Anyone that knows me knows that I love people, and lots of them. I've always been a social butterfly and have a history of making friends and bringing them together. In my single college years especially I've been known to combine groups and extend invites to friends I've made in one area of my life to hang out with friends that I had from another area of my life. Sunday night game-nights living at Old Mill in Provo were an excellent example of this. We began with inviting just our ward. As the weeks went on I began to invite (and encourage others to invite) friends from school, members of my family in our same age bracket, friends from previous wards, friends from my mission and friends from my hometown to attend these game nights. At the climax we were consistently stuffing 30 or 40 people into our tiny living room every week, at which point a few of those less inclined to enjoy a too-large group setting would excuse themselves and go home. By this time a tight-knit group of friends had formed with about 13 or 14 of us and with several floaters that were in and out of the group depending on the activity. This was the highlight of my social life. We threw barbecues, attended rodeos and county fairs, played volleyball regularly, went on several road trips, and even took bigger trips to Hawaii and cruises to the Caribbean and eastern Central America. It was never an issue to get people to come to events. Over the several years that this group was in place it evolved because we continued to invite those people we met and because some individuals moved on to bigger and better things. In some cases, people in the group even began dating and got married (or are still in the process).
I would almost attribute my tendency to combine groups to the massive family I come from, except that not all of my siblings are the same way. It seems like the younger you are in my family the more social you are, something I cannot explain. Perhaps it has to do with being used to interacting with larger numbers of people in our growing up years than my siblings before. Whatever the reason, it is the case.
I have always loved people. I cannot think of very many people in my life that I do not like or was never able to get along with. My family has always been very important to me, but since I've been married it seems like that level of importance has been magnified. Being in such a large family has been absolutely wonderful, but it is also not without its struggles.
I learned a lesson recently that was quite painful. Perhaps it should not have been as painful as it was because for some it may have not been a big deal. I don't know that this lesson will necessarily apply or appeal to everyone but I will share it nonetheless. I will start by telling about 3 separate experiences I had.
The first was at my wedding reception this past November. The plan was to get married in the St George Temple that morning, have a wedding luncheon that afternoon in Hurricane, and have the wedding reception in Las Vegas that evening which is where Stuart is from. I wanted all of my siblings and their families to be at all of the events. I knew it would be a bit of a struggle to get everyone to drive to Las Vegas but most of them came and I was happy. It was actually quite incredible. This close-knit group of my friends drove down from Provo and Idaho and even flew in from Missouri for it. People who we didn't know but were acquainted with Stuarts parents came and wished us well and even brought gifts. The fact that so many people came to show their love and support and celebrated with us was so inspiring to me. People we didn't even know came to participate in the most important day of our lives. It made me want to pay it forward because I was so touched by their selflessness and generosity.
The second story took place a week later at our open-house in Highland, Utah. We decided to host the open-house in northern Utah because both Stuart and myself had spent a good chunk of our adult lives there and most of our friends and many of my extended family members were up there. I wanted to give those that I loved an option to come celebrate with me without having to drive down to Las Vegas. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and happened to be the day of the first winter storm. I have never experienced a winter storm that ever came at a good time, but if there was ever the worst time possible, this was it. On our way to the open-house the roads were not looking good, but then the heavens opened and the storm stopped right at the time my open-house was to begin. I remember thinking it was such a blessing. As the night progressed, many of Stuarts friends and mission companions and former bishops came to support and his family even drove up from Las Vegas to be there. Both of my Mission Presidents came as well as a Sister from my mission. As for my extended family, one cousin and his wife came, and I will never forget that they did. Of all the people there, those 5 came for me.
The third and final story took place the weekend after that, the day of my nephews wedding. The family was gathered at my home in Hurricane, Utah. It was Thanksgiving weekend so we had quite a full house. Kyle's wedding had taken place earlier that day and most everyone that could attend the temple was there. Then came the time for his wedding reception. The family was mostly lounging around the house, watching football or whatever had drawn away their attention at the moment. It was getting to be about the time that we were to go to Kyle's reception, and when I began asking around about who we could ride over with I discovered that not a lot of my family members planned on attending. Because of the experience I had the weekend before with my own open house, I was quite a bit more sensitive to my family's habit of not attending events -- even big events -- simply because they didn't feel like it at the time and, since they attended the temple sealing that morning they felt like they did not need to go to the reception. After a bit of coaxing some key players (although some accused me of guilt-tripping) I managed to get a decent sized group to attend the reception.
Now, you have to understand, with 16 siblings, 15 in-laws, 85+ nieces and nephews (and counting) and 9 great-grandchildren in the mix there are a LOT of family events to attend. ALL.THE.TIME. Baptisms, weddings, baby blessings, birthdays, missionary homecomings and farewells, new callings, bridal showers, baby showers, etc. The list goes on and on. That's nearly 130 souls just in my immediate family that are having these events. It's not an easy (or possible) task to attend them all, and I wouldn't expect that any one person in my family would even try to especially with everyone so spread out. However, there is something to be said about making an effort to attend the events that you can. I can promise that no one invites you to an event to which they do not want you to come, and especially one that they planned themselves. In fact, I'm willing to bet that the planner would be absolutely thrilled if everyone he/she invited showed up.
This does not just apply to family events. I doubt that many other people in this world struggle with the same kind of family dynamic that I do. This applies to events planned by friends and acquaintances, too. I'll admit, I've been just as guilty in the past of not attending events that I said I would simply because it wasn't convenient or because I felt like they wouldn't even notice if I wasn't there. Or even because I didn't know the person THAT well and that I might feel uncomfortable hanging out there. Since my wedding open house, both Stuart and I decided that we were going to make a conscious effort to make it to all of the events that we reasonably could, even if it meant just stopping by for a minute. We realized that it does mean something to people when you attend, especially when they wouldn't expect you to. Since then I have had many opportunities to attend just such events and have been happily surprised when the host or hostess thanks me for coming and tells me that they're thrilled that I made it when they weren't sure if I would.
I have found that my relationships with these people are deeply impacted. This includes extended family members events for those whom I have never been particularly close with. I have also found that it often gets me out of my comfort zone, and because I associate with other people at the event that I wouldn't have otherwise my circle of friends is expanded and my love for them grows.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Quest for Perfection
This is a post I began writing about 2 years ago, then never finished and it has been sitting in my draft bin for all that time. Funny since the post is about progression, but here you go.
With the end of summer and the beginning of school the time has come once again to turn over a new leaf. Shake off the urge to play all night and sleep all day. Turn away the temptation to procrastinate work and shirk all responsibility.
