I went running for the first time in about a month and a half today. I stopped running temporarily at the beginning of February because I couldn't stand to run on the treadmill, which was the only place I could run because it was so cold outside. Today, it was in the mid to high 50s, so mom and I went out for a walk. Since she wasn't feeling very good, she only walked to the first bench along the trail near our house. From there, I decided to try running again, sort of a test to see where I stood and how far I needed to go before May 17th. I ran for about half a mile, turned around, walked a quarter mile, then ran the last quarter back to the bench where I had left mom.
The run reminded me how much I love running. If you had asked me at the beginning of last year whether I would like running, I would probably laugh at you, but it's true. I have really come to love running. I love the feel of the air moving past my body, the feel of my muscles working, I love how powerful I feel when I'm out running. BUT, I hate running on the treadmill. Running in place in front of a TV has no appeal to me whatsoever. I enjoy the scenery as I'm running outside, the fresh air, the feel of the sun on my front/back.
I'm glad it's starting to warm up again. I hope if keeps up, because I only have two months left, and I really want to be good at running before I leave.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Stake Conference
So this weekend was Stake Conference out here in the heartland. The stake center is an hour and a half drive away, so we always drive down Saturday afternoon for the potluck dinner and the adult session, then spend the night at a hotel nearby. My brothers and parents all love spending time at the pool. I would too, except I've already packed away my swimsuit. Both sessions were amazing. The Sunday session was a regional broadcast from SLC with President Eyring, Elder Cook, and others speaking. It was really good.
Despite how wonderful the speakers all were, I was falling asleep during most of Sunday. The hotel room we got had two beds and a bed-couch. Since last year the youngest and I had been delegated to the couch, this year I had insisted on the bed. I got hardly any sleep last year, so I thought having the bed would make a big different. Unfortunately I was still stuck with the youngest, Danny, and he is a violent sleeper. So about every twenty minutes I got his knee in my behind, or a foot on my knee. But it doesn't end there.
In order to get my brain to stop thinking enough to go to sleep, I need to have music playing, as a distraction. So I had my mp3 player going, set to go to sleep after an hour. But because Danny kept kicking me, I couldn't fall asleep. Then, when the music turned off, I tried to go to sleep without it, since I was tired enough that my brain was sluggish anyway. However, both dad and Joe snore, so without the music all I could hear was wood being sawed from both my left and right. So, I turned my music back on to drown it out. It gets worse.
Mom had been cold earlier, so she had turned the room heater on to about 79 degrees. By bedtime, it had been forgotten, so we had the heater set at 79 degrees all night. And I normally sleep in a room that is cooler than 65 degrees at night, so I was boiling to death under the light covers. So I still couldn't get to sleep for another hour of music. This went on for about four cycles of music, before I finally gave up and left the music off, but kept my earphones (Skullcandy earbuds) in so that I couldn't hear the snoring. Not the most comfortable way to go to sleep. So all in all, I think I got maybe three hours of sleep before waking up at 7:30 to shower.
So on the way home I rode with Joe in his car, since he had come about an hour after we had because of work. I tried to stay awake, since he was talking to me, but the last half an hour of the drive I was dozing like crazy. Finally, about fifteen minutes from home, I let my head fall back against the headrest and I went to sleep. I didn't sleep very long, because about a minute later Joe shouts in my ear as loud as he can. I think I jumped a foot before the seatbelt stopped me. It was quite an entertaining way to wake up, and we both had a good laugh.
I am so glad I won't be here for next stake conference. I don't think I would survive another sleepless night in bed with Danny.
Despite how wonderful the speakers all were, I was falling asleep during most of Sunday. The hotel room we got had two beds and a bed-couch. Since last year the youngest and I had been delegated to the couch, this year I had insisted on the bed. I got hardly any sleep last year, so I thought having the bed would make a big different. Unfortunately I was still stuck with the youngest, Danny, and he is a violent sleeper. So about every twenty minutes I got his knee in my behind, or a foot on my knee. But it doesn't end there.
In order to get my brain to stop thinking enough to go to sleep, I need to have music playing, as a distraction. So I had my mp3 player going, set to go to sleep after an hour. But because Danny kept kicking me, I couldn't fall asleep. Then, when the music turned off, I tried to go to sleep without it, since I was tired enough that my brain was sluggish anyway. However, both dad and Joe snore, so without the music all I could hear was wood being sawed from both my left and right. So, I turned my music back on to drown it out. It gets worse.
