Day 1: Adventures

Once upon a time on April 29th of the year 2014, a wonderful adventure called SPAC tour began. It began early. Very early and pearly. More early though, and less pearly, if we are talking about percentages. We were supposed to meet at the vans at 6:30 to head over to the costume wearhouse and then be on our way to the first of three shows.

I must admit that I was probably most hyper from 7-8ish. Once we started actually dancing I just got more and more tired as the day wore on, but the shows continued to get better, so all was well - even if that meant there were very few possum related comments on the way home. To be honest, this was largely due to 2048, yet another game (the first being Candy Crush) that I told myself I didn't need to play and wouldn't play. But then Trenton got it on his phone and I started playing it on his phone and then decided I should just get it on my own so it didn't bug him. And thus is the story of why I was playing that game. For any interested, no I have not achieved the 2048 tile, but I have gotten the 1024 a few times. Woot woot.

Other than a few minor mishaps and not having the right music for Spanish which resulted in the classic favorite DANCING WITH NO MUSIC YEEHAW the day really went rather smoothly. Sure, I had some mistakes especially in the first show, but I think all in all we performed well and covered up the problems.

It was vurr fun and I'm excited to do it again. Tomorrow. And then the next day. And all the days. Until it's done, at which point I will inevitably be a little sad, but mostly excited to get married. There's only 32 more days, people. How I am handling it, I do not know.

My friend named Rylan made a comment to me today. He said that my blog just sounds like my normal talking voice and also that I should make a vlog. This is a compelling option, especially since this computer is equipped with a built in camera which means no pesky additional webcam.

The problem with this choice is that then I have to look presentable while I vlog which sometimes just isn't the thing. I'm the kind of person who is very much of the opinion that changing clothes is dumb. I just spent all day changing costumes, granted, but I have a higher tolerance when it is just for dancing. I real love dancing. Otherwise I just will put on real clothes once and then basically just want to put on pajamas after that. Even at 4:30. Or earlier.

But I digress.

So far do I digress that I now leave you, with the promise of an at least somewhat speedy return.

P.s. Photo cred to the beautiful, wonderful and talented Katie Farrenkopf who indeed took the picture of us in the van.

Rain

Some people really love the rain. Like really really love it. I have a friend on her mission whose favorite thing in the whole world practically is the rain.

I am not one of these people.

The "Rain rain go away, come again some other day" song might as well be translated into Breanna-eese as "Rain rain go away. Rain at night if you have to. But seriously. Go away."

There are a few problems with rain, the principal of which is that it brings the worms out onto the sidewalks. Nasty pie.

Sometimes people make fun of my fear of worms. But they're nasty. And my brothers used to tease me about them crawling into the various face holes we all have (mouth, nose, ears, even through the eye sockets) and either just being in you or possessing your brain. All manner of grossness.

Yes, I am perfectly aware that this does not actually happen, but worms are still the things of nightmares.

I am sorry I even put this on my blog because it ruins whatever beauty the whole thing may have possessed, but this is a worm mouth and just no. No. No no no.

In addition, rain often leads to my number one pet peeve, which is the hem of my jeans getting soggy. It feels like gross and blech all the rest of the day long. That is way sometimes I wear shorts and flip flops in the rain, because water soaking through your shoes and having sloshy socks is almost as disgusting as the bottom of the jean legs being soaked. 

Sometimes my solution to this unfortunate situation is that I pull my pants up but pulling up on the material on the thighs. People sometimes laugh at this, but I would much rather be mocked than have wet pants. Just saying.

This is all coming up because I spent the last two days cooped up inside largely due to rain. My outrage on this topic has faded slightly because it snowed this morning, and that's just not right, but the rain was very irritating. 

However, it's all about having an attitude of gratitude! So. What things happened while I spent time inside while it rained?
1. I did workout videos with my roommates (which made us all rather sore the next day, but all the best workouts do)
2. I watched "Chuck" the tv show with my fiance, and he admitted that the girl in it was attractive and I only bugged him about it afterward once. And by "watched" the show I mean we watched two episodes, not like a whole season.

3. I watched a shark documentary and it made me cry. I will need to write a whole post on sharks later, but basically let's start here: DO NOT EVEN EVER EAT SHARK FIN SOUP. DO YOU KNOW THAT THEY CUT ALL THE FINS OFF OF THE SHARKS WHILE THEY ARE STILL ALIVE EVEN AND THEN JUST THROW THE BODIES BACK IN THE OCEAN - THAT IS 90% OF THE SHARK AND IT JUST SINKS CAUSE IT CANNOT SWIM ANYMORE??
It's beyond inappropriate and it breaks my heart.

