DTR

Dear America,

You are pretty great. I don't say that very often because sometimes I'm upset with your politics. But it's true, you have some really great qualities. For starters, you're pretty attractive. I mean, Yellowstone? That's one hot piece of land you got there. And don't even get me started on the California Redwoods. Mmm.

I appreciate your role in the arts. Your role in the development of theater and the cinema are tremendous, though I have to admit you've been slacking in recent years. Just saying. But your contributions are indeed incredible, nobody can deny that. American art and literature will also always hold a place in my heart, and don't even get me started on jazz. Jazz is by far the greatest thing you have ever given to this earth and has saved probably saved our relationship on many an occasion.

Again, you're pretty great. I don't know how else to say this, but...I think we need a break. Maybe a more permanent one. I know, I know, I've been dragging this on for a while. We should have just ended things right after I left you for Germany, but I wasn't sure how that would end up. I mean, I did go back to France like five months later, so if that's any indication...

Anyway. I don't mean to hurt you, it's me not you. I just don't think we're going to work out, that's all. I would love to be friends, and I think it would be great if we had lunch every once in a while (I mean, we've been together for so long, how could we just break it off?). I just don't think we'll make each other happy anymore.

I love you. I've always loved you, and I'll never forget you. I hope you understand.

Love,

Me.

Sharing hilarity.

I'm going to take a break from writing about heavy subjects that tear your soul apart and just brag about my family for a bit.

I have the best family in the world. And no, you cannot contest that. It's just the truth and you have to accept it.

I'd like to think I have an amusing sense of humor. I like to make people laugh and it's gotten me out of many a potentially awkward situation. I learned these skills, as most do, from my family. My mother, almost always smiling and lighting up the room with her bubbly personality, loves to make people feel welcome. This is most assuredly done through making people laugh. My father, less outgoing but surprisingly talkative when you get him on the right subjects, has a secretly dark sense of humor. My childhood memories of my daddy include, but are not limited to: learning to sing the "fart" song whenever beans were served with dinner, begging Dad to do the napkin face (he put a napkin on his face and stuck his tongue through it - why we loved it, I don't know), hearing our names being substituted for the evil people in the Bible and Book of Mormon whenever Dad read aloud to us, and staying up late to watch the show Max X. I've never heard my dad laugh so hard than when watching people get seriously hurt doing incredibly stupid things.

Needless to say, my siblings and I soaked in the influences of my parents - my mother's ability to target an individual's sense of humor and adapt the conversation to make them feel at ease, and my father's taste for somewhat indecent and justifiably hilarious things in life. It could easily be said that this combination has produced one of the most hilarious and awesome families ever to exist on the planet.

And so. I was emailing back and forth with my brother Mitch yesterday. I would like to share this conversation with you, mostly because a) I find it hilarious and I want to share it with the whole world and b) you need to understand how amazing my brother is.


WARNING: If you like Nascar and/or are from the South, this might offend you.



Me: I'm supposed to be looking up the top magazines for NASCAR fans for my job right now. WHO DEDICATES WHOLE MAGAZINES TO THIS STUFF.

Mitch: There's more than one magazine for NASCAR?? Wtf? It's probably pretty enlightening I guess. 
"I only get these NASCAR magazines for the.... articles..."

Me: I hate motor sports. They are so dumb. Seriously, how can this be one of the most popular sports in the world?

Mitch: Cause it's waay cool. Think about it- they go reaaaally fast. Also... beer.

Me: And the occasional boom boom. Nothing like a good car crash to make me want to drink more beer and love my life. 

Mitch: "WOW! It's so loud! Did you see tha- HEY, why doesn't my liver work?"

Me: "One beer for every lap!"

100 laps later...

"Uhhhsldnnskla;skjvienskladslkj!!!"

200 laps later...

Dead.

Mitch: I drink beer during nascar races because I don't get dizzy enough when I'm sober. 

Hey, wanna go shoot something afterwards?

Me: You mean dem hippies? Ja.

Mitch: Correction: Dam hippies. Dam mexicanos. Dam nigroes. 'member the confederation? Thems was good days.

Me: Them good days wen we had all dem der cotton. An now I cain't get up off dis dam porch. Dam yankees took all the moneys there wuz. 

Mitch: Slavry was a good thing two. It's in the Bible somewer.

