Great Expectations

Things never turn out the way that we expect them to. Fact. Think about it, how many times have you been disappointed in your life? and why were you disappointed? Because you expected things to be a certain way, and they weren't. If we are creatures that are suppose to learn from experience, why can't any of us get this. Most importantly, why can't I?
Every time we find ourselves disappointed, we have some snide commenter who never fails to mock, "well, what did you expect?" Obviously not this, otherwise I wouldn't be so disappointed. Instead, you should begin by asking yourself, why did I expect this. Find the fallacies in your logic, trace your evidence back to the point where you diverged from realistic deduction and ended up in la-la land. We all do it, because if our expectations weren't so unrealistic, things might actually turn out the way that we expected them, at least sometimes. So here's my advice to you; here's my advice to me. Stop just expecting. Stop expecting the impossible, the unrealistic and the improbably. Stop expecting to always have your own way, for the picture to always look the way you painted it in your head. Take those expectations and burn them in the courtyard. You'll save yourself a whole lot of disappointment.
I'm not trying to be pessimistic here. Just replace your expectations with hope, hard work and a sense of peace that no matter what, you are going to be okay. Because you shouldn't expect anything to be a certain way unless you are willing and capable of putting in the effort to make it that way. Be proactive, don't just sit around and expect things to happen.

pensées

They say "talk is cheap", when in reality talk might just cost you everything. If all you have is talk, you lose your potential; you limit yourself to mere words when you could have filled actions.

Find shoes. big ones. step into them and walk around for a little, try to make your feet grow.

Fear should never be a reason for anything.

Sometimes you'll find that you knew the answer all along, but you still had to wait for someone to tell you. There were signs on every corner and you just didn't take the time to read them.

You know yourself best, so take your own advice.

Windows and doors always open and close but they don't coordinate. You might find yourself in a sealed room on occasion. Take that opportunity to enjoy the silence.

Sometimes you trip up the stairs, so don't be afraid of falling, in any direction.

Why? Why not?

Consider yourself lucky.

Be passionate, passionate to the point of insanity, passionate to the point of tears and most importantly, passionate to the point of action.

Let it mean, what it means

The other day I was asked, "do you burn bridges?" which made me stop to think.
I look back at all the bridges I've built in my life and sadly say, no, most of them are not still standing. Did I burn them all? Well yeah, some of them I burned, rejoicing as they crackled and crumbled in front of me.
Some, I regret lighting that match.
Others, I wasn't even the arson responsible for all the smoke in the sky. I watched my beautiful creation go up in flames and my tiny pail of water did nothing to ease the scorching pain.
Some of those bridges were already on fire when I started crossing them. But I bounded across giving no care or second thought to the singed edges.
Some started burning when I was still standing in the middle of them. And when that happens, what do you do? Keep going or turn back?
Then there are the bridges that I look at and there is no smoldering coals or dampened ashes, but they are gone; rotten and decrepit, decaying into an unrecognizable form. This destruction was not perpetuated by a can of gasoline and a match; not even a spark. There was no explosion, no catastrophic event; just the quiet destruction of neglect. When the weeds grew in the ornately carved cracks or each archway and when small insects began to gnaw away at the support beams, nothing was done. And without maintenance, the majestic bridge that took careful years to construct, deteriorated without a second thought.
Those are the bridges that I regret destroying, because those are the bridges that are the hardest to repair. Illogically, burned bridges are sometimes easier to fix.


But, we aren't really talking about bridges, are we?

F is for fabulous.

C is for credit.

I'd never felt so good about an exam as I felt today. Seriously, I knew it all, better yet, I understood it all. I snacked on derivatives, muttered inverse trig functions in my sleep and dreamed about cylindrical tanks being filled with water at 3 meters-cubed per minute. Except in my dreams it was always pudding. chocolate pudding. I was so ready for this beast, I studied my brains out, past the point where I had neurons leaking out of my skull. (okay, not really, that would have made a mess, and those little buggers do me more good when they stay fused between my ears). I felt great all morning, I felt great during my final study session; felt great as I took the long walk all the way to the hee-bee-gee-bee. I confidently marched up the marble staircase, flashed my I.D. card, sharpened all three of my pencils and chose the most isolated desk from all the other frantic test-takers. I still felt great. I started from the very last page of the test, worked my way backwards; regurgitating all of the information that I had shoved down my throat in the last two weeks, and then proudly handed my test back. I even felt great walking down the stairway of doom. I exited that dreadful building and...didn't feel so great anymore.