Look at this cute shark who just wants to swim and not have it's fins cut off. 

4. Played video games with a bunch of guys and lost a whole bunch - I did win Mario Kart a couple of times but I was not on top of my game. 

5. Watched Saratov Approach and cried some more.

Do you see this theme about all the watching things? It's great but just too much. It's nice to get out and have some variety.

I did do other things than those five but not that I'm going to divulge right now. You shall just be left to wonder. 

Happy Birthday to Ryan!

My baby brother is turning 18 today, which is absolutely crazy! He has his mission call and is leaving for Tahiti (well I guess technically the MTC first and then Tahiti) in June.

Basically Ryan is the greatest. I love all my brothers so much, and Ryan and I have had some fun times together as the two younger siblings. Sure, we fought all the time when we were younger - especially when I was in ninth grade and he was in seventh - but he always knew how to make me laugh so I would have to forgive him.

By the time I was a senior in High School and he was the tallest Sophomore ever, we were pretty much the very best of friends. And so here are the pictures of the beautiful times we spent together (not all the times - just a few of the times and still probably more pictures of the times than he wants but alas and alack there is no going back.) (That was a poem.)

 This is in Hawaii! Ryan doesn't look like he loves me so much but secretly he does.

 This is boating at Deer Creek Reservoir. Because family times are best times. Of all times.

 Once upon a time last summer our family went to Park City and we went ATV-ing. Ryan and I were buddies that whole trip - mostly driving around in the little car in the rain. Ryan did a stellar job of actually driving the ATV down the road while I fell asleep which was probably not the safest experience ever but it worked. Also he trusted me to drive him on this beast even though the rocky area in the rain was really quite horrifying. So, Friendship.

 This is the story of when once upon a time Ryan and I went to a football game and Ryan even called me his favorite sister right in public on facebook. Only sister aside, I'm glad to be favorite.

 Once it was Halloween my senior year, and instead of going to any Halloween parties or hanging out with friends I had a photo shoot with Ryan who was technically being Michael Jackson in Thriller but didn't wear his afro wig and so kind of destroyed the illusion. But I got him to do this leg kick with me and so that proves that our love for one another is deep and our friendship the greatest of all.

Once upon a time I had moved out of the house and was going to college but I went to my dad's work party at Trafalga. Then I posed like I was scared in the mini golf cave and I didn't even know Ryan was being beastly behind me. Even after I left and went far away (you know, to Provo) we were still all the great friends and I liked to leave my little dorm and hang out with him.

 Finally, I just wanted to say that Ryan is the greatest. He might say punky things like "stop whining" and call me "child" and "fou-foo" more than he calls me Breanna, but he is just the nicest, most fun little brother I could ever even want to have. And so I will conclude this post with that thought very firmly established. HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN. YOU ARE REAL NICE AND SUPER AWESOME. Love, Breanna.

Let the Good Times Roll!

Yesterday was slightly stressful. It began with moving everything out of my old apartment, and around 5 pm turned into moving everything into my new apartment, which has significantly less bedroom space.

There is a messed up, skinny as anything secret passageway "closet" that I can hardly get into, a creepy-tastic basement third bedroom that luckily no one needs to use and is now the storage room and also tourist destination for creepiest random basement apartment, and a weird secret storage space in the wall.

There are also some of my best friends in the whole wide world in this apartment and there was a pretty fun movie night here last night.

Also the beds are 1 million times for comfortable than the beds at the Elms. Honestly, a whole post could be dedicated to the fake mattress monstrosities I've been sleeping on for the past eight months. I don't think there was a soft thing in that mattress. Just pain and angst lived in there. Unpleasant stuff. This bed has a real mattress and actually is not five feet off the ground which is kind of a fun twist.

So despite the stress of moving and realizing it is a good thing I'm only living here for a month because all my stuff would never fit here, I am pretty happy and pretty excited.

Everyone on SPAC (my folk dance team which will be starting our elementary school tour this Tuesday) except for two beautiful girls who have husbands and therefore understandably didn't want to move from them has moved into University Villa for the month of tour.

Being all so close together, especially living in the same apartment complex as Trenton, is very nice.