I always love the fall season. Colorful leaves, start of school, busy schedules, a sense of purpose, football games, crisp air, the promise of Thanksgiving and Christmas vacations on the horizon, and plenty of social events to keep us busy on the nights and weekends.
Fall seems to be the busiest time of year for me, and each year I am struck with an urge to perfect myself in as many ways as possible. The trend has been such that this really only happens to me twice a year (now and New Years), I am becoming much better at making and sticking with my goals.
Something I realized that has helped me to accomplish this has been to look at the bigger picture, then hone in on the small everyday things that are sometimes so hard for us to do. Here is what I came up with. I call this my Chart of Excellence.
With the end of summer and the beginning of school the time has come once again to turn over a new leaf. Shake off the urge to play all night and sleep all day. Turn away the temptation to procrastinate work and shirk all responsibility.
I always love the fall season. Colorful leaves, start of school, busy schedules, a sense of purpose, football games, crisp air, the promise of Thanksgiving and Christmas vacations on the horizon, and plenty of social events to keep us busy on the nights and weekends.
Fall seems to be the busiest time of year for me, and each year I am struck with an urge to perfect myself in as many ways as possible. The trend has been such that this really only happens to me twice a year (now and New Years), I am becoming much better at making and sticking with my goals.
Something I realized that has helped me to accomplish this has been to look at the bigger picture, then hone in on the small everyday things that are sometimes so hard for us to do. Here is what I came up with. I call this my Chart of Excellence.
Because I am such a linear thinker this helps me to organize my priorities. I have divided my life into 5 different categories. Social, Educational, Spiritual, Financial and Physical. I have found that some of these areas I am lacking in and others I am excelling in, but there is always room for improvement. I have also divided each category into sub-categories for a more precise definition of the areas I need to work on. From there I have honed in even further and set goals for how I would like to perfect myself in each area, such as the following:
I get quite a bit of satisfaction out of organizing my life and using my time more efficiently to do productive things. John Bytheway gave a talk once called "Get off the Couch and Get a Life" where he told a story about his decision to do something he had always wanted to do: write a book. During his busy college life he decided that he was going to trade his least productive hours between 10 and midnight watching television, with what would be his most productive hours, 6-8 am to write his book. He said there were mornings that he did not want to get up but it all became worth it when he walked into Deseret Book and saw his book up for sale on the shelf.
Not many things can compare to the feeling of accomplishing something hard. It's no wonder to me why that is so because our entire purpose to be on this earth is to progress, change and become more like our Father in Heaven. We are meant to go through trials that stretch our capabilities and comfort zones. Think of it this way: Our goal is to climb a mountain. In order to accomplish this we must go up, against the force of gravity amidst all the thorns and the weeds and the bushes with nothing but our own two legs to carry us. As we climb we come across some difficult situations that take careful consideration and help to get through, but we somehow manage it even though it might take a little more time than we would have wished. Over time as we continue the climb, our muscles build strength and the obstacles we encounter become less daunting. Our capacity to do the things that before seemed so difficult increases steadily, and the higher we go, the more beautiful the view. We look down on all the world and can see clearly all the hustle and bustle of the city below. We see a lost car driving around in a neighborhood and we can see exactly where it has been and all the options ahead of it. We may not know which path the car will take, but we can see where each path will lead. Because we have made the decision to make the climb we have achieved foresight. We now have the knowledge to help others that stand in need. Our vision has expanded and our understanding increased.
Friday, January 16, 2015
Reflection on 2014, Best Year of My Life.
In an attempt to satisfy my New Years resolution #4, Resurrect the Blog, I bring you this post. My poor blog has been neglected nearly this entire year and while I can't give an actual legitimate excuse aside from being too busy or on occasion too lazy, I can at least pretend to attribute it to the fact that I met, dated, and fell in love with the man of my dreams. Here is the story in the form of a Christmas letter we sent out at the end of the year:
To All of our Wonderful Family and Friends,
Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and THANK YOU for being so supportive and excited for us as we have taken this leap into the wonderful, incredible and terrifying world of marriage and family. This past year has been such a blur but it has been incredible and we can hardly believe it will soon come to an end!
To begin the year, both Stuart and myself were as single as could be living the busy student life in Provo with one eye ever-searching for “the one”. During the month of January Stuart had begun to notice a certain cherry-red Mazda 3 with a BYU sticker on the back operated by a blonde female driving around the Belmont parking lot, the condominium complex in which we lived. After inquiring among his friends about the owner of the vehicle, no answers were to be found and he determined his only option to find out who she was would be to write a note to leave on her car when he found it in its usual parking spot. So write a note he did, but carried it around with him for a time because the vehicle was nowhere to be found. After about 3 days he finally found the illusive Mazda and left the note on the windshield that said “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me, definitely. –Stuart”
That night I gathered the courage to send Stuart a text. I had some reservations but ultimately came to the conclusion that I’ll never know unless I take the chance. After our first several dates things really began to pick up and the mutual respect we had for each other began to turn into admiration, then eventually into love. Shortly after we had begun dating we made the bizarre connection that his mother Whitney and my oldest sister Angelyn had been roommates at BYU many years before. What a strange coincidence! (If you can call it that).
