My blog is not very personal. I don't talk about my deepest fears, my worries, my bad days, my greatest hopes, my goals...my blog isn't a story of my day to day life. In fact as I was going back through my posts, this blog doesn't really tell anything about my life since I began blogging. You could not read through these posts and get a sense for the path my life has taken. You won't know what I did last weekend because of my blog, you won't know much, if anything, about my job after reading my blog, you won't know much about the people in my life...you really won't know anything about where my head is at or where most of my time is spent. And I like it that way.

Now, not that there is anything wrong with using your blog to talk about  your weekend or your kids or your job or your relationships...I enjoy reading blogs that do all these things. I enjoy feeling caught up and connected to my friends and family who provide this kind of insight into their lives.

I've been told that I'm fairly...closed-off. Which I always sort of knew, and sort of liked, but am now discovering that it has it's drawbacks. The point is, I think I may try to work towards becoming slightly more upfront and maybe a little more personal in my communications with other people. It sounds painful, and without my therapist I probably would have given up already. But I thought about it, and it seems like this blog may be a good place to start. So, in the spirit of openness, here are some things I don't generally tell people and rarely ever talk about:

• I do not know how to braid hair. I've tried once or twice, it didn't work. Thinking about asking my 6 year-old sister to teach me but I know the face she'll make, and I think I'm still a little too proud to ask. I'm working on that.
• I enjoy my job, I really like the variety and the people and the sense of accomplishment that comes. However, I hate office politics and processes that seem to be there just for the sake of having a process. I hate it when people say no just because they think they can't always say yes. And I have found working at the same company as my dad a little tricky to navigate at times. People ask me about working "for" my dad a lot, and I usually say, "Oh, I never see him, he's in the corner office and I'm in the basement cubicle." Which is true. But even with that organizational distance, things still happen...opinions, office politics, and bosses definitely can conflict with a father-daughter relationship. However, it's actually really really great to have someone to talk to who really gets my job, and it's been eye-opening to see what my dad has really been doing all these years. "Dad's working" means something TOTALLY different now.
• I have not graduated from college, however I almost never bring that up. It's easy to say I went to BYU and was a Philosophy major, which is completely true. But...people draw their own conclusions and I don't jump in to correct them. I think of myself as college educated, and who needs a silly little paper that says you jumped through a bunch of hoops! Except I don't really believe that...I have two classes left, well I'm halfway through one of the two, but I kind of enjoy seeing how far I can get without a degree. Plus I completely hate the idea of going back down to Provo to sit in a classroom and talk about theoretical philosophical stuff and write essays and...yuck.
• I haven't been to church in several months for two reasons. One, at a certain stage of life, church becomes all about finding friends and/or dates, and even the people with the most sincere intentions can't prevent this from interfering with their church experience. And two, let's be honest...9am on a Sunday, getting "dressed up"...not my thing. 
• I think I may be allergic to hugs. With very few exceptions, I get extremely uncomfortable, a little warm, and completely flustered by them. Contrary to popular belief, it's not because I dislike them. I dislike them because this always happens! Plus I'm really not good at it, when you're told that hugging you is like hugging a cardboard box, it doesn't make you eager to repeat the experience. Also, I don't think hugging is necessary to say "Hello" or "Goodbye". That's why we have the words "Hello" and "Goodbye". If a hug communicates something, it should be something that can't quite be communicated in words. I'm not sure what that is exactly, but I'm sure there's something there.  
• I really really love my parents. I never say it, I don't tell them that, but I really do. My parents are smart and supportive and generous, nice people. There are moments from time to time when I find myself thinking, "Wow, some people's moms didn't ever cook and they just had hamburger helper all the time!" or "I can't believe some people's parents didn't teach them table manners." I guess that sounds kind of dumb, but I feel incredibly lucky to have been raised the way I was. I think I'm still too close to my teenage years to admit that to my parents, but maybe they might read this post someday. Then they'll know and we won't have to have an awkward conversation about it.
• I enjoy living alone, it's fabulous going home and really being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want. My time is my time, and it's not impacted by anyone else. However, it can be lonely too. Not speaking to another human being for 8 hours, 24 hours, 48 hours...I've been surprised how much I have to say at the end of my "alone time". I sometimes think having another warm body around would be nice...hence the reason I am in the process of adopting a pig! I thought an aquarium would help, but fish do not count as "warm bodies" by any definition. Plus, the pig will never mess with my DVR or eat my food. It does mean I'll have to give up pork products, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. 

There, how's that for being open? A little window into the real me.

Last Valentine's Day

It's been approximately one year since my mom told me she had cancer. It was Valentine's Day and my mom had asked if I could meet her for lunch. Work was busy that day, so I couldn't. She then asked if I could go to dinner instead. I knew something was up then, my mom wouldn't be asking to go to dinner on a school night for four of my siblings when my dad was out of town.

Needless to say, finding a place for dinner last minute on valentine's day was not easy. The pickings were slim. We ended up just going to a place called the Gecko, I think. We walked in and found the clientele to be similar to Chuck-o-Rama before 5:30....lots of sweatpants and denchers.