Also I am roommates with the fantastic Katie, who is also my maid of honor, and who I appreciate so dearly in my life. The sweet and wonderful Whitney and Reilly are our other "flat mates" and I just am so excited for all the partying times that will be happening all up in here!

WOOHOO!!

Salted Caramel and an Inadvertent Review of Red Robin

Can we just have a brief discussion on salted caramel?

I don't know if salted caramel used to be a thing, went away, and is back, or if people are just suddenly obsessed with it because. I mean, I know it's been around, but in the past year or so poor caramel is made to feel like it can't exist without salt. Every other pinterest recipe is for salted caramel cookies or brownies or who knows what all.

Now I will be the first to admit that there are certain situations in which salted caramel is completely delicious.

Most often that situation is when there are pretzels involved. For example, my roommates once made me brownies with pretzels in them that were drenched in caramel once they came out of the oven. Delicious. Also, once my friend Lauren and I decided we needed ice cream at midnight so we went to Macey's and got a salted caramel pretzel ice cream and ate it out of the container with spoons on my couch. No regrets.

But sometimes it just goes too far.

Last week, I was having a craving for Red Robin, so my sweetie took me there for dinner. Some of the burgers looked good, but being my typical self I decided that chicken really sounded delicious so I opted for the ridiculously named "clucks and fries". Then Trenton said I could even also have a milkshake if I wanted. Wow! What a guy!

Well, ever since going to a Josh Groban concert with Sarah and stopping by Wendy's afterwards where I, for the first time, experienced the pleasure of the caramel frosty shake, I very much have come to love caramel shakes.

These are the faces of people who tried frosty shakes for the firs time. And also who got their upper bowl Josh Groban concert seating switched by Joshy himself to floor seating. Row 8, baby. But that's another story. But that is the real story behind those excited faces.

Tangent aside, my love for caramel prompted me into the choice of a salted caramel milkshake.

FOLKS. 

BAD CHOICE.

PLEASE, NO MATTER HOW DELICIOUS IT SOUNDS, FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR TASTEBUDS DO NOT DO IT.

I am 100% serious when I say that it was a salt and caramel milkshake, not salted caramel. They used Hawaiian sea salt and the shake was gritty and tasted like salt and not like caramel. And it made me really sad. Trenton offered to trade me for his mint brownie shake which was actually delicious the way all milkshakes should be, but I just couldn't do that to him.

Because I wouldn't wish that salt milkshake on anybody. Except a slug, which it would kill, because I don't believe in the preservation of slug life. 

The shake was about as salty as my fries, which I added the yummy Red Robin salty season-y stuff too. I also put that seasoning on my chicken because them clucks were bland. 

All in all it was a rough experience and one that has kind of ruined the idea of salted caramel for me.

Unless there are pretzels involved.

Gotta Catch Em All!

Clogging is finiiiiiiiiiiiiished!!!!

I mean, not forever. I probably should take Advanced Clogging again so I can actually feel like an adequate clogger.

But still. Being done for the summer is incredibly exciting. I will even admit, despite the fact that I was worried about having to choreograph, the final was pretty fun. I had a great time dancing and everyone else's duets were highly entertaining to watch.

Look how cute and pokemon trainer-y we are. :)

The vest and suspenders were courtesy of a very quick DI run yesterday, in between work, rehearsal, and other finals. I fully intended to buy those little cheap knit gloves and cut the fingers off, but that was just overlooked. Our pokemon essence did indeed suffer, but it's all good.

This second picture is not so good as the first because you can't see my rocking side ponytail as well and my face is saying "Taylor. Stop taking pictures now. What is you doing??" and also Trenton is sprouting an itty bitty arm from his shoulder. BUT. He looks cute in this one. So on the blog it goes.

The great news about these suspenders is that they were completely unadjustable. By "great news" I mean not really, and by "completely" I mean that neither Trenton nor I could budge them an inch, but most likely my dad would look at them and they would adjust themselves, because that's kind of how life goes at times. Most times. So they were safety pinned to me, and it was classy beyond belief.

For some silly reason I can't put the video of our dance on here, but the video quality isn't incredibly high anyhow. In case you truly desperately want to see us clog in not very high quality here is this link: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10152338772068058&l=5347142712777197341

Ok. Who knows if that works?

I'm off to play with a puppy now, but hope this blast from the 90s will cheer up your day.