At the end of the winter Semester Stuart decided to pick up and move to Southern California to do summer sales to hopefully earn enough money to last him through the next year so he could focus 100% of his attention on his schooling. This was a very uncertain time for both of us because we hadn’t quite had enough time with each other to know what would happen to our relationship if we added the distance. We were both willing to find out, however, and about every 3 weeks or so I was able to drive or fly down to California to visit him. About mid-summer we found out that the distance did quite well for our relationship and after much prayer and consideration decided we were going to take the leap of faith and get married. I sent Stuart some photos of rings I liked and waited as patiently as I could for him to propose. According to Stuart I wasn’t very patient at all, but my argument there is that when you’ve got the love and affection of someone as wonderful, handsome, and hard-working as he is, you want to make it permanent as quickly as possible. After a month or two of Stuart informing me he still hadn’t purchased the ring, the summer was finally coming to a close and he began his journey back to Utah. On Labor Day weekend I decided to meet him down in Hurricane in Southern
Utah since that is where my family resides and was very conveniently located on the way back from California to Provo. We decided that we were going to hike Angels Landing in Zion National Park while we were there since Stuart hadn’t had much of a chance to do anything “Summer-y” the entire summer he was selling in Orange County. My younger brother Jared was strangely eager to come with us even though it required him to wake up with us at 4:00 in the morning to do so. The next morning we began our trek up the mountain. After we finally arrived at the peak and we had a chance to look around Stuart began to tell me all the things he loved about me. Since Stuart had made this a regular practice it didn’t tip me off that something was about to go down. And besides, in my mind he still didn’t have the ring. Stuart then asked Jared if he would take a picture of us with his phone. Unbeknownst to me, he had the ring box in his other hand which Jared saw and promptly switched his camera to video mode. Stuart knelt down and as he opened the box we both heard a “tink… tink… tink” which was the sound of the ring bouncing down to the edge of the cliff! Stuart dove for the ring and caught it before it could roll any further. What a rush! I was still trying to process what was happening before I even realized that the ring and my almost-fiance were both racing to the edge of a 1500 foot precipice. It all happened so fast! When things calmed down and I finally had a grasp on the situation I gave him a resounding “YES!” and a polite applause was heard by the other hikers that had witnessed the event. (See video below)
The fall semester somehow went by incredibly fast and incredibly slow all at the same time. I was working full time and attending Cosmetology school from 5-10 PM each night and Stuart was focusing all his attention on his rigorous pre-med schooling, and it proved to be quite the challenge to plan the wedding in such a short amount of time. We are extremely blessed, however, with wonderful family and friends, in particular Stuart’s mother and siblings and my sisters, that took most of the load upon themselves and provided us with a more beautiful wedding than we could have hoped for. We were married November 14th in the St George LDS Temple. We were both so impressed and inspired by the generosity, sacrifice and emulation of the Savior from not only those that helped with the wedding, but also those that attended to wish us well. Many came from far and wide, many sent gifts and cards, and others attended our reception that didn’t even know us but were acquainted with our families. What a wonderful example of support and love we have been shown and we are so grateful to have your influence in our lives.
We are now adjusting to marriage beautifully. Stuart is continuing to diligently pursue his studies to become a surgeon and I am enthusiastically pursuing my career as a cosmetologist. We are very excited to find out what our first year of marriage will bring us! We hope you all have a wonderful holiday and pray that this next year will return one-hundred fold the blessings that you have so generously bestowed upon us. Merry Christmas!
Friday, January 31, 2014
The Three-Transfer Boyfriend
While on my mission in Los Angeles, I had 3 different areas and 5 different companions during the course of the 18 months I served there. My situation on the mission did not change much compared to that of other missionaries, whose companionships and areas changed what seemed like every transfer. Being consistently consistent, I was able to experience a certain phenomenon with most of my companions that has given me a little bit of insight into the world of love and marriage.
Here's how it goes.
The First Transfer
Meet your companion. You may or may not have heard something about her. She may be new to missionary work or she may be more seasoned and experienced than you in that regard. She might be shy, she might be outgoing, she might be quiet, she might be not-so-quiet. Either way, you really don't actually know what she's really like until you have spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week within sight and sound of her. You might find out very quickly that there are some characteristics she has you don't appreciate. Depending on her personality, that is also something that might take you a little bit longer to find out. For me at least, the first transfer together is usually a breeze. We are still getting to know each other, and sometimes we are getting to know a new area at the same time. We're learning about each other both the good and the bad, but there's an element of civility there, like how you behave when you converse with a stranger. You see some things you don't love, but you don't let it get to you. It's just the way they are. You get to work, and you work together. Then there's the second transfer.
The Second Transfer
You've been her companion for long enough to know her little quirks and habits. You both start to think that you run the companionship. The little things she does begin to really bug you. A little pride starts to creep in, you see her faults and tell her she needs to change. You let her know in a much harsher way the things she does that bother you, since you're comfortable enough with her that you don't care anymore. You tell her that she smacks her gum too loudly during personal study. You tell her that you think she is too domineering in the lessons you teach together. You tell her she needs to lighten up a little bit because she's too serious all the time. You tell her you feel like she's treating you like a child. You tell her she's being too childish or she's not taking things seriously enough. You've got some problems with your companion, and kneeling beside her at your bedside each night to say your prayers usually includes a round of tears and dispute. For some, you are both willing to yield just enough to work it out and go to bed on good terms. At least until the next night. For others, nothing is worked out and you both go to bed angry and frustrated with how the other person is. The trouble is still there in the morning. Your preparation for the day is more quiet and uncomfortable than usual. You drive to your appointments in a quiet car.
The Third Transfer
You've learned how to work through problems. You've learned how to accept your companion for who she is. You love her more because you know her. You know her strengths and you appreciate her like you never had before. You recognize her weaknesses, but you help her get through them, and you've learned how to do so without seriously offending her. You learn from her. You've taken a long, hard look at yourself during the second transfer and you realize you've got a few things you need to change as well. You're working on it. You laugh together, you rejoice in good news from home together, you cry for bad news from home together, you're there for each other. You rock the lessons you give to investigators because you've learned how to teach together. You know what she's going to say before she even says it. After all, you have literally spent 3,024 of the last 3,024 hours of your life within hearing and seeing distance of her. You have achieved harmony. She is perhaps someone you never would have imagined yourself ever associating with, and now you love her beyond declaration.
The Moral
Being single like I am, this long-term experience has turned into an interesting life lesson -- one that I didn't recognize until I was hurled back into the dating world. First off, I've heard some stories. Being a hair dresser I have ample time to converse with the ladies I've got in my chair. Many of them are married, and a question that regularly arises is "So how did you meet your husband?" On occasion I'll hear this: "Well, I didn't like him at first..." and then they'll continue on to say that as they got to know him they found out that they actually WERE attracted to them, or they actually DID really like them.
Then I hear other stories, these ones a little less pleasant. It doesn't matter if the wives have been married to their husband for 5 months or 5 years, they always say, "Oh my gosh, the first months of marriage was SO HARD." Yep, that's the second transfer. The only difference is that you are allowed to be out of sight and sound of your companion, so the process takes a little longer.
