Ocean Waves

As with many of my blog topics, this may not be the most original idea you have ever heard. But I am going to try to give it my spin, and I hope it resonates with you like it does for me.

I love the sound of ocean waves. I love the crash and fall, I love their comforting consistency, and I love the ripples that they make. I sat out on the beach the other day with my sister, and I recalled memories of waves and the way to predict them. Short answer is: I can't. I always try to predict how far up they will come. I place my toes solid in the sand and wait for the water to wash over me. The water then comes just a little too short. So then I move in a lot closer, and it gets all of my feet and ankles wet. Rarely do I time it just right, so the water brushes across my toes and makes me smile. 

Then there are my escapades boogie boarding. I often found myself knocked over at the knees by an unexpected crash. Or I would stand in shallow water, disappointed that I was not more soaked. I simply cannot seem to find the perfect timing for the waves. Maybe this means I need to spend more time in the ocean, for research and such. I would gladly make that sacrifice. Or maybe, as I hope you understand, the waves are simply unpredictable. Like the weather or the fashion choices of Lady Gaga, they are hard to precisely determine. The wandering beach-goer, like myself, simply has to take her chances with the water.

Now, I hope you know where I am going with this. Every day is like a wave. You think you have it figured out, and then suddenly, it crashes in an unexpected way. My man JGL best explained it in 500 Days of Summer :

You think you have your day figured out. You wake up with a plan, and then it suddenly goes an entirely different path. Expectations v. Reality. We have to learn to be alright even though life does not fit our expectations. Reality can sometimes bite. But that is o.k. No person can exactly predict the future. We are all just wandering beach-goers, trying to figure out the best place to stick ourselves in the water. 

So, here is  my challenge to you. Go ahead, and stick your toes in the sand. Be adventurous. Take risks. I'm warning you, you may get knocked over at the knees. You may be tossed around, and it may hurt. But it will be worth it in the end. There is always something better around the corner, just like Autumn for JGL or the perfect moments when the water brushes your toes just right. It will  And that is the musing of a marvelous me. 

This I Believe

In honor of my English 423 final I am taking today, I would like to share with everyone my anthology writing piece.

This I Believe

            “Is it hard to raise a kid?”

            “I wouldn’t know. My wife takes care of her.”

            “And your wife always has dinner for you when you get home?”

            “Ya.”

            “Wow. Being married sure must have its perks.”

            As that last sentence floated across the partition between my office and their study room, I swear a passerby would have seen steam coming out of my ears. I was incensed, and at the same, saddened, by the conversation I had just overheard between these two men. Part of me could not believe that neither of them understood the real meaning of marriage, especially given their obvious lack of respect for both the mother and the daughter. Another part of me, my feminist side, wanted to jump in and defend both women. I wanted to march over there and ask these two men how they could be so insensitive. I believe in the equity of women and men, and I believe that both sexes should be respected and valued equally. Overhearing conversations like this just continues to demonstrate how far we as a world still have to go.

            I have always been interested in women and women’s studies. Whenever an English professor would assign a critical analysis paper, I would almost always choose to do a feminist critique. Gender relations, definitions, concepts: all of these fascinate me. But it was not until my junior year of college that I began to fully articulate these beliefs. After a culmination of experiences in which I was belittled or discriminated against because I was female, I began to search my soul. Does God love his children equally? Are men and women equally in importance and purpose? I came back from this experience with a resounding answer. Yes. God cares for all his children equally, regardless of gender, race, color, or culture. I realized I needed to pursue Women’s Studies because I wanted to expand my knowledge and work for a world of parity and peace.

            I believe that feminism is essential to the world. I believe that feminism means the pursuit of equality for all people. I know that people misinterpret the word ‘feminism’ daily, thinking it means I want to burn my bra and push men away. When I tell some men that I am a women’s studies minor, they usually smirk and say, “So am I.” That used to drive me crazy. But I now I just ignore it and realize that means they just do not understand the true meaning of feminism. It means loving all people because they are people. It means looking past gender stereotypes and not expecting your wife to have dinner ready when you get home. It means liberating all individuals. I believe in feminism because I believe in the power that comes from respecting all people equally.

