What do you do when you feel like your visiting teacher is more of a friend to your roommate than to you?

I want to say something, since I feel like she's coming over for her, not for me... but I don't want to complicate that friendship either, even though I feel like I'm being ignored.

And that doesn't make me want to reciprocate any half-baked attempts at friendship.

"And you wonder why there's so many problems with homosexuality right now, your women are being men and the men don't know what to be anymore."

hadn't thought about it before, but I think it sounds about right.

Ein Heldenleben

Don't know it? You should. It's by Richard Strauss, one of the coolest composers I've never heard of before. I saw the Philharmonic play this tonight, and HOLY FRIGGIN COW.

It is probably one of the most beautiful things I've heard in a really long time. No. THE most beautiful thing.

Waaaagh!

Permit me to swoon over here in the corner while I simultaneously get over my shock of seeing President Uctdorf there.

What if...

What if he's not looking for me?

...

Permit me to explain. When I was about 6, I lived in a place called Lisle in Illinois. Growing up there, I became really good friends with my brothers because there weren't any other kids on our block. However, if you went down the street and past the tennis courts, there was another group of houses where lived the closest LDS family to where we were.  (It was rare enough to have somebody within a ten minute drive, so having a family within a ten minute bike ride was amazing.) In this family, there was a boy my age. His name was Parker.

Now, I don't remember a whole lot, other than we were friends. And also a brief memory where we were waiting for the bus after kindergarten and talking to the teacher. We boldly announced to her that someday we were going to get married. She laughed and asked him if he wasn't too old for me, he being 7 and I was 6. I don't remember anything else from that.

His family eventually moved to Texas and I lost touch, remembering him vaguely from a silver heart trinket he gave me before we left. (Corny doesn't exist when you're 6, right?)

Every once in a while it'll flit across my mind and I'll try my luck on Facebook or stalkernet or what have you. But I don't remember what his last name is, other than it's most likely some variation of 'Stevens'. But there are a lot of Stevens out there... and I don't even know where he is.

But for the first time, this week I asked myself something. I'm looking for him... but what if he's not looking for me?

....

I'm not sure what I'm thinking I'll find, if I ever find him at all. Maybe I won't. And that's fine. But I keep hoping that maybe someday we'll find each other. And maybe he remembers the same things I do. And maybe something miraculous will happen. Maybe not. Most likely not, let's get real here.

But I just keep hoping that perhaps we'll get lucky.

It's amazing how God is so aware of us and is helping us out all the time, even when we don't ask for it.

Monday, I had the pleasure of reading a few chapters of a friend's short story. It's extremely rough, since it's a first draft and he's taking ~15 credits, preparing for life changes, etc., so there wasn't a lot of refinement. Which is fine... except that I tend to forget details like that and just start ripping up stories like it's second nature. (Because it practically is.)

When I saw him Monday night, I felt extremely... nervous? Ill? I just didn't feel too great because I wasn't sure how it was all going to play out and what I would say, how I would say it, whatever. I had thought of a few things to say, and started into it when we met.

But then everything I had thought about the few chapter that I'd read came out. Which was, let me tell you, extremely unfortunate.

Looking back on it when I was walking home, I realized I had been harshly frank. I was mortified and realized the experience reminded me of when the same thing had happened to me - I didn't write after that for nearly three years. I didn't want to be responsible for that, but by the time I had gotten home my roommates distracted me enough that I didn't think about it until the next morning.

I was supposed to get up at 6:30 on Tuesday, but had forgotten to reset my alarm so didn't get up on time. I hurried through a few verses of scripture study and went on my way, the previous night's events still weighing on my mind. (That and my lesson, which didn't help that I was unprepared for it.)

When I had finished with class and whatnot by 10, I couldn't help it. I felt so ashamed and cruel, despite him asking for my honesty. I thought about all the different ways I could've handled it, deciding that all of the alternatives were kinder than what I had done. I sent him a text, telling him it was eating me and that I was sure that him telling me it was okay wouldn't make me feel better. His response was probably the most inspired thing I've heard all week.

Rach, you're trying to protect me from getting hurt like you did. Your heart is in the right place. Don't worry about it.

I read it and felt embarrassed, grinning madly as I did mostly because I felt all the guilt and fear dissipate from my body instantly. Have you ever had that feeling before? It is one of the most refreshing feelings you'll ever have. It floored me. You're such an idiot, I told myself.

This morning, when I was reading the chapters I was supposed to be reading yesterday (I didn't get through it all because I was in such a hurry), this message struck me again. I was reading Alma 61, where Pahoran is responding to a letter from Moroni. In verse 9, Pahoran mentions that Moroni's letter had reprimanded him perhaps harshly, but he didn't mind. He says:

I am not angry, but do rejoice in the greatness of your heart.

This mostly just helped me understand that my friend meant it. Frequently people will say good things about me and I'll wave it off, thinking they don't know what they're talking about. But I understood this one and am so infinitely grateful that my Heavenly Father knows what I need to hear, even if I'm too stubborn to admit it sometimes.

oh hey dere, firebird suite. allow me to introduce myself, since I DON'T KNOW YOU AT ALL. (bwuh?)

[link] << CSO! yay!

it must be original version and not the 1919 version, although I can see why he cut it. it was way long! I like this version a lot more though, being way more expressive and whatnot. also, 50ish minutes of firebird instead of 30. yay! more lovin' for stravinsky! brilliant.

edit: the '19 version sounds like it starts at 1:03:08 (22 minutes of cut stuff right there, wth), but it's not. there are still a bunch of other snippets and things that he cut out so I'd get lost for five minutes at a time after that point. And suddenly I'm doubting my math... well, the Fantasia version is only 9 minutes so that alone should blow your mind. anyway, TOTES LE AWESOME.

edit2: my version of '19 firebird is just over 27 minutes, so yeah. firebird where have you been all my life??

My entire life hinges on this appointment.

Don't make me do it. I feel like I won't know myself after I come out. What if there is something wrong with me? What will I be then - still the same?

I'm scared.

A year ago today, we were all waking up to the news that the tabernacle had burnt down. A year later, and we have the news that it will restored - as a temple.

The Lord works in mysterious ways.