Spencer W. Kimball said "...it is certain that almost any good man and any good woman can have happiness and a successful marriage if both are willing to pay the price." There's the key. Both have to be willing to pay the price. Here I am in Provo surrounded by thousands of young, single, eligible, handsome, GOOD men and yet, I'm single. I'm very much okay with it since I'm quite enjoying the freedom that singleness allows but also it's not a surprise when you think about what it takes to get two people married. Seriously, it's quite the feat. First you have to be attracted to the guy. He must be unattached and he must be in the same dating mindset that you are. Then you have to be in a situation to meet him. Then you have to be the kind of girl he is attracted to. Then you have to be in a situation where you can get to know him. Then he has to be the kind of guy you could marry, and vice versa. Then you have to be in a situation where you can REALLY get to know him. This is the hard part. This means that both you and he have to be compatible enough that when you realize a few imperfections about each other that you don't get out of it by just breaking up. I would imagine that this is "the price" that Spencer W. Kimball was talking about. There is a fine line here, though. On the one hand, there are some individuals with whom it would be easier to live with. How do you know if you should move on in search of someone who is more compatible than who you've got? On the other hand, if you truly got to know the person you are dating you would learn to love them despite their flaws. The golden question is, how much effort should be put into making a relationship work?
For me there are some big red flags that could throw a kink into things such as addictions, severe cases of irresponsibility or lack of testimony. In situations like these I realize that I will have to be very careful and prayerful in my evaluation of the individual before I make too hasty of a decision. For the most part though I could probably take my pick of any of the good guys in Provo that share my same standards, find a way to get us stranded on a desert island for a few months, and end up very happily married. It could happen.
Here's how it goes.
The First Transfer
Meet your companion. You may or may not have heard something about her. She may be new to missionary work or she may be more seasoned and experienced than you in that regard. She might be shy, she might be outgoing, she might be quiet, she might be not-so-quiet. Either way, you really don't actually know what she's really like until you have spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week within sight and sound of her. You might find out very quickly that there are some characteristics she has you don't appreciate. Depending on her personality, that is also something that might take you a little bit longer to find out. For me at least, the first transfer together is usually a breeze. We are still getting to know each other, and sometimes we are getting to know a new area at the same time. We're learning about each other both the good and the bad, but there's an element of civility there, like how you behave when you converse with a stranger. You see some things you don't love, but you don't let it get to you. It's just the way they are. You get to work, and you work together. Then there's the second transfer.
The Second Transfer
You've been her companion for long enough to know her little quirks and habits. You both start to think that you run the companionship. The little things she does begin to really bug you. A little pride starts to creep in, you see her faults and tell her she needs to change. You let her know in a much harsher way the things she does that bother you, since you're comfortable enough with her that you don't care anymore. You tell her that she smacks her gum too loudly during personal study. You tell her that you think she is too domineering in the lessons you teach together. You tell her she needs to lighten up a little bit because she's too serious all the time. You tell her you feel like she's treating you like a child. You tell her she's being too childish or she's not taking things seriously enough. You've got some problems with your companion, and kneeling beside her at your bedside each night to say your prayers usually includes a round of tears and dispute. For some, you are both willing to yield just enough to work it out and go to bed on good terms. At least until the next night. For others, nothing is worked out and you both go to bed angry and frustrated with how the other person is. The trouble is still there in the morning. Your preparation for the day is more quiet and uncomfortable than usual. You drive to your appointments in a quiet car.
The Third Transfer
You've learned how to work through problems. You've learned how to accept your companion for who she is. You love her more because you know her. You know her strengths and you appreciate her like you never had before. You recognize her weaknesses, but you help her get through them, and you've learned how to do so without seriously offending her. You learn from her. You've taken a long, hard look at yourself during the second transfer and you realize you've got a few things you need to change as well. You're working on it. You laugh together, you rejoice in good news from home together, you cry for bad news from home together, you're there for each other. You rock the lessons you give to investigators because you've learned how to teach together. You know what she's going to say before she even says it. After all, you have literally spent 3,024 of the last 3,024 hours of your life within hearing and seeing distance of her. You have achieved harmony. She is perhaps someone you never would have imagined yourself ever associating with, and now you love her beyond declaration.
The Moral
Being single like I am, this long-term experience has turned into an interesting life lesson -- one that I didn't recognize until I was hurled back into the dating world. First off, I've heard some stories. Being a hair dresser I have ample time to converse with the ladies I've got in my chair. Many of them are married, and a question that regularly arises is "So how did you meet your husband?" On occasion I'll hear this: "Well, I didn't like him at first..." and then they'll continue on to say that as they got to know him they found out that they actually WERE attracted to them, or they actually DID really like them.
Then I hear other stories, these ones a little less pleasant. It doesn't matter if the wives have been married to their husband for 5 months or 5 years, they always say, "Oh my gosh, the first months of marriage was SO HARD." Yep, that's the second transfer. The only difference is that you are allowed to be out of sight and sound of your companion, so the process takes a little longer.
Spencer W. Kimball said "...it is certain that almost any good man and any good woman can have happiness and a successful marriage if both are willing to pay the price." There's the key. Both have to be willing to pay the price. Here I am in Provo surrounded by thousands of young, single, eligible, handsome, GOOD men and yet, I'm single. I'm very much okay with it since I'm quite enjoying the freedom that singleness allows but also it's not a surprise when you think about what it takes to get two people married. Seriously, it's quite the feat. First you have to be attracted to the guy. He must be unattached and he must be in the same dating mindset that you are. Then you have to be in a situation to meet him. Then you have to be the kind of girl he is attracted to. Then you have to be in a situation where you can get to know him. Then he has to be the kind of guy you could marry, and vice versa. Then you have to be in a situation where you can REALLY get to know him. This is the hard part. This means that both you and he have to be compatible enough that when you realize a few imperfections about each other that you don't get out of it by just breaking up. I would imagine that this is "the price" that Spencer W. Kimball was talking about. There is a fine line here, though. On the one hand, there are some individuals with whom it would be easier to live with. How do you know if you should move on in search of someone who is more compatible than who you've got? On the other hand, if you truly got to know the person you are dating you would learn to love them despite their flaws. The golden question is, how much effort should be put into making a relationship work?
For me there are some big red flags that could throw a kink into things such as addictions, severe cases of irresponsibility or lack of testimony. In situations like these I realize that I will have to be very careful and prayerful in my evaluation of the individual before I make too hasty of a decision. For the most part though I could probably take my pick of any of the good guys in Provo that share my same standards, find a way to get us stranded on a desert island for a few months, and end up very happily married. It could happen.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Dating: Confidants and Covenants
Confidant: a close friend or associate to whom secrets are confided or with whom private matters and problems are discussed.
About a year and half ago I first heard a talk by Hugh W Pinnock called "Ten Keys to Successful Dating and Marriage" that was given at a CES Fireside in the Marriott Center at BYU. One of his key points was that of keeping in confidence. In his talk he specifically mentions that we are never to turn to a third party in time of marital trouble unless it is to the Bishop or Branch President.
