In Which I Am Alive

Last week, my mom had me go through some boxes of my stuff from junior high and high school to get rid of whatever I didn't want anymore (apparently my parents' house doesn't have infinite space?) In the process, I found something bizarre. Something glorious. Something I had completely forgotten existed.  It was....the Man in a Can! So, the Man in a Can was an activity we did for my church Young Women's group when I was 14. We cut out pictures of wedding dresses, color schemes, and rings, made lists of attributes we wanted in a future husband, and picked out names for our future children ("So, basically pre-Internet Pinterest," says my brother). Then, each of us sealed up the contents of our wishful wedding planning in a Number 10 can, to be opened only when we had become engaged. So here I was, face to face with my DIY Pinterest Time Capsule, opening it a year and a half late. I remembered the activity; I also remembered having a really bad attitude about...

This year, I set a New Year's resolution that I've been trying to bring myself to set for a few years. I decided that I would lose 20 pounds by the end of the year. For the past three years, I've been skirting around the issue, pretending I don't care, and basically doing nothing. So what that I'm almost thirty pounds heavier than I was five years ago? Bodies change, man. I was training for a half marathon five years ago, and I sure don't have time for that now. I would tell myself that the only healthy outlook was to love myself as I was, which meant accepting those extra thirty pounds as a welcome part of me. I told myself that trying to lose weight would only lead to extreme dieting, anxiety, and probably profound disappointment. I reasoned that it was just too hard, I couldn't do it, and it would make more sense to just accept my new size as normal. And I was ready to leave it at that, except that I couldn't. It kept nagging at me. This extra...

Well, you may have noticed that my Johnny Karate blog series lasted exactly one post. I'm not going to make any apologies or give any excuses for that. But after a seven month blogging hiatus, I think I'm ready to start writing again. I don't know what shape this blog will take or what purpose it will serve. It used to be a journal of sorts, a place to vent my thoughts when I didn't know who to share them with. I have an unprecedented level of support in my life now, and my mental health is much better than when I was blogging the most, so I don't need this blog to be therapy for me anymore. But I do know that I miss writing. I know that these days blogs are supposed to have a theme or a niche or some unifying feature. For the past seven months I've been trying to choose an angle: do I want this to be a lifestyle blog (whatever the heck that is)? A blog about living in Provo? A religiously-themed blog? A blog full of stirring essays about my deepest inner feel...

Well, today is Tuesday, which means it is time to report on my first week living the Johnny Karate Way!  So, here is what I did! Make Something : We did a lot of art projects at work this past week (professional development for the art teachers, fun for the rest of us), and my favorite was making these tissue paper flowers . It's super easy! The ones that I made look halfway decent, even though I am seriously disabled at crafts. I think I'll have my students make these for May Day next year. Learn Something : Did you know that there used to be whales with legs? It's true! Sort of! At least, the direct ancestors of whales were land mammals who had legs and webbed feet (kind of like sea lions). Also, I learned that ladybugs lay extra, unfertilized eggs for their babies to eat upon hatching. So that's neat. These are the cool things you learn when you go to the Natural History Museum of Utah . Seriously, everyone go there. It is gorgeous and you can learn about wh...

Well, this blog has gotten a bit dusty, but seeing as the school year is ending any second now (actually, in three days, but whatever), I thought I'd pull it back out and give this whole creativity thing a whirl. And I actually have an idea for a blogging project that's been fermenting for a couple months now. Hopefully this will keep my brain from atrophying too much during the break. If you know me at all, you know that I am a huge fan of the recently-ended show, Parks and Recreation . I didn't know that a TV show could be so simultaneously hilarious, emotionally engaging, and just....goodhearted. Aaron and I started watching it together when we were dating, and soon we referenced our "Pawnee friends" in conversation the same way we would discuss any other mutual friends. Parks and Rec  has been, literally, the most influential TV show of my life. All right, so, the project! In the final season of Parks , Andy Dwyer, the series' lovable buffoon, has cr...

Not long ago, loneliness, for me, was inevitable. My roommates would leave on their dates, or to the library to study, or to their graveyard shifts, and I would be left alone. Sometimes I would try to make plans with other friends, and sometimes I would be successful. Sometimes I would call my mom or my sister and catch up. But often I would find myself at home with nobody to talk to, knowing that there was nobody who actively desired my presence. I got accustomed to the dull ache and learned how to work around it and to distract myself, but time and time again, it came back. This evening, I feel that ache again. I desperately wish there were somebody home to talk to, to laugh with, or just to sit by. I am craving companionship and I don't know where to find it. It's been so long since I had to deal with this kind of loneliness, and I don't remember how I used to numb it. It hurts. But in a strange way, I relish the pain. Its very unfamiliarity is a reminder of the g...

Recently, I reintroduced myself to my old friend, the sewing machine. I had five very large windows and access to a room full of free fabric, so I decided that I should make some curtains. Now, I haven't actually sewn anything since I was about 13, besides a few errant buttons. I have fond elementary school memories of helping my mom with sewing projects, making a pair of pajama pants for my Dad one Christmas, and making a pillowcase in 7th grade home ec. However, sometime around 8th grade I stopped sewing. Maybe it was because I strongly, strongly  disliked my 8th grade sewing teacher. Maybe it was a misguided attempt to reject stereotypically feminine gender roles. Maybe I just knew my mom wanted me to learn to sew and I was being a punk. Who knows. All I know is that even though all I've made so far is a set of really simple curtains, I am in love with this hobby. The hypnotizing clacking of the machine, the precision involved in measuring, cutting, and pressing, and the sat...