In Which I Am Alive

My brother is home. I have friends who make me grin just talking to them. My research group was selected to present at a conference in Portland this October. I was offered an assistantship at a children's choir camp for the last week in June. Today was my last day of class until September. I'm going to Disneyland next week. I leave for Scout Camp in less than a month. Oh, and did I mention that my brother is home? Life could not get much better.

I know a hobby is going to stick when I start finding metaphors for life in it. It's obviously woven itself firmly enough into the way I process existence that I can use it as a mental filter to help me understand other experiences. This past weekend was about as beautiful as a weekend could be, with the perfect balance of activity and lazing, new adventures and bursts of nostalgia, old bosom buddies and new friends. Also, there was plenty of cheesecake, and a new baby joined my extended family (can't wait to meet him!) Today was my little brother's birthday. This kid is amazing, you guys. He speaks Spanish like a native, plays basketball like a pro, and cuddles like the best teddy bear you've ever known. Now that he's old enough to date, I think the ladies will be flocking to him right and left. And how could they not, eh Gus? One of my best friends is getting married this weekend. And I really thought I was going to go when all of the sudden my plans drop...

Got to class practically on time. Played the organ for a couple of hours. Was all of the productive at work. Played a wicked game of ultimate Frisbee. Sat on the grass with my friends while talking about zoo animals. Ate frozen yogurt. Took a refreshing shower. This was indeed a wonderful day.

Today was my last day of one of my favorite jobs. For the past year and a half, I've worked as a writing tutor for BYU's Writing Fellows program. While it has been wonderful being able to combine my love for writing with my passion for teaching, and increase my skills in both areas, I think the best part of this job was in the bizarre and wonderful Writing Fellows culture. I mean, how many people can say that their job has a theme song (with an official band to boot)? Or a never-empty cookie jar in the office? Because of Writing Fellows, I've gotten paid to talk to new people, and to share my knowledge and experience. I've had many chances to improve my own writing and help others improve theirs. I've learned to treasure the moment when someone who has never considered herself a writer realizes how to express her thoughts in a clear, effective, and even beautiful way. There's just something kind of magical about seeing someone discover that beautiful writing i...

They said the world would end this week, So I went sledding, and hugged my family, and sang a lot Spoke my love to the ones who have my heart And stopped worrying about the future, because why worry about something that doesn't exist? However, just in case the world didn't end I learned and felt and lived, saving up knowledge and ideas and memories for later I continued to create, as if someone would be left to see the results. I made plans, no...I spun dreams. They said the world would end this week It didn't. But who knows about next week?

So, I promised a friend I would have something substantial up here by tonight. Another friend told me that I needed to post soon, because...MY READERSHIP! I didn't know I had a "readership" but if I do, I'd hate to disappoint them! So here goes. Lately, I've been getting a lot of questions about whether or not I'm dating anyone, or if I'm still dating "that one guy" (which has been used in reference to both the man I stopped dating about a month ago, and the other fellow I stopped dating over a year ago), or simply condolences that things didn't work out with some relationship or another. These questions and condolences are often coupled with the idea that I'll "find the right guy soon," or "I met my husband right after a break-up," or that "if it isn't right, it isn't right." And while I don't disagree with any of those statements, I also feel that these relationships and subsequent breakups,...

It's been two months since I last went to class.  The summer solstice was nearly two and a half weeks ago. In recent months I've wandered Europe, lounged on a beach in the Caribbean, and logged enough hours at my job at the pool to give me a permanent odor of sunscreen and chlorine.  And yet somehow, it's only been in the past couple days that it's hit me: summer is here.  Maybe it was the nights this week that were spent sitting in the patch of cement in front of my apartment, the patch of grass in front of Panda Express, and the grassy knoll behind my complex's pool. Have you noticed how real summer nights have a different quality than any other kind of night? Not only is the air warm, the light is different somehow...dark without really being dark. And something about it feels not quite like night. Which might be why I've been doing my share of staying up "wayyy past midnight." Maybe it was wakeboarding for the first time this summer. Or lay...

I think I'm a morning person at heart. I love feeling like I'm the only one awake, like I have a head start on the rest of the world. I love the pink-grey-gold of morning air, the streaks of sunrise peeking from behind the mountains. I love the prattle of birds welcoming the day, the quietness of a still-sleeping world. Unfortunately, my circadian rhythm doesn't share this love of the early hours, making me wired with energy late at night and sluggish in the early hours. So...mind over matter, I guess? My dear friend Bekah is back from her mission and I'm remembering how much I adore her and her blog . This morning I was 25 minutes late to a choir rehearsal because I was rediscovering her writing. And it was probably worth it. So this one time a few weeks ago, I was in a band. We played at the ward talent show, had big plans to try out for Acoustic Explosion, and then kind of fell apart.. But it was a good run. There's something magic about the artistic coll...

