at giving the full picture. i am good at waking up with 5 minutes till we leave, hoping i have proper clothing on and going to masey's radiation appointments. pene is great at packing each item and knowing where and how many of each item she packed.

we always joke that there are some things that are just what i'm here for. i am here to ask the questions, manipulate people into giving us the things we want, and most importantly, make sure masey has what he needs. when masey had a horrific experience at the doctors, i knew that it was my job to hunt down the proper channels to get our problem solved, and let everyone possible know how enraged we were about it. i did not need to be told to allow my righteous fury to fix the problem. it was just understood. pene had the task of comforting masey and reassuring him that it would never happen again, as well as planning out the long-term battle plan. i got to let my anger out immediately, and argue any medical professional up to the challenge into a nice little corner. both things that fit our personalities perfectly.

despite our different personalities and strengths, it has been so nice spending tons of time not only with masey but pene, also. we did not always get along well (i guess at all!) especially when we were little. but, spending time with her lately has allowed me to appreciate the many strengths she brings to the table, and the amazing mom she is.

say it louder!

2010-12-11T05:37:00.000-07:00

this summer, i remember one sunday where i was sitting in sacrament meeting at church with masey. he was being loud and disruptive. i whispered some sort of bribe in his ear. i'm sure it went something like if you're quiet, i will give you candy after church. well, mason did not care for the bribe. he continued on, ignoring that i had said anything to him. a few seconds later, i whispered a higher-level bribe. probably something like if you're quiet during church, i'll buy you a train. again, it was ignored. i tried the trump bribe, if you are quiet we will go to auntie lia's house after church. this got a response, but not the one i wanted.

say it louder! mason said.
you need to whisper in church, i reminded him.
say it louder! was his reply, but this time he was full-on yelling, and turned to look at me.
you'd better whisper in church or i'm going to throw away all your trains. was my reply.

the reply that got was sobbing. i ended up taking him out of sacrament meeting because he was being so loud. i had to console him that no, i wouldn't really throw away all his trains. we didn't make it back into sacrament that day, and i walked away from the situation extremely annoyed with masey. i was so happy to hand him off to his mom.

a few weeks later, we found out that masey is profoundly deaf in his right ear. the ear i was whispering in. the ear i got so angry he did not respond to me from. i felt like a horrible person for being so mad at him for something he couldn't help. the moment i was told about him being deaf, i immediately thought of the incident in church. it made such great sense now.

halloween day found me having just played a rugby game. (i guess i should call it mormon halloween. it was the day before halloween, which fell on a sunday this year) pene had left to take care of her calling, and it was my job to get masey ready for the trunk-or-treat. i thought it would be simple, he was so excited to wear his iron man costume. but he refused. flat-out, throw-a-tantrum, screaming and yelling refused. he said he was too tired, and too sick to go. over and over, but i continued to push it and refused to listen. eventually, at the direction of my mom, i left him alone and walked away from the situation.

4 days later, masey went in for an mri that would change his life forever. suddenly, like that fateful sunday, the happenings on halloween made sense. masey had a brain tumor. all of these symptoms made sense. the guilt i feel, knowing that i gave him such a hard time for stuff he couldn't help is sometimes unbearable. the only bright point is that masey does not remember either day. luckily for me, i am still his auntie latu and i can do no wrong.

one perfect bubble

2010-12-01T00:20:00.000-07:00

well, this is going to be the boring, lots of info paragraph. for the story, read after the picture :) tonight i volunteered at the 40th anniversary of the festival of trees. the festival of trees is kinda just what it sounds like. people or businesses donate trees, which are auctioned off. every penny made (by admission, buying trees, food or crafts) goes to primary childrens medical center, and families that cannot afford treatment. i worked at the sweet shop and sold candies, chocolates, pretzels, cookies and brownies to the visitors. tonight was a great night to work because it was the auction night and not too busy, so i was able to take a lot of breaks and see the trees. most trees are dedicated to someone and some trees offer explanations of the person's struggles or life story.

one, called one perfect bubble really stuck out to me. it was simple as trees at the festival go. it was adorned with a few green, shiny ornaments and lots of clear glass balls. the picture of the baby had a bubble coming out of its mouth, which i thought was cute. it wasn't until i read the bio information that the full power of the tree hit me.

this tree was dedicated to a sweet baby boy. he had a disorder called trisomy 18, something that is close to my heart because i know someone who has fought her way out of her teens with trisomy 18. she has lived decades longer than doctors ever imagined. this friend's parents were told that she would not live more than days, the same thing the boy from the tree was told.

thats about when their stories separate. my friend's story is one of a years-long struggle and fight, defying all the odds. the little boy's story was an hour-long tale. his prognosis was not good, so throughout the last part of the pregnancy, his parents prayed fervently for just one hour with their baby. their righteous desire was granted, and they spent one hour with their sweet boy before his spirit left this earth. throughout the hour he was here, he blew bubbles from his mouth. one of those bubbles was the one in the picture that had caught my eye.

reading all of the plaques and stories of these small children and babies made me incredibly thankful for masey being here. it made me thankful for competent doctors who know what they are doing. mostly, though, it made me grateful for the countless families and kids who have gone before. those nameless people who we constantly hear about. we never hear names or even specifics. usually its not entirely clear we are hearing about people. but we hear about treatments that work better than others, side effects to look out for, and information about how masey's type of tumor behaves. all of that boils down to hundreds if not thousands of little boys, just like mason, just as beloved by their families, and just as precious, who have gone before. who have paved the way for mason today. i pray for those sweet kids and for their families, and am hugging my masey even tighter tonight.

this little boy

2010-11-27T10:37:00.000-07:00

is doing so well! my sister took this picture, and i couldn't help but post it. a lot of the time, i worry about him, i worry that he is not recovering quickly enough, that he's not quite himself. but this picture speaks volumes about how well he is doing. auntie loves you, masey!!

come, ye thankful people, come

2010-11-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

well, this year i have a lot to be thankful for, and most of the things i am most thankful for are things i took for granted prior.

the big and obvious ones are my family. i am so grateful for their love, their support, and just for them. i am grateful for sila boy, who constantly is in a great mood and is the perfect baby. i am grateful for the princess, who always says her mind and loves her brothers fiercely. i am grateful for masey boy, who is fighting cancer and a great example to all of us of how to be in a horrible situation but not lose your manners or your humanity. i am grateful for mo, who loves everyone so much he doesn't even know what to do with it. i am grateful for my angel niece, lile and the motivation to be good she provides me with her quiet presence.

i am grateful for baby darl, who worries about everything and everyone and is never anything but caring and thoughtful; he does what he feels he should no matter what. i am grateful for pene, the best mommy to a sick little boy and example of strength to me. i am grateful for vili and his unwavering testimony, example of the savior's love, and for his undying friendship. i am grateful for sila, the brother who has few words for me but i always know is my #1 defender. i am grateful for tevita and the provider and worthy priesthood holder/father he is to my sister and their children. i am grateful for talia and her friendship, guidance and even-keeled advice. i am grateful for edgar, the brother i have never met and do not know, but have been mindful of lately.

i am grateful for my mother, who is a great example of hard work, determination and sacrifice. i am grateful for my father who is my favorite critic and an example of strength mixed with love. i am grateful for my dear, departed grandmother jenna lee and the shoulder to cry on and advice i still hear her giving me. i am grateful for my grandfather darl, for always being there to support, offer advice and counsel and be an example of gospel living.

i am grateful for my many aunts and uncles. they have a bigger impact on my life than they know, whether it is sheltering a lost little girl; being a friend and confidante; or thoughtfully noticing a problem and striving to fix it. they are examples of pure love and family. i am grateful for the cousins i can confidently call friends, who lend their support and love from miles and miles away.

i am grateful that i am an american citizen. it is a huge blessing to be able to walk into any place of business and qualify for a job. i am grateful that i have a car to drive me to the places i need to be, and places i need to be.

i am grateful for friendship. i have never truly cherished friends until this year.

i am grateful to have the gospel in my life. i am truly grateful for agency, the atonement and the miracle of forgiveness. i have partaken of it more than i would like, but it is a blessing and i am grateful it is there for the taking. i am grateful for the power of the priesthood and the miracles i have witnessed through it.

i am grateful for the gift of working ears. i experienced total silence the other day, and it was unnerving. i had no point of reference for the things i was seeing and knew should be hearing.

i am grateful for chairs that do not rock. i realized at the hospital that if i am in a rocking chair, i will subconsciously rock it and make myself nauseous.

i am grateful that snow-pocalypse was not nearly as bad as predicted, at least here in orem. i was repenting like crazy on the drive home last night!

i am grateful for blogging and the ability it gives me to keep a semi-faithful record of my life. i am grateful that it is an outlet i enjoy, and i can type as much or little as i like (obviously, today i like a lot :)

i am grateful for facebook (no, this will not be like the girl i heard bear her testimony of myspace, as she met her fiancee there) and the ability it gives me to keep in contact not only with random people i have not seen, or cared to see for years, but my family that is scattered throughout the world. when i wanted people to fast and/or pray for masey's brain surgeries, facebook was there. when i did not want to update the entire world one-by-one on his status, facebook was there.

i am grateful for primary childrens medical center, a place where miracles happen. i am particularly grateful for a neurosurgeon named dr. jay riva-cambrin. i joke that he is over-confident or cocky, but the reality is that without him, my masey would not be here. he truly performed a miracle in masey, and i am eternally grateful for him and his meticulousness and thoroughness, as well as his willingness to accept the challenge of masey's surgery in the first place. i really can't say enough good about this man, but if i ever find myself in need of a pediatric neurosurgeon again, you bet i'll be tracking down dr. riva-cambrin.

i am grateful for letters. there is nothing quite as nice as getting mail that is not a bill or junk.

well, i could obviously go on forever (letters? seriously! that made the list??) but i'll stop now. suffice it to say that i am really looking forward to thanksgiving, and i am a grateful, happy girl!

the first family picture we've had in years. i know, ridiculous that it takes that long to get 9 adults and 4 kids together...especially cause i just remembered that one of us is shopped in. :)

dreams

2010-11-20T02:14:00.002-07:00

this post is not about masey. wow, that feels so weird to type! he is at home now, and doing so so well! read his blog for an update

this post is about me. it's also about one of my best friends in the entire world. it's also about one of my fondest dreams.

the story i am going to tell is not one i share with people. ever. in fact, it's one that i usually try my best to hide. it's something that my subconscious mind thinks of as shameful. it's something that i am sharing because it just feels like the time...

best friends are a tricky thing. everyone needs them, but by having them, we open ourselves up to get really hurt. people who know us the best also know what low blows can be said in a fight that will hurt the most. i had one of those fights tonight, and it was not a fun thing. i guess i should start a bit farther back though.

i have always loved children. since i can remember, i have wanted at least 10 kids. more if possible! i wanted my kids to have lots of siblings, and to all be close in age so they would always have playmates and friends. i planned names for them, practiced with the neighborhood kids and any other child/baby i could get my hands on!

that all changed when i was 16, though. i received the most devastating medical diagnosis i could imagine. i was told i would not be able to have children, and if by some miracle i did, it would only be through intense infertility treatments. not only was it incredibly devastating to me. it also seemed shameful. something i was terrified people might find out about me. a stigma i did not want.

i knew that the diagnosis left the possibility for children through infertility treatments. but i also knew it did not leave the possibility for 10 or 11 or 12. i got tunnel vision and could only think about the first half of the diagnosis. as far as i was concerned, i could not have children. my world had ended, and i fell into a deep depression. i did not recognize it at the time, but looking back on my life, i see the path depression left. my grades and attendance plummeted. my relationship with my family suffered. i ended up dropping out of high school the week of graduation. i was too busy feeling sorry for myself and being angry at the Lord to do anything, including finish high school.

i became a drop out statistic. i burned bridges with family and friends and did not care. i can't say i blame all these things on the diagnosis, and i cannot say that it is an excuse. but that is my story. or at least my side of it.

through this entire time, i did my best to not let anyone know about it. i did not tell my family, i did not tell my friends. i was ashamed--not only of the diagnosis, but of my behavior because of it.

now, i guess we can fast forward to current day. the depressive streak is past. i have chosen to focus more on the fact that children can be possible than that they most likely are not. the shame is past, though i still have not chosen to share this with many people.

what is not gone--but i wish was--are the fears. the ones that lurk in the back of my mind in a quiet room. the ones that go the deepest. the ones that say i will never have kids. that i will never find an eternal companion. that not being able to have kids will never even be an issue, because i will never marry. those are the fears that were played on today by one of my best friends (who herself is a mom).

and it just felt so unfair.

miracle hospital

2010-11-17T11:42:00.004-07:00

since masey has been at primary childrens medical center, i have been making a list of a few things i love about this hospital:

they treat any child, regardless of their parents ability to pay, and with payment (or lack thereof) not factoring into treatment
their motto, the child first and always
the room service menu. there's no cart full of pre-made trays for the patients. it is an entire menu of food items the child can pick from. you simply call the number, and they ask what can i get for mason? then you order. an aide brings up his tray. you can order as much or as little as you like, as often as you like. when mason had special diet restrictions, they brought him a menu with only approved items, so he wasn't seeing things he couldn't have. many times, they have brought up a single banana or a cheese wedge. also, if we were eating something from the cafeteria he wanted, they would plate it up and bring him some
slushie machines on every unit
wednesdays, there is a hospital-wide bingo game. every kid gets a prize (last week it was a mr. potato head, this week a snoopy doll)
xbox 360s in every room
toy closets on every unit, and an enormous toy room on the 3rd floor
an entire staff of kids crew volunteers who will play with your child, do a craft, keep them company if you leave, bring him toys, play with a sibling.
therapy dogs
child life specialists, certified child psychologists who help not only understand procedures, but attend them with him and talk him through it; deal with homesickness, and conduct the best play therapy ever.
laundry rooms for the parents with laundry soap provided
sleep rooms for the parents
visits from personal pets (mason's doggies) for terminal and long-term patients
primary lessons at the bedside
a quilt on every bed
buddies, the dolls the child life people use to help mason understand all his tubes and wires.
the nurse who let him have no leeds on since yesterday because he told her he hated them and never wanted them again
the nurse who fought to be our nurse because she loved masey so much
the neurosurgeon who let mason have his catheter out and hour after surgery because he asked for it
patient care techs who also serve as waitresses for the parents
volunteers who bring a cart full of instruments round and make up silly songs with the kids
the hospitality cart, brought round every morning full of doughnuts, coffee/cocoa, muffins, bagels, juice and fruit for the families
music performers in the lobby almost every night-harp, piano, violin, classical guitar, cello, flute, viola-you name it, i've heard it.
pene can sleep/lay with/cuddle with mason any time he wants
nurses, aides and doctors who will still gladly work around the many balloons and decorations up from masey's birthday on monday

this is just a short list of the many things i love about this hospital. i have always felt good about pcmc, but having masey here, i am now a true believer in this place. miracles happen here all the time, and kids are healed. it's a sad place inevitably, but it's also a place of miracles; full of people who truly love kids.

december 1st-4th is the festival of trees here in utah. i encourage anyone in the area to come see the trees, or buy a tree if you are so inclined. we will be decorating a tree next year. and you can bet i'll be going to the festival this year, and every year after. every penny raised goes to pay for children whose parents cant afford treatment.

this is thomas, masey's buddy. yes, he has a drain in his head also. yes it is really stitched in just like his. yes, he does have a board on his wrist to immobilize it just like masey. yes, that is a real iv, put in with a real needle by masey. and yes, masey loves him. a lot.

there are some really awesome updates on masey's condition and length of stay, etc. but i've been banned from updating before pene. so, stay updated on http://masestumortales.blogspot.com/ or check back with me tomorrow :)

pay it forward

2010-11-16T09:26:00.000-07:00

yesterday was masey's 4th birthday. he's such a big kid now, and still so brave. all day, he was grouchy. the nurses would talk to him and he wouldn't answer. he refused to cooperate with the physical therapists or anyone else who came in the room. i can't say i blame him, he was mad he was at the hospital for his birthday! he kept insisting that his birthday was tomorrow, because he's convinced he is going home tomorrow.

about 2 in the afternoon, we got a knock. we could tell it wasn't a hospital employee knock; very few of them ever knock and the ones who do tap the door then walk right in. this knock was loud and waited for a reply from us. it was refreshing!