National Cookie Day and Hot Chocolate Chats

        So, my amazing professor, Dr. Dean, celebrated her birthday today. I swear she is an English Teaching goddess. Even though it was her special day, she remembered it was also National Cookie Day, and so she brought all of us cookies. Wow, she amazes me. I made monster cookies the other day, and so I came home after a long day of work and school and ate another cookie, just to celebrate one more time. :)

     
        Now, today has felt like one of those never-ending days, and I have just been waiting to come home, put on a comfy sweater, pull my hair up, and drink peppermint hot chocolate. I talked my roommate into sharing in this essential relaxation, and it was wonderful. We had a marvelous chat about our day while pretending to be the hosts of a chat show. I can't really decide if we are funny enough to host our own show, or if we just think we are funny enough....That sounds like a perfect topic for discussion for our next show! Shout outs go to my beautiful roommate, the Coco-motion, and the Jet-puffed Mallow Bits in the dispensable container.

     Sometimes life can seem overwhelming and chaotic and crazy. But National Cookie Day and hot chocolate chats with your roommate can just really make everything seem a little brighter. And that is the musing of a marvelous me. :)

Paths to Follow

       Alright, blogging world, tonight is going to be a little more personal. But I can't seem to shake this thought process, and I am hoping to reach out to other people like me. So here it goes...

        I have wanted to serve a full time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since I was a little girl. My mother and father's stories of missionary experience gave me a desire to share my testimony and beliefs with others. I even dressed up as a sister missionary one year in high school for Halloween. I have always felt a kinship for sister missionaries, and I am currently writing a biography of the first full-time proselytizing sister missionary for the LDS Church, Inez Knight Allen.

       When I came to BYU, I had no clue that I would lose all of my male friends right after my freshman year. I felt hurt and alone. I longed to serve just like there were, and I found myself angry and upset with those who left just because it was the way to fit in or because of pressure. Didn't they see that a mission was so much more? Why couldn't more people wait and pray until they knew the Lord wanted them to go?

       I was also sick and tired of hearing that women only went because they weren't married or didn't know what to do with their lives. Sisters were just as important as elders. I knew that from my incredible mom. I was determined to serve and prove them wrong.

        Well, the Lord threw some much needed perspective my way over the next few years. I started to realize that I was determined to do the same thing that frustrated me so much: serve to make a point. I realized that true missionary service is more about always being a disciple of Christ rather than wearing a name tag. And most importantly, I realized that I should only serve if I knew that is what the Lord wanted for me. This period of time also helped me realize what I truly believed in, and that my testimony and conversion are a process that I work at everyday.

        Now there has been a recent change in missionary age (Mormon Newsroom Article) , and things seem to be taking a dramatic upswing for sister service. I think that is a beautiful and marvelous change. But... I have also been asked a lot of other questions about my personal life. This seems to be especially true of prospective sister missionaries. They seem to have it all figured out for me. I should try to defer my scholarship. I should just go now, or else I will be married before I can.

         I would like to emphasize something very clearly at this point: everyone makes their own decisions in life. Everyone has their own path to follow. Just as I should not be concerned or frustrated over other people's opinions (which, as demonstrated above, I am still imperfect), other people should not feel the need or desire to tell me when to serve or how to serve. I am going to be a sister missionary now in the best ways that I can, and I will continue to counsel with the Lord as to the decisions I should make for my life. I will follow the path that I feel is best for me. I am happy and excited for the prospects of sister missionary service for all of my friends, but I hope they will be happy and excited for my prospects in life. And that is the musing of a marvelous me.

The Little Things

        O.K., get ready for a clichéd and trite post. But today, I want to take a moment to appreciate the little moments in life. 

         Last night did not go as planned, but my roommate and I did make a miraculous discovery. We are experts at the game of catching small food items in your mouth. We should work as a circus duo with our an uncanny ability in the game of catching Goldfish cracker. I am the catcher, and she is the thrower. It does NOT work the other way. I cannot throw, and she cannot catch. But when placed in its proper order, we are unstoppable. We have got a rhythm that is quite extraordinary, if you ask me. After practicing for awhile in our room, we took our side show to the crowds, showing our other roommates and friends. The pressure of the spotlight did not halter our abilities. In fact, it seemed to only enhance them. We have developed quite a knack for this game, and we are thinking of filming our success and putting it online. I mean, we even managed to make it work with a cherry tomato. We are planning on moving on to Sour Patch Kids next...Watch out, world. We might just be the next lame America's Got Talent contestants. 