When I was in ninth grade, I spent biology class goofing off in the back of the room with a table of all guys. These kids were some of my great friends and biology was full of excellent times dissecting pigs, telling jokes, and listening to the guys talk about the beautiful girls that made their lives miserable (ah, junior high...). One day they made an anti-girl club called "Chica de las Muertas" and they let me be an honorary member since, in Aaron's words, "You're practically a guy when you hang out with us." I'm not going to make this an analysis of my relative girliness or manliness, I'm quite comfortable with being a girl. However, I have a lot of experience being "one of the guys," and I love it. Historically, I've found it easier to establish and maintain friendships with guys than with girls. I tend to be less intimidated by guys. Since coming to college and living with roommates I've gotten much better at building wond...

Someday, when I am rich (or at least...out of paycheck-to-paycheck range), I will: Eat things besides pasta and granola bars. Have my own room again. Go snowboarding every weekend (and even some weekdays, since I could afford to miss work) Go rock climbing on days besides "Bring a Friend Friday" (where I can get in for free, because I have friends with season passes). Buy all of the music I ever loved. And all of the books ever written, even ones I don't love. Have a car. Own my own camping gear. Travel. A lot. Things that I do now, instead of being rich: Get really creative with my food sources, so I can eat things besides pasta and granola bars. These include: attending social/church functions just because there will be free food, try to date as much as possible, and go to my grandparents' house for every Sunday dinner possible. Bond with the two other girls who share my room, and pretend I'm a pirate when I climb up the ladder to my little bunk. (...

You know you're in the right major when simply doing your homework for hours relieves your anxiety, loneliness, and worry more than any of your leisure-time activities do. I've been in a bit of a funk all week, and though I felt better while I was playing with my Callie, hiking with Warren, watching Rifftrax movies with Cindy and Josh, and singing in my choir concert, it was a distractional relief, gone as soon as the distraction ended. But spending hours and hours today and yesterday reading up on child development, studying classical concerto forms, analyzing a Mozart piece, and writing a paper about social competence in 4 year-olds has brought a lasting, permanent mood change. It's like the difference between...I don't know, a pain-killer and an antibiotic? I think the fact that I'm doing something productive, challenging, and enjoyable (to me) has some kind of magic to it.

I'm wearing a happy yellow Threadless shirt, cargo shorts, and no shoes. My feet are happy and bare. The end of my homework is in sight. I just took some delicious bites of a Milka bar (how I missed European chocolate...) I don't have to go to work today! I had Honey Bunches of Oats for breakfast today (that, in and of itself is reason for rejoicing). I had Mac and Cheese for lunch (Can you see the importance of food in my life?) I'm listening to my little sister and her friends make a movie about pirates. It's hilarious. I watched SOOOO much Kid History today. I'm starting to recognize the joyful new opportunities that come from painful life changes. I get to have a girls night with my favorite apartment of friends tonight. I got to sightread Beethoven for a while today...for homework! Yes...life is good.

Finding the very perfectest gifts for the very bestest people in my life. Hearing my two favorite Christmas songs on the radio. This cover of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" and this version of the 12 Days of Christmas. Good day, eh? Going to the Carl Bloch exhibit. Building a gingerbread house. Actually, a graham cracker trailer park. But I digress. Losing the gas cap to my car. Playing Ticket to Ride with an astoundingly awesome person. Deep-cleaning the Cannon Center...I think I got high off of degreaser...multiple times... Free pie Wednesday!!! And catching up with awesome friends from high school. Hittin' the powder at Sundance with my siblings. My sister vastly improved my technique with one simple phrase, "Karissa, lead with your shoulders, not your hips!" She is wise. Reading all my favorite children's books that I'd forgotten about. "The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey," "Babysitter's Club," ...

I love my life. Today I was visiting taught and home taught, both for the first time in months. And I love my visiting and home teachers so much already. My visiting teachers especially are such wonderful examples of kindness and going the extra mile. I want to be just like them when I grow up. =) And it's raining. RAINING! I love rain. This is fantastic. I get to go hear my little brother give a talk today. I get to go play with all my cousins. I love my major. My homework this weekend was: write in the chords for about 15 children's songs and then figure out how to play them on the ukulele. Do a full chordal analysis of "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess. Practice Bach and Mozart for hours on the piano. And do some sightsinging. Yes please! (minus the sightsinging assignment of death....) I also have the world's greatest roommates, who I can laugh with, cry with, and work on my Beyonce dance moves with. And....my boyfriend's pretty rad too. I...