on the other side of the door was the sweet girl two rooms down, G, and her dad. in her hands was an adorable stuffed dog and a bunch of balloons. her dad explained that it was G's birthday a few weeks ago, and she knows how sad it is to have a birthday in the hospital. so, she wanted to stop by with a gift. i could barely hold back the tears when they told us that. it was exactly what masey needed, to know that someone knows what it feels like. we quietly woke him up and hoped that he would be nice, and he did not disappoint! he was so gracious and happy that he had a dog. all night, he kept saying i love doggies. i love my doggie!

it was sweet, and not something she had to do. but it truly made a difference in masey's day. as i explained to him that G knows how sad it is to have your birthday at the hospital, i could see it click in his mind. he got it. i have felt since his second surgery that all of this can really benefit others beyond our family. i thought it would need to be something huge, but after meeting sweet G yesterday, i realize it's the small things that really count.

i hope masey grows up to be as sweet, thoughtful and kind as G, but i am sure he will not disappoint. he's a sweet kid already, and i've decided it is my role to help him always pay it forward.

scars

2010-11-14T05:01:00.001-07:00

WARNING: NOT ONLY AM I TYPING IN CAPS, BUT THIS POST HAS PICTURES OF SURGICAL SCARS. read on only if you wanna see em :) as a side note, the orangy, blood-looking stuff dried on his head is the iodine they cleaned it with, not blood.

also, my sister pene has started a blog for masey. it includes a counter on the right regarding his stitches, scars, etc. check it out.

so, every time i have worried during this process, things have turned out fine. i worried for masey's first surgery, and he ended up recovering very well. i worried about his drain, but same story. it has been basically the same story for every little and big event in this process. the most recent one is his second surgery.

i was not as nervous going in as i was for the first surgery. i knew what to expect in a brain surgery. i knew the time would not be as long as the first one. i knew the surgery itself was not as intense. i even knew (or maybe hoped) that the recovery would not be as long. they went in through another approach into masey's head and in the surgeon's words, were more successful than planned (and they planned for a lot!)

long story short, he is out of surgery, fine and recovering more quickly than from the first surgery. he's in a lot of pain, but it seems like the only real side effect is the awesome new scar on his head. i feel like if all he comes out of this with physically is a couple scars and maybe a shunt, we've hit the miracle jackpot.

well, this is a 4am post, and i'm kinda tired. it's too late to think of anything very profound, so i'll show you the pics.

here's the scar from his initial brain surgery:

and the second approach:

and both together:

and his vampire bite along with evd (drains fluid from his brain) and one of many screw holes:

chiefi

2010-11-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

masey got a visit from a four-legged visitor last night. we received permission to have chiefi (either of our dogs, actually) come visit him. masey was in heaven. it was two hours in this entire week from hell that he was able to have a piece of home and forget about the hospital. as he went into surgery today, i was so happy that if nothing else, masey went in having full-on giggled last night. (he has not so much as cracked a smile since being here, and who can blame him)

right now, i am in the surgery waiting room. it is outpatient/inpatient. i remember now why i didn't want to wait here last time. this morning, the room was full of parents waiting for their kids. it's 11:49 and the room is only about a quarter full. watching most of these people sit for 45 minutes to an hour and then recover for another hour before taking their child home is hard when i know we have hours of surgery, and days or weeks of recovery with masey.

usually, it is so easy to remember that there is always someone who has it worse. but right now, in this waiting room, i have to constantly remind myself to not feel sorry for myself or masey. to not compare my situation with someone else's. to be humble that masey might be blessed. to spend my energy praying and pleading for a miracle rather than concerned with anyone else.

you know you're my saving grace

2010-11-11T13:20:00.000-07:00

i have started this blog post three times now (this is four) the first one was lost because my computer crashed. the rest just didn't say what i wanted them to. so, i am starting again from scratch.

i think this post is gonna be about my sister, penelope. she is so many things: talented, compassionate, creative, and most of all, an amazing mom. right now, she is laying in a hospital bed with a very sick three year old boy. she's playing him some of hers and his favorite songs. they are all good songs, but the one that sticks out is the one she passionately sang over and over to her sweet boy.

we've always been pretty big beyonce fans in our family. destiny's child was awesome, and beyonce never made a song we didn't like. however, it's common knowledge that penelope has the rights in our house to halo. she has loved it since it first came out, and as a result, her baby adores the song. he knows every word and sings along to it any time it comes on. its his mommy's song.

listening to her passionately sing that already emotional song put me over the edge today. my baby sister's baby is hurting. a lot. but so is my baby sister. its a hard process to watch; one that makes me feel helpless every day. i can't imagine the pain she is going through, watching her baby boy changing and suffering so much. through this all, she remains an example to me. still faithfully saying her prayers, watching uplifting movies about trials, and being there for her baby.

pene has always been the best mommy imaginable. she makes crafts with her baby. she plays fun games, sings songs and cooks with him. she takes him on walks and they go on adventures. they go hiking up the canyon and letter boxing. she takes him swimming and to visit family. she taught him to love the lord and love the scriptures. she sets the example of prayer and church attendance. when he is older, she is going to homeschool him. and i have no doubt he will remain the smartest kid i've ever met.

this sweet boy is waiting for his 2nd brain surgery in 8 days. it's scheduled for tomorrow. they want to try to get the tumor volume down below 1.5 cm3, decreasing the amount of radiation necessary to cure him. the hope is that he can be out of the picu by his 4th birthday on monday the 15th, and in for another surgery the monday following that. then, we've got about 10 more days until radiation starts. 5 days a week for 6 weeks. following that, we'll start 12 months of chemotherapy. i have never been happier that Christmas falls on a saturday. radiation on Christmas is just plain mean.

through this entire process, penelope's baby has been poked, prodded, and flat out hurt more than any child ever should. but he remains the polite, sweet boy we know. he's constantly thanking the nurses and throwing out you're welcomes to people who thank him for the blood sample he just cried over.

today, i was able to watch my sweet nephew sing along to one of his favorite songs, single ladies. his weak little body couldn't even keep his eyes open, but he was able to whisper the words. i know that he yearned to be able to hop up and sing/dance like he used to, but he made the best of it and sang his little heart out. it made me regret all the times he asked for single ladies, but i was too sick of it to play it again. it made me regret a lot of missed opportunities i had with my sweet nephew.

i am nervous about his surgery tomorrow. nervous that my sweet nephew might not be able to sing and dance to his favorite songs anymore. nervous that he will not recover as well from his second surgery. nervous that he will be still recovering over his birthday. but most of all nervous that my sweet baby sister might have to find a way to live without her baby.

it's only a 6 hour surgery max (i never thought that would seem short) and the surgeon is much more confident this time around. but it still worries me. brain surgery is brain surgery, and as the surgeon pointed out, there is still the possibility for stroke, permanent brain damage, massive blood loss and loss of motor skills and muscle control. all of those things scare me, but none of them scare me as much as not having this sweet boy in my life.

tomorrow will be another day full of prayers, fasting, and pleading for this sweet baby. a day full of keeping faith in the surgeon's trained hands. keeping faith in mason's immense strength. faith in his ability as a fighter. a day full of faith in the power of the priesthood, the Lord and His miracles.

the game of our lives

2010-11-08T17:04:00.000-07:00

it seems like the story of my life lately is waiting. we waited for masey to go into surgery. waited for updates. waited for him to come out of surgery. waited for him to wake up. waited for him to move out of the icu. waited for him to start eating. still waiting for the pathology to come back. waiting for the final word on the treatment plan. waiting is the story of masey's poor life right now.

masey is doing really well. he has been up and taking wheelchair rides, directing us on those rides and getting projects out of the craft closet. he has been moving his neck on his own. he has been awake more and needing less pain medicine. but he is still waiting. he is waiting to go home. waiting for people to stop poking him. waiting for his head to hurt. waiting for visitors. waiting for the time when he can eat without throwing up. waiting to find out if he can go home for a few weeks before starting chemo. as many things as it seems like i am waiting for in this process, it is nothing in comparison to what masey is waiting for.

right now, masey is in the in-between phase. we were told that the magic number for chemo or radiation to start is 28 days post-op. so, we've got a while until the next huge step, but we are also without a final diagnosis, so we are stuck waiting. the waiting game does not seem that bad, though, with masey here. with this sweet boy around, none of the waiting matters. i would do it forever for moments like these:

night nurse

2010-11-07T01:35:00.000-06:00

mason is my sister-son, or my nephew. either term works. mason lives with us. he is the sunshine in my day. i wait for the moment every day. the moment when i hear his little footsteps running up the stairs to yell my name and jump into my arms. good morning, auntie latu! he yells. i'm hungry for saimini he will say, or is it ok if you share with me? eying my cereal. later in the afternoon, he will interrupt me with um, auntie latu? i have to tell you something. i love you! my masey is my buddy and by far the highlight of my day. he is the brightness of our entire house. and he has a brain tumor. i said it. it kind of feels liberating. i made it official by pronouncing it to the universe.

on thursday morning, masey went in for emergency brain surgery in what everyone assumed was a fools errand, to remove the tumor. amazingly, surgery went well. way better than the doctors expected it to. masey is also doing way better than the doctors expected him to. he is out of the picu (pediatric intensive care unit) and on the brain trauma unit. things are looking up every day for this kid.

within an hour of waking from the 11 hour brain surgery and having his breathing tube taken out, masey's personality was already shining through--he was requesting thomas the tank engine. it was such a relief to know that he is our same masey, and fighting like crazy to beat this. the doctors and nurses are all shocked at his progress. to be out of the picu not even 48 hours after surgery is amazing, and he continues to improve. he has not needed nearly as much morphine as expected. in fact, he has been refusing it. the nurses love his personality, and he is making an impression on everyone who walks into the room.

as i sit here, playing the role of night nurse, i just want to gush on and on about masey's progress. but i realize that none of that is relevant without the following knowledge:

masey is the recipient of a miracle.

none of the neuro surgeons expected him to leave the o.r. alive. but here he is! the fact that he is here is a testament to the power of prayer, the power of fasting, but most importantly, the power of the Lord. wednesday night and thursday morning, my world looked hopeless and bleak. i prayed and tried to have faith. i knew there was a God, and i knew he could spare my masey's life. but i was terrified that he would not. i was terrified that my masey would be stripped from my life. the thought was paralyzing.

but, the Lord is good, and it was not masey's time to leave. so, he was spared. now, as i sit next to his bed watching guard over the night, i am overwhelmed with gratitude. in times like this, you are forced to re-prioritize, to decide what is really important. is getting my hair cut really that important in the grand scheme of things? is the carton of eggs mason broke onto the floor, trying to cook really that big of a deal? how about family prayer and church? family home evening? school? rugby? there are so many things i am now reconsidering. so many things that seem frivolous. so so many that need more attention and priority.

i need to be a better auntie, sister, daughter, and friend. i need to devote more time to my family. not just time in the day when i am home, but actual time spent interacting with my family. i need to be a better, and more supportive, understanding friend to my own friends. i need to let the little things go and stop arguing over stupid stuff. i need to appreciate my nephews and the princess more. because life is fragile. if there is one thing i take away, it is that knowledge.

in one morning, masey went from a bundle of bouncing boy with limitless potential, to a dying child--something you saw on st. jude commercials, not a reality. it was a hard reality to swallow. we had a matter of hours from diagnosis till surgery. a few precious hours to enjoy our masey boy. we knew the odds of him coming out alive. we knew the odds of him coming out with his full brain function. we knew the odds, but were praying and pleading that he could beat them.

and beat them he did! i know this journey cannot always be without speed bumps, and i know that he is definitely one of the lucky ones. i know that his brain still has to heal and he could easily get an infection. i know that he will likely need chemo or another brain surgery. i know that this will not be easy for us, and it will be extremely hard for masey. but somehow, watching over him tonight, i feel confident about all of those trials. masey is a trooper. he is a figher. and he will win. he's my hero. and he is a miracle baby.

the before shot

the after shot

my masey

2010-11-04T00:41:00.001-06:00

this post is about my darling nephew mason. sometimes i call him masey. some times i call him masey mase. some times i call him mason vili. sometimes i call him mae mae. sometimes i call him sione.

no matter what name i call him, he is still my masey.

what is there to say when your world feels like it is crumbling down? today, my life changed forever. quite literally. i have always been dramatic, but there is no drama added to that last sentence. masey was the nephew i did not appreciate enough. you see, he lives with us, and being the brat i am, i took his presence for granted. this post is full of pictures of my masey. feel free to leave now if you do not want to see them or want to use them inappropriately (they are all the property of Penelope Lolohea Photography)

i love my masey. today finds him in the hospital, awaiting brain surgery in the morning. tonight, he was perfectly normal, telling us he is ready to go home and he is tired of the hostable. he was wondering where his nice nurse was, and why she wasn't bringing another root beer float. the only indications anything is wrong are the wires running all over his body and the fact he barely touched his macaroni and cheese. otherwise, he was quick to let us know he was ready to go home so he wouldn't be boring anymore. tomorrow will bring with a lot of challenges and trials for my masey. luckily for him (and me, i am not sure i can live without the kid, and i know i do not want to try) masey is a fighter through and through. for tonight though, i just want to talk about my masey because i love him. a lot.

it took a day like today to remember all of the tiny things i adore about this boy. i adore that he plays until he drops. he loooooves thomas the tank engine and anything thomas-related. i love that he knows every single engine, car, truck, or freight train who ever appeared on the show. not just their names, but what they look like, what type of train they are, what number they are. you name it, masey knows it. he is not afraid to correct you if you draw james or henry without tenders (yeah, at 24, i did not know what a tender was until my 3 year old masey told me)

i adore how awesome this kid knows he is. they named a whole grocery store chain after him, and placed mcdonalds chicken nuggets in the world for his benefit. he gags at the thought of grilled cheese sandwiches, but loves spaghettios and macaroni and cheese. masey loves water, but not quite as much as he loves rootbeer. doughnuts and cookies are things he craves all the time. he knows that if he wants a yes answer, he just has to go to papa, who will give him a resounding yes answer.

masey knows his manners and is always polite, even if he is growling the please at you through clenched teeth. he has yet to have a cavity and loves going to the dentist because they have a railroad track (even though the train is broken) masey loves the Lord and absolutely adores the book of mormon. he is fascinated by the stories, fascinated with the people and the decisions they make, and fascinated with the gospel. he loves church and primary and all his friends.

mostly, though, masey loves his family. i think he adores us almost as much as we adore him. he constantly comes up to me and says um, auntie latu? i have to tell you something [dramatic pause after i answer him] i love you! or he will come up to me after work and proclaim i missed you so much! masey is so good at loving and recognizing his emotions. tonight, as i pray that the world prays for my masey, i just want to add and add to this list. the things i love about masey are without number. i just adore this kid and am so blessed he is in my life.

a truth of my own

2010-10-23T10:45:00.001-06:00

well, i was invited to a halloween gno. one of the requirements for entry is a blog post about yourself, printed and brought. i'm not sure if i can make it to the gno, but i sure was interested in posting about myself. it's one of my favorite things to do!

my name is latutama. i was born in salt lake city, utah on a beautiful spring day in 1986. one day, i am sure i will not want to reveal my birth year, but for now, i am ok with it. 24's a great age to be! i did all the normal things growing up- soccer as a child, baptism into the church of Jesus Christ of latter-day saints at 8, school from ages 5-18, some more school after that, work after that, etc. i guess the things that are not normal are the in-betweens. the story everyone really wants.

school has always been easy for me. i was blessed with a sharp mind, and the ability to express myself through writing. when i was in high school, i discovered that writing was an awesome stress reliever. back then, my writing was largely unseen by others. i would write a poem or paper (i called it prose, haha) and hide it away. the emotions and thoughts i wrote were far too personal to chance anyone else reading it. as i have grown older, i have learned to express myself without getting so personal i couldn't let others read it.

i adore talking about myself. that is almost the biggest reason i have a blog (see the paragraph above for the single biggest reason) being understood by the people i love is big for me. if people i don't like misunderstand me, i could care less. but i hate the thought that someone i love will do it. thus, i blog.

i was a headstrong, stubborn, bossy child. the only thing that has changed as i have grown older is that i have figured out how to take advantage of those traits. i can turn them on and off, depending on what the situation calls for. i am extremely good at reading people and manipulating them. sad to say, but i am. if i can get a foot in the door and get a job interview, i can get the job. i interview really well and people come out of interviews really liking me.