Mom had been cold earlier, so she had turned the room heater on to about 79 degrees. By bedtime, it had been forgotten, so we had the heater set at 79 degrees all night. And I normally sleep in a room that is cooler than 65 degrees at night, so I was boiling to death under the light covers. So I still couldn't get to sleep for another hour of music. This went on for about four cycles of music, before I finally gave up and left the music off, but kept my earphones (Skullcandy earbuds) in so that I couldn't hear the snoring. Not the most comfortable way to go to sleep. So all in all, I think I got maybe three hours of sleep before waking up at 7:30 to shower.
So on the way home I rode with Joe in his car, since he had come about an hour after we had because of work. I tried to stay awake, since he was talking to me, but the last half an hour of the drive I was dozing like crazy. Finally, about fifteen minutes from home, I let my head fall back against the headrest and I went to sleep. I didn't sleep very long, because about a minute later Joe shouts in my ear as loud as he can. I think I jumped a foot before the seatbelt stopped me. It was quite an entertaining way to wake up, and we both had a good laugh.
I am so glad I won't be here for next stake conference. I don't think I would survive another sleepless night in bed with Danny.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Regrets
I don't have a lot of regrets in life. I'm the kind of girl who just goes with the flow. I plan for the future, but then I usually just let the future happen. But I do have one regret in life, and it's one my mom had warned me about. I regret not continuing my piano education.
I used to be pretty good at the piano. I hated practicing, but with my ability to play by ear, coupled with a talent for winging it, I got along just fine without practicing more than once or twice a week. In the few competitions I took part in when I was living in Virginia I always got high marks. When we were living in Utah, my parents bought a baby grand piano to try to encourage me to play more. I loved making music with that piano, or any piano really, but I hated musical theory and the little ditties that were in the lesson books. I had a great teacher that my parents paid a lot of money for, but in my immaturity I didn't appreciate it.
It's been five years since I quit taking lessons. If I had continued, in those five years I could have become a great pianist. I could have been able to play any hymn from the hymnal, I could have up the a skill level where I could play a really beautiful, complicated classical piece. I could have been able to do a lot. But instead, I can't. Instead, over those five years I have slowly lost the ability to play. I can't even play the easiest hymn anymore without stumbling over every cord.
Recently I have been listening to piano music and watching shows about talented pianists. It's been a bit like watching what I could have become, if I had just stuck with it. My mom was always telling me that I has such beautiful, big hands, perfect for playing the piano. She was always so encouraging to me, helping me develop my talent, and I now feel like I let her down, as well as myself. I tell myself, I would have stuck with it if I hadn't been forced to play stupid little songs. As a person, I hate doing useless things. If it doesn't benefit someone, I don't want to do it. I would have much rather learned how to play the piano by playing an actual piece of music, like Chopin, or Mozart. I tell myself, I should have practiced more. If I had just forced myself past the beginning stages, which I was perpetually stuck at since I never practiced, I would have been able to enjoy playing more. But I didn't.
So, when I get my first duty station in the Air Force, I'm going to take up piano again.
I used to be pretty good at the piano. I hated practicing, but with my ability to play by ear, coupled with a talent for winging it, I got along just fine without practicing more than once or twice a week. In the few competitions I took part in when I was living in Virginia I always got high marks. When we were living in Utah, my parents bought a baby grand piano to try to encourage me to play more. I loved making music with that piano, or any piano really, but I hated musical theory and the little ditties that were in the lesson books. I had a great teacher that my parents paid a lot of money for, but in my immaturity I didn't appreciate it.
It's been five years since I quit taking lessons. If I had continued, in those five years I could have become a great pianist. I could have been able to play any hymn from the hymnal, I could have up the a skill level where I could play a really beautiful, complicated classical piece. I could have been able to do a lot. But instead, I can't. Instead, over those five years I have slowly lost the ability to play. I can't even play the easiest hymn anymore without stumbling over every cord.
Recently I have been listening to piano music and watching shows about talented pianists. It's been a bit like watching what I could have become, if I had just stuck with it. My mom was always telling me that I has such beautiful, big hands, perfect for playing the piano. She was always so encouraging to me, helping me develop my talent, and I now feel like I let her down, as well as myself. I tell myself, I would have stuck with it if I hadn't been forced to play stupid little songs. As a person, I hate doing useless things. If it doesn't benefit someone, I don't want to do it. I would have much rather learned how to play the piano by playing an actual piece of music, like Chopin, or Mozart. I tell myself, I should have practiced more. If I had just forced myself past the beginning stages, which I was perpetually stuck at since I never practiced, I would have been able to enjoy playing more. But I didn't.
So, when I get my first duty station in the Air Force, I'm going to take up piano again.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Memories and Changes
I recently went through my large collection of pictures from back when I had a camera (I was 13-17 and I loved taking pictures). I was determined to get rid of as much as possible so that I could fit all the photos in my white furry photo album. It didn't work out quite that way, but I got to re-live a lot of good memories. And looking back at my early teenage years showed me just how much I have changed since then. I'll give you an example that epitomizes the changes in my habits and my personality.