         For tips on how to be as successful as we are, check out this Wiki-How: How to Catch Small Food Objects in Your Mouth

         Then, today, brought another little thing. I finally finished up all of my to-do list for the week, and the entire day felt like a Friday. Thank you, odd BYU schedule. For the first time in a very long time, I felt this peace and relaxation sweep over me. I do not have to go to work. I do not have to edit papers. I do not have worry about my observation hours anymore. I can set aside my homework for a day. I can listen to music and feel completely at ease. I can do all of my favorite, odd, little tasks, like organizing my sock drawer and washing my sheets. (That sounds OCD. I promise it's not. :P ) I can take time for Amy. Those words rarely appear in the same sentence together, but today, they finally do. 

        So today, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am simply grateful for the little things like catching food in your mouth with an amazing roommate and feeling peace settle back into your skin.  I am grateful for the little moments in life that make you laugh and smile. And that is the musing of a marvelous me. 

The Lost Art of Letter Writing

         I love getting letters. There is something really magical about going out to the mailbox and finding a letter from a friend or loved one with your name on it. It seems to say, "Why, hello there! I'm here to tell you that someone out there cares so much about you that they wrote you this letter." (Hopefully the letter doesn't actually talk to you...if that is the case, then you have entered Hogwarts. Then you need to contact me IMMEDIATELY.) A letter that is two pages or more means that this is the real deal. That person really cares about you. Honestly, getting letters is one of the greatest joys in life.

        Unfortunately, it seems to be a dying art. People are not taking the time to sit down and write letters to one another. An e-mail can be thoughtful, but it is not nearly as exciting or meaningful as a letter penned with thought and care. To quote Manny Delgado, "It's a lost art. No one puts pen to paper anymore." Hopeful this art does not fade away, like cursive handwriting seems to be headed. That is another tragedy that I will try to preserve in my future classroom, along with letter writing. I want people to experience the pure joy of receiving a hand-written letter, and then help them cherish that gift they have received.

      This entire love of letter writing has led me to my happy musing for today. I am amazed and ecstatic over a "worldwide collaborative art project" that I discovered called Snail Mail My Email. This incredible project takes an email that you send them (100 words or less) and turns it into a beautiful, handwritten letter. You provide them with the address to send it, and they will do the whole thing for free. They will also even include a little extra touch, like a lipstick kiss or a flower petal. All of the instructions are on the website that can be found by clicking the link above. It is seriously an amazing opportunity, and it runs until this Friday. Please, be a part of this amazing phenomena. You could even get a little crazy and write one on your own. :)

      I have sent one to someone special today, and I encourage you to do the same. It only takes a few minutes, and it is well-worth the effort. Just do it! Send a letter to someone to show how much you care. I promise you won't regret it. And that is the musing of a marvelous me.

      Please comment below if you chose to send a letter... I want to hear your stories!

A Day to Never Forget

Today, I lived up November 6th. I was a volunteer for the Utah Colleges Exit Poll. It was a chance to really participate in political research, and it felt wonderful to witness the United States political system at play. I loved the instantaneous feeling of helping learn results and asking people for their opinion. I believe that is the real beauty of election day: demonstrating that everyone's opinion matters. It is a feeling of validation rarely found anywhere else. It is a true expression of free speech.


But the greatest moment of my day was voting for the very first time as a United States Citizen. I am going to proudly admit that I almost cried in the voter booth. (Of course, remembering Leslie Knope at that moment, too.) I realized that my opinion matters; that my voice is important. I loved voting. I thought of my suffragette heroines, like Emmeline B. Wells and Susan B. Anthony who made it possible for me to vote. Susan never got the chance, and it breaks my heart. But I vote in respect of her hard-fought battle that made it possible for me.


Maybe someday I will be just like Leslie Knope, and vote for my name on a ballot. But for now, I am simply extremely grateful for the chance I had to vote today. I love voting. And that is just the musing of a marvelous me.