i like being right, and argue unrelentingly until i prove my point. it is annoying for the people around me, and annoying for me. arguing and having to be right is one of the few character flaws i don't have under control. i can physically stop myself from arguing if i want. but i cannot stop my brain from finding ways to prove my point. it drives me crazy that people might not know i am right at all times. but it really annoys me that i haven't figured out how to stop that thought process earlier.

i procrastinate. a lot. if something is stressing me out, or i am too busy to deal with it, i am great at filing it away in my mind and not thinking about it. that usually leads to procrastination. not always on purpose, but when i file something away, it's completely out of my mind. i have to be reminded to do it or deal with it or it never gets done.

all i have ever wanted was to get married and have tons of kids. i am not sure how it happened that i am the only girl in my family to make it past 19 without being married (and 21 without kids...) but i did it!! in a lot of ways, i am not ready to be married or have kids. i love being unattached, being able to do whatever i want without having to check with my husband or find people to watch my kids. in a lot of ways, though, the clock is ticking down. my single days are numbered. i know this, but i really want to just have fun while i can.

i adore my hair. it gets sun bleached in the summer, and darkens in the winter. it has redish/blondish highlights, which i love. the best part about my hair, though, is that i can shower, brush through it once, and not touch it again and it is perfectly straight. i adore it, unless i am trying to curl it. then it really sucks. for my sister's wedding, we had to pin it in ringlets, because no matter what we tried, it would not stick in curls.

i play womens rugby. i love rugby. rugby is the first time in my life that i have been able to be aggressive and strong and been able to tackle people. i love that i can play rugby and still walk off the field a girl, still be as girly as i want at home, but be really good at something so physical. rugby is the first sport i have ever loved. i played other sports, and enjoyed some of them, but i love rugby. rugby has taken over my life, but i have no regrets about it. i ♥ rugby

i am ocd. another sad, but true paragraph. i obsess about things. a lot of the time, it is food i am obsessing about. i find a food i like, and have to have it all the time. usually, it turns out to be about 5-7 times before i am done obsessing about it. any time i am hungry, i want that particular food. after the 6th or 7th time eating it, i just stop craving it. i don't hate it, and would still eat it if i had the chance. i just don't need to track it down anymore. at one time, i was a counter. my number was 3. i loved things in multiples of three. one of my compulsions was counting things, especially car lengths and stride lengths. it made my world calm if i could neatly fit three car lengths in a certain space, or three strides in a space. i also had to tap things. if i was extremely stressed, i would need to tap every box of cereal in the store. less stress meant i could get away with just tapping one of each kind of cereal. i don't like getting dirty. unless i have already accepted that dirt is a part of my current environment. thus, while camping, i will sit anywhere, do anything and not worry about the dirt or bugs. when i am picnicing, though, i have to be careful. dirt is not a part of picnics!

wow, this post is long. but i told you i love talking about myself! one more thought before i stop, and an explanation of the picture. i have a camera smile, the one i like in pictures of myself. it is very different from my unplanned, real smile. my sister likes my real smile, and it seems like it is her mission in life to catch it. the following picture is an in-between smile. i had my picture smile on, and my sister made me laugh, so this is the mixture of real and fake. it's not very pretty, i know. but, i felt it was worth documenting. especially cause it's already tagged of me on facebook. :)

super powers

2010-10-13T10:31:00.000-06:00

i was talking to my sister yesterday about her son who is in kindergarten and his first experience staying home sick from school. long story short, he regretted wanting to stay home about 10 minutes after making the choice (when he found out it would not be a fun-filled, play with friends kind of day!)

it made me think of when i was younger and would convince my mom i was too sick to go to school. when i was too sick to go to school, my mom would put me through a cleaning test. she told me she could tell by how i cleaned if i was really sick or just pretending. believing my mom to have super powers (because she only put me through this test when i was faking it) i would diligently clean all three or four rooms assigned, all the while, making sure to milk the illness. i would pretend to struggle pushing the vacuum (i was so weak from being sick!) and have to take a breather after every few times bending over. sometimes, i would crawl across the room to pick things up. folding blankets took an eternity and dusting made me cough frantically. i thought i was putting on quite the act.

it seemed to work every time! my mom was buying this crap! its only now that i look back that i realize my mom just wanted a clean house. she didn't as much care if i was really sick, i was making myself useful at home.

for that creativity and so many more reasons (i'm remembering pick up contests with my siblings-- whoever picked up the most rubbish or toys off the floor won; quiet wars and quiet time) i love my mom. hopefully one day, i can convince my own kids of super powers like hers!

magnet

2010-10-07T09:18:00.001-06:00

my grandma was one of those people. the kind everyone wanted to be around. no matter where she went, she would draw a crowd. she was like a magnet. people would drift toward her. if grandma was going to be somewhere, or at some event, it was enough reason to go also.

one week ago today, i experienced that same feeling, only it was not with grandma-she's long gone. this time, grandpa was the one creating the magnetic field, gathering our loved ones around us. it happened at my brother's football game. before it clicked, i watched as wave upon wave of family came walking up to our spot on the bleachers. sitting there, surrounded by family, i listened as they each chatted and caught up with each other. i loved it, it felt so much like home. while watching the kids play on the hill, i realized why i loved that feeling so much. it has been years since my grandma's been around. last thursday, i felt the same feeling i used to feel when she was here.

i'm so glad that my grandpa came down to watch the game, and so glad i got to see all my family!

grandpa with all of the kids (that's sweet elise behind the sippy cup, lol)

once upon some times

2010-09-27T15:19:00.000-06:00

well, his post is gonna be a lot of once upon a times. :)

once upon a time, i forced myself to throw up so i could leave work early and go watch my baby brother's football game. that was at 3pm. i spent the rest of the evening on the verge of really throwing up. karma is a b*tch and i probably should have stayed at work.

once upon a time, i spent a few months sneaking out at night. my friend and i would push my brother's car down the driveway and down the street, before jumping in and starting it. we got more and more nervy with our sneaking out as time went on. eventually, i stopped jumping out my window and just left through the back door. one night in particular, we pushed the car right past an rv that was parked in front of the house and came within inches of hitting it. we laughed it off and continued on. the night that halted our escapades was when i spent about 4 minutes stalling the car all the way across an intersection and into an arby's parking lot. that same night, when we came back in the wee morning hours, my baby sister was waiting for me in my room. she claimed that someone had tried to open my unlocked window and come to rape her. for some reason, in her story, this person merely opened the window and stuck their head in, then closed it. no matter how unplausible her story, i decided i would not sneak out again. i could not afford to let my sister get kidnapped, just so i could sneak out. i thought we were so devious and sneaky. now, looking back, i realize we were just dumb. (and my sister was just caught up in all the elizabeth smart drama)

once upon a time, my favorite past time was stealing caution cones and cross walk flags. i would use them to mob people's cars. cake mix, saran wrap, and oil make the best materials. so much more fun than toilet papering a house. almost as much fun as power boxing a house/apartment complex.

once upon a time, i had a conversation with a friend about having never seen a ghost or had anything creepy happen to me. less than a week later, i saw a ghost at an abandoned house in american fork.

once upon a time, we looked up the sex offender registry in a civics class. building up to this (required) search, we made lots of hurtful and unnecessary comments. i guess what high school kids wouldn't? anywho, as it turns out, the father of a girl in our class is on the registry. she pretended to be shocked, and left immediately after that and dropped the class. i can't even explain how awkward it was, or how badly i feel about it still.

once upon a time (ok,so this past saturday) i cracked my sternum. you can clearly trace the outline of one of my ribs as it attempts to connect to my sternum. it is swollen and hot to the touch, but ibuprofen helps a little. it hurts to exhale, it hurts to twist, it hurts to bend down, it hurts to stand up straight, and it hurts to touch it. basically, it just hurts. hahaha.

once upon a time, my daddy was working on a hotel construction in maui. because of hawaiian laws about construction in the area of burial grounds, construction would have to shut down if they unearthed any kind of remains. so, my daddy would bring bones to work (chicken, steak. you name it) and hide them, only to "find" them whenever he wanted an early weekend.

my masey

2010-08-31T13:02:00.000-06:00

this is my mase:

his mom is gonna cringe when she sees this picture. she is my sister and does professional photography, and this pic is nothing more than me pointing and shooting with a $100 camera. but i love it.

he loves thomas. i am not sure you can read that on his shirt, but this kid is obsessed. we rode the thomas train this summer. it was 15 minutes long. the train inched about 300 yards from the station and then back. this kid was in heaven, though.

there is a store around these parts called maseys. it is a grocery store. and he thinks it was named after him. he loooves going to "my store" and getting ice cream cones bigger than his head. i wish i were still so innocent to firmly believe that someone decided to open a chain of grocery stores and name them after me because i'm just that cool.

we bash heads a lot, this kid and i. i tend to think i know everything, and he knows he knows everything. we are both stubborn and grouchy. i have a neice who is my mini me, and hes the male version of that. secretly, though, it makes me love him even more. i get him.

masey's best trait, though is his caring. last night, at about 1:20 am, i got a phone call from this sweet boy. he had a dream that my car was on a boat that was sinking, and i was dying. he was so worried that i was dead, he made his mom come with him to find me, and when they couldn't do that, he made her call me.

this morning, when i came home and he woke up, he was beaming. he was so glad "my latu" was not dead. for that, and so many more reasons, i adore this kid! (oh, and sorry pene that i didn't use one of your pretty pics....)

you make me want to float away

2010-08-25T22:21:00.000-06:00

this old man turned 57 today.

we can't talk about today as his birthday, though. when he was born, his mom waited too long to register his birth. to avoid paying a fine for beingso late, she told the government his birthday was two months later than it really is. so, for most of the world, he is still 56. but you and i know the truth.

i have so many things to say, its hard to even put into words. i love this picture so much. almost as much as i love this old man.

i am so grateful that he let me take this picture of him. usually, he brushes us off or will make goofy faces, but this day was different. i have always thought that i am a white version of him, and i think this picture shows that pretty well (ok, ok, i am prettier and younger!)

one day, i want to have smile lines permanently surrounding my eyes like his. if the smile lines on my cheeks never leave, i'll be a happy girl. i want to wear the signs of a happy life on my face, for the world to see. smile lines are by far the most beautiful part about growing old.

on this day, when i remember how old my daddy is, i also remember how fragile life is. i am so grateful he is around still. 5 years ago if you would have told me he'd still be around and kicking, i would have kicked you cause that's not funny. but here he is, 57 years old (or 56, depending on who is asking!) and still going. i am eternally grateful for his presence in my life, and i pray he sticks around another 5 (or 50) years!

i feel it all over my body

2010-08-19T10:41:00.000-06:00

have you ever loved someone so much it hurt? i'm feeling that love right now, but the people i feel it for are people i've never even met.

i have been contemplating life a lot lately. the other night, i laid out under the stars for hours and just thought. i couldn't sleep, my mind was racing. it was a good time, i really needed the thinking. i thought a lot about the children i will one day have, the direction my life is going vs where i want it to go. if it weren't for those sweet, innocent spirits, there is no doubt in my mind that i would spend the rest of my life partying and playing. but i know that's not what i really want.

everyone has to grow up sometime, right? the only problem is that i feel like i have grown up. this phase is just a passing one. just a place holder, the bridge into the rest of my life.

no matter what my life brings, i am determined to be the best mother my children could wish for. it's the least i can do, right?

along those same lines, i am going to france, baby!!!! i have like 4 or 5ish weeks left, and you are probably wondering how this applies to the rest of the post...hahaha

really, though. one day, i want to settle down and live the dream (house, kids, husband) but for now, i am single and i plan on living it up. how often do you really get the chance to visit france? i can tell you for myself, not often.

i send you my love

2010-08-16T03:06:00.001-06:00

so, i have a secret blog. one that i post on when i don't want the world to know my life. i actually don't post on it a lot because i am fine with the world knowing most of my thoughts. but some times, a post here just can't do justice to what is going on in my mind. sometimes, a situation is just too personal for sharing with the group. thus, i post on my secret blog. it feels the same as posting here, but i know that i can be 100x more honest and make 100x less sense on my secret blog. it's like a journal, only i can type into it at my convenience. i am a huge fan of keeping accurate records for my future posterity, and a secret blog really helps me do that.

that was a lot of explanation. haha, probably too much, but there you have it. you, the unidentified internet masses, are not privy to all of my innermost thoughts. just most of them.

the water's always changing, always flowing

2010-08-09T02:28:00.000-06:00

well, a few weeks ago, at the NTAS tournament, i sprained my ankle. seriously just a few days ago, it stopped swelling and i began to be able to run on it. it was perfect timing, as we had another tournament this past weekend (which we won :) my bruises from this tournament are much smaller and nicer, but i have a bruise right over/to the side of my left eye. i don't know which i would rather: huge bruises that hurt a ton, but people cant see; or a little bruise that is super visible but doesn't hurt....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pocahontas has always been my unofficial disney princess. when i was younger, i was convinced i was an indian princess. it didn't matter to me that my mom was 1/16th. that made me 1/32nd, which was a lot of indian as far as i was concerned. i loved the songs from the disney movie, especially just around the river bend. it was fascinating thinking about rivers from that perspective. the water always changes. every time you step into a river, it's a completely different river than the last time. i love that concept.

i also love rivers. or water in general. my new job is right across the road from the provo river (or the rapist river, for those of us who are super specific) during lunch, i love to walk across and just sit by the river. it's so calming and nice. just me and the river. any time work has been annoying, i go to the river and can literally feel the tension drain off. its like pulling the plug in a drain.

the reason is that white noise is calming.

i first learned that once upon a time when i worked as a tracker in a junior high. it had been a super stressful day, and i was soooo tense (and dramatic, too, haha!)

i ducked into the auditorium. just to be alone for a bit (another thing i love) i turned on the house lights, and plopped down in one of the chairs. i was completely alone in that huge room, with only the sound of the a/c to keep me company. i just sat, listening to the white noise and realized my breathing was slowing, my jaw was loosening, and i was not tense anymore. not.at.all.

the white noise cancelled out all of the other noises, and provided a baseline for my breathing and heart rate. since that day, i have loved it, and sought it out any time i needed to calm down. it's a little different than pocahontas, but that's what i like most about rivers.

time

2010-07-25T16:30:00.001-06:00

well, today is the three-year mark. it's the day that marks three years since my grandma's passing.

today, of all days, i miss her a lot. yesterday, my rugby team won the national tongan american society's womens tournament. it feels like we won the world, but i am sure the world doesn't even know the difference. it was a fun weekend, but i was not able to completely erase the memory from my mind. my grandma would absolutely adore that i play rugby. it would be in the newsletter constantly.

my grandma wrote a newsletter weekly. it was called meanwhile, back at the ranch. she began writing it for her kids and their families, but it soon spread because so many people enjoyed reading it. by the time she passed, grandma was writing to all sorts of people, family and friends. she would report on her family, if there was anything noteworthy (or even worth mentioning) going on, she would put in in there. she always had fun titles for sections and pretty pictures.

i lived for that newsletter. i think that is one thing that i miss the most. that newsletter, or the lady behind it, was a huge part of the glue that bonded us as a family. we were always kept abreast of the family's business. we knew when a baby blessing or baby were coming up, what activities had been going on, who stopped by to see grandma, and what her moods were like. toward the end, we became experts on the chemotherapy treatments she was undergoing. we all joined her in a diet that was destined to save her from imminent death from leukemia.

that newsletter kept us all together. it kept the family functions often and close together. that newsletter came to represent all that grandma was. it was a source of information, a resource, and most importantly, a bond. when she passed away, so did the newsletter. sometimes, i still catch myself thinking "i should tell grandma so she can put this in the newsletter" or more often, "i don't want this making it into the newsletter" it's a nice game to play, imagining what information grandma would include in a newsletter written today. would she tell us about my small brother playing the uke? my little cousin going camping? my rugby? for sure, she'd write about the family that gathered in idaho this weekend. she'd have so much to say.

the truth of the matter is that i think i am trying to re-create that newsletter--on a smaller scale--with this blog. i have so many thoughts and feelings, i want to share them with people, but more than that, i want them to be out there. i want them said.

i'm good

2010-07-09T19:59:00.001-06:00

almost a year ago, i met a lady about an internship. i won't tell you where, or really even when, because it doesn't matter. i did not take the internship. for this post, we'll call her jane. what does matter is that in a completely unexpected conversation, jane disclosed a lot of personal information about her life. she told me of mistakes she had made in her life. some were trivial, some shocking. after sharing basically her entire life story, i thought i would sense shame in her body language, a sign that she had many regrets from these poor decisions she had shared with me.