Me: Yer got that right mister. Hey, pass the butter why don't ya? I ain't got enuf here on my butter cake.

Mitch: y'aint gonna deep fry that sucker first?

Me: I alredy done deep fried the butter and sugar befur I made the cake. And I put in dem friend pickles you like so much.

Mitch: thank'ya's'much darlin. you're the best fieansay/close relative I ever dun did have (toothless grin)

Me: I think nows the time to tell ya dat one of them chickens done peed on yur truck. Mind ya, I wus fit to be tied. But I cain't get that stain off. 

Mitch: S'aright. Times a'comin for a new 'n besides. i thnks i seed a new one at the junk'ard anyhows. Just give the yold'n to Jeheremihuh. Jethrow and I'll get the other'n after t'mar's nascar match

Me: I can't keep up with you. You're too good at this.

Mitch: Well you know... lots of practice. What else do you think we did at scout camp for 5 years?

You're welcome.

Pretty.

"You're really pretty."

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. "Thanks," my obligatory response.

"No, you're like...really pretty."



The bathroom at the residence I'm staying at here in Paris has two incredibly large mirrors that almost take up the entire wall on opposite sides. The shower, which is in fact not a shower but a bathtub with an extension shower head, has no curtains. Every time I bathe, I am forced to stare at myself. All of myself.

It's a horrible experience, I can assure you.

And it's horrible because for as long as I can remember, I have struggled to appreciate one of the most precious gifts God has given me - my body. Feelings of anger, frustration, self-consciousness, and sometimes even hate have crippled my ability to see anything good of the 120 pounds of mass that I posses.

It's hard to say where these feelings come from. Society? Culture? Other's comments? Media? Mental illness? Satan? Maybe it stems from all of those factors, I'm not sure. I used to want to figure it out, but I've passed that point. Now, I just want it to stop. I want to stop being angry and frustrated and self-conscious and hateful. I want to stop being that feminist that advocates self-confidence and respect for ourselves but can't walk past the magazine stand without secretly wishing to even slightly resemble those photoshopped faces. I want to know what all those people know who believe their bodies are precious and special and love themselves just the way they are.

I want people to stop telling me I'm beautiful only on days when I'm wearing makeup or during those long stretches of time when I won't allow myself to eat over 1200 calories a day. Actually, I just want to stop feeling like I need to hear those messages all together.

I've heard the "You're really pretty" thing a hundred times, from strangers and close friends. I'm probably going to hear it a hundred more times. And the thing is, whether or not it comes from a place of love or pity or honesty, I'll probably never really listen. Not because people don't mean it, but because I don't believe it myself.

But every time I hear a,
"You're really smart."
"Wow, you're super talented!"
"Thank you for being so kind."
"You're a good friend, do you know that?"
my heart leaps a little. Sincere affirmations make me want to be a better person and to do good things. They help me to forget, if even for just a moment, that it's my soul I want to love and to be loved, not only the imperfect body that houses it.

I want less pressure to look beautiful and more encouragement to be beautiful.

I want to be more concerned with remembering to tell someone I love them than with trying to remember how many calories I consumed. I want find happiness in long walks, prayers, and music, not in the latest style trends, lipstick colors, and imitation of fake images. I don't even know if I want to learn how to love my body as much as I want to learn how to govern my life by the things that matter most.

My body is important, and I'm very grateful for it. I am grateful that God has allowed me to be strong and healthy. I will probably always struggle to hold it to God's standards instead of the world's or my own, but that is just something to learn I guess.







[I've shared this before, but I'm going to do it again because it's the best. So watch it. Now.]


The end.

 

Yolo.

Just so you know, I've got another blog going on while I'm in Paris. Check it out if you want ------> HERE.

Cool.

The "F" word.

Let me tell you a story.

On the last day of my mission, I traveled to Berlin to meet up with the other missionaries who were going to be flying home with me, all of which were Elders (missionaries of the male gender). Sitting in a room of the mission office surrounded by these Elders, I was more than a little uncomfortable, especially since I had been taught for 18 months to NEVER find myself in this situation. But alas, it could not be helped, and I sat there impatiently waiting my turn to have an interview with our mission president.