"Never ever, never ever, confide your marriage troubles to a third party, no, not even to your closest friend. He or she may be the first to tell your troubles to another, becoming the one to hurt you most severely. Lean on the Savior and rely upon your bishop and your stake president. Remember that because, as the years quickly come and go, there will be stressful times when you will need to talk to someone. Remember who it should be."
Because marriage is such an eternally binding contract this is of utmost importance. If marital issues arise the Bishop should be informed and his guidance sought after. Because I am not married, however, I have wondered to what extent it should be applied to my dating relationships and even relationships with my friends and family. Obviously the Bishop will not need to be involved unless serious transgression has occurred. I am referring more to the confidence part of it.
Human nature is such that we always want to know every juicy little detail about any relationship. For some strange reason humans love any kind of drama that occurs between any two or more people be it good or bad. For example any time I get home from a date and find my roommates at home they immediately want to know everything about it. This is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if the date went well. When things start to escalate with a particular boy I don't see any problem in telling anyone about it. However, there are certain aspects of close relationships that are private and should remain such. For whatever reason those seem to be the hardest secrets to keep to ourselves. So the question we must ask ourselves is "Where is the line between information that should be kept private and information that is okay to share?"
When a friend shares something with me I can usually determine if they are sharing it in confidence without them having to say "Don't tell anyone".
There are different relationships where this can occur:
In our relationships with our close friends and family members sometimes we just need to talk about things to someone. I can't count the number of times that either I have spoken with someone about my frustrations with someone else or someone has spoken to me about their frustrations with someone else. I also can't count the times that I have sat in a group setting and spoken about the faults or unfortunate situations of others not present. If they were there we certainly wouldn't be having the conversation because it usually displayed that person in a negative light. Why do we do this?
In a dating relationship family and friends always want to be informed on the progress of the relationship. This is a tricky one for me. I was once dating this guy who never told his family anything about our relationship. He was very close with his family and would take me to see them regularly, but whenever he was asked by his family about the status of our relationship or how things were going he would either say "it's good" or avoid the question altogether. He told them things about me such as that I had served a mission and that I was from Hurricane, but never anything that was only between him and I. The only clues they had to how things were going were how we behaved toward each other when we were around them. At first when he told me that his family knew nothing I was a little bit skeptical. I wondered if he was actually telling me the truth because I myself hadn't afforded him the same treatment. As things progressed, however, I came to find out that he was indeed being honest. His parents and siblings didn't know a thing. I wouldn't have minded had he been more open with his family because things were good and there was nothing bad to tell. But as we approached a breakup when we knew things weren't going to work out, I had so much trust in him still that I wasn't afraid my reputation would be tainted with his family. If he wasn't going to tell them that things were good things he certainly wasn't going to tell them the bad. I could rest easy and know that if I ever ran into his family on the street they would still have the same impression of me as they did when we were dating. Good thing for me I never gave them any reason to think poorly of me.
Now, I don't mean to suggest that we shouldn't tell anyone good things about those we date. In fact I wish the world would speak more highly of one another. Camilla Kimball once said that we should "never suppress a generous thought". I would encourage all good things to be acknowledged and spoken. Kind words can only do good, but unkind words can only damage others, whether it be their self esteem or their reputation.
And why do we need to know who broke up with who anyway? In my recent breakup it seemed that that was the question I got most often. Does it really matter? If he broke up with me then I am thoroughly humiliated when I admit it. I'm a loser and inadequate; not up to standard. I'm a failure. That is if I don't give in to the temptation to lie about it to save face. "It was mutual" I would say. If the answer is that I was actually the one that broke up with him, that prompts the question from the asker, "why?" and the door is opened to spill all the juicy details of another's faults that humans love so much to hear. When the news of a breakup is heard, perhaps a better question to ask is, "what happened?" This will allow the questioned party to answer in a sensitive way if they choose to do so.
About a year and half ago I first heard a talk by Hugh W Pinnock called "Ten Keys to Successful Dating and Marriage" that was given at a CES Fireside in the Marriott Center at BYU. One of his key points was that of keeping in confidence. In his talk he specifically mentions that we are never to turn to a third party in time of marital trouble unless it is to the Bishop or Branch President.
"Never ever, never ever, confide your marriage troubles to a third party, no, not even to your closest friend. He or she may be the first to tell your troubles to another, becoming the one to hurt you most severely. Lean on the Savior and rely upon your bishop and your stake president. Remember that because, as the years quickly come and go, there will be stressful times when you will need to talk to someone. Remember who it should be."
Because marriage is such an eternally binding contract this is of utmost importance. If marital issues arise the Bishop should be informed and his guidance sought after. Because I am not married, however, I have wondered to what extent it should be applied to my dating relationships and even relationships with my friends and family. Obviously the Bishop will not need to be involved unless serious transgression has occurred. I am referring more to the confidence part of it.
Human nature is such that we always want to know every juicy little detail about any relationship. For some strange reason humans love any kind of drama that occurs between any two or more people be it good or bad. For example any time I get home from a date and find my roommates at home they immediately want to know everything about it. This is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if the date went well. When things start to escalate with a particular boy I don't see any problem in telling anyone about it. However, there are certain aspects of close relationships that are private and should remain such. For whatever reason those seem to be the hardest secrets to keep to ourselves. So the question we must ask ourselves is "Where is the line between information that should be kept private and information that is okay to share?"
When a friend shares something with me I can usually determine if they are sharing it in confidence without them having to say "Don't tell anyone".
There are different relationships where this can occur:
- In a relationship with an acquaintance
- In a relationship with a close friend or family member
- In a dating relationship
In our relationships with our close friends and family members sometimes we just need to talk about things to someone. I can't count the number of times that either I have spoken with someone about my frustrations with someone else or someone has spoken to me about their frustrations with someone else. I also can't count the times that I have sat in a group setting and spoken about the faults or unfortunate situations of others not present. If they were there we certainly wouldn't be having the conversation because it usually displayed that person in a negative light. Why do we do this?