jane showed none of that. instead, her eyes met mine, and she declared "i know i'm good with the Lord, and that's all that matters now" this complete stranger, who in one hour had shared her deepest secrets, was completely confident in her place in this life, but more importantly, in eternity.

i was taken aback. at the time, i was not sure where i stood with the Lord. here was a lady, who from my perspective, had done horrible things. yet, she was more sure about her salvation than i. jane did not grow up knowing about the gospel. she did not graduate from seminary and was not baptized as a child. i had been given so many more tangible blessings early on in life, yet i envied that stranger.

i have not seen or even spoken to jane since that day, which is good, cause it was an odd conversation. but, her words have stuck in my mind. they were truly a catalyst for change in my life. i had no enormous sins to repent for, i doubted that any lightening strikes were headed my way. but, i wanted to feel that confidence i had seen in her. i wanted to be sure of my place in eternity. i realized that where you have been matters not at all if you are where you should be.

i am far from a perfect person, but the person i am today is a hundred times closer to being where i want to be. i credit jane for a lot of it. she did not force me to change; didn't even suggest it. but, because of the confidence she had, i did change. i wish i had the courage to tell "jane" in person:

thank you.

red, white and kinda blue

2010-07-04T23:19:00.043-06:00

well, this weekend was definitely red! july 4th is not only the day we celebrate independence day. it's the day my sweet grandma made her entrance into this world. she would have been 75 this year. three-quarters of a century. my grandma's absolute favorite color was red. she adored it. every fall, she'd go into the mountains above her small town and take a picture in the red trees wearing red clothes. she was great at camouflage.

i spent the weekend in my grandpa's town, malad, idaho. it's my favorite town ever. i love malad because they know how to throw a party! this weekend, we had a salmon bake, bed races, s'mores, gorged ourselves with parade taffy, and watched a fireworks display gone wrong. then, we chased all that with a nice, relaxing and patriotic day at church.

this weekend was white because it's my favorite color of firework. they don't really make any true yellow fireworks, so i figure white is next best! i adore malad, but it's nice to be home again.

being home makes me realize how blue i've been lately. i feel trapped. which is funny, because i am the least trapped i have ever been. i quit my job a few weeks ago, opening up a world of possibilities to me. the only problem is that now, i have no excuse to not be doing what i should.

i know that there is so much out there that i am meant to accomplish. thanks to modern-day revelation and my patriarchal blessing, i know what some of those things are. i am just struggling with the order and my own wants right now. i feel like i am in that split second where you can actually sit on a fence without getting hurt. the time is speeding toward me when i know i need to make a life-changing decision; i am just scared for that moment. any decision i make will change the path of my life, will switch up the status-quo.

the thought is killing me, it's stressing me out and making it hard for me to be a pleasant person. it feels like it's too much; i just want to store it away in the back of my mind and never deal with it. i know i can't do that, though. i've been trying and the only thing that happens is i get driven crazy, knowing i'm not being as proactive as i should.

it's times in my life like these that i really miss my grandma. my brother blogged about sneaking away to her grave to have a little chat with her. i used to sneak away on a walk and have chats with her, and i sneak away any time i'm in malad to have a talk with her. reading about my brother's secret trip it made me feel exposed. i thought i was the only person who found benefit in sitting above my grandma's mortal body and speaking to her tombstone. it shows me that i am not the only person who misses my grandma's advice. it was infallible and always well thought out. she did not give you advice you could not follow through on. she gave you loving, thoughtful advice. anyone who knew my grandma loved her. people who knew her well were completely devoted to her.

now, without her in my day-to-day life, i feel like a lost puppy. there is a yearning in me to do something different, but i lack any sense of direction. today, of all days, i feel red, white, and kinda blue.

sweetness

2010-06-27T12:04:00.001-06:00

this sweet boy is my all-time favorite baby. of all my nephews, he's the most easy-going. he's the nicest baby we've ever had in my family. he's named for my oldest brother, and has his same sweet, easy-going personality.

yesterday, baby and i had a photo shoot all of our own. he cooperated, smiled, and was a perfect subject. in this shot though, he needed a break. just for a minute before he was back up and smiling again. it's a pretty tough job being so adorable!

fathers

2010-06-20T16:46:00.002-06:00

well, i posted about my two favorite fathers, my dad here and here and my grandpa here. if you want to know what i think about them, or why i love them, go ahead and read. but, today is both my mama's birthday (post on her here) and father's day. the father i want to talk about today is a future father. here he is:

this is my baby brother. he's my favorite future father, and for sure one of my favorite all time people. this kid is thoughtful and caring, but he is mostly just all-around a nice kid.

this past mother's day found me playing the role of the spinster--the only female in my family who has yet to provide progeny to the family line. i spent the day throwing myself a pity party. this kid spent the morning making sure to bring me breakfast in bed.

no matter what the occasion, my baby brother is thoughtful and kind. he is the voice of reason in so many cases, and the amount of thought he puts into all of his beliefs astounds me. no matter what he has decided he believes, he believes it whole-heartedly and is loyal to the cause. my baby brother is helpful to the max. he's the youngest, so he grew up doing everyone's bidding. but, he never complains, and never asks for anything in return. just helps out any way he can, and with a good attitude.

my nephews and the princess adore him, he's by far the favorite, funnest, and coolest uncle. he's the one everyone wants attention from. mostly, though i just love this kid. one day, he's going to make an awesome dad. today, on a day dedicated to dads (and i didn't forget my mama's birthday), i hope my baby brother has the most awesome day. he's my favorite in so many ways.

immigration

2010-06-16T01:39:00.004-06:00

so, i understand that i am biased on this matter. i am the child of a [once] illegal immigrant. but, i am also the child of ancestors who came here on the mayflower, and ancestors who must be called native americans, because they were the first.

i also understand that i posted just a few hours ago. however, after reading this article and glancing at the comments, i was enraged. here is just a small rant. probably not real easy to understand, but i don't really care. also, if you do not agree, i do not care to hear about it. i will delete your comments.

immigration is such a dividing, horrible matter. it usually makes me livid to read or hear people's opinions on the matter. if you try to discuss it with me, i will refuse. i cannot be reasonable, i get too emotional. instead of being Christ-like, loving, or humble, it seems like people talking about immigration become hateful. i honestly do not understand it. i do not see what the huge, looming threat from immigration is.

it disgusts me that mexicans have taken the brunt of this hate. there are plenty of illegal immigrants from more places than mexico. those places just don't carry the stigma that being mexican does. accents are seen as attractive--who doesn't like to hear a gorgeous aussie talk? have a mexican accent, though, and you get a completely different reaction.

when did we, as a people, decide that we are so much better than our fellow man? when did we decide that we get to judge others; that we know their lives? when did it become such a huge privilege to be american, and why are we so leery to share that privilege? i guess it's human nature to want to be superior, and i am sure they have been gossiping and judging since adam. i just don't see the point in all the hate. whatever happened to world peace?

yes, i feel like immigrating legally is the best option. however, i do not think it is reasonable to think that can be the only option. we're trying to literally seal our southern border (and killing teenagers there) but what about the border to the north? what about our coastlines? how did we become this obsessed with only one piece of the puzzle, demonizing and making mexicans the scapegoats for the larger problem?

sealing the border will not solve anything. it will not fix the millions of american citizens addicted, who fuel the drug industry. it will not stop crime, will not pay hospital bills. it will do nothing but harm our relationships with our neighbors, and harm our moral quality as a nation.

amnesty is the only conscionable answer. the immigrants who are here already are not going anywhere. they have spouses and children, have jobs no one else wants. why not provide a gateway to legality? more people paying into the tax bank is something that usually motivates everyone in government.

taking basic human rights from illegal immigrants only opens up the door to taking rights from other unfavorable groups. i think arizona is taking the complete wrong angle on this matter. creating a culture of fear is never profitable for either party.

punishing innocent babies because of the manner their parents entered this country is wrong. end of story. any baby born on our shores deserves every right to citizenship possible. anything less is the start of a slippery slope.

everything changes

2010-06-15T23:12:00.000-06:00

well, it seems like my whole world is a different place right now. a week ago today, i was working at provo canyon school, and had every intention of staying there for a long time. the past few days have found me starting a new job. it's interesting being back on the other side of the hiring table.

my favorite part about this new job is that i have yet to be cussed out. i am working customer service, so i know it will happen, but it is nice to not have to worry about that same customer breaking my knee or punching me. the biggest, and by far best thing about my new job is that i have weekends off!! it's so exciting that i do not have to work sundays anymore, or find coverage saturdays for rugby. the only downside is that i have to wake up at a decent hour nowadays; no more sleeping till 12 or 1pm for me :)

it's a good change, but most importantly a change. it's so easy for me to get comfortable and complacent, i am glad to be able to break that cycle.

in other news, i am going back to school second block this fall.

also, i am going to france.

way excited about both!!

paint the sky with stars

2010-06-08T01:24:00.001-06:00

i took an astronomy class during one of my many stints at college. it is by far my favorite class. ever. i learned not only to identify constellations, but to love the night sky and all of the infinite bits of wisdom and knowledge you can get from studying it and tracking its patterns.

i especially love nights like tonight, where the sky creates a perfect inky black dome above your head. it's so easy to be grateful, amazed, and humbled on nights like this. it is hard for me to come inside after spotting a sky like this one. all i want to do is lay under it and ponder until the sun disturbs my thoughts. i love to stare at the stars especially. my mind wanders as i look at the sky--i never stay on one subject too long. first, i might contemplate the age of the stars and sky. then, maybe i'll move onto spiritual things. maybe hit the subject of life. who knows what else. the only constant is that i think.

after studying it long enough, you begin to see the canvas of the Lord in the sky. cassiopeia-mother of andromeda; chained to her throne in the heavens. orion the hunter with his loyal dogs. draco, the great dragon. the phoenix, soaring through the skies and leo, the great lion of the heavens. ursa major and minor (or the big and little dipper) which are key to locating polaris-the north star.

the ancient people of our world used the stars as a connection to their deity and a means of survival. by knowing intimately the skies, they were able to place themselves in the larger world. they were able to give their communities place and purpose, but also to navigate vast continents. thus, they were able to expand and grow, to visit faraway places, but be able to return to the comforts of home once more.

my sister took a picture of some of my cousins over memorial day weekend. when i look at it, i see two girls running through a field. my peripheral vision misses a third on the right, and my mind completely blocks out the head of a dog, sticking up through the grasses between the girls. i can't help but think this is the result of my mind being conditioned to block out these simple details. as soon as you show the same picture to one of the kids, their first remark is-without fail-about the dog.

the same is true about many things in our modern world--they are easily blocked out; whether by minds that long-ago determined them useless, or the noise and clutter that permeates our world. many of life's simplest pleasures have been lost to the clutter. navigating with the use of polaris is no longer necessary with gps and perfectly straight and paved roads (complete with infinitely helpful road signs). as a culture, we have begun to worship each other--whether it be our own genius, cunning, or beauty. thus, there is little need for deity in our lives. there is also little need for divine intervention when we attribute all earthly happenings to a scientific cause.

we discussed in sunday school yesterday the importance of finding quiet and calm to better feel the promptings of the spirit. i think that this need extends also to the mortal world. i feel strogly that the Lord wants us to be educated. he wants us to be lifelong learners, but in the midst of that learning, we cannot allow our minds to block out that which truly matters. it is so easy to slip into the habit of worshiping our own "greatness" rather than the infinite greatness of the Lord.

in 2 nephi 9:28, it says o that cunning plan of the evil one! o the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men! for when they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore their wisdom is foolishness, and it profiteth them not..

i doubt i will ever need to learn to live off the heavens, or even navigate using them, but the fact that i could if need be is awesome. i hope to become a more grateful and aware person by seeking out the quiet, calm moments in life. they give life clarity and direction. the calm moments are harder to come by, but they solidify my place in this world. most importantly, though, they allow me to hear and feel the spirit.

happy

2010-06-02T02:02:00.002-06:00

i have written about leaving home before. at the time, i did not put a ton of thought into how my choice affected anyone else. i knew it was a good step for me. i knew it would make me happy, so i did it.

tonight, my baby brother shared with me his thoughts about me leaving. it was heartbreaking. it shocked me, and made me question the decision i made 5 years ago. i for sure wish i had realized a little sooner than now, what in impact that decision had on those around me.

the concept that in order to be 'happy', you must find yourself is a lie. as is the concept that you should do whatever makes you happy, regardless of the impact it has on anyone else. society pushes these lies, and so many more, on our children--particularly our little girls. as a child, or young girl, i completely bought into these lies. not because i am gullible or stupid, but because these lies are so widespread, it was hard to realize how untrue they are. i believed that i needed to find myself, to do whatever made me happy. the entire world believed it also, so i felt pretty confident.

it's only lately that i realize how dangerous that lie can be, and how perpendicular it is to the teachings of the gospel. the gospel clearly tells me who i am, and how i can feel good about myself, and that's through service. the happiness i was seeking was earthly, and brought with it an expiration date. true happiness transcends time and space. it's eternal.

i have made a lot of decisions, taking into account only my own life. i thought that was one of the perks of being single; i only have to worry about myself. but, the conversation i had with my baby brother tonight changed that perspective. in fact, it probably put it into the proper perspective. i am realizing that this is a time where i need to dedicate myself to service. i need to give more than i am taking. that is the only way i can truly be happy.

i like to talk

2010-05-28T15:30:00.004-06:00

so, we've had blankets from castle medical in kailua for almost 20 years. they are stamped "possession of this item outside the hospital consitutes theft." for years, i have assumed my uncle stole them while working there. apparently, though, we actually bought them from the hospital. all these years, i assumed we were thieves, but i was proven wrong today. it's a good feeling. not that i really cared either way, they're my favorite summer blankets :)

it's official; i am not smarter than a fifth grader. i also do not think the same as most of the population polled by family feud.

my nails are banana yellow, and i <3 them :)

i had a dream the other night that like 6 of my teeth cracked in half. i was more concerned that i would be ugly than anything rational.

my nephew calls my grandpa grandpa grape, and my newest nephew baby uncle sila :)

this is my 103rd post. i didn't really think i'd go farther than maybe 20 with this blog, even though it's taken 3 years to get this many :)

i love my blog. i don't see myself ever stopping it, i've got fans to keep happy! and even if i didn't, i still just like to hear (or read) myself talk :)

how quiet/shy you think i am determines how well you do or don't know me. my family will tell you i never shut up, and strangers will tell you about how i never talk. i guess the strangers should read my blog, they'd learn a lot more about me. but that would also be kinda creepy. (haha, i just realized how funny that sounds, especially because i blog stalk strangers, too :)

i am going to malad, idaho for the holiday weekend. in fact, i am staying until thursday, when i have to work next :)

i have a new-found love for the sweet tooth fairy. those cupcakes are amazing, and the new bar that i plan on holding all cupcakes to

i am so excited to see my grandpa, it's been a long time since i was in idaho, and even longer since i spent any real time with him.

today is the official start of summer (maybe not official, but the last day of school for the kids around here) i am so glad to have my small brother around more, i miss him when he has school.

when i was little and it was summer, we would be driven around by my auntie to the different elementary schools to eat the free lunch. we'd go to 5 or 6 until we were all full, and then return home and to our playing :)

i put a thingy on my sidebar that tells me who (or more precisely, where your ip addresses are from) reads my blog. i get tons of random places reading my post walking cast, coming from a google search. i guess that post is pretty high if you search for something on google. i wish i knew what that something was.... anywho, it's a pretty funny post about why you should always do the things you tell others to do, and how things don't always turn out as simple as the doctor makes them sound :)

strangers keep adding me on facebook, and the only friends we have in common are more people i don't think i know. apparently, they all think they know me or this is some sort of conspiracy...

i was awake for a few hours over 40 when i finally went to sleep last night. i slept until 2, and could not be a happier girl :)

once i realized how many smiley faces i had in this post, i decided to add even more :)

hearts of the children

2010-05-20T23:25:00.004-06:00

i feel like my heart has been turned to my ancestors lately. it started with a national geographic article on the outer hebrides in scotland. a lot of my mom's family is scottish, and after seeing how pretty the outer hebrides were, i decided my family was from one of those islands.

little did i know the real story would be even better. (if no one reads on, i will not be heartbroken. i realize that this is only fascinating to me because they're people i'm related to. this is more for my own records than anything else.)