Hm....I love life. I love that I can go to a Shakespeare play for 2 dollars, with my best roommate ever. I love enjoying innovative ways of presenting age old words, and I love that I can be sucked into a story penned 400 years ago as if it were happening to my close friends. I love life for those moments when you're sitting in your seat. watching actors on a stage dance to one of your favorite songs, and all of the sudden, one of the actors is standing next to you, hand extended, and soon, you're on the stage, dancing, singing, smiling, and laughing...one hand clasped by a character from Shakespeare, the other held by your beloved friend. And..."I love love. I love being in love. I don't care what it does to me."

Those words are the worst. Time to empty the inbox. Delete interactions with beloved friends, witty comments, exciting life updates, affirmations of love and affection. Just hit a button and it'll be like they never existed. I tried to put it off, really I did. Every time I was almost out of room, I would just delete my sent messages instead. I don't need to read what I said, I live with myself. But soon there were 5 messages in my sent and 993 in my inbox. And so I had to do it. I cleared a few less-beloved texts from my saved messages folder and transferred a couple hilarious, inspiring, and loving texts out from the inbox into saved messages. It felt like choosing which of my children could fit in the lifeboat. And then I pressed the button and all those words...all those meanings...were gone. It's ok though. I don't get to save my conversations in real life either.

February 14th. A day that will live in infamy forever...I mean...something...yeah.... At this point you're probably asking, "Karissa, what is this infamous day to which you refer?" Try and guess. "Oh, it's Lupercalia, the Roman fertility festival?" Indeed it is, but guess again. "Are you referring to St. Valentine's Day, the saints' day rife with fabricated legends about forbidden love?" Closer. "Oh, wait! I know this! You couldn't possibly mean....Singles Awareness Day?" Good job, reader. I have long made a point of broadcasting my scorn for this Hallmark Holiday. Tacky cards, obligatory candy, swooney girls, makey-outey couples...blegghhh...it's like everything I hate combined into one day. But....dagnabbit...there's this secret part of me that likes and appreciates it. Nothing like a little love, right? It all started when I was 16. In honor of the holiday, my friends and I decided to watch the...

Doppelganger week. What is it, may you ask? As far as I can tell from my observations, doppelganger week is a week for people to pretend that they are as attractive as someone who pretty much gets paid to be attractive. Doppelganger week is a week for us a society to feed our absurd, and frankly, unhealthy, obsession with celebrities. The actual event seems to consist of individuals changing their profile picture to that of a celebrity they wish they looked like...I mean...a celebrity who they look a lot like...twins, really. It is a week for insecurities to come out in the form of compliment-fishing: "So..this is my doppelganger...recently rated as one of the most beautiful females on earth...I'm not that pretty (I have to say that so I look humble)...but...what do you think? No really...what do you think? (Please don't tell me what you really think, just stroke my ego for a second...yep, right there..ah that hit the spot!)" Or even better, "Here are 5 gor...

I am afraid to be needed. I know I'm weak, and I know I can't possibly fulfill even my own psychological, emotional and social needs, let alone those of another person. I'm afraid to let down someone I care about. I worry that if someone becomes too emotionally reliant on me, it will cease to matter whether they like me, love me, enjoy my company, or want to be with me. They just need me, that's all. And when the need is gone, they will be too. And in friendships like this, I can't trust my feelings. Do I actually like this friend, do I actually care about them? Or do I just like the appreciation, the importance of being needed? I don't like that sometimes I look at some of the people closest to me as projects, as items on a checklist. Sometimes I feel like all I am is a life preserver, only to be cast aside once the shore is reached. I want to be here for people. I want to help someone, a lot of someones. But I don't want to be needed. I want to...

Sometimes, I get lonely. That's pretty normal I think. Right now, my roommates are home, but I don't want to talk to them. And yet, I'm craving human contact. So i browse facebook, hoping to see someone I know on chat. I write this blog post, both to figure out my thoughts and to quietly say, "Hey world...um...i exist. Just thought I'd remind you..." Somehow, this need for people makes me feel weak. I've been staring at my phone for half an hour, knowing all I have to do is text Jeff or Brenton and, odds are, I'll have myself a conversation. I could pick up the phone and call my Mom, or my grandma, or Jessie. But I don't because, for some reason, I feel ashamed that I need people. I should be able to sit by myself and do homework without having this unsettled feeling in my stomach, without wishing someone would call me just to say hi. I shouldn't NEED anyone except for myself! And yet...I do. Maybe that's the way I'm supposed t...