I think I'll know when I'm in love when it's actually not hard for me to just listen to them.
because I love talking. and I love talking about myself. and just talking.
and even if I really like someone a lot I have a hard time sitting still and listening to them, like really listening. the kind of listening where I'm not waiting for a moment of silence to jump in with what I want to say next.
I think I'll know when I'm really in love because they will talk and I will just let them go on and on because I actually want to hear and think about what they are saying and not what I want to say.
When I value someone's thoughts that deeply I think that's when I'll know.
make a wish upon a star? more like make a wish upon a me. because I'm a grown ass adult and I do what I want. screw the stars. I have a cripple and a kick ass attitude and I'm going to the happiest place on earth; and I'm not talking about waffle love (we'll still probably get waffles on the way tho).
Talia and I strike again. Only instead of going to prom we're going to Disneyland.
She and I have been through a hell of a year trying and striving to find our misplaced health in the adult world after high school. this, unsurprisingly, has not gone according to plan. I don't think the first year post-graduation ever goes exactly as you expect it, but for a handful of my friends, including Talia and I, this is especially true.
Thus we feel extremely deservant of this impromptu trip. Talia has found this year that her leg has totally gone awol and no longer wants to function properly. This has caused a lot of physical and mental pain and heartache during her year up in USU.
so when she came home to sit out for a while, we decided to make a positive out of a huge negative. because of her broken person status we're going to be able to skip all da lines. and if it weren't for that we probably wouldn't be going tbh.
I'm actually really hopeful about this trip. I feel that it's going to hit that sweet spot of eustress where I regain almost full functionality without feeling overwhelmed. and given that this is a vacation dedicated to fun and we don't have to do anything, I really think this should be a smashing success.
I'm being careful to avoid "christmas syndrome" where the stress and expectations to make everything perfect and fun ruin everything completely.
so in four days we are heading out in my '02 accord to CA.
the day before Jonny died was Easter Sunday. Somehow we started talking about how many days we'd been alive. because we thought it was funny that we measure age in years but never bring up the days. so I looked up how many days old we were.
I was 6742 days old, he was 6502.
he died when he was 6503 days old.
a year ago today Jonny took his life, I wrote about it. Instead of feeling sorrow on this the anniversary of the day we lost him, I like to dwell on the memories I shared with him.
this was the day after his 16th birthday, july 2nd. Emilee was visiting and my grandpa always wanted to set up an arranged marriage for Jonny and Emilee (coincidentally, Emilee is now engaged). So he suggested we go on a double date, bowling like we always used to. I asked McClain to join us (coincidentally, McClain is getting married today). We had a lot of fun in the most ghetto bowling alley on earth where they sold socks in vending machines. we made up our own skittle bowling game and we were off. Jonny creamed all of us. It was his first date.
Once Jonny bought a ukulele, and for some stupid reason I thought I could teach him a few things about how to play. He was a musical genius prodigy child and after a week he was better than me. We still would play together sometimes though, our favorite song to play and sing was I'll follow you into the dark.
I posted this about a week after he died on my Instagram, with the caption:
"thinking of Jonny today. That's a semi colon above his name. A semi colon is representative for where the author could have ended the sentence, but kept writing. You're the author and the sentence is your life. Don't end it, because your story isn't over yet."
timehop is the best and the worst app. nostalgia is a double edged sword. today however I got a bit of happiness from my 9th grade photo booth days back when white stitched jeans were the bomb. still, it also struck me as bittersweet as my freshman and sophomore year are the best years of my life to boot.
my highschool experience was the opposite of what is the average for a John Hughes-esque American teen in that the graph went the opposite way it does for most people which is kind of a bummer.
it's okay though, I should've always known that it can't all be wedding cake (spoon reference). This time period in my life is completely different than I ever expected it to be in that no scenario of my post-high school plans included staying home unemployed and not going no to school for a year with my mission papers at a stand still.
So I've had to adjust my expectations for this timeframe in my mind; this is the chapter of my life where I'm learning that God's plans and timeline for me don't always match up with what I had in mind. This is me learning that sometimes you need to have faith in Him and His timing and that it won't always match up with yours. "My ways higher than your ways". (Isaiah 55:9)
What can make it even harder is that what I want to be doing is good- I want to go out and serve Him and His children in the mission field, and then to be told to put all of that on pause and wait can be extremely trying. I thought that I had already gone through that trial back in 2010 when we applied for the Nauvoo Pageant for the first time and were denied even though I felt extremely inspired that we were meant to go. We did end up getting accepted and going the next year, and it was the most spiritually enriching experience I've ever had in my life.
They say that when that happens it can become revealed to you later why it panned out that way and why Heavenly Father had it planned differently than you expected; but it's also true that sometimes you never find out, and you just have faith that He knew what he was doing. I never did find out why we didn't get accepted the first year, but my family and i theorize that we just weren't physically and spiritually prepared to go yet, and paired with my faith, that's good enough for me.
Now here I am learning that trials aren't like the chicken pox, even if you go through it once, doesn't mean you won't have to again. I don't know why I'm not ready to serve yet, but until I am I'm preparing best that I can so that when it's time I'll be ready.
Here's to hoping that I'll have better time, and I know I will. I have faith that one day, maybe soon, I'll have a year or two that are as good or even better than my freshman and sophomore year. and that it will be a richer more divine happiness now that I am wiser and stronger through adversity.