on june 17, 1239, edward I (longshanks) of england was born. he was the grandson of the bad king john (think robin hood) edward longshanks did a lot of things during his reign. most of the ones we remember are bad. he was known as the hammer of the scots for the horrible things he did to the scottish people.

on july 11, 1274, robert the bruce (raibeart bruis in gaelic) was born in scotland. he was known mainly as a hero in his country; the man who fought for scottish independence. he was also an heir to the scottish throne.

robert and edward fought a war for scottish independence against each other. (well, there was a time when they fought together, but that's an even longer story.) they were in no ways friends, but about 5 generations later, their progeny married each other. the product of that marriage was james ii, king of scotland. i am a direct descendant of that very james, thus i am descended also from both edward longshanks and robert the bruce.

fast forward a long time.

in 1859 - april 11th to be precise, the ship william tapscott set sail from liverpool, england. it was the first, and smallest, of three mormon trips the ship would make. they were holding 725 mormon saints, bound for utah. aboard that sailing were members of the tietjen family, as well as members of the mckay family. the mckays eventually made their way to idaho, while the tietjens went to new mexico. pretty much as far away as it got back in the 1860s.

four generations later, my grandmother (descended from the tietjen family) and my grandfather (descended from the mckay family) met at snow college and married. i am descended from those two different families that sailed the atlantic on the william tapscott.

these are just two examples of the amazing plan of the Lord. my ancestors' paths have crossed twice that we know of. how many more times will my family line cross paths? how many times has it crossed paths that we don't even know about? maybe it will be another 5 generations before we realize it.

the thought fascinates me. we really don't know the impact our lives will have on the countless generations that will follow. who knows that the guy i met at the library the other day will not turn out to be my grandchildren's grandfather. (and not cause i married him :) how amazing to think that i have such a crucial hand in the future of my children and their children. without even realizing it.

i doubt that, while crossing the atlantic, my ancestors were looking around the ship, wondering which families their children would marry. i highly doubt that robert the bruce and edward longshanks envisioned their children marrying while in the heat of battle. but the Lord works in mysterious ways. it's amazing how it all works out.

the william tappscott

music monday

2010-05-17T02:32:00.004-06:00

as a child, i was blessed to be raised by my sweet grandma, jenna lee. her life was a perfect example of how we can intertwine the gospel with our daily lives. anyone who knew her loved her, and could feel the spirit radiate from her. the resounding lesson she taught me about the spirit was that it was easily brought or chased away, by music.

music has the ability to speak to my very soul. it transcends all bounds and speaks to me.

when i was in high school and particularly distraught one day, i called my grandma. as i usually did, i talked it out with her and got some amazing advice. about a week later, she and grandpa came down, and she had a surprise for me; the motab cd, sweet peace. grandma always knew how to fix a problem, and this cd was the perfect answer to my problem! this cd is full of peaceful, comforting songs. it was exactly the thing i needed, and got me through a lot of teenage angst and drama. i still adore this cd. r

music was a theme with my grandma. she loved music, and was a great pianist. you could tell her mood by the song she was playing and how fast she was playing it. there is nothing more calming than being lulled to sleep by a grandmother's music, and nothing more lovely than waking up to her playing.

if my siblings and i fought, we had to sing love at home until we were friends again. car rides were not filled with the radio or chatting, but singing. for my grandma, the perfect evening involved some sort of food, and then a sing-along around the piano, with all of her grandchildren singing to her accompaniment.

because of my grandmother's influence (both on my own mother and myself) i have a great love of music. i am eternally grateful for her influence in my life, but also for music. the Lord said in D&C 25:12 "for my sould delighteth in the song of the heart"

it's nice to find you have something so human in common with the Lord.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

on a related note, my grandpa's in the hospital right now, having sinus surgery. i had the same surgery, same doctor, same hospital, when i was in high school. hopefully my presence here will go a long ways to guaranteeing his presence in my life for a long long time still.

mama

2010-05-11T17:38:00.003-06:00

when she got married, my mama was working and going to school. when she had her first child, she stopped both. from that moment forward, she dedicated herself to her family, and my father was able to provide the support our humble family needed. we never went without something we needed.

one day, back when i was still in high school, my daddy became extremely sick. the doctor's prognosis gave him weeks. once he passed that, it was months, then absolutely no longer than 5 years. thankfully, we've passed that five year mark, and he's still going strong. but that's not the story i want to tell today. i want to tell you about this lady: (ok, so it's not just a pic of my mama. i couldn't find one, so my parents' wedding pic will have to do :)

my mama went back to school at the age of 49. she finished with a teaching degree less than three years later, all the while holding down at least one job, sometimes two. she was able to juggle family, job, sick husband, and school. she's an inspiration to me.

at a point in her life when i'm sure she would love to settle down and just hang out with the grandkids, my mama is working to support her family. i'm sure her life has not played out the way she expected, but she never complains. she's an amazing example of selfless service and love.

i love this lady so much and am so grateful she's a part of my life. i truly don't know what i would do without her. it's a few days late, but happy mother's day, mama! i love you so much!

Lile Genevieve

2010-05-06T13:53:00.004-06:00

8 years ago today, my angel niece came into, and left, this world. it's hard to believe she would be 8 today. she would be baptized, in second grade, and a perfect older sister.

my own older sister and her husband prayed for years for their daughter. becoming pregnant was an answer to prayers and the best blessing ever. i was ecstatic to be an auntie. all i had ever wanted was to be a mother, and auntie was next best.

i was in high school, a sophomore. i had spent the day not at school, but ditching with some friends. scared to be caught, i stayed away for a few hours after school, and finally made my way home at about 5 or 6. little did i know, my family had been frantically looking for me.

my auntie greeted me in the kitchen, and told me she had news. at that moment, my heart dropped, because i thought my great grandma (who was dying of cancer) had passed on. i was in no way prepared for the actual news she had to share. the fact that my niece was dead was nowhere on my radar. i had no point of reference for the devastation i felt in that moment.

my heart felt like it had fallen out of my chest. i thought i could probably see it flopping on the kitchen floor. it seemed like a cruel joke, something you should never joke about. it took a while to sink in. days, even.

my family, who had been preparing for my dear great grandmother's death, now had to deal with an even more crushing death. not the very old, but the so very young. the next day, it was vili's and my task to make the drive to ephraim and clear out my sister's house. we had to gather all the tiny baby clothes, the baby blankets, diapers, wet wipes, the ultrasound pictures. anything that might remind my sister of the baby she would not be bringing home.

it was a surreal time. my grief was fresh and new, and still stung. i wanted the grief to go away. this was not the plan. this was not how it was supposed to be. my sister was supposed to graduate that week, bring home her baby girl the next, and live happily ever after, mommy, daddy and beautiful baby girl.

i was inconsolable. i was a sobbing, crying mess. vili was strong and had amazing perspective, but i wanted nothing to do with his perspective. i wanted to be sad, to be angry. i thought somehow it would help. during the drive, the song be still my soul, came on. the calming i felt in that moment was a gift from the Lord. i was still horribly sad, but i was no longer devastated. i knew in that moment that the Lord was mindful of me. i knew that everything happens for a reason, and i don't need to know the reason to know that this is the Lord's plan. i knew then that my niece was not truly dead.

that song changed my mindset and attitude in an instant. the spirit calmed me and whispered sweet reassurances. i cannot listen to that song without thinking of my beautiful niece, Lile Genevieve. i know that one day, i will see her again. i know that the gospel of Christ is a gospel of hope and peace.

happy happy birthday, sweet girl!

sickness!!

2010-04-27T00:20:00.004-06:00

so, i got strep throat. i have had it before, but o.m.g. this thing kicked my trash this time. i actually forced my sister to take pics of my huge tonsils. i'll email them if you like! but forewarning, they're soooo gross.

i really felt pretty cocky when i first got sick. and seriously, if you have ever had strep, and it's been bad, i judged you. i thought you had to be weak, or a wimp, or something. i did not think a sore throat could bring you down. now, after fever, chills, dizzy spells, body aches, blacking out, tonsillitis, vomiting, migraines, being unable to drink water without excruciating pain, getting sicker after taking medicine, and four days straight in bed unable to sleep, i am remembering how hard it is to humble my stubborn self.

i am sorry if i ever judged you or your sickness. honestly, i have learned a lesson, and i am sure the lesson is not over. my throat still hurts, i still have had headaches all day, i am still dizzy, i am sure that yeast infections are on their way from all the blessed antibiotics, and i cannot imagine what else. i think the biggest thing is that i don't want to imagine.

this post is short and disjointed, but i wanted to share. i really do feel bad for judging you.

My Daddy

2010-04-17T23:19:00.005-06:00

well, i know that i have posted quite a lot about him, but i saw this picture, and just had stuff to say about my daddy.

this picture makes me sad.

this is my daddy's hand. this year, he spent his winter indoors, playing cards to keep himself entertained. this past winter was not easy on his health, and it made me personally grateful that he is still in my daily, mortal life. as a child and even a youth, i took for granted the amazing man he is. he is a link to my past, a member of the oldest surviving generation of our family. all of his predecessors have preceded him in death, and he is my last link to my tongan heritage.

i remember being young and complaining when we had to go to work with my dad and brothers. i did not like getting dirty, and i for sure did not like being bossed around. working with my dad entailed both. now, as i am older and gaining more insight, i wish i had appreciated the time with my dad more.

my father is a craftsman. the product of his hands was art. these hands once created amazing work; they supported his family and taught his children the value of hard labor. they inspired others to follow in his footsteps, and made his work seem easy. my father spent his life outdoors, whether as a child fishing and working on boats, or as an adult, laboring to provide for his family. his life was lived in the fresh air, coming indoors only to sleep and sometimes eat.

now that working outdoors is no longer an option for him, he is relegated to spending his time indoors, attempting to occupy his mind. playing cards filled the void for him this winter and i am grateful for that, but i can see the desire to be outside creeping up on him.

it's coming up on summer, which for my daddy means fishing. i worry a lot about him when he goes fishing. it's rare that i can get him to bring his phone with him, and i don't like the thought of him not being able to call for help. but it's so wonderful to see him happy. he does not look or seem like such a frail old man when he's able to go out and fish. for him, it's his birthright, and life to be outdoors.

i know that the day when my daddy will leave this mortal life is approaching. i pray that when that day comes, he is able to spend it outdoors, surrounded by his family--the two great loves of his life.

44

2010-03-25T12:27:00.003-06:00

Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. -Mark Twain

well, i'm not a huge mark twain fan; i don't agree with a lot of the opinions he had, and i was never a fan of his books. however, i am a huge fan of this quote. it speaks to my soul.

i am a firm believer that all regrets are awful, but after reading this quote, i realize that my most painful regrets stem from things i've neglected to do, was too stubborn to do, or would not push myself to follow through on.

don't get my wrong; i have regrets from things i've done--my life has not been without bad choices--but i think that bad choices are a part of life. everyone screws up. it's incredibly easy to forgive yourself for bad choices once you realize the Lord forgave you long ago. it's much harder to forgive yourself for making a conscious choice not to act; to not do something you know you should.

there is no justification good enough, no excuse believable enough, to condone inaction.

in twenty years, i will be 44. what surprises will my 44th year of life bring me? will i be married? have children? have grandchildren on the horizon? will i remain in utah? will i have traveled the world? will i have chosen a career and been successful for years? will i continue my pattern of bouncing from profession to profession; never staying long enough to get bored? what type of person will i be? will i be surrounded by loved ones who enjoy my company and crave more or isolated from people who could possibly hurt me? these are all questions that run through my mind when i contemplate being 44.

when 24 was on the horizon for me, my life was filled with regrets; both of things i'd done, and things i hadn't. it's only been a few weeks, but at the time, bad choices i'd made occupied my mind and tore apart my confidence. it left no room to regret the things i'd never done. now that i am in a place where i can truly see the hand of the Lord and his great mercies, i am better placed to realize that my life is also full of regrets of things i did not do. how many times have i felt prompted to do something, but never followed through? how many people could have benefited from me following the promptings of the spirit or my own conscience?

i tend to shy away from action unless the outcome is certain. i do not like jumping into something without both eyes wide open. to avoid pain or embarrassment, i am willing to be complacent.

i am determined that the next twenty years of my life will not be filled with regrets from things i've never attempted; i would much rather screw up and regret that than never know where trying would have gotten me. 44 is gonna be such a great age!

A place of peace

2010-03-21T23:00:00.001-06:00

When I was 18, I was rescued. Thanks in great part to the supplication of my sweet Grandma, I found respite. I was on a path that was not bright, and desperately needed space and time from my home. I had no direction and no motivation to do anything.

I spent four months on the island of Hawaii under the watchful and loving eyes of my aunt and uncle. I did not make my time there easy on them, but it was a turning point in my life. I learned the true meaning of earning a living. I learned what work ethic was. It was the time I learned about sacrifices and the selfish life I'd lived until that point. It was where I learned about education, and the first time I truly believed that I had the potential to receive a higher education. I gained tools to better my life, and the perspective to realize that bettering my own life only betters the lives of my children, who are yet to be born.

This is the view off my uncle's balcony; my peaceful place. The place I could sit and listen to the birds and the water. I could watch the ships come into the bay and would make up stories about the people disembarking. It seemed like none of the cares of the world could touch me here, which is good, because I desperately needed a place of respite.

It was here that I first realized the ocean calls to me. I feel a connection with the water, a connection that transcends any other I've felt. A connection that I am convinced generations of my ancestors also felt. I have always had a wandering spirit. I love to wander, to travel, to see things. Most of the reason is because I'm nosy. I like to know what's going on in this fascinating world around me. But I also believe it's part of my heritage. No matter where my wanderings take me, I am always drawn to the water. My dad was always wandering. He could never stay put. He traveled the world because we share the same curiosity. He saw amazing things, but always managed to stay close to the water.

Today in church, we learned about blessings, and how not all the blessings we receive are for our own benefit or because of our own righteousness, but rather for the sake of others. My dad was blessed in his many wanderings, I believe for his kids sake. How many countless generations of my ancestors were also blessed for my sake? They learned of the gospel and often did not have long to reap its blessings on this earth, but they laid the foundation for me to follow.

I am convinced that the time I spent at my uncle's house was more for the sake of my future children than myself. I want their lives to be more full and better than mine. That is the purpose of family, that each generation should improve upon the last. It is for the children I will one day have that I try. It is because of the generations before me that I have that opportunity.

Grandpa

2010-03-16T16:24:00.004-06:00

this is my grandpa. i've posted this picture before, but i absolutely adore this picture of my grandpa. he doesn't like it; he says it makes him look like an old man, but it's the grandpa i always picture when i think of my grandpa. he's old, that's a given. it's hard to have grand kids and not be old, but he is also weathered. he's the most amazing man i've ever known. he is strong in the gospel and wise beyond his years. any time i want advice or need a sounding board, he's the guy i go to. i know the advice i get will transcend all my obsessions and drama, and be full of good old-fashioned common sense.

growing up, i spent a lot of time with my grandpa. not because i was just so pleasant to be around, but because i was constantly getting in trouble. we lived with my grandparents, and my grandma would watch us while our parents/grandpa were working. being the stubborn, bratty child i was, i clashed with my grandma quite a lot. it was a common thing that i would be sent to my grandpa's room when he got home, if only to give my sweet grandma some respite.

my siblings were terrified of being sent to grandpa. i am not sure what type of torture they thought he conducted, but i loved being sent to timeout with grandpa. my stubbornness didn't let me share their fear. i loved being sent to grandpa's room. it was the only room in the house with air conditioning, and we would usually just sit and watch cable (which was a bigger deal back then) while he took his nebulizer. i am not sure if i sometimes acted up just to get sent there on a hot day, but i think i'll plead the fifth for now...

i remember (and even if i didn't, people tell me this story all the time) the first time i stood up to my grandpa. my brother had ripped a drawing i was making, so i stole his drawing (i may have ripped it and was supposed to say sorry... one or the other!). i felt completely validated in doing so, but grandpa told me to give it back to my brother. i refused, and grandpa balked for a second. in his line of work, he was rather used to being obeyed, and used to the obedience following him home. well, it didn't that day, and we had a regular stare down; where we both refused to give in. my stubbornness finally bested his, and i went down in family legend history as the only child to ever stand up to grandpa. :)

this weathered, wise old man is the yard stick to which all men are judged in my mind. he loves his family fiercely and is the best grandpa a girl could ask for. as his birthday approaches, i am nothing but grateful that he is a part of my life. i am not sure what i'd do without him, i love him so much!