I sat down on a bench, crossed my legs and let that all-too-familiar wave of incompetency drown me. and yet, I had far to many tasks left to do for the day to give in and indulge myself in the walk of shame.

My International Relations Professor last semester had quotes pasted on the outside of his office door, which I happened to spend a lot of time in front of, with nothing better to do than read the collage of inspiration. One read, "don't let school get in the way of your education". I've taken that to heart. My education is much more than the marks on the top of my tests and papers. Contrary to what that little screen at the testing center may say, I'm not stupid. I've learned more in the past two years that I've spent here than any other one place, even if I don't have the grades to prove it.

Sometimes life is about more than our numerical definitions. There are things in each day that are more important:

Like waking up at 6:30 am, and watching the sunrise from outside the Temple; finding out that my best friend is coming home from his mission 2 weeks from tomorrow, the first of many to Return With Honor; getting e-mails from my Uncle on my smarter-than-me phone; laughing really really hard; finally getting a letter in that fancy new mail box; replacing the ring that I wore on my necklace everyday with something else; taking a nice long run to watch the sunset and finally realizing that that is what is important about today. and that C, that's just for credit.

Feelings.

I know what you're thinking, oh boy another blog post about "feelings" ...how original. (not)

what can I say? I'm one of a kind.

My life feels like a huge jumble of incoherent feelings. There are so many inside and outside me; all churning and bubbling to the surface at all the inappropriate times. Some of them are just not so great and others, well, they are just the best feelings in the world:

Like the feeling of sunshine.

or the inability to feel anything with my left-hand fingertips.

those butterflies fluttering in my stomach

the feeling of that smile I can't get off my face.

damp grass tickling my bare feet

and cool concrete after a scorching day

taking a few moments to get to know a stranger

freshly squeezed Orange Juice gulped right from the carton

a hug that lasts a little bit too long

the celebratory green bar across my computer screen

bass turned up just a little bit more

finding a letter in the mail box

the burn as I reach for my toes after a long run

heavy raindrops splattered across my face

my chalked fingers gripping a beautiful granite hold

2am and talking to my Best Friend

eyes closed, head under the pillow

that's enough for one day.

You do the Math

I've done nothing but math now for 2 weeks straight. No really, that's not a gross exaggeration. I'm pretty sure I could bleed Calculus functions and their limits as h approaches 0, wherever h came from. And therefore, I feel that my life has turned into nothing by mathematical equations. Literally.

mathlab = newhome

7 credit hours + Summer plans = cancelled plans

Last Sunday of the month = Committee meeting + Home Teaching + Visiting Teaching + "talks" - Sunday afternoon nap

jammin' with the roommies = no homework + too much fun

hero + sidekick - school = band

Jonathan Jones + The Velour = 1 perfect night

piecewise function:

me + Xtacos = Taco Tuesday Success if X<4

=1 really long run if X>4

my bank account - $212.48 = harness, climbing shoes, reverso, automatic locking carabiner, chalk bag, and chalk

My nap time + ((roommate) (smartphone)) = Facebook photo album

y= fun^x where x is all real numbers >100. If you know what y is.

(Tuesday + Thursday) - Patrick Jane < Tuesday + Thursday + Mentalist

me + guitar + sunshine = bliss

1 day climbing - harness + webbing = ∞ bruises

My limit as x -> ∞ of mathx = 0

Pants

The only good thing about today is the fact that I am wearing the most comfortable pair of pants I've ever had constricting my leg movements. seriously. And that's saying something, because if there's anything I dislike more than pants, it's wearing them. Anyone that knows me knows that I prefer to dance around without them. Not in any scandalous way, let me assure you. You try wearing nothing but skirts for 3 months strait and then tell me your thoughts about trying to squeeze your chunky legs into two tight tubes better known as pantalones. We all know that when I came back from Africa I couldn't even fit into my pants, and that is when the once beautiful relationship was over and we went our separate ways. So, I continue the blissful freedom of flowing skirts and loose athletic shorts. Even now, I wake up in the morning and groan to my roommate, "do I have to wear pants?" Yes she replies, "pants are always a necessity." I rarely take her advice. But, she loves wearing pants. I can't explain how we ended up the perfect roommates when we have such fundamentally different views.

Well dear roomie, you should be very proud of me for wearing pants today and enjoying it.

It must mean that today was just one awful day, or these are some very amazing pants.