I'm not exactly sure how this next part came to pass, but I remember one Elder in particular, who must not be named and who I had not met previously, decided to brave the forbidden waters and engage me in seemingly light-hearted conversation. A little out of touch with talking to people of the opposite sex I suppose, he found it a perfect opportunity to tell me everything he had heard about me on the mission - every. single. rumor.

Not a minute had passed and several other Elders decided to pipe in similar feedback. Now, I'm not exactly surprised at what I heard. I knew I had a reputation for being outspoken, blunt, and lacking in basic social manners. Most Elders (and Sisters) had heard I was a "feminist," and subsequently, not fully understanding the meaning of this term, were terrified to meet me. But that never bothered me, mostly because people who had actually experienced a personal interaction with me tended to like me, or at least learned to not be offended by my presence.

But the way these Elders, people I had never met or spoken to, were talking to me about me made me feel so uneasy and, quite frankly, hurt. Every negative term that came out of their mouth was also associated with me being a "feminist," as if all feminists are terrifying, man-hating, rude liberal loud-mouths (the usual stereotypes that I apparently posses). And it hurt because I knew that this twisted image they had of me would forever have been ingrained into their souls as being associated with feminism, had they not had the opportunity to finally meet me and understand who I am and what I stand for. It hurt because they didn't understand this wonderful movement that had changed my life for the better, and they were mocking it in my presence.




Feminism has become a dirty word, my friends, and for this I am very sad.

I could go on and on about what the feminist movement really is and what's it's done for the world and blah blah blah. But you already know this. I talk about it everyday and I post about it everyday and whether you believe it or not, you are probably being exposed to feminist "propaganda" on a regular basis, even when you're not graced by my presence. And you know what? You probably agree with most of it. Let's be honest, who doesn't want a world where women are treated like human beings? The crazies, that's who. I don't need to defend the feminist movement as much as try to help you understand that if you have a brain that functions probably, you are probably a feminist too. 

The beauty of feminism is that it is really personal. Not every person who identifies with feminism agrees on every point! There's a place for everyone who desires gender equality.

I just want to tell you what feminism means to me.

Feminism has given me identity as a woman and has helped me to understand masculine identity. It has given me purpose and meaning in my life. It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "No, that is wrong." It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "Yes, this is me and yes, I believe this." My thoughts and feelings and opinions and hopes and dreams are all valid and real because I am a person and I deserve them. Feminism has taught me that I am equal to everyone, which has shaped the way I treat the people around me. It has helped me grow in my faith and helped me to understand how God sees me and who He wants me to become, and it has helped me to see what God sees in others.


I know I talk about this a lot, but I just wanted to put that out there. That is all.

To be discreet and chaste.

It's finally summer! Time to put away the heavy German winter garb, pull out my sunglasses, buy a bikini...what?

Now calm down people, I'm not buying a bikini. But the fact that you got a little worried about it is probably something we need to discuss.

Thanks to the sudden presence of the sun, it seems that everyone is getting themselves in a tizzy about one of my favorite words: modesty.

Actually I'm joking when I say that, in case you didn't pick that up. It's not one of my favorite words.

This is what the Church says about it:

"Modesty is an attitude of propriety and decency in dress, grooming, language, and behavior. If we are modest, we do not draw undue attention to ourselves.

If we are unsure about whether our dress or grooming is modest, we should ask ourselves, 'Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord's presence?'

Prophets have always counseled us to dress modestly. This counsel is founded on the truth that the human body is God's sacred creation. We must respect our bodies as a gift from God. Through our dress and appearance, we can show the Lord that we know how precious our bodies are." 

All of that seems somewhat reasonable to me. I like it because it centers everything around my relationship with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I personally dress the way I do because I personally believe that I am showing respect to the body that God gave me...and all that jazz.

The interesting thing is that the Church gives guidelines for how we should dress. For example, we have (as women) been asked not to wear, "Revealing and sexually suggestive clothing, which includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, and shirts that do not cover the stomach," among other things. That's fine. I don't have any problems with that for myself. This is what I ABHOR:

1. Viewing those who don't follow these guidelines as "immodest," "indecent," or worse, as "sluts".
2. Using the word "slut."
3. Something that we discuss often in the feminist world known as "slut shaming." Look it up.