End of the Semester

I am pretty crazy excited. Last night I took my last written final, which I actually feel really good about - a relief after several finals that I felt rather "hmm." about overall.

(*translation: hmm. = well that probably stunk. But I studied. But that test was hard. Why were those questions so weird? Oh well. No point being sad about it cause I can't change it now.)

This was a difficult semester. When I got engaged in December people cautioned me not to let myself get too distracted. I was told by numerous people that it is very easy for your grades to suffer while you're engaged. Trenton's bishop even said he flat out failed at least one class during his engagement. I didn't fail any classes, and overall I think I did a good job staying on top of all my tasks. I turned in all my assignments, even did the large majority of my readings - which wouldn't have been any different if I hadn't been engaged. Sometimes assigned reading just isn't the thing I feel like doing.

That said, it wasn't a straight A semester. I know those do exist in college for some people, but they've been pretty elusive in my brief time here. After taking my anatomy final and realizing I would be most likely getting a B+ overall in the class (despite the fact that I totally know the little bone which has been hurting every time it rests on the laptop is my pisiform.) I was a little disappointed. I knew I had worked hard and done my best, but since when was my best a B+? High school was straight A's and easy breezy semesters. Even with 5 AP classes, I hardly studied and still got great scores. College has been a little harder. Maybe my brain is getting crusty with age. More likely the classes are just harder.

Getting lower grades (yes, like a B+) made me a little nervous about my scholarship - having a full ride this year was really excellent, and it would sure be nice to continue not having to pay for school, especially because Trenton and I are going to be poor. But you know what? B+ is something no one should be ashamed of. If you stuck with something, if you went to the icky lab and learned how to interact with the cadavers and specimens without feeling queasy, and you studied the lab book inside and out, and played histology jeopardy with your fiance because you needed to review but could not trust yourself to keep focusing if you did it alone, then BAM for a B+. Bam for the passing the class. Bam for finishing the class.

Life goes on, and it's a wonderful life that is going on too. Not the Christmas movie, which is fun, but not what I'm referring to.

The other accomplishment I'm feeling quite proud of today is my room. Yesterday I wrote about junk accumulating. Last night, I got home from dropping Trenton off at about 11:40 and was slightly surprised to see that my roommate was nowhere to be found.

As I said, my roommate being asleep is one of the main excuses I have for my room not being quite so spic or so span. (Spic is kind of a hilarious word. Who came up with spic?) And thus, at 11:40 I said to myself, "Self. Ain't nothing stopping you. Clean this puppy." and so I did. At about 12:47 (roughly) I got out my reading light and shined in behind my dresser, desk, and bed, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Indeed, verily, all my search yielded was a ziplock bag which went promptly into the trash. Everything else had been sorted, packed and is now waiting to move on it's merry way.

I do have a clogging final in a couple hours. For Advanced clogging the final requires us to choreograph a duet. Trenton and I danced together (shocker!). We have a cumulative clogging record of 5 semesters. 2 of those semesters belong to me. It might not be the most perfect dance you ever saw, but it's to the Pokemon theme song so I think everyone ought to respect that a little.

Truth be told, I would just like that final to be done already. It's the last thing between me and my two glorious days of break between the end of school and the start of SPAC ( for which, I promise, I am so incredibly stoked). Plus there's moving and deep cleaning the apartment...like the sliding tracks to the glass door...that's going to be ew. And yet! I am very eager to get this dance out of the way and move on to better and brighter things.

Go and prosper. I will strive to do the same.

Accumulation of Junk

Once upon a time it was finals week. I was studying for my English test which I have to take this very night at 7 PM which is in less than nine hours, when I realized....

And hence I am writing a blog post instead.

And what precisely is it, that this post is to be about?

YES! Something else I'm supposed to be doing instead of writing down my rambling thoughts. That's it kids! Cleaning out my room. I honestly don't even know how rooms get so cluttered, or where all the random stuff comes from. I love moving in to a new place, because you get to figure out where everything goes and make everything neat and organized and cute. Within a month things aren't so neat and organized and cute. Things aren't where they are supposed to be and are instead in stacks on the desk and on the shelf. At least, if you are me this is what happens.

I promise I will try to improve. Part of the problem is that my sweetest and most wonderful roommate Vera goes to sleep before I do every night (Ever, I think I've gone to bed before her four times). So instead of putting things neatly away at night I just stick them someplace so I don't have to turn on lights or rattle stuff around and wake her up.