In a dating relationship family and friends always want to be informed on the progress of the relationship. This is a tricky one for me. I was once dating this guy who never told his family anything about our relationship. He was very close with his family and would take me to see them regularly, but whenever he was asked by his family about the status of our relationship or how things were going he would either say "it's good" or avoid the question altogether. He told them things about me such as that I had served a mission and that I was from Hurricane, but never anything that was only between him and I. The only clues they had to how things were going were how we behaved toward each other when we were around them. At first when he told me that his family knew nothing I was a little bit skeptical. I wondered if he was actually telling me the truth because I myself hadn't afforded him the same treatment. As things progressed, however, I came to find out that he was indeed being honest. His parents and siblings didn't know a thing. I wouldn't have minded had he been more open with his family because things were good and there was nothing bad to tell. But as we approached a breakup when we knew things weren't going to work out, I had so much trust in him still that I wasn't afraid my reputation would be tainted with his family. If he wasn't going to tell them that things were good things he certainly wasn't going to tell them the bad. I could rest easy and know that if I ever ran into his family on the street they would still have the same impression of me as they did when we were dating. Good thing for me I never gave them any reason to think poorly of me.
Now, I don't mean to suggest that we shouldn't tell anyone good things about those we date. In fact I wish the world would speak more highly of one another. Camilla Kimball once said that we should "never suppress a generous thought". I would encourage all good things to be acknowledged and spoken. Kind words can only do good, but unkind words can only damage others, whether it be their self esteem or their reputation.
And why do we need to know who broke up with who anyway? In my recent breakup it seemed that that was the question I got most often. Does it really matter? If he broke up with me then I am thoroughly humiliated when I admit it. I'm a loser and inadequate; not up to standard. I'm a failure. That is if I don't give in to the temptation to lie about it to save face. "It was mutual" I would say. If the answer is that I was actually the one that broke up with him, that prompts the question from the asker, "why?" and the door is opened to spill all the juicy details of another's faults that humans love so much to hear. When the news of a breakup is heard, perhaps a better question to ask is, "what happened?" This will allow the questioned party to answer in a sensitive way if they choose to do so.
Monday, April 8, 2013
Calling All Missionaries
There are two things that I have wanted to do all my life: Serve a mission and attend beauty school. From a spiritual perspective it doesn't seem like the two paths could possibly go in more opposite directions since cosmetologists have earned themselves a relatively poor reputation because of the nature of the industry. Vanity and pride seem to be the core values of most in the profession, and within Utah at least, the typical girls that cosmetology schools attract aren't exactly known for being dedicated to getting a thorough education. For me, I have always wanted to do it because it's something that I thoroughly enjoy and that I'm good at. I get immense satisfaction in making a visible change for the better, especially with people. For the same reason I always took a little pleasure in mowing the lawn, vacuuming, and mopping an especially dirty floor. The change is immediate and dramatic and I particularly enjoy seeing the excited reactions of others upon encountering the beautiful completed project.
In my family there seemed to be a trend as far as where we were sent to serve. All the girls had covered every populated continent except Australia. They went to Quito, Ecuador; Johannesburg, South Africa; Nashville, Tennessee (This one covered the North American continent); St Petersburg, Russia; Dusseldorf, Germany; San Salvador, El Salvador; and Kaohsiung, Taiwan. My brothers had all been called to different quadrants of the States. Macon, Georgia; Fresno, California; Cleveland, Ohio; Lubbock, Texas; and Eugene, Oregon. Naturally I hoped to be called to Australia or New Zealand to continue on this tradition, but when I got my call to Los Angeles (even though it was only a 6 hour drive from my home) I was overjoyed.
I was very excited about my call, but I still felt like I had not yet received an answer as to whether it was right for me to go. The following Sunday after I got my call, it just happened to be my best cousin Shawna's birthday. Her family invited me to eat a little family birthday breakfast with them at their home in Sandy and then attend their Stake Conference at which Elder Richard G. Scott was speaking. When we got to the conference our large family laid claim on a couple of rows towards the back and listened quietly as Elder Scott began to speak. Suddenly, in the middle of his talk he said "Can I get Rachel and Laura Stout to come up to the podium, please?" Rachel and Laura were my two cousins, 16 and 18 years old sitting on either side of me. They were as startled and surprised as the rest of us at the request of Elder Scott. How did he know who they were? So they timidly made their way up to the podium and Elder Scott put his arms around them and asked them a few simple questions. He asked them why they decided to be such stalwart examples of living the Gospel. He asked them why they dressed modestly and why they chose to read their scriptures regularly, and then invited them to bear their testimonies to the congregation. As he excused them to sit down he told them he wanted to meet their wonderful family at the conclusion of the meeting. As the meeting ended we all went up and stood behind the podium and waited for Elder Scott to finish shaking hands with the members of the Stake. He then turned to us and went around the circle asking each individual about their lives and their plans. When he finally got to me he shook my hand and immediately my Aunt Linda announced "She just got her mission call!". He asked me where and I told him proudly that I was to be serving in the California Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center, Spanish speaking. As soon as I said it he cocked his head a little and looked at me with sort of a quizzical eye and asked "when did you get that call?" To this I responded, "it was just last week!". Then he said, slowly and thoughtfully "I remember you! I was the one who issued your call. If you don't know already I can bear testimony to you that you are making the right choice. I remember feeling a very distinct impression that that is where you should go and you will have many rich and rewarding experiences while you're there."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing! Here was the member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles telling me that he was the one who issued my call and that he felt very strongly that it was right for me to go there. It was amazing that with the hundreds of applicants they have each week that he even remembered who I was. The answer to my plea was given directly to me by a Prophet of God! This tremendous response to my request played a vital role in my continued preparation to serve my mission. In the 4 months that I waited to leave, a truckload of opposition was dumped right in my path. Because of this experience, however, I was able to refer back to it to remind myself about why I made the decision to go. His final statement proved to be Prophetic. I did have many great and rewarding experiences while I was there, and no experience could have ever prepared me for life like my mission did.
I learned a few things from this experience. I learned that God really does care about us and He is there to answer our prayers. It was reaffirmed to me that there really are Prophets of God to lead and guide us and that they are in direct communication with God to do so. Also, if we are doing everything we can to keep the commandments, God will allow us to be in the right place at the right time to have the experiences we need to prepare us for future events. He really cares about where we go and what we do. The callings we receive as missionaries and members alike are inspired wholly by Him.