Thanks for always being there, Grandpa! I love you so much!!

o that i were an angel

2010-03-08T13:40:00.004-07:00

note: at a baby shower on saturday, my auntie told me that i don't have enough pictures on my blog, so here is one (um, i may or may not have stolen it from my sister's blog....) of my nephews and the princess/the moving mess at my sister's house.

yeah, the shift key is still broken, and i don't care enough to fix it or worry about capitals. this may become a pattern. i like the freedom of straight typing without any capitals. anywho, i am officially 24. i think it's gonna be a good number, my birthday was super uneventful, but a really good day.

it started out at about midnight, when i was going for a jog with a friend. we were supposed to meet two other friends there, and decided to hide in some bushes to scare them when they came. bad idea when it turns out they were waiting at the cars to surprise us with silly string and birthday glitter :) eventually, we got it and each pulled off our plans, but it was entertaining getting there. note for the wise: when hiding for long periods of time in bushes, you might want to take seriously the fact that your face is itchy, shower pretty soon after, and wash the clothes you were in...

then, i basically went sleep for a while, went to church, ate dinner, ate cake and ice cream, went to see my sister's brand new (i guess just new to them) house, and then came home and watched some tv. non-eventful, but a great day.

i have decided recently that i need to read the book of mormon before conference. i actually came up with a chart of how many chapters i needed to read each day, mostly because i obsess about crap like that. i gave myself 15 days to do it, which left about another 15 in case i got behind. it was good logic, because it's really hard to read 15 chapters of the bom on days i work. either way, i can see the difference it is making in my life already. it forces me to at least have the spirit for a few hours every day, which is more than i was doing before.

i feel like alma, who said 'o that i were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that i might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth and cry repentance unto every people!' (alma 29:1) now that i have decided that having the Lord's presence in my life daily is something that is important to me, i've become annoying about it to everyone else. i'm not sure there is any kind of solution, because i feel so different these past few weeks.

i am scheduled to work 5 shifts the rest of the month of march, and i cannot even express how excited i am about it!! i thought all my time off was limited to march until i realized i have the first friday-sunday off in april, and then i will be in hawaii from the 7th-14th. that means that i am working a total of 7 days in the next 5 weeks. i might complain when i get my paycheck, but i am so glad i don't have to work!

on another note, i have begun to practice/play rugby with a women's team in provo. it's kicking my trash, because lets be honest, i am not by any means in shape or skinny, but it's a lot of fun, and i am excited!

nothing to report...

2010-02-24T21:56:00.004-07:00

i don't really have anything to report, but i feel like posting. this post will not have any capitals or weird punctuation requiring the shift key, because i ripped the shift key off my computer.... yeah folks. basically, this is what happened.

i somehow spilled water on my keyboard (ok, so i spit water on my keyboard/computer) and in an attempt to keep my keyboard from frying with the water, i ripped off all the keys from about the p on over to the right. then, i dried up all the water i could find and began replacing the keys. all of them went back just fine except the shift key. that one was not so easy, and even after watching three videos and how-to's, i still could not get it to stay on. not a huge deal, i thought, until i realized that i basically never use the left side shift key. so, my life has basically either gone without shifting or shifted very slowly because i have to remember where the key is on the left hand.

i would insert some pretty symbols or wavy signs here if i had a shift key...

i am basically crazy. the other day, i was at work and had just opened my paycheck. after looking at it, finding out how much pto i had, and how much overtime i'd worked, etc. i realized that i had opened the check 'the old way' aka, opened the flap, just like you'd open any other letter. not a problem except for the fact that i remembered that last payday, i opened my check from the side and really liked how the check was free of weird hanging flaps of paper.

not wanting to be outdone by myself, i reinserted the pay stub and proceeded to cut open the side of the envelope then tape shut the flap. keep in mind, i am not alone, in the privacy of my own office. i am in an office, surrounded by three people, all of whom have since stopped talking in oder to observe what on earth i was doing. it wasn't until they asked me about what i was doing that i realized how crazy i had been. i was embarrassed that i had done it just then, but not so embarrassed that it cancelled out the feeling of calm that i got when i had fixed the envelope.

well, that concludes the typing for now. this post is really annoying me because it's got no capitals or punctuation that i like. the countdown has begun to my birthday, or as my cousin puts it, my two dozen benchmark.

Speechless

2010-02-09T00:38:00.003-07:00

I was reading this blog (you'll have to go to the next page back to read the whole story) at the suggestion of my Aunt Michelle. I am literally speechless. The writer has let us into an extremely personal, traumatic, and painful week of her life. I was in tears while reading it and teared up again when I explained it to my mom. The woman's first-hand, no holds barred, account of her son's accident was just so relatable.

It made me feel like I was living the nightmare along side her. The mother is an amazing writer, and I am still speechless. There is nothing I can say that will fix anything for her; nothing I can do to help, but I want to. I wish I could fix this for her and her family. I wish it were a book that I could skip to the end and read the ending, ensuring myself that everyone lives happily ever after. I cannot do any of those, and it bothers me. I suppose I will have to make myself content with prayers on their behalf and finding a way to distract myself from the feeling that my heart has dropped out of my chest.

I am a very blessed girl, and I am grateful for the example of others, like the Staker family, who put things into perspective for me.

Randomness

2010-02-03T09:55:00.003-07:00

Well, I like to keep busy. I hate being bored, and the things I do when I am bored usually eat up a lot of gas in my car, money, or just time and effort. (Hence the fiddle.) So, I have been trying to keep busy at work and pick up a lot of extra shifts. The thing that I forgot when picking up all these shifts is how long your day is when you work 16 hours straight.

My daddy's in the hospital right now. It's mostly just the same heart crap he's had since I was in high school. Lots of tests the last few days, and not many answers, but he should be fine.

My 24th birthday is coming up. I am kinda devastated by it. I don't really want to turn 24. I am not even sure why, but I'm just not excited for it. I guess it's a good thing I'll be in Vegas for it. Nothing like a buffet and show to make you feel good about being old :)

I got bitten the other day at work. Through three layers of shirts. It drew Blood. Left a nasty bite mark. (Ok, that's the end of my drama :) I'm now on antibiotics and trying not to be paranoid that I have some weird disease or am now a vampire. A werewolf would be better than Vampire. They at least get a few weeks' break from being crazy. :)

Seatbelts

2010-01-26T21:02:00.003-07:00

Today, I went to get in my car and could tell my mom had been in it. The seat was forward a good 4 inches, and the drivers side seatbelt was as far down as it would go. The seat bothers me less than the seatbelt; I can drive with the seat a lot farther up than I usually do, I just don't like it.

The seatbelt is another matter. I am extremely claustrophobic, especially when it comes to seat belts. I do not like my movements being restricted. Even just the half-second it took to raise the seatbelt made me anxious. I had to twist my body to fit under it, for Pete's sake!

A long time ago-probably 8 years-I was driving back from a funeral in New Mexico. I was with my Auntie Pam and a few of her children, including my cousin Jenna. Pam and one of my other cousins were in the front seat, discussing babies and when they felt like the best time to bathe them was. (The consensus was the morning, there's nothing nastier than the smell of baby pee that has sat in a diaper all night)

I inadvertantly extended the seatbelt all the way, and slowly the seat belt had become tighter over the past few miles. I started panicking and every rational thought left my mind. The conversation faded and I began trying to get out of the seatbelt, which only made it tighter. At this point, it was actually squeezing me and I was trying to control my breathing. The last conversation I wanted to have was with my sweet Auntie about how she gave me a ride home from the funeral and I went and got stuck in her car.

I knew in that very moment that I would die in that seatbelt. I tried squeezing my upper body out of it, but my head wouldn't fit. If only I had been flexible enough to contort my body to freedom!

I am pretty sure I was probably starting to panic noticeably by then. My cousin Jenna looked over and asked what I was doing. I was mortified that I had to tell her I was stuck forever in the seatbelt, but I did on the off chance that she would have scissors to cut me out of it.

In less than two seconds, Jenna reached over, pushed the release button on the seat belt, and released me from my prison.

As soon as she had done it, I felt retarded. I couldn't believe that I was really that panicked about the seatbelt. But I was more annoyed that the thought had never occurred to me that I could unbuckle it myself. That's usually how life works. We get caught up in our own drama and need an outside source to step in and be the voice of reason.

Even though I bet she doesn't remember that story, I am forever indebted to my cousin Jenna for releasing me from the prison of my own making :)

Britax gushing!

2010-01-15T10:28:00.005-07:00

It's a well-known fact that I obsess about some (ok, a lot of) things. Britax car seats are one of them. I feel strongly that car seats should be well-built and engineered (no Made in China stickers here) and that they should be Britax. No other options. My sisters have been less on board with this idea in the past, but gratefully, they have both humored me in this obsession.

Well, the other day, Talia fell on the ice while walking with her darling baby boy in his car seat. The car seat tumbled through the air and sidewalk, and she was mortified. She was convinced that her baby was injured or had whiplash or was dead, because he was not responding the way she envisioned. Instead of being hysterical like she was, the baby was happy as a clam, a direct result of the True Side Impact Protection that the Britax Companion had (and incidentally, we had fought about whether the car seat even needed) The end story is this: The "accident" could have been a real one, and we are both happy as clams that it wasn't. But it makes me sleep just a little better when I remember that my nieces and nephews are riding in the best car seats money can buy.

That being said, go here and enter to win a Frontier, Britax's most awesome harnessed booster seat!

For another post, another day: The benefits of Rear-Facing car seats. Please watch the entire thing. It will change all your excitement and eagerness to turn your baby's car seat around the moment they turn 1.

Breathe, and I'll carry you away

2009-12-29T20:17:00.001-07:00

Home among these mountain tops
Can be so awfully dull, a thousand miles from the tide

Like I said in my last post, I adore Owl City. The title and lines above are both from their song On The Wing. The thing I love the most about Owl City is that the words explain so perfectly emotions that I (and I am sure you) have felt. It is pure poetry, and I love it.

This song has hit close to home lately because I have contemplated that exact sentiment; Living in Utah, among the mountaintops is pretty dull, and it's for sure miles and miles from the Ocean, which I honestly feel like is part of my heritage. I cannot be without the water. I live here because it's what I know and it's where my family is. That's crap justification if you ask me.

I want to travel. I always have. I think it's something most people secretly wish for, and something that they leave for "someday" Well, someday never comes. I feel strongly that just because I was plopped down in the middle of Orem, Utah, does not mean that I must stay here forever, or even that this has to be my future. I want to travel the world. I want to go around the entire Earth and find the one place I love the most, and then stay forever.

I went to Australia, almost exactly on the other side of the world. I saw some amazing things and I loved it. It makes me wonder what else the world has to offer. There are billions of people here, and even more places to see. I want to see them. I don't care if Google Earth has street view that is pretty realistic. I don't care that I'm not going to be the first person ever to look at the things I see. I just want to see it first-hand. I want to experience it all. That way, when I am ready to settle down, I can be confident that the place I have chosen is the one place in the world that I want to be.

Or maybe I'm not ready to settle down because I'm not sure what exactly I'd be settling for here in Orem, Utah...

A Wonderful Christmas Time

2009-12-23T11:54:00.006-07:00

It does not feel like Christmas. I have completely been in denial about Christmas approaching until BANG! It's here. I am not sure how I feel about it, but I am typing this first blog post on my new laptop that Santa brought me. That's gotta mean something, right?

I am listening to Saltwater Room, by Owl City, and I must admit it is my new favorite song. I bought the entire album because I adore this song.

With your ear to a seashell, you can hear the waves in underwater caves as if you actually were inside a saltwater room.

I love listening to seashells. I remember doing it as a child, which means it is pretty awesome now. Things I did when I was little tend to be awesome. For a while, I insisted on being called Spotted White Deer. I knew I was part Navajo and Paiute, and I for sure looked like I was Indian, so I decided my name would be Spotted White Deer after an Indian girl I saw in a coffee table book.

I still think about myself as Spotted White Deer sometimes. It makes more sense than I ever knew when I was little. I have pretty white skin, Freckles (which I found out this summer were actually moles...) and I prance around on my toes, similar to a deer. Awesome?? I think so :)

Clarity

2009-12-02T01:06:00.002-07:00

(Disclaimer: This is a pretty disjointed, jumbled, post... Read at your own risk!)

Well, this past week has been an awesome one!! It's been a week since I've worked, and I absolutely LOVE it! Tomorrow, I am headed in to work to sub... (have I mentioned that I have been substitute teaching for PE at my work?) so I figure I will play the catch-up game on my blog because this week has been kind of awesome.

Thanksgiving day was a special day for my Grandma, Jenna Lee. It's a day that should be full of family, but more importantly, the day that marks the treaty. What treaty? You may ask. The treaty that regulates the playing of Christmas Music. If allowed, my Grandma would have listened to Christmas music all year round, but Grandpa installed the limits of Thanksgiving to New Years.

Those are the blessed weeks, where Christmas music would be blasting from every available speaker, and Grandma's house would transform into a winter-wonderland. She enjoyed so much decorating her house and knew where every item should go and which way it should face. She was full of Christmas spirit, and helped us to love the Christmas season too. It offended her when Christmas cards would say Season's Greetings or Happy Holidays, because Christmas should be the focus.

This week, I've thought a lot. Some about my Grandma, some about my life, some about nothing at all, and a lot about me. I took an impulsive trip to Vegas with my cousin, Dara. It was wonderful. There's a lot to be said for a long drive and space... Sometimes, I need both. I am easily irritated, and have a strong need for personal space. So, I take drives.

Sometimes, the drives are just to the store and back with my music blasting. Sometimes, they are up through Provo Canyon and out further up or down the Wasatch front. Sometimes, they are to Vegas. Wherever the destination, they are cleansing for me. It is a time where I am able to gain some clarity. To get away from the clouds and fog of my every-day life and just be alone with nothing but my thoughts for company. I love it. I live for my drives.

My Grandma took drives, too. It's just another reminder, in this Christmas season that does nothing but remind me of her, that we are kindred spirits.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-22T21:21:00.004-07:00

Wow, Thanksgiving really creeped up on me this year. I will get extremely emotional about EVERYTHING thanksgiving-related if I allow myself. It is really one of my favorite holidays (I guess there are not that many to choose from, but you know what I mean!) and it reminds me the most of my dear Grandma Jenna Lee.

For today, my short list of THANKS:

LDSJournal. My Grandma Nellie faithfully kept a thorough Life Story for herself and husband all of her years. It is a blessing to us, her posterity, to be able to read and learn more about the amazing woman that was our Great Grandmother. LDSJournal helps me be more like my Grandma Nellie and gives me a good and easy way to journal with a purpose.

Google Profiles. (Mine is here) I had second thoughts about doing it, but after I Googled myself and saw all sorts of weird stuff, including things I tweeted, I figured I at least wanted to be a little in charge of how much info people could find.

My Family. Not only the ones here with me now, but the countless generations of ancestors I have. People who lived their lives and went about their business just like myself. They had thoughts, emotions, lives of their own. They were passionate about things, had religious convictions, loved, felt heartache and were basically the same as me.It's easy to read or hear about stories and let it die there. It's amazing to me that my ancestors were so REAL. Without knowing it, they were paving the way for me to become the person I am today. Choices they made in their lives affected not only them and their immediate families, but me any MY family. I get super overwhelmed when I think too much about it, but I am infinitely grateful for my Family, and for the ancestors that paved the way for me to become me.

Music. For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads D&C 25:12. There is just something about music that speaks to my soul. It's nice to know that the Lord feels the same way.

Heaters. I am not sure I need to expound, but they're really useful (to take a line from Thomas the Tank Engine)

My Car. It's nice to have reliable transportation and to be able to get places I need to go.

My nephews and the Princess. I am so grateful for these kids' presence in my life. They are a blessing beyond anything I can describe. They are a grounding force in my life and my calming influence. Without even knowing it, they brighten any day they are in. They are a handful a lot, but I cannot even express how much joy they bring into my life. They are the perfect balance for work (which leaves me not ever wanting children) They remind me of the joys and countless blessings that come from motherhood.

When the Music Stops

2009-11-13T11:02:00.000-07:00

...It's all on us.

That's a quote from The Cleaner. I love that show mainly because it always starts (or ends) with a monologue from Benjamin Bratt's character.

I think that quote is one part of being a "grown up" that scares me. There is no longer anyone else to blame or take any responsibility for my life. I tend to get bored and make rash decisions just to kill the boredom.