I found two pictures that go together. One was a before shot and the other an after shot of my bedroom when I was about 15. The before picture is of my room when it was a complete disaster. Think of a time when your own room has been a mess, multiply by ten, and that was my room. I was a very messy girl, and somehow I liked it that way. Sort of. I'm going to be very blunt, and describe the picture so that you can see just how bad it was (and this was all the time, not just a rare occurrence).
The bed wasn't made, and the sheets were all separated (an effect of my violent sleeping). My wet towels would sit on the bed after I showered, and I had a giant stuffed dog (as large as a four year old) lying across the messy covers. Every flat surface, including the floor, was covered with papers, half-read books, CD cases, magazines, dirty and clean clothes, make-up that I never used, and nick knacks of every kind. Almost every inch of wall space was covered with posters of Harry Potter, maps of places I had been (or wanted to go), church quotes, Young Women posters, and American Girl animal posters. I had a desk to write at, and even had an electric typewriter (because I didn't have a computer most of the time) but it was usually so covered with stuff that I didn't have room to do anything. My dresser was covered with picture frames of family, horses, and wolves, as well as more make-up that I never used. (I had a great-cousin who always gave make-up for birthdays.) There were things hanging from my bedposts and doorknobs, and lastly, there were storage totes sitting in the middle of the floor, taking up more space.
This was the state of my room all the time, unless mom threatened me into cleaning it up.
The after picture was my idea (at the time) of a clean room. The only things that were different though, was I had made the bed and the floor was clean. But everything that had been on the floor and bed was shoved under the bed and dresser and into my two nightstands, mostly to hide it from mom. I really hated to clean my room back then. So, from these two pictures (which I would post if I could, but I don't have a scanner) you can see that I had a very messy, lazy personality. I didn't care that my room was messy all the time. I kind of liked hunting for things among the piles. When I was forced to really clean my room (not just shove it under the bed) it took me ALL DAY which was probably why I hated it so much.
This mentality lasted for a very long time. But as I got older, I slowly got in to the habit of putting things away. It was very slow. So slow that I almost didn't notice when my room remained clean and organized for weeks at a time.
This is what my room looks like at the moment: Bed is made. (I got into that habit because the cats spend a lot of time in my room and I didn't want them lying directly on the bed, where I would be laying) The floor is clean of stuff, except for one book, World Masterpieces, which I was reading last night before bed. Instead of teenage-ish posters on the wall, I have a few hats hanging above the closet doors (decoration and easy access), my most used jewelry hanging next to my dresser (easy access, otherwise I wouldn't ever use them), a calender, my Student of the Year Award (for web design, my junior year), a dream-catcher, a single map of a fantasy world one of my stories is set in, and an Asian fan. Now, my room isn't perfect yet. There is a messy blanket sitting on my hope chest, both of my bookcases are a mess, and one corner of the room has become a storage space, but all in all the room is much cleaner than it has every been in my life. The clothes are all put away in their rightful spots, and there isn't anything to trip on. So now, my personality has changed to neat and organized, though there are still instances of laziness.
How has your personality changes since you were a teenager?
I found two pictures that go together. One was a before shot and the other an after shot of my bedroom when I was about 15. The before picture is of my room when it was a complete disaster. Think of a time when your own room has been a mess, multiply by ten, and that was my room. I was a very messy girl, and somehow I liked it that way. Sort of. I'm going to be very blunt, and describe the picture so that you can see just how bad it was (and this was all the time, not just a rare occurrence).
The bed wasn't made, and the sheets were all separated (an effect of my violent sleeping). My wet towels would sit on the bed after I showered, and I had a giant stuffed dog (as large as a four year old) lying across the messy covers. Every flat surface, including the floor, was covered with papers, half-read books, CD cases, magazines, dirty and clean clothes, make-up that I never used, and nick knacks of every kind. Almost every inch of wall space was covered with posters of Harry Potter, maps of places I had been (or wanted to go), church quotes, Young Women posters, and American Girl animal posters. I had a desk to write at, and even had an electric typewriter (because I didn't have a computer most of the time) but it was usually so covered with stuff that I didn't have room to do anything. My dresser was covered with picture frames of family, horses, and wolves, as well as more make-up that I never used. (I had a great-cousin who always gave make-up for birthdays.) There were things hanging from my bedposts and doorknobs, and lastly, there were storage totes sitting in the middle of the floor, taking up more space.
This was the state of my room all the time, unless mom threatened me into cleaning it up.