I have no idea how the food was that night, it would take a lot for food to be memorable when you hear your mom say "I've got cancer, and oh by the way there's this brain tumor and spine issue".

A year later, I'm not sure my mom would consider the whole experience a blessing, and I probably wouldn't go that far either. But looking back, it was probably appropriate that I found out on Valentine's Day because the experience, for me, was a giant lesson in love. I am not a person who cries, except in cases of injury or rivalry game losses, but I was moved to tears several times because of the unbelievable outpouring of love we received from everyone imaginable. It was nothing short of incredible.

Wards-That-Must-Not-Be-Named

So I moved out of my apartment about a month ago. A lot of factors influenced my decision, including, but not limited to, the following:

1. Non-functioning oven
2. Mysterious radiators that operated on their own schedule
3. Pot-smoking neighbors
4. Awkward encounter with one such pot-smoking also gay neighbor where I learned that the term "Mo" does not refer to "Homo" which means I definitely answered her question incorrectly and FAR too quickly. She was nice but our hallway encounters were never the same...
5. The amateur X-rated movies being filmed in the apartment below mine

However, the thing I dreaded the most....was the Singles Ward. To understsand this feeling, recall the fear and loathing with which the characters in Harry Potter said the name 'Voldemort'. In most cases they used the term 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' becuase his name was too powerfully horrible to utter. I have yet to come up with an adequate subsitute for the "Singles Ward" term that brings me such grief...but I'm working on it.

I could write pages and pages of Singles Ward experiences....but I won't. I'm not even going to touch the testimony meetings turned into date auditions, or the Family Home Evening formula (who decided an ugly Christmas sweater party was required every year...the funny and original ships sailed a long time ago on that idea), or the spirituality = A's Relief Society lessons, or anything beyond my most recent encounter.

I was at my most recent Ward (which I should point out was not in Provo - the weirdness is not contained in that one city by any means) listening to the announcements. Nothing out of the ordinary (activities, food, servce, etc.) but then they announce something called a Blitz. I was intrigued. They went on to explain that all the interested Ward members would gather at the Church and then proceed to visit 3-4 members who hadn't shown up in awhile (LDS word for these people is 'inactives').

My interest turned to horror.  One Tuesday a month some poor unsuspecting people would have 10-30 people descending on their house to investigate why they'd stopped attending church and pressure them into coming back. It was amazing to me that the people sitting around me could have convinced themselves that this was a great thing they were planning, as if the word "blitz" was a synonym for "friendly service," something akin to helping an old person cross the street.

Clearly no one had taken the time to look up "blitz" in a thesaurus, if they had they would have found the words assault, attack, bomb, bombard, carnage, charge, offense, onrush, onslaught, rush, storm, and millitancy, which hopefully would have clued them into the terror they were about to bring on innocent souls. Right then and there I resolved to do my best never to be home on Tuesday evenings (as I knew I was already at risk of being considered 'inactive'). When I was home, I kept the lights off, refused to answer the door and thought about getting a ladder for use in quick-escape situations. Thankfully, my manuevers allowed me to escape the dreaded 'blitz.'

My whole life I have heard quotes about LDS youth being "strong and righteous" and basically the best generation to live on the earth. Having been in a few Singles Wards I've realized something... this generation wasn't saved for this time because they're interesting or smart or funny or attractive. So which generation was that? I'm thinking I'd like to trade.

My Dad

As of yesterday, my dad is officially not the CEO for Control4 anymore. And while he's just moving to new role with the company, this was a bit of a milestone. I usually find him an easy target for criticism or jokes, everything from his lack of hair down to his Tevas-with-socks fashion choices, but this feels like a good opportunity to reflect on why I'm proud of my dad.

Until I was probably sixteen I didn't realize that most people considered 'work' a 9-to-5 deal. I always saw how hard he worked - he was working when I left for school in the morning, he was at work when I got home, sometimes we'd see him for dinner, and then he'd be working when I went to bed. And that's when he wasn't traveling. What I didn't really get to see, until I started working at the company three years ago, was what all that work produced. I am so proud of what he's been able to accomplish in his career, especially at Control4. The late nights, early mornings, and hours of travel aren't easy but I think the results speak for themselves.

In a busy work environment, it can be easy to lose sight of the human element. I've seen and heard plenty of examples...using an employee's lack of performance, an elevated title, or potential financial gain as an excuse to mistreat or disrespect people.  One of the things about my Dad that I am the most proud of is that he simply doesn't think that way. He has been successful without ignoring or forgetting the well-being of people around him. He is a successful businessman, but he is an honest, caring and good person first.

His commitment to his work has at some points caused him to miss out on family time, something that I used to remind him of constantly. Being the manipulative teenager I was, I would often remind him that he had missed something like six of my birthdays, especially when I thought I could get a laugh or use guilt to help me get something from him (never actually worked). But, when I was a Freshman in college, my dad was invited to speak to the Entrepeneurship club at my school.
I went to watch and to my surprise, he spent quite a bit of time talking about the impact his work had had on his family time. In fact, he even got choked up as he told everyone how he had missed six of my birthdays. Needless to say, I haven't brought up the birthday issue since. Despite the amount of time he's spent working over the years, none of my siblings, or my mom, or I have any doubt as to how important we are to him.