I started looking for nanny jobs about two months ago. I had quite a few interested people, some close and some far. It was basically a repeat of the last time I looked for a nanny job with one exception: I was dragging my feet big time.

At the time, I didn't really want to admit it, but I knew this was one of those instances. The kind where I would not be able to make a rash decision and still end up on top. I knew that no matter what nanny job I took, I would reach this same point eventually. The point where I get restless and get an insatiable desire to wander.

It always plays out the same way. I get bored, change things up a bit (or a lot!) and then end up bored again. It's a never-ending cycle.

On a completely unrelated note: I adore the song Fireflies by Owl City. It annoyed me at first, just because it was all weird and techno-like, but after I really listened to the words, I fell in love. I love the camaraderie that comes from a song that explains your feelings so well. It's always nice realizing that a complete stranger, who probably does not have much in common with you or the same life experiences, can still understand (and more importantly, describe) your emotions. Anywho, just some thoughts on my day!

My Own Brand of Crazy

2009-10-21T21:21:00.003-06:00

Well, it is a pretty well-known fact that I am crazy. I just feel like I should share a (maybe a few) story about my own brand of crazy. Hopefully, by sharing, I'll be able to recognize it earlier and earlier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Fiddle

Once upon a time, I decided that my life's dream was to be able to play down-home fiddle. Devil went down to Georgia-style. Because it was my life's dream, it made sense that I should be able to play it by ear. Yup folks! By ear. How does one play the fiddle by ear, you might ask? Here is my easy, tested, 7-step plan!

Step one is to buy a fiddle online for an exorbitant amount of money. (check!)

Step two is purchasing a few hundred dollars' worth of fiddle music from ITunes while waiting for said fiddle to arrive (check!)

Step three is listen to fiddle music 24/7 while waiting for online-bought fiddle to arrive, allowing your brain to memorize the music and preparing your hands to play (check!)

Step four is pick up the fiddle and hope your brain has created the required muscle memory in your hands (not quite a check...)

Step five is repeat step four for a few weeks, while simultaneously trying (in vain) to hide your shame that said plan is not quite panning out (check!)

Step six is come to terms that it is entirely possible that playing the fiddle by ear is A LOT harder than it sounds (check!)

Step seven is list the fiddle on craigslist and ksl and eventually sell it to a [horrible but true stereotype] Asian family, who wants it for their 8-year old child--and wish you could return the hundreds of dollars worth of ITunes music (check!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heart Attacks...

Well, one day, I was having chest pains. I was absolutely convinced that it was a heart attack (calm down! Turns out it was pleurisy :) and I called my mom, frantic that I was dying (after I took a healthy dose of aspirin to thin the clot in my heart, of course!) She was trying to talk me down, but I was not having it. I was convinced I was having a heart attack, and was on my death bed (and also quite annoyed that my mom was not concerned that we were having our last EVER conversation) My mom finally, in a very triumphant voice and happy she had bested my retarded logic, told me that in the event of a heart attack, your extremities go numb.

This part is very important, and also absolutely true. At the very moment my mom told me about that symptom, MY HAND BEGAN TINGLING.

Yup, my own brand of crazy. :)

Life, the Universe, and Everything

2009-10-14T11:47:00.001-06:00

Ethnic

I think it is slightly entertaining that there is a politically correct word that people use to describe my Ethnicity. Ethnic is the go-to word when wanting to describe something from another culture. Ethnic music, ethnic food, ethnic dress. How much more vague can that phrase honestly be?

Ethnic, according to Merriam-Webster online means a group of people classified by a common background. Thus, ethnic music could mean anything from down-home country to the twangs of a didgeridoo.

Of course, there is another definition that Merriam-Webster gives for the word Ethnic --Heathen. Heathen is actually the first definition it gives. I think that it is ironic that the politically correct word most people use to describe people from another culture, first and foremost means heathen. Apparently, if you are a person of color, you must also be strange, uncivilized, and not Christian. It is politically correct, though, so no complaints, right? :)

~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~-~~

Fragile

I cannot type that word without imagining the father from A Christmas Story in my head "Fra-Geel-Lay" It must be Itallian! That line really makes me laugh.

I think that if I had to describe life with one word, Fragile would be pretty close to the top of my list of words. I feel like life is happy and fulfilling, but I also know it is so fragile.

It's easy to think of fragile as meaning on the verge of breaking, or easily broken, but I like to think of fragile more as something extremely precious. Something that, yes, is easily broken, but is also worth defending and protecting.

I don't remember where I was going with this anymore, but...

Life is good, and I'm a happy girl!

Wild Horses

2009-10-04T12:45:00.002-06:00

...I want to be like you.

Throwing caution to the wind

I'll run free, too.

I kind of love Natasha Bedingfield. Or at least this song :) It brings up the same feelings that Wide Open Spaces, by the Dixie Chicks does. Those songs speak to my soul and stir up all sorts of restless emotions. They make me want to uproot my entire life and start over somewhere new. Not necessarily because starting over is an option, but because the unknown is fascinating.

I feel like Americans are a restless, wandering people. We have always loved the anticipation and surprise of discovery; whether it is a new valley or a new planet. We like to be aware of our surroundings and thus be assured of our place in this Universe. From the earliest beginnings of Europeans on this continent, we have been curious about what is ahead, and eager to be the stewards of our destinies.

Wandering is a way to control our destinies. It is a way to open new doors of opportunity and move forward. I am realizing more and more that I am pretty firmly planted here in Orem, Utah. I like the known. I like the familiar. However, the more thought I put into it, the more I realize that staying rooted here just equals me closing doors on myself.

Sure, there are a lot of (really convincing) reasons to stay where I am, and not mess with the mix (the economy is comparably good here, I am close to my family, it is familiar, don't fix something that aint broke, and so on) But there are also a lot of really alluring options out there.

My Grandpa lives in a house that his grandfather built. He is the 3rd generation to live there, and the 4th also inhabits it now. My Grandpa's great-grandfather is buried in the same cemetary that he will one day be laid to rest in. I like that my family has a history there in the charming town of Malad, Idaho. I like that I have some sort of heritage there, but I am not sure that is what I want from my life.

When people trace the path that is my life, will it be a tiny circle, with me never venturing out of my comfort zone? Or will I take the plunge and do something different? Forge a trail far out into the unknown? Honestly, I am not sure right now the answer, but I know which I would prefer.

Thoughts I am Thinking

2009-08-28T13:51:00.002-06:00

This post is more for my own records than anyone else. That being said, if you choose to read it, I ask that you read the following two paragraphs first.

After writing this post, I was not sure if I would post it or not. I debated with myself, and finally gave it to my sister to get her opinion. Her suggestion was adding a happy ending, so people would not think (basically) I was about to kill myself.

My solution is this Disclaimer: This post is by no means my cry for help, or anything similar. It is me, recognizing for once, that I have suffered with depression for a long time. I have no suicide intentions or ideations. I do not equate myself with psychopaths. These are thoughts, and nothing more. I feel 100% safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where to begin…

When I write the pages of my life story, where will I begin? Shouldn’t every story have a dramatic start and a happy ending? Or perhaps a happy and innocent beginning with a tragic ending. It’s hard to pinpoint a starting point in my own life story. I do not remember my birth, and the details of my early childhood seem so foreign to me now, I can’t start there. But where then? At the onset of adolescence? After finishing High school? After starting my current job? None of my options leap out of the page at me. I suppose I will just start with:

Who am I?

That question seems so cliché. It’s been done and overdone millions of times. Adding my own query to the pool does not even ripple the water. But it is a valid question. I tell people all the time that you cannot get anywhere without first knowing where you started and who you are. How hypocritical that I really can’t answer those questions for myself.

I know who I want to be, or who I think I want to be, but there is much to be desired when reality meets dream. I wish I were successful and driven, an icon to strugglers everywhere. I wish I were in control. Not just of my surroundings and my personal space, but my emotions. Right now, it seems like I am constantly on the brink of another exploding session. I pity the targets that are hit constantly with my rage, but it is just that. Years of pent-up rage.

Lots of stuff has happened to me over the years. Some of it is clear as day to me, but most of it is more like mud. The memories surface sporadically, and usually when they do, I wish they hadn’t. It’s much easier to have the memories be skeletons in my closet, because I can shut the door and ignore them. It is another monster altogether to be confronted by said skeleton. It rocks the foundations of my world. It shakes everything I had known to be true.

I found a poem I wrote when I was 18. I think it was right before I went to Hawaii, to escape the hell that was home at the time. It shocked even me. I had completely forgotten the entire incident. I had forgotten how lonely and forgotten I felt. I had forgotten the utter sadness that drove me to run away, thousands of miles to the island of Hawaii. Not even my therapy baby could save me from the fate I was heading into. I had to get away from the hurt.

The hurt of that incident is one of those memories that was like mud to me now. I move on from and forget things, which is a good survival mechanism on one hand, but a bad idea for someone trying to function as a human being. Emotions are not bad things. They are the one thing that humanizes the entire human race; the one tie we all share. The truly monstrous people you read/hear about are people who lack basic emotional response—the sociopaths who do horrific things without remorse and without emotion. Those are the ultimate monsters of our world; they look like us, but they lack that basic connection with others.

Michael Meyers from Halloween, is the best example. He has haunted our nightmares for over 30 years. The reason he makes a consistently good villain is because he never cares. He kills and slaughters people without second thought, and for sure without remorse. He stares at people he is killing; confused about the situation, but unable to make the emotional connection required for true remorse. He is the embodiment of monster.

I have learned (or been conditioned) to turn the emotional response off in stressful situations; it is better for me to never deal with a problem than to confront the fact that a problem exists. Thinking back on so many things in my life, I wonder how many other situations in my life have been smoothed over with the magical putty that is my mind. I literally feel like someone took a big spatula and smoothed over all the bumpy spots; all I am left with is a smooth finish. It is disconcerting; to look back on your life and remember only an eerie smoothness. Not memories, or happenings, but just a smooth surface, like an undisturbed pond. Literally a picture in my mind where I know memories should be.

It is only because I know there should be more there, that I am even aware of this sensation. I have fleeting memories of bad things, and they never meet up with that glassy surface. It is an uncomfortable feeling, like you have forgotten something important; like you know there is more to the story, but you are not sure you want to know at this point. I am truly scared about what I might find out if I ever go digging further into my memory. But, I figure it’s got to be better than the fallout from these anger attacks.

Open Water

2009-08-17T21:29:00.008-06:00

Water fascinates me. I adore playing in water, whether it is a chilly lake or the ocean. A day (or even a few hours) playing in water cannot be beat. There is nothing I would rather do with my time. I have always loved swimming and playing in the water. I am not sure what the allure is, but I love it. Since I was super little, I have loved playing in the water. Not much except my size has changed.

Water also scares the life out of me. Since I was at least 12, I have had a fear of open water. I do not like what I cannot see below me; I have an irrational fear of it. I grew up hearing stories of my Dad and his adventures on the high seas, and I was always scared of sharks in the water. I even panic in pools and lakes, certain that there is a shark below me, biding its time until it eats me.

I know these fears are irrational, and I have known for a long time that they are not normal, but I have never said it out loud. Uttering those words somehow lets the Universe know that I am in on this big conspiracy. I am not sure why speaking my fear scared me for so long, but I somehow thought that the sharks circling below me were being lenient on me because I was unaware of their presence.

I am also "secretly" afraid of ghosts. It's a paralizing fear. One that I only overcome through self-talk or a lot of effort. I feel the same way about vocalizing my fear of ghosts; you just don't do it. Somehow, the ghosts leave me alone if I don't know they are there. However, saying out loud that I know they are there, or I am scared of them, means they will somehow become very angry. Angry ghosts = horror movie setup. Everyone knows that the fat girl is either a) non-existant in the horror movie, or b) dies early.

I cannot allow myself to be in either category. Thus, I live with my paralizing, irrational fears, safely tucked into my mind. No one I encounter is any the wiser until now. I guess my secret is out. I suppose I will have to be weary of ghosts in my mom's house, and watch out for those sharks next time I float the river.

I sing you to me, redone

2009-08-04T14:47:00.006-06:00

Well, I found this among some papers I had written when I was 16. I haven't changed any of the wording, and I am actually pretty impressed with how well it was written. If it seems familiar, it is likely because it is very similar to my thoughts on the movie Australia, though I have to admit, I expressed my thoughts much better when I was 16 than my previous post. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The best of both worlds

That is how most people look at being biracial. I tend to agree--by being partially raised in two different cultures, AKA worlds, I can take the best that each has to offfer & create a better combined culture.

However, this system is largely flawed, for it may be able to create a better, more well-rounded person, but from my own experience, one must still choose which of those two worlds to live in. For, you cannot inhabit them both at once. The simple answer for this dilema would be 'follow your heart' or 'just be true to yourself.' But the answer is not so simple if you consider that by having the benefit of being raised in two cultures, neither of them will ever be without flaw in the minds of those involved.

I was greatly blessed to grow up 1/2 Tongan and 1/2 white, because I was able to take the good parts from both the American culture and the Tongan culture and combine them in my self. The trouble comes when I contemplate the huge choices in my life...I must choose one of the two worlds to make my primary home, yet in my mind, they are both flawed. Am I thus cursed to wander aimlessly; serching for something that does not exist?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, I still stand by my 16 year old thoughts. There is not a perfect culture; one without flaw. The difference is that I no longer feel like I need a perfect culture. The imperfections that I see in both cultures are no longer enormous obstacles that I have to overcome. Neither will ever be perfect; I just have the unique opportunity to be able to see both for what they are, and still choose the best aspects for my own personal life.

Baby sisters are the best

2009-07-29T00:49:00.005-06:00

This is a repost from October 21, 2008 Original Post Today is my baby sister's birthday, so this is for her! (who also made all the simple prettyness on my blog!)

I Love you, Pen!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chicken, rice, and corn from a can

Disclaimer: this post is dedicated to my baby sister, Pene. It just might get cheesy or sad or personal. If you don't want to hear about it, I suggest you move along.

Usually, I say that I cannot remember life without my sister. I'm here to tell you it's a big, fat lie. But not a horrible one, I don't think. I have exactly one memory from before she was born.

My earliest memory is from when I was about 2 years old (plus some 5 or so months) It was the night my baby sister was born, and actually the only memory I have without her in it.

I have a vivid mental picture of our house in Salt Lake; it's night time, and we are eating dinner. You guessed what's for dinner; chicken, rice, and corn from a can. Nothing too fancy. Just fried chicken, sticky rice, and corn. I don't remember much beyond that, except that my older siblings were there, and I colored a picture. I also remember a man there, who I'm assuming was probably my cousin Tui, who I guess babysat us a lot.

After that, pretty much all my memories involve my sister. We were always "the little girls" and did pretty much everything together. Whether it was bullying the girl next door into letting us play (she had THE coolest toys) and then fervently denying it to our mom, or trying to convince a neighborhood kid that we could get him deported to Canada, we were quite the pair. We fought constantly with each other, but I knew she always had my back.

When I think of how a good sister should be, I usually think of a Jane Austen book. The sisters in her books were usually pretty close to perfect, and always totally devoted to each other. My sister has always been the Jane Austen sister, and I'm so grateful to have her in my life!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Focus

2009-07-28T19:27:00.007-06:00

I know that I am biased because I am their Auntie, but I just think these kids are so adorable (it's ok that I am often grateful I can return them!) I love this picture; they are so little, but they look SO grown up at the same time.

This picture captures their personalities so well; the Princess is the center of those boys' universe and she knows it. (lets be honest, we are all guilty of revolving around her) She has a horrible need to know EVERYTHING, so it's no shocker that she is not looking at the camera, but off to the side, probably at what her Uncle is doing. She is a big girl, and don't try to tell her otherwise. She can do everything the boys do, and will not tolerate people doing things for her. She is strong-willed, stubborn, and loving. She cannot be bothered to do things on your timeframe, hers is much better. My mini-me in more ways than one.

The Monkey on the left can be perfectly content just doing his own thing, and is easily distracted. He looks like he is ready to pounce, leaping off into some imaginary adventure that only he sees, or maybe just off to talk to a bug before getting scared and running back. Luckily for the rest of us, he is always willing to tell you about his adventures, and test out new words. He is curious about emotions, asking you how you feel and why you feel that way, or straight up telling you how he feels ("I'm ANGRY!") He notices things that no one else does, and is so thoughtful. He is the social butterfly his mom always was, and set to be just as happy and fun as she is.