Or maybe this is just my excuse and I'm secretly really lazy.

Hopefully not.

The great thing is, I am getting a head start on cleaning things up so I can move out. Last year, I had finals on the same day I was supposed to check out of the dorms, and it was a little bit of a hideous experience. I also didn't start packing until that day I was supposed to move out. Also hideous.

That means all of this stuff that I had moved in with plus everything else that had randomly sprouted up in my room like other clothes, a whole bunch of school stuff, and random things like Sven the Donkey from Christmas Around the World had to be consolidated in out while I was still trying to study for finals. Not a fun time.

Yesterday I got a head start on all of the craziness entailed in moving. Most of my things are packed up! It is exciting. And also fun to only have four shirts to choose from since everything else is in suitcases.

So the moral of the story is don't procrastinate because then you will be sad when you have to pack everything and there isn't time. And I will now heed my own warning about not procrastinating and finish studying, despite the bother that I don't give.

There's No Such Thing as Divine Indifference

This is going to be the hard post. This is the post I've needed to write for awhile and haven't been able to. My mom reminded me that I need to be writing things down so that I have them recorded later, but I didn't really want to have this experience recorded for later. But, not writing it down isn't going to change it or make it go away.

A little over a month ago, my sweet baby cousin Duncan ended his fight with a rare and serious form of brain tumor. He had been fighting for so long, but nothing worked - the cancer in his brain was too strong and God needed his pure spirit to return home. This would have been a devastating loss no matter what my connection to the story, but I purposefully put myself in a position where more pain was inevitable.

In the summer of 2012 and just after graduating from High School, I went to Georgia for a little over a week to get away from some of the stresses at home and to help my aunt Shauna with her kids. Duncan was only about three months old then, and I fell in love with him immediately. I spent the majority of my visit holding that sweet baby. In December of the same year, Shauna came to Nauvoo for my brother Andrew's wedding, and brought Duncan with her. I played with him while the endowed were in the temple, and Duncan became my number one dance partner of choice at the reception.

A cute picture of Duncan playing in the temple visitor's center became my phone background, and I referred to him as "cutest baby of all babies". It was while Shauna was staying with my family in Utah while attending Women's Conference at BYU that Duncan was diagnosed with pineoblastoma.

Following that was one of the hardest few week periods I have ever faced. It was within about a week after that my mom found out she had breast cancer, and I was just about ready to find the physical personification of cancer and punch it in the face. Probably really hard.

Instead I shuffled about my summer plans and went to July for a month. It was probably the most educating month of  my life. Shauna was gone for the majority of the time, in the hospital with Duncan, and AJ was incredibly awesome and helpful while still needing to work. I loved spending all the time I could with the girls, even if there were days that I only all the way remembered that I loved them once they were all in bed.

Despite the horrible backdrop of Duncan's illness to this experience, that time I got to spend with their family, and the ways I was able to learn and grow myself is something I would never trade.

Duncan held on for a long time, but eventually his spirit needed to go home. Trenton and I had just finished meeting with a wedding planner to go over details of our reception and I was feeling excited and giddy when I found out that Duncan was gone. The rest of the night was rough. The rest of the week was rough. Not being able to go to the funeral because the days keep passing and school keeps going was tough. I wanted everything to pause. I wanted most things to go away.

But never once did I feel angry. Heartbroken, absolutely. But resentful? Mad? No.

In studying for my New Testament final last night I came across a quote by Neal A. Maxwell that I never want to forget. The whole thing was about trial, and how we can learn to be of good cheer even "amid dark difficulties". Heavenly Father has a plan for us. He has a plan for me, and for Duncan, and for his whole family.  The end of the quote said, "God gives us [trials] because He loves us. These learning experiences must not be misread as divine indifference."

He knows it's hard, and it is hard, but we are not facing it alone. Nor are we at the hands of a cold, impersonal God who doesn't feel influenced by what happens to us. He loves us. Life is hard, every single day. There are tragedies and traumas and irritants and things that just didn't go according to plan. Some days it kind of seems like nothing goes right. Some nights we pray and pray and pray and we end up needing to realize that we can't change God's plan and just need to work to accept it. But we are all so blessed. I am so grateful for the learning, and the closeness to my family, and the increase of Spirit I've been able to feel, rather than resentment or bitterness.