Wishing for a Way to Stop Time

            More often than not, I feel like there is simply not enough time in the day. I mentioned it in a previous blog post, but I keep a crazy schedule, with color coding and endless checklists. Some days I wake up and look at everything I have ahead of me, and I think, "Maybe I will just curl up in bed today, make some *Nutella hot chocolate*, and watch a movie."That moment of implausible thought is enough to make me realize that I can't stop, that I just need to keep moving. But in that small moment,  I begin to ache inside for peace and quiet. I love for a day or two to myself, with no required schedule or deadlines to meet. This year, in an attempt to do everything possible my Senior year, I think I have booked myself too full. From fifteen credits to work to conferences to planning committees and more, I just feel like I am run on schedule that will not stop. I find myself worn down, feeling like a horse that has run too far without stopping. 

             In these times, I wish for a way to stop time. To simply press pause on my life and take a break from the chaos. It would be the greatest gift in the world. I would love to just take a day off. I know this is a first world problem, but I have been in school for four straight years. I have worked a full time job during most of that time. I just feel tired, and I know that this is only the beginning. Adulthood is calling, as my senior teaching classes keep reminding me. I hope that Thanksgiving Break and Christmas Break will be enough to really help me relax, take it easy, and re-cooperate. And next semester, I will definitely re-evaluate my schedule. 

*The Recipe for Nutella Hot Chocolate*- I recommend two tablespoons, not one and a half. The more, the better. 

Serious with a Side of Funny

Tonight, I had plans to take a step away from the posts about random dance parties and British chocolate. I wanted to turn my attention to a more serious topic and discuss my thoughts after watching the PBS Documentary Half the Sky. It was inspiring, incredible, powerful...insert your own intensifier here. I watched it tonight online because it is expiring at midnight, and I decided it was more important than my other homework or cleaning checks. My assessment was correct: it was the best thing I could have done for myself today. I recommend every checks it out. Half The Sky will change the way you look at improving the lives of women around the world.

Anyways, I was going to devote my whole blog post to the topic until I entered the necessary pastime of all college students- watching YouTube Videos and looking at blogs about animals. I was reminded that sometimes it is good to keep the troubles in check with some hearty giggles and belly-aching chuckles.  I want to fill the world with smiles, and I think that sometimes the best way to do that is through sharing what I find inspirational and sometimes just a little silly. So here are my top five pics for the night:

5. Squirrels with Day Jobs- Yes, you read that right. It is a slideshow of pictures of squirrels dressed up in costumes. Hopefully, it is not too ridiculous to bring you at least a smile or two. Here is a teaser image for you:

4. Extreme Sheep Herding

There are LED lights, photo imaging, crazily talented dogs...just watch it. You will not regret it. And make sure to tip your hats off to talented Brits with mad sheep herding skills

3. A little surprise- Just click on the link, and smile.

2. The Girl You Wish You Hadn't Started a Conversation with at a Party- This video is proof that Saturday Night Live can still be funny. I know way too many of these girls and guys. We need to stop pretending we care, and actually start listening to ourselves, rather than staring at our phones.

And my #1 Pick.....Drum roll please....

Cuties and Their Equally Cute Canines- This slideshow changed my day. I loved it more than words can express. It was the ultimate inspiration for this blog post. The commentary below is even better. I know that it will make anyone smile. I mean, just look at Ryan Reynolds and his canine cutie.

I hope you find reasons to smile everyday. It is the small moments that really make a difference. And that is just a musing of a marvelous me. :D

My Obsession with British Chocolate

Well, its time to come clean: I am obsessed with British chocolate. My obsession fixates particularly around Cadbury chocolate, manufactured in the United Kingdom. (The distinction is important because the majority of the Cadbury chocolate available for purchase in the U.S. is now manufactured by Hershey's. The quality is not nearly as good....These facts are simply proving the extent of my obsession.) Roald Dahl's autobiography Boy tells of how he got the idea for Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory when he was a young boy in British boarding school. Cadbury would send little packages of their chocolates for the boys to try and then rate on a form they would send back to the company.  I can attest that this chocolate really is that powerful. It could inspire a legendary tale like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. 

My obsession is not something to be proud of, and it does not mean that I only eat chocolate from across the pond. I still enjoy a good bag of M&Ms or Reese Peanut Butter Cup. But it will never warm my heart like a Cadbury Milk Chocolate bar does.