Little Mohawk on the right looks like he is pondering some great mystery of life, and is on the verge of understanding. "Auntie Latu? Why is ____" he will ask. The questions he comes up with usually shock me for a while. I have to gather my thoughts and figure out how to answer most times, and my answers usually don't sate his curiosity. But he is patient, the perfect big brother. He is coming up to that threshold of "big kid"ness. He wants so badly to be a big kid and grow up, but he's still such a sweetheart. If you need someone to feel your pain, he is your man.

So often of late, I have felt blank. Not the blank of a canvas, prepped for paint, but a different kind of blank. It seems like these kids have been the only part of my life that is in focus. The further the eye gets from them, the more blurry everything else becomes.

These kids represent the exact center of my culture; family. When I have that part of my life in focus, a lot of other stuff seems to fall into place. It is when I try to distance myself or be selfish, that things start to go wrong. It's a great thing for me that I have these kids in my life to remind me what is important, and more importantly, what is not.

They are Happiness. In every sense of the word.

Bucket List

2009-07-22T14:20:00.006-06:00

I was looking at a family crest I did for my mom's class a few years ago. It was just a simple drawing in black ink, on white paper. When explaining my crest, I talked about how the white represented peace and the black represented hardship and trials.

The black by no means dominated the page, but the way the eyes were drawn to it, you would think so. I spent a few minutes examining the black lines, scrutinizing them. Until I realize that the page was completely dominated by white-by a huge majority. But, the eye has a hard time focusing on the white (the peace), of the page when the black stands out so well. I think it is a good analogy for life.

Most peoples' lives are peaceful and enjoyable, with small splotches of trial thrown in. You must have both pieces, the peace and the trials, to make a succesful life. Otherwise, it is just a page of white or a page of black. It is when the peace and the trials fit together well that the picture becomes visible. But it is so easy for the eye to be drawn to the trials in your own life, and make no further effort to find the peace.

No single situation is pure peace or pure trial, no matter how solid the line may look. There are shades of grey everywhere, and those shades of grey are where I want to live my life. They are the points where peace is reconcilled with trial, because you need one to fully experience the other. With no reference point, the greatest joy in your entire life is merely just another day, floating on by.

Well, when I was cleaning out some of the junk I have stored at my parents house, I ran across a bucket list I made when I was 14. I am 23, so the 10-year mark is approaching for that list. I completely forgot making that list, so it was quite shocking to realize that I have done quite a few of those things in the past 9 years.

I wanted to see the Mississippi River, the river that dwarfs all others and makes every other river I have ever seen look like a quaint little creek. Done. A few times :)

I wanted to see the Atlantic Ocean. Done (side note: It is colder, uglier, and just all-around second rate to the Pacific.)

I wanted to go to the Land Down Under. Done (urban legend or not, I REALLY did see water drain the opposite way while there)

I wanted to go to Nauvoo, the City Beautiful. Done (while there, I found out I had ancestors who lived/owned land there. I for sure visited!)

I wanted to buy a Durango. Done.

There were lots more I have yet to do, but here are a few of my highlights: I want to kiss the Blarney stone and walk the Giants Causeway. I want to swim in the English Channel, Visit Neuwanschtein Castle, see me some real Shetland Ponies. I want to take pictures in Times Square, see the Statue of Liberty, visit the city of Brotherly Love, see Niagara falls, walk the Mall in DC, visit the Smithsonian.

I don't remember making the list, but I remember thinking more recently about the things I wanted to do before I die. It seemed like some huge, impossible task. Looking back at the last 9 years I realize that it was not that hard to accomplish most of those things. In fact, it was effortless. I was not thinking about checking items off my list or having awesome experiences. I was just living life, and those things just happened.

I realized that I need to focus more on the parts of my life that fall in the shades of grey, and less on the black, gloomy parts. It takes more effort, but the bottom line is this: The more I focus on on the parts that are at least partly white, the more I realize my life is shaping up to be AMAZING!

The post I should have posted

2009-06-28T20:04:00.008-06:00

Well, it's a day late and a dollar short, but here is something more like I should have posted on Father's Day.

Well, this is my Daddy through the years. He will give anyone the shirt off his back without hesitation. It's a trait that drives me crazy, because if I am around, it usually ends up inconveniencing me. However, I think it is a trait that most of us could use more of. The things I want to say about this man are too personal for me to share here, but I want my Daddy to know that I love him and I am so very grateful for his presence in my life.

My Grandpa is one of a kind. Literally. He is the only Grandfather I have, and honestly, I have never wanted that to change. I stole this pic from my sister's blog, mostly because I think it really captures my Grandpa. On the outside, he can be a bit gruff, especially if you make him angry, but you soon realize he's just fiercely protective of his grandkids. He is truly one of the hardest workers I have ever encountered. He taught me that any job worth doing is worth doing well, and it's stuck with me. When I need advice on life, money, spirituality, or anything else, he is my go-to guy. Life would be a whole lot different without the influence of my Grandpa. I don't want to even imagine it.

Picking up the pieces

2009-06-21T20:01:00.004-06:00

Well, long story short: Today has been a really bad Fathers Day. Just kind of disappointing. I went to sleep at about 3am last night. All good and well until 8am rolls around this morning, and I realize I have to work from 9 - 4. When I got off at 4, I decided to head up to Idaho to see Grandpa. All good and well until I hear about some horrific storm that I will have to drive through. At that point, I decide to turn around and go see my sister instead. All good and well until I decide to stop and visit my niece's grave. I get out of the car and am sitting there for a bit. All good and well until a car pulls up behind mine, (literally about 15 yards away from me) a guy gets out, breaks my window, and grabs my purse.

Was there much of value in there? Nope. $21 in cash, and even less attached to my debit card. A pack of gum, hair brush, pair of socks (not brand new, gently used) a book, a dozen pens, and a half dozen chapsticks (not cherry, thank you) I feel slightly vindicated that my purse looks a lot like a laptop bag, and I am pretty sure the dude who stole it is pissed off that he took that and left the ipod on the seat, because it sure will not pay off.

I am oddly ecstatic that I had my journal with me at my niece's grave. Not because I think the tweaker who broke into my car is interested in my deepest thoughts, but because I have been so faithful in writing in this journal. This is my first successful journal I have ever kept. Usually, I last all of about two cookie-cutter entries before the journal joins the other discarded, failed journals in my drawer. Not this one. I am going on two months, and it is nearly full. I am so proud of myself, and so happy that it was not stolen. I can handle having to buy new gum, chapstick, and paying the $18 to get a duplicate license. I don't know if I could handle losing my journal.

While I was vacuuming up the pieces of glass (which literally flew EVERYWHERE in the car!) I realized how ironic the phrase picking up the pieces is. This is not a hugely traumatic occurrence. It happens every day, and to be honest, I was asking for it to happen by leaving my purse on the front seat. I usually am not that careless, but part of the problem is that I trusted too much in the goodness of people today. I assumed that everyone else in the world would be celebrating Father's Day, and not plotting to do evil. I assumed that people pulling into a cemetery are there to find peace or mourn the dead, not scoping out cars for valuables. I assumed that my car was safe because I was so close. None of those proved true.

I feel more violated that I want to admit. The things in my purse are all completely replaceable. I have a passport, so proof of citizenship and identification are non-issues. I have my beloved journal, the record I am keeping for future generations. I am just angry that my purse is likely sitting in a dumpster a few blocks from the cemetery at this point; discarded as worthless by the thief, but infinitely valuable to me. I am angry because I got that purse in Australia. My sister gave me the yellow wallet for my birthday. Both are truly irreplaceable. I am angry that my lips are feeling chapped, and not only do I have no cash to buy chapstick, I have no cards to use either. I am angry that this happened to me. But, there is still a silver lining.

I heard the infamous still, small voice. I absolutely did not heed it, because it told me to just go straight to my sister's house, and then to just visit fast, then leave. I followed it not at all, but I heard it. This is possibly the first time I have recognized that voice, and the knowledge feels nice.
My journal is here. It seems so trite, but I am so grateful for it.
I am fine, and they didn't steal the car.
I still have my ipod, thus my music. It is shocking for me to think about how much time I spend listening to music. I fall asleep to hymns, and they play all night long. I listen to music in the morning while getting ready, I listen to it any time I am in the car, and then once I get home at night. The cycle repeats daily.

The situation is more annoying than I can express, but there is still much to be grateful for, and thankfully the pieces I have to pick up were mostly vacuum-safe.

Purpose

2009-06-02T22:59:00.003-06:00

Well, I love to go on night drives. They calm me and make me a much happier person to be around. I have never thought much about why I love night drives until I was asked last week. I honestly did not have an answer at the time, and it kind of bothered me.

Tonight was a gorgeous night. I could tell it was going to be pretty at sunset. It was not a red-orange-pink sunset, but a simple blue. Just the bluest blue imaginable. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Those kind of sunsets turn into beautiful nights. The kind that make the mountains leave a black outline on the sky; the kind that make your heart feel like it's fallen out of your chest.

Nights like this make me ancy. I need to drive on nights like these. On nights like tonight, I feel like there is nothing in the world but me, the sky, the mountains, and the Lord. Nights like tonight thoroughly convince me that there is some sort of plan. Nights like these are not some interplanetary happenstance that I stumbled upon. It's part of the plan.

On nights like these, I see so vividly my role in this plan. My life has purpose and meaning. I live for these nights. I want to soak them up, because I know it will not last, but while it does, I am happy. Nights like these convince me that if it all ended right now, it'd be ok. You see, I am more content than I have ever been.

Uncle Sila!

2009-05-15T09:14:00.004-06:00

Well, one of my sisters is pregnant, and she found out on Friday that it is a boy. They are naming him Silakivai, after my oldest brother. My 4-year old nephew is more than happy to tell everyone who will listen about his new baby who is coming soon, and will be named "Uncle Sila"

~~~~~~~~~

One of my sisters recently realized that the top on a tanning bed is meant to be pulled down over the top of you. This same sister once engaged my mom in an argument about whether "a quarter to 5" meant 4:35 or 4:45 (a quarter=25, right?)

~~~~~~~~~

Well, the inevitable has happened- I am beginning to plateau. School is not quite as new and fun, and not having as much expendable income is becoming old. I think Melancholy is probably the perfect way to describe this feeling. I knew this day would come; that I could not surf along on the high of making a life change forever. I just wish it had not come so soon. Nevertheless (I love that word, but spell checkers don't) I know that I am doing the right thing, and I am so excited for the way things are headed!

I started training for this volunteer program called CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocate) that works with the Guardian ad Litem's office (What I want to be when I "grow up") It is a pretty long training, and all volunteer, but I am so excited and hopeful to begin! I know it will be so fulfilling, and I am excited to finally have the ball rolling.

Anywho, this was kinda a disjointed post, but there's an update for anyone interested!

Grab Life by the Horns

2009-05-05T10:09:00.003-06:00

I think that's a quote from some Dodge trucks commercial, but I really like the sound of it.

I am a firm believer that we are the creators of our own destiny-Our lives are exactly what we make of them. I was recently talking to a girl who, because of experiences she had with a few stuck-up white people, has decided she does not like white people at all. Immediately when I heard that, I was saddened.

Saddened at the loneliness this girl must have felt to make her respond like that. Saddened at the people whose own close mindedness had fostered a close mindedness in this little girl.

I realized that I am a fixer.

I have a compulsive urge to fix things. Not the broken faucet or the broken cabinet, but people. I feel helpful and calm when I can fix people or their situations. Does it matter that these people don't want to be fixed? Not at all. They're gonna be whether they like it or not!

Which is why I was dumbfounded when this girl told me her story. I had no idea what to say that would fix the situation. Looking back, I realize there was nothing to say. It's a problem she's got to sort out herself. Any advice I could give her would either be too vague, too personal, or too harsh.

What is the difference between me and this girl? Our stories are different, but our personalities are alike, and our experiences similar. What is the axis on which all this turns?

Perspective

I am hardly what I would consider old. I do not think I am any sort of expert on life and living, but I do know that I have gained a lot of perspective since I was a teenager. The world that I thought I understood has changed in so many ways since I was 16, and on my way to conquer it. I wonder how much more it will change as I grow older. I feel like the "perspective" I have now will seem like nothing when I am 50, but it is all-encompassing now.

I guess that is the essence of life; to learn, gain perspective, and wisdom. I hope to continue to gain all of them throughout my life. I guess that is part of the reason why I have registered and paid for school. There is no turning back now. I'm all in.

Random thoughts...

2009-04-15T01:27:00.005-06:00

Well, I read a book about overcoming OCD the other day. Am I a coffer full of knowledge and insight into overcoming OCD? One would hope so.

Sadly, the only thing I have accomplished by reading the book is recognizing that I obsess about things. Irrational and ridiculous things. I swear that my obsessions are worse off since I read that book.

Now I'm obsessing about how I obsess about things. I'm hopeless!

~~~~~~

I feel like I am standing on the brink. I am stuck in this rut in my life--not entirely miserable, but also not entirely content. My toes are dangling out over the edge, and my future; the fulfillment of 23 years of desires, is within sight. All I need to do is take the leap of faith.

I feel like Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade. I cannot watch his leap of faith scene. It makes me tense about my own situation. So much rests on me going forward, but the way is deceiving. I can see the glowing chamber that is my future. Even though my trusty guide is urging me forward, I am not sure.

I recently realized that my entire life has been leading me to this exact point. The precipice I stand at is the culmination of years of preparation. I have been unconsciously working toward this day literally forever.

I also recently realized that this feet-dragging I am experiencing is only a problem of perspective. Someone above or below (or even to either side) of Indiana Jones would be able to see the situation clearly, without the deception Indy experiences. They would urge him forward, confused about why he pauses.

I, too, am merely a victim of perspective. From where I am at, the way seems impassable. Yet I have a guide, the Spirit, that is far more knowledgeable about these things. My guide is telling me to move forward with faith. I have no real options but to do so.

The back story

2009-04-05T09:24:00.008-06:00

Any time I see skid marks on the road, I wonder about the story behind them. Was someone driving too fast, and a deer darted in front of them? Were they on their cell phone when traffic all-of-the-sudden stopped? Were they driving too fast when their exit snuck up on them? Most of the time, I am left to my thoughts to ponder the story behind the skid marks; it is not often that I get the whole story.

The most disconcerting skid marks are the ones that head straight off the edge of the road. Those have back stories that I do not care to know. Those almost always end in tragedy. My dad and brother left skid marks like those on the freeway once. Driving past there, I have this morbid urge to look for the skid marks. There are plenty to choose from, so I usually pick a pair and assume those are them. The physical reminder of someone's worst drive ever.

It is not often that our choices leave such blatant physical proof. If you choose to drink, short of a biopsy of your liver, the alcohol will have left few physical side effects. Not so with tire marks on the road. They are a testament to the raw power that 2 tons of steel and metal rolling down the road at 65 mph can possess.

Skid marks make me grateful for modern-day advances in brake technology. They are a humbling reminder of our own mortality. I cannot look at a set of skid marks without the urge to slow down; wherever I am headed will still be there even if I am 5 minutes late.

Every image sends a message, but every image also has a back story. The back story is rarely public knowledge. It's the stuff deep family secrets are made of; the stuff of legends. I think often, we are extremely concerned with what message we are sending out to other people. Maybe we should be more concerned with the back story; the real story. That's what will matter in the end.

April showers

2009-04-02T23:39:00.007-06:00

April showers bring May flowers

Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day

Down came the rain and washed the spider out

The rains came down and the floods came up...and the house on the rock stood still.

Well, it is raining tonight. Not the usual Utah drizzle, but pouring rain. It's a little intimidating to see this much rain on my way home from work. The first thought that ran through my mind was annoyance that it was raining, until I realized that April showers bring May flowers. Then I was actually kind of happy. It's amazing what the difference of attitude makes. Earlier, my attitude was annoyance because the rain symbolized winter to me, and I was ready for winter to be over months ago.

Remembering that nursery rhyme changed my mindset. All of the sudden, rain meant sunshine and flowers-- the beginnings of Spring! It was such a shock to me to realize that my entire attitude could be changed by something so simple as a nursery rhyme.

Something that I viewed as a nuisance, an annoyance, was suddenly transformed into a wonderful reminder that winter is not forever. Rain went from being the bane of my existence to being a source of joy.

I wrote that last night, and it has rained off and on today also. I have a much better attitude about the rain today. I am focusing more on the fact that I love the smell of rain, I miss the smell of slugs after it rains, and I mostly just love summer.

Spring is here; Summer must be on its heels!