I'm sorry if this has been depressing, or if it has come across as preachy. I'm sorry if I shared too much or too little or if I shouldn't share this at all, but there's no point pretending life is always sunshiney and easy. It's getting through the hard things that make us better.

"No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility. Al that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our character, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God." - Orson F. Whitney

Reading Days Whining and Pep Talks (A Good Combo)

In the true spirit of embracing the BYU reading day and truly, fully, responsibly preparing for my final I am writing this little beauty from room 456 in the MARB while attending an anatomy review. It's just that the Histology of the GI tract is not maybe as fascinating as it should be on it's own, so taking a couple minutes to type something up helps me not fall asleep.

Falling asleep in class is a problem, folks. I don't recommend it.

Before we get any further into the stress of test taking, or if you're feeling stressed at all in general, this video is necessary.

So if you just finished something hard, or even if you just attempted something hard I want you to think, "I feel...I feel...I feel happy of myself!" I mean, you don't have to think that. But you're more than welcome.

So! Finals start tomorrow! What an absolute joy. The amount of stuff I know about anatomy can be summed up in a couple ideas:

1) I know waaaaaaaaay more about this than is necessary for a dance major (the reason I was required to take this class). In fact, I feel like I kind of know a ton. Yay for learning.

2) The only things they ask about on the tests are things that I just didn't care to understand. Honestly.

There is both a lecture (written) final and a lab (practical) final. For the lab final there are only 50 questions. Students go into a lab and try  and identify 50 structures that have been pinned by the lab TAs. Well, let me tell you, that is a terrible way for me to prove my knowledge. I learned exceptionally more than 50 things. I can find 50 landmarks just on bones (again, like I said, probably not necessary for the field I'm going into. Still interesting to learn, but not completely applicable. "Alright little ballet students. Point your toes. That are extended by extensor digitorum longus and brevis. Oh and also, you have a foramen ovale in your skull. Not applicable to dance, but I know it, so let's use it."), but that doesn't necessarily mean I understand each and every one of their 50 pins.

And so in my head I composed an alternate final. Students should have to meet with the TA and point out at least 50 structures on the body. And then for every two after that - BONUS POINT. I would kill that final.

Or, you know, I could take the real practical final that I actually already took and get a real solid 80%. Livin the dream. Pepsinogen breaks down protein. Just a tidbit from review I didn't want you guys to miss out on. 

If anatomy was the only class I had to worry about, this finals week would be a snap. With three other written finals and a bunch of dance finals AND a duet that I have to choreograph for clogging it's a little more complex, though. Especially cause, um, my clogging skills are not my highest rated skills. I'd give them maybe three stars. On a good day, for sure three.

But at least they give us reading days. Thanks BYU. You're nice and swell.

On a more optimistic note, we can do it!!!!!!!!! You can do it! I can do it! That guy sitting a couple rows in front of me who looks overwhelmed and upset? Um. YES HE CAN DO IT. Good luck on finals, world. And on life in general.

Mother's Day and Moms in General

It's only half-way through April - I'm aware of that. I am also perfectly aware of the fact that Mother's Day isn't until May. Just so we're all clear.

Why this is on my mind though, is because of a video that has been shared a lot on Facebook recently. It's likely that anyone reading this blog has already seen it, but in case you haven't here it is:

Disclaimer before the following sentiment: I am a very emotional person. I am perfectly aware. I cry every time I watch Lion King and even just when I hear some of the music.

Highly emotional tendencies aside, I did get a little bit emotional when I watched this for the first time. I didn't actually cry but I think that's mainly because Trenton was sitting next to me and I didn't want him to get unduly concerned. I was right on that little verge of tears though. Maybe because I'm just so grateful for my own mom, or maybe because I want to much to be a mom someday.

My sister in law became a mom fairly recently - just last December - and I won't soon forget something she said while Trenton and I were at her home for a game night a couple months after their sweet baby girl was born. Jasmine (said sweet baby girl) was fussing and I commented on how lucky it is that babies are cute, because they can be rather exhausting. My sister-in-law then smiled at her baby, and talking to the baby and not to me, said, "You sure are exhausting, but you learn to love like you never thought you could."

Right in the feels.

With all these tender feelings towards moms, I was a little shocked and dismayed when, after the movie finished, a few "related articles" were brought up and one was titled something along the lines of "Sorry, but being a mom isn't the most important job in the world". A little annoyed to have a touching video thanking moms so quickly jerked to this harsher outlook, I clicked on the link just to see what the author had to say.