 I love my dad. He's passionate about Control4 and making it successful, he's put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into getting it to where it is and I'm so proud of him for that. He's a great example, a great human being, and a great dad.

My Summer Vacation (Girls Camp)

So I was assigned to help with our Ward girls camp. 33 girls, 7 adult leaders, 3 days, 3 nights, camping. It was an enlightening experience in a lot of ways, but generally pretty fun. Here are the highlights:

• The theme of the camp was Happily Ever After and we were all supposed to be princesses (not my idea). I didn't think it was possible to be a princess when you had to sleep in a tent...but I was wrong. There were people with cots, with sleeping pads on the cots, with sleeping bags, and comforters! They also had whole bags of makeup, perfume and even something called dry shampoo. I didn't sleep or look or smell like a princess but some people sure did.  
• Justin Bieber songs never fail to make teenage girls scream. I bought my first Justin Bieber song after I got home - hoping if I listen to it I will understand this phenomenon
• I made crafts. With flowers on them. Enough said.
• Advice: If you want to make people happy after a long day of setting up campsites (complete with a carriage that lit up and chandeliers in our case) don't feed them sandwiches for dinner 
• Snoring sometimes come from the most unexpected sources 
• Sleep aids: sometimes necessary 
• Whole wheat pancakes are one of the best breakfast foods that exist...when covered with buttermilk syrup.
• There's a reason the fairy godmother in Cinderella floats - that robe is impossible to move in, especially through a circle of camp chairs while pirouetting. Floating is the only way to go, and I have the bruises to prove it.
• Removing hair wraps requires hair cutting - something you should find out BEFORE you have one put it in your hair.
• Women of a certain age are really hot ALL the time so they like to leave the tent windows open when they go to bed - makes for a pretty chilly night. Again, insert sleep aids here.
• There's this thing called Crackle that is apparently supposed to go on top of nail polish and make a cool cracked-looking pattern or something? My nails just look like they were really poorly painted with whiteout.
• I will never again walk up to a tent and just start unzipping without giving the people inside some sort of warning. You see and hear things you wish you hadn't.

Living Solo

Discoveries I've made since living alone:

• I actually can kill spiders, given a heavy enough shoe that can be attached to the end of my swiffer. 
• I'm messy. That will shock no one I suppose, but I always thought I was just messy when I only had small spaces to work with (like my bedroom or my desk). Turns out the messyness just expands to fill the space. 
• I might not like the color green as much as I thought I did. I have a LOT of green stuff. 
• It becomes really easy to leave doors open when no one else is around...bedroom doors, bathroom doors...there's no one to separate from!
• I love yogurt and cheerios, together. That's been my dinner for the past four days. Still trying to get around to unpacking my kitchen.
• I need to take more pictures (I have so few to put up in my apartment) but I now have a lot less to take pictures of - I'm not going to take pictures of myself sitting on the couch, reading on my bed, standing in the kitchen....the solo apartment doesn't lend itself to exciting photographic remembrances. 
• I cannot tolerate sleeping in the heat. If I were on a jury and a murderer testified that he lost his temper because his bedroom was hot and that's why he killed the woman who cut him off on his way to work....I'd let him off.
  

The New Place and Some Old Places

Two of my favorite places in the world are Walden Pond (Concord, MA) and Central Park (NYC). My new apartment is nowhere near as cool as either of those places. BUT, I think there are some similarities.

• When Henry David Thoreau went to Walden Pond, he "wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if (he) could not learn what it had to teach." I came to my apartment for sort of less profound, but similar reasons. I was ready to be on my own. I aslo needed some separation from my parents, which apparently Thoreau did not - he still had his mother do his laundry.

• Thoreau was not completely isolated at Walden Pond, but he clearly had a lot of time on his hands to think...he wrote a 300 page book with chapters like "The Bean Field", "Solitude" and "Brute Neighbors". Since I've started living here, I've written in my journal almost every day. And in fact, one day I wrote about how much I like being alone (solitude) and yesterday I wrote about my neighbors! I don't plan on writing anything about a bean field.

• I live by Liberty Park, which has a pond. 

• It's a little harder to show similarities between my new place and Central Park. There's actually just one thing that reminds me of it, and that is the squirrel. When I went to Central Park I remember being really surprised by how many squirrels there were, and how they didn't seem to be afraid of anything, humans or otherwise. Well outside my living room window lives the most obnoxious squirrel in the world. Every morning I wake up to him squeaking away for no apparent reason. It took me awhile to find him, but when I did he seemed to be squeaking right at my neighbor, then he went to another tree and was squeaking at some bird, and on and on. I had no idea squirrels could be obnoxious, I don't even think I knew they could really make noise. But now....well I never understood the point of BB guns.