The after picture was my idea (at the time) of a clean room. The only things that were different though, was I had made the bed and the floor was clean. But everything that had been on the floor and bed was shoved under the bed and dresser and into my two nightstands, mostly to hide it from mom. I really hated to clean my room back then. So, from these two pictures (which I would post if I could, but I don't have a scanner) you can see that I had a very messy, lazy personality. I didn't care that my room was messy all the time. I kind of liked hunting for things among the piles. When I was forced to really clean my room (not just shove it under the bed) it took me ALL DAY which was probably why I hated it so much.
This mentality lasted for a very long time. But as I got older, I slowly got in to the habit of putting things away. It was very slow. So slow that I almost didn't notice when my room remained clean and organized for weeks at a time.
This is what my room looks like at the moment: Bed is made. (I got into that habit because the cats spend a lot of time in my room and I didn't want them lying directly on the bed, where I would be laying) The floor is clean of stuff, except for one book, World Masterpieces, which I was reading last night before bed. Instead of teenage-ish posters on the wall, I have a few hats hanging above the closet doors (decoration and easy access), my most used jewelry hanging next to my dresser (easy access, otherwise I wouldn't ever use them), a calender, my Student of the Year Award (for web design, my junior year), a dream-catcher, a single map of a fantasy world one of my stories is set in, and an Asian fan. Now, my room isn't perfect yet. There is a messy blanket sitting on my hope chest, both of my bookcases are a mess, and one corner of the room has become a storage space, but all in all the room is much cleaner than it has every been in my life. The clothes are all put away in their rightful spots, and there isn't anything to trip on. So now, my personality has changed to neat and organized, though there are still instances of laziness.
How has your personality changes since you were a teenager?
Friday, February 18, 2011
Apologies
I'm a little embarrassed. No, I'm a lot embarrassed. My mom decided to finally point out to me how bad my grammar is in most of my blog posts, and I realized she was right. The truth is, I don't proofread my posts, like I should. I don't know how it came to be, but I got it into my head that I don't ever have to. That what comes out the first time is right. It's something I really need to work on, because I know I'm better than that.
So, I apologize if the horrible grammar has put you off, and I promise to proofread, for the benefit of all readers.
So, I apologize if the horrible grammar has put you off, and I promise to proofread, for the benefit of all readers.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Today's Topic: OFG Disorder and Its Effects
Today I'd like to talk a little bit about something that I have suffered from most of my life. It's not a particularly dangerous disorder, but it does have a tendency of throwing my life off balance, and it has been known to completely alter parts of my life goals as well as add or change things that I do on a daily basis. My parents wish I didn't have it, and my brothers tolerate it with a lot of eye rolling.
It's called Obsessive Fan Girl Disorder, and it's an integral part of my personality. If you don't already know about this part of me, you are now going to learn (if should give you plenty of laughs at how pathetic I can be)
It goes like this; I find something (type of music, type of novels, TV show, movie, language, country, etc.) and I latch on with both hands and legs, refusing to release it until I see something else that catches my flighty attention. To demonstrate this, I'll be using my most current obsession.
It's called Obsessive Fan Girl Disorder, and it's an integral part of my personality. If you don't already know about this part of me, you are now going to learn (if should give you plenty of laughs at how pathetic I can be)
It goes like this; I find something (type of music, type of novels, TV show, movie, language, country, etc.) and I latch on with both hands and legs, refusing to release it until I see something else that catches my flighty attention. To demonstrate this, I'll be using my most current obsession.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Makes me want to learn Korean
In my never-ending search for new music to listen to (since I can’t listen to the radio) I have stumbled upon something really interesting.
I don’t remember how I found it because it was a long time ago, but there is a song on YouTube that is a really well done English translation of a (weird) Japanese Vocaloid song. From there, I discovered a Korean group called Girl’s Generation. And while I can’t understand the words, they are really catchy and fun to listen to. Then, I found the male equivalent, called Super Junior. Both groups are really fun to listen to, and they make me want to learn Korean.
The funny thing about these groups is they are really super groups. There are nine girls in Girl’s Generation, and thirteen (!) in Super Junior. You can’t find that large of a group in the US.
Tell me what you think. Would the US benefit by groups as large as these? Or did large bands go out with N*SNC and the Backstreet Boys? (Which of course where nowhere near as large as Girl’s Generation or Super Junior.)
I don’t remember how I found it because it was a long time ago, but there is a song on YouTube that is a really well done English translation of a (weird) Japanese Vocaloid song. From there, I discovered a Korean group called Girl’s Generation. And while I can’t understand the words, they are really catchy and fun to listen to. Then, I found the male equivalent, called Super Junior. Both groups are really fun to listen to, and they make me want to learn Korean.
The funny thing about these groups is they are really super groups. There are nine girls in Girl’s Generation, and thirteen (!) in Super Junior. You can’t find that large of a group in the US.
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