She made some points about how saying mothers are the most important demeans women. It puts them in a worse situation because they are financially dependent on men. It means they have to work hard and do degrading tasks. She ended the article with the thought that if you thought you cared more about humanity because you're a mom then go ahead and get over yourself. There was a whole lot of bitterness and not a whole lot of love coming in that article and I just thought, "How sad. She doesn't get it."

I don't think women should be looked at as inferiors to men. I don't think we should be treated as inferior to men. I have a dear friend (you know who you are, bud) who once commented to me that it was a bit old fashioned that Trenton always opens my car door for me. Maybe so. And maybe in the current perspective many people take, it means he thinks I'm incapable of opening up my own door.

Here's the shocker, peeps. He knows. Trenton is 100% aware that I'm capable of opening the door. He is also 100% supportive of me finishing my degree. Before we start a family, even. He supports my dreams. And as it happens, one of those dreams is to have children and raise them in the home absolutely as much as possible. But if I wanted to work he wouldn't tell me I couldn't, or that I wasn't allowed.

It isn't about gender equality. That's what I'm trying to say. It isn't about one person being "superior" and another being "submissive". It isn't about politics or rights or privileges.

It's just about love.

Moms are important because they love us. Brain surgeons are important because they save people's lives. Sure. Lifeguards are important because they tell us not to run on the cement, and I think we all need that structure in our lives. Scientists are important because they come up with new ways to enrich our lives or search for cures to diseases. Men and women in every field are important. But pointing the finger at moms and telling them to get over themselves? Moms HAVE gotten over themselves. They've gotten over themselves enough that they are willing to sacrifice their body, their time, their sleep, their immediate life plans, their money, their sanity (joking but not) for another person.

I don't have all the answers to everything. I am not saying that the way I view things is the only right perspective. Women want respect and they deserve respect. Women shouldn't feel like they can't do other things because they are expected to be moms. Nor should they feel like they should want more than being a mom, because being a mom is plenty. Being a mom is important.

I apologize if I'm coming across as preachy. I'm not a mom. But I know I'm grateful for my mom. I know I'm grateful for my fiance's mom who has raised a wonderful son and who has welcomed me into her family. I know I'm grateful for my aunt Shauna, who's strength as a mom has moved and inspired me.

I love you mom. Happy mother's day when it gets here. And Daddy, don't worry. Someday I'll write you a post too.

It's Been a Long Time

Hey.

It has been a long time since I've posted. Quite a long time - over a year. But it has been an AMAZING year. I do not even know how to properly summarize everything that has happened since last December but it has been a crazy adventure.

Sadly, in the midst of that crazy adventure both my creative writing and my journaling have gone wayyy down, but I am going to try to correct that - in part because my beautiful and never aging mother reminded me today that recording the feelings and ideas I'm having at this time in my life is something I'll be very thankful for later on.

Now to place the blame. There are a few people we can point the finger (no. not that finger. The index finger.) at for my lack of writing.
The first would be me. I get busy and writing is one of the first things to go.
The second would be all my teachers and folk dance as an institution. I don't have oodles of free time.
The third is my sweet and handsome fiance. I don't want to gush too much on here for anyone who might get disgusted, but I do want to say here in this public realm (not that it's a widely read public realm but it's all good) that I love Trenton Daniels and I am so excited to spend the rest of my forever with him.
The pictures are widely accessible on facebook but I will put him on here too.

This is the Trenton. So cute is his face. Sorry for the gross kissing picture, but I like for to kiss his face. It's in black and white, therefore classy, therefore no problem. ;)

Trenton and I got engaged on December 20th, so added to the busy class schedule, preparation for SPAC tour and other life events we got to start planning a wedding.

Soon I think I'll need to write down the story of Trenton and I and how we started dating before we went on our first official date, but for now I will leave it at saying he is my very best friend in the whole world and I feel so lucky for all the time I get to spend with him.

On another note, today is the last day of classes!! Free at last! The weather is beautiful today, it is so sunny and warm and I just want to be outside in my shorts, but unfortunately there is still a week of finals to be had. Another blog post may be the result of the next couple days of studying - there is plenty of that to do - but for now I should get back to reviewing for my Polynesian dance final which is tonight.

More stories, musings, and deep thoughts to come.