As far as always wanting to serve a mission, I have had the examples of 13 older siblings and a father who's mission experiences I have been able to learn from and aspire to. I just knew it was something I always wanted to do, and it was always something looming in my future that I couldn't ever seem to see past. My aspirations for the future only vaguely extended beyond my mission, and I knew that those decisions would become more clear to me as I reached the peak of my service. When it finally came time to put in my application papers, however, I was suddenly unsure because I had neglected to ask the Lord if it was right for me to go. I always just assumed it was right. I got on my knees and prayed fervently for an answer, but none seemed to come. After some time, I still wasn't getting the affirmative or the negative, so I decided to exercise a little faith. In my prayers I finally said, "Heavenly Father, I have decided I want to go on a mission. Please let me know if this is wrong." I submitted my papers and within 4 days I received my call. In my family there seemed to be a trend as far as where we were sent to serve. All the girls had covered every populated continent except Australia. They went to Quito, Ecuador; Johannesburg, South Africa; Nashville, Tennessee (This one covered the North American continent); St Petersburg, Russia; Dusseldorf, Germany; San Salvador, El Salvador; and Kaohsiung, Taiwan. My brothers had all been called to different quadrants of the States. Macon, Georgia; Fresno, California; Cleveland, Ohio; Lubbock, Texas; and Eugene, Oregon. Naturally I hoped to be called to Australia or New Zealand to continue on this tradition, but when I got my call to Los Angeles (even though it was only a 6 hour drive from my home) I was overjoyed.
I was very excited about my call, but I still felt like I had not yet received an answer as to whether it was right for me to go. The following Sunday after I got my call, it just happened to be my best cousin Shawna's birthday. Her family invited me to eat a little family birthday breakfast with them at their home in Sandy and then attend their Stake Conference at which Elder Richard G. Scott was speaking. When we got to the conference our large family laid claim on a couple of rows towards the back and listened quietly as Elder Scott began to speak. Suddenly, in the middle of his talk he said "Can I get Rachel and Laura Stout to come up to the podium, please?" Rachel and Laura were my two cousins, 16 and 18 years old sitting on either side of me. They were as startled and surprised as the rest of us at the request of Elder Scott. How did he know who they were? So they timidly made their way up to the podium and Elder Scott put his arms around them and asked them a few simple questions. He asked them why they decided to be such stalwart examples of living the Gospel. He asked them why they dressed modestly and why they chose to read their scriptures regularly, and then invited them to bear their testimonies to the congregation. As he excused them to sit down he told them he wanted to meet their wonderful family at the conclusion of the meeting. As the meeting ended we all went up and stood behind the podium and waited for Elder Scott to finish shaking hands with the members of the Stake. He then turned to us and went around the circle asking each individual about their lives and their plans. When he finally got to me he shook my hand and immediately my Aunt Linda announced "She just got her mission call!". He asked me where and I told him proudly that I was to be serving in the California Los Angeles Temple Visitors Center, Spanish speaking. As soon as I said it he cocked his head a little and looked at me with sort of a quizzical eye and asked "when did you get that call?" To this I responded, "it was just last week!". Then he said, slowly and thoughtfully "I remember you! I was the one who issued your call. If you don't know already I can bear testimony to you that you are making the right choice. I remember feeling a very distinct impression that that is where you should go and you will have many rich and rewarding experiences while you're there."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing! Here was the member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles telling me that he was the one who issued my call and that he felt very strongly that it was right for me to go there. It was amazing that with the hundreds of applicants they have each week that he even remembered who I was. The answer to my plea was given directly to me by a Prophet of God! This tremendous response to my request played a vital role in my continued preparation to serve my mission. In the 4 months that I waited to leave, a truckload of opposition was dumped right in my path. Because of this experience, however, I was able to refer back to it to remind myself about why I made the decision to go. His final statement proved to be Prophetic. I did have many great and rewarding experiences while I was there, and no experience could have ever prepared me for life like my mission did.
I learned a few things from this experience. I learned that God really does care about us and He is there to answer our prayers. It was reaffirmed to me that there really are Prophets of God to lead and guide us and that they are in direct communication with God to do so. Also, if we are doing everything we can to keep the commandments, God will allow us to be in the right place at the right time to have the experiences we need to prepare us for future events. He really cares about where we go and what we do. The callings we receive as missionaries and members alike are inspired wholly by Him.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Fish Are Food, Not Friends
In todays world if I were to tell the public about every experience with animals I had growing up on the farm, my family would probably be apprehended and locked away, or at the very least shunned by the general population. Since we were raised on a farm we have quite a different perspective of animals than most people do. We're always respectful to life, but sometimes things just happen, you know? Like that one time as the weather was finally heating up we found 3 dead chickens in the swamp cooler. Or when we came home from church to find that someone had left the front door open and a bunch of chickens were kicking back on our couches watching the sports channel. Or that other time with Haylee and the frog and the door... yikes. Or that other time when we never solved the mystery of the missing goldfish. My mom found the 2-year old on the counter by the previously occupied tank, but never found the fish. Then there was the time when Sara had that accident with an entire family of ducks, or the new driver Savannah with the dog, or Daniel with the goat. Then those countless times with the homeless baby chicks in a box, the tadpoles in a cup, and the ants and spiders in a mason jar. Then that one time with Mom and the gopher and the hose, and mom and the scorpion, and Mom and the lizard, and Mom and the hyper little dog named Rascal. Then Jared and the hamsters, Sondra and that nasty millipede from South Africa and Tyler and the dove... yech. The more I think about it, the more I realize why I'm not fond of the idea to keep animals as pets. Let them be. They're safer without human interaction. At least from my family, anyway.
Obviously, animals all have a purpose and a place in life. Sometimes their place is to torment me like those pesky mosquitos, flies and goldfish. (Remember when Sondra got her hair all caught up in that insect-covered fly trap?) Sometimes their place is for the use of man. Cows serve a couple different functions. We did have that one cow, Betsy that gave us literally everything she had to offer. 17 years of milk and 17 year-old meat. Chickens are some of the dumbest animals I have ever interacted with, but I do appreciate their product. One time it was harvesting time for the chickens (if you know what I mean) and I was assigned the task of catching them all at dusk and putting them in the chicken coop to be ready for easy catching in the morning. (One time we had a headless rooster that literally kicked a bucket, then died). I caught almost all of them, but there was this one hen who kept jumping up on a small haystack to settle in for the night. I kept trying to corner her but she always jumped up and ran over the top of the stack before I could catch her. Then I'd back off a bit and within minutes she was right back on the same haystack and we'd do our little dance all over again. I must have tried 25 times to catch her. I don't know who was dumber, me or the chicken.