Modesty is quite often, especially in the beloved Mormon culture, equated with words like "chaste" and "pure" and "virtue." To illustrate a point, and since I'd rather not phrase it in my own words, I've collected words from a source that you probably trust more than my brain. The following quote is from the same website:

"Our clothing expresses who we are. It sends messages about us, and it influences the way we and others act. When we are well groomed and modestly dressed, we can invite the companionship of the Spirit and exercise a good influence on those around us.

Central to the command to be modest is an understanding of the sacred power of procreation, the ability to bring children into the world. This power is to be used only between husband and wife. Revealing and sexually suggestive clothing, which includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, and shirts that do not cover the stomach, can stimulate desires and actions that violate the Lord's law of chastity."

Bah. If that doesn't directly influence rape culture, I don't know what does.

Let's get a couple things straight.

What I WEAR is dependent upon ME and MY PERSONAL PREFERENCES. I do NOT wear "modest" clothes in order to NOT BE RAPED or NOT INFLUENCE IMMORALITY. I hear too often that women need to dress "appropriately" in order to "help" dudes not have "immoral thoughts."  Or whatever.

Listen to me, men. 

YOUR IMMORAL and OBJECTIFYING THOUGHTS ARE YOUR OWN DAMN PROBLEM. Don't you EVER blame a woman and her "indecency" for your obvious problems with sexuality.  

And to the women.

Do not let other people define your worth. Don't let them tell you that if you wear a bikini or a short skirt that you are worth less or that you are dirty or cheap. Don't let people tell you that you are "welcoming" inappropriate behavior from men or that you have just "objectified" yourself. But I do hope that you dress the way you do as empowerment for yourself, because you're comfortable in your style and in your body. I hope you don't dress for the sole purpose to receive any negative attention - you are better than that.

To quote a blog that I once read, 

"Modesty is not about what you wear, but about how you wear it."    

For more thoughts visit here.

ps. The blog title came from one of my favorite scriptures. Not. --- Titus2:5

“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.”

Alright.

I'm very aware that my blog is getting more boring by the minute. I never have time to write and when I find time, I never have anything to say. Ok that's obviously not true, I always have something to say. But who wants to hear my feminist rants all the time? Oh yes, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.

I've been back from my mission for 3 months now. That's supposed to be a short amount of time but it feels like an eternity. I've been exerting every ounce of my strength trying to be "normal" again (whatever that means) and it's taking me FOREVER.

I'm going to share with you the life lessons I've learned since being home. And you are going to like it.

I know you all like lists:

1.) Catching up on the last year and a half is impossible. The second I got home I felt like everyone was saying, "Listen! These are all the things you missed! Hurry and catch up so we can be on the same page!" And then I was bombarded with information, music, images, and all the TV shows that ever existed.

I'm just going to be completely honest with you - I have no desire to see or hear or read about 90% of these things. If I happen upon them someday, sure. But I just don't have the time. Ok? Ok.

2.) I love Europe. I miss Europe. America just kind of grosses me out. It's probably just because I'm bias, but I just can't get over it. It's too hot and the bread is disgusting and everyone drives GINORMOUS cars everywhere and people are always smiling.

Good thing I'm fleeing to France.

3.) I'm terrified by how quickly I'm becoming desensitized to spiritual things. You'd think that after begging people for a year and a half to just read one tiny verse from the Book of Mormon or the Bible everyday that it would be easier for you to keep your own commitments. FALSE. When did real life start complicating lives? Why do I let real life interfere with things I understand to be of precedence? Something needs to change.

4.) You can never be too grateful for your awesome family and your amazing friends. I don't know what I'd do without them. I think the best part of coming home was realizing that nothing has really changed - sure, everyone is in different phases of their life now, but these people still know me and love me and we picked up right where we left off. I love that. You are all the best. The end.

5.) I don't know who I am anymore.

The mission really shook me. It took me a while to find my groove and even then I was always questioning myself and beating myself up over the smallest things. I came home to find that I can adapt those practices to everything in my new life. I have never felt so sure of my identity and at the same time never so lost. The only thing keeping me sane are the above-mentioned blessed people and prayer. It's ridiculous. I wish I could move on from this.




Enough with the cheese.


It's late = the only reason I'm barfing up my soul through my fingertips onto this keyboard.

I won't keep this blog up if nobody tells me what to write about. So tell me. Now.

Goodnight.