Pigs are strictly for eating, but I suppose I have had a precious little moment with a pig before. It's how I earned my nickname "Fern". I must have been 15 or so when a sow had just finished birthing a litter of pigs. There must have been 8 or 9 of them. It was in the middle of the winter and there was this one little runt that we didn't expect to live because the other little piglets kept pushing it out into the cold and it wasn't big enough to push its way back in. So I decided to take it upon myself to take that little pig in. It was about the size of a tennis shoe, and wiggly as a bored toddler. I guess he was kinda cute, but being not much of an animal person it was hard to let go of my pride to admit it. I washed him and gave him a box to sleep in for the night in my room and made him as comfortable as I could with plenty of towels to cuddle up to, but Wilbur wouldn't have it. He squealed and squealed all night long until I couldn't take it anymore. I finally wrapped him in a towel and let him cuddle up to me in my bed. It worked. The night became peaceful and quiet. I suppose the little girl in me was satisfied and I felt somewhat validated because the little guy loved me like his mother. I ended up keeping him for a couple of weeks I think before we plumped him up enough to get him back outside again. But he did live, and I suppose I was happy about it.
I haven't figured out the purpose of keeping ducks or geese yet, but we have them. Some of those geese are mean little suckers. I was always afraid of gathering the eggs when we had geese because I was afraid one of them might attack me. I had been chased plenty of times before and seen enough battle wounds on my brothers and nephews to know not to mess with them. We have turkeys too, one we named "Obama". I've never heard of a rogue turkey but because they were similar in size and I'd had enough scares with the geese, I always grouped them in the same "animals to avoid" category. Especially since they're so scary looking.
If I were forced for whatever reason to have any kind of pet, you might could pay me to have a beta fish. They're relatively easy to maintain and they don't make noise, leave their DNA on the couches or leave the premises where they can get snatched up by a predator or animal control. Goldfish, on the other hand, are way too high maintenance, are annoyingly orange, and die if you so much as look at them funny. Last summer my roommate/best cousin Shawna "won" a goldfish from the carnival. She very proudly brought it home and put it in a bowl and there Warrior has lived like a champion up until three days ago. When I heard the news of his death I was a little less than sad; I sipped the rest of my Jamba and skipped merrily on my way. A few days later I was driving myself and my hilarious niece Anna home from Institute. Naturally, the subject turned to goldfish and I proceeded to tell her that if anyone asked me if we could have another goldfish I would tell them no. She thought it was unusually hilarious. When we got home, she collapsed into a giggling fit in the entry way and I couldn't figure out why. Only to turn around to see this:
NOOOOOO!!! What a dirty trick. Yep, that's 50 of them, folks. 50 slimy little replacements for Warrior. These are the culprits of this sick little joke:
Anna, Emily, Abby. How could you do this to me? You know my disdain for goldfish. I just feel bad for those little fishies because when Shawna cleans the bowl she's going to have to use a strainer to get them all out. I'll probably just save her the hassle and sneak them off to that nice little Koi pond at a nearby Sushi restaurant when no one is looking.
Obviously, animals all have a purpose and a place in life. Sometimes their place is to torment me like those pesky mosquitos, flies and goldfish. (Remember when Sondra got her hair all caught up in that insect-covered fly trap?) Sometimes their place is for the use of man. Cows serve a couple different functions. We did have that one cow, Betsy that gave us literally everything she had to offer. 17 years of milk and 17 year-old meat. Chickens are some of the dumbest animals I have ever interacted with, but I do appreciate their product. One time it was harvesting time for the chickens (if you know what I mean) and I was assigned the task of catching them all at dusk and putting them in the chicken coop to be ready for easy catching in the morning. (One time we had a headless rooster that literally kicked a bucket, then died). I caught almost all of them, but there was this one hen who kept jumping up on a small haystack to settle in for the night. I kept trying to corner her but she always jumped up and ran over the top of the stack before I could catch her. Then I'd back off a bit and within minutes she was right back on the same haystack and we'd do our little dance all over again. I must have tried 25 times to catch her. I don't know who was dumber, me or the chicken.
Pigs are strictly for eating, but I suppose I have had a precious little moment with a pig before. It's how I earned my nickname "Fern". I must have been 15 or so when a sow had just finished birthing a litter of pigs. There must have been 8 or 9 of them. It was in the middle of the winter and there was this one little runt that we didn't expect to live because the other little piglets kept pushing it out into the cold and it wasn't big enough to push its way back in. So I decided to take it upon myself to take that little pig in. It was about the size of a tennis shoe, and wiggly as a bored toddler. I guess he was kinda cute, but being not much of an animal person it was hard to let go of my pride to admit it. I washed him and gave him a box to sleep in for the night in my room and made him as comfortable as I could with plenty of towels to cuddle up to, but Wilbur wouldn't have it. He squealed and squealed all night long until I couldn't take it anymore. I finally wrapped him in a towel and let him cuddle up to me in my bed. It worked. The night became peaceful and quiet. I suppose the little girl in me was satisfied and I felt somewhat validated because the little guy loved me like his mother. I ended up keeping him for a couple of weeks I think before we plumped him up enough to get him back outside again. But he did live, and I suppose I was happy about it.
I haven't figured out the purpose of keeping ducks or geese yet, but we have them. Some of those geese are mean little suckers. I was always afraid of gathering the eggs when we had geese because I was afraid one of them might attack me. I had been chased plenty of times before and seen enough battle wounds on my brothers and nephews to know not to mess with them. We have turkeys too, one we named "Obama". I've never heard of a rogue turkey but because they were similar in size and I'd had enough scares with the geese, I always grouped them in the same "animals to avoid" category. Especially since they're so scary looking.
If I were forced for whatever reason to have any kind of pet, you might could pay me to have a beta fish. They're relatively easy to maintain and they don't make noise, leave their DNA on the couches or leave the premises where they can get snatched up by a predator or animal control. Goldfish, on the other hand, are way too high maintenance, are annoyingly orange, and die if you so much as look at them funny. Last summer my roommate/best cousin Shawna "won" a goldfish from the carnival. She very proudly brought it home and put it in a bowl and there Warrior has lived like a champion up until three days ago. When I heard the news of his death I was a little less than sad; I sipped the rest of my Jamba and skipped merrily on my way. A few days later I was driving myself and my hilarious niece Anna home from Institute. Naturally, the subject turned to goldfish and I proceeded to tell her that if anyone asked me if we could have another goldfish I would tell them no. She thought it was unusually hilarious. When we got home, she collapsed into a giggling fit in the entry way and I couldn't figure out why. Only to turn around to see this:
NOOOOOO!!! What a dirty trick. Yep, that's 50 of them, folks. 50 slimy little replacements for Warrior. These are the culprits of this sick little joke:
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