The obsession started young. My family and I went to England when I was twelve to visit my grandparents who were living there at the time. We took a trip to Bournville, England, to visit Cadbury World. It is a place of magic and wonder. Our entrance tickets really were like Golden Tickets. They handed us each three full size candy bars with our tickets. At that moment, I knew then that I would never be the same.  

I went back to England on study abroad with an express responsibility to my family to bring back an entire suitcase filled with Cadbury. When I stepped off the plane at Heathrow, I discovered another magical site: a Cadbury chocolate vending machine. I knew I was in the right place. I would buy it in bulk and store it at the flat, enduring a lot of teasing from my professors and fellow students alike. But I knew it would be worth it. Real Cadbury chocolate is hard to come by in the U.S., and my stash would hopefully last for a while.





Unfortunately, it ran out quick, and I knew I needed to find more. That is when I discovered Blickenstaff's, a marvelous candy/toy store in the Riverwoods. There I found my Boost bars, my Twirls, my Cadbury Dairy, and even my mint Aero bars. Without their supply of British chocolate, I would be paying a crazy premium for Cadbury chocolate flown in from overseas. I love going to Blickenstaffs, and I love seeing the large tollbooth filled with my favorites.

So here is my slice of life: go to Blickenstaff's, and try a piece of Cadbury chocolate. It will bring a bit of magic into your life. There is a reason that chocolate is a cure for the despair of Dementors...but remember, its British chocolate they're eating. And that's just the musing of a marvelous me.

Impromptu Dance Parties

          As seems to be a running theme to my posts, life can sometimes throw you a curve ball and challenge you. Think of the old adage, "The only predictable part of life is its unpredictability." I have found a true source of instant relief and happiness. Crazy, funny, and unplanned dance parties. These can be at your computer while working on an insane amount of homework. They can be in the bathroom while brushing your teeth. They can even be while walking to a job. Maybe my passion for impromptu dance parties comes from my love of inane pop songs. I blame Lizzie McGuire...or any of her Disney Channel cohorts. My happiest days begin with a hairbrush as a microphone.

         While watching a really wonderful online video blog series called "Smart Girls", I discovered that Amy Poehler ends each video blog with a dance party. I love that idea. Life is amazing and incredible. We should all dance randomly every single day. Watch her for a little inspiration if you have a moment: 

Finally, I cannot help but recommend a few songs for your random dance parties. There is always the classic "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper. Or go for something a little newer with One Direction's "What Makes You Beautiful." Any of their songs will do just fine. There is even the extremely hyped up "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jeppesen. Find a song that makes you happy and puts a little pep in your step. I love walking to class every day with my headphones in and music blaring. I dance every day, even if it is just in my mind. I have even been known to execute some real-life fancy footwork and full on 360 degree spins when I think no one is looking. If dancing in public isn't your thing, try to catch me looking like a fool. Hopefully I will inspire you to have an impromptu dance party of  your own. Just a little musing from a marvelous me. :)

Slice of Life: Scrapping the Schedule

Sometimes, you may think that your day must stick to a solid schedule. No derivations for me today, you think to yourself! You have a perfectly catalogued day, with specific assignments and responsibilities outlined in a perfect color-coded system. It may look something like this:

If it is like mine, it would probably be much more complex and insane. Today was one of those days. I hit a point in my day where I needed to be productive. But I felt like I had been running non-stop. My emotional stability was....absent. So, I sat down and called my mom. I talked through my day and reconfirmed my sanity by consulting with the best counselor in the world. Talking with her is like talking with a much wiser and more mature me. I come from her and find that when life does not make sense, she is the obvious option for help.

As I closed up the conversation with her, I walked into the library and sat down for a moment before going in to complete my to-do list. I looked through the large glass windows and spotted two close friends from high school. I realized then that my list was unimportant. These friends had been put in my path to give me a better sense of direction than I had had with my perfectly planned schedule. I needed my mom, and I needed these friends to help re-establish my stability. They gave me the extra push I needed for the rest of the day. So sometimes, it is really the wiser choice to scrap the schedule and simply go with the flow. Just my slice of life for today. :)

Painful Process

I Shall Be Whole by Al Young

       Pain can come in so many different forms: physical, mental, spiritual, emotional... Each one affects us differently and is individual to us. We can only try to sympathize and/or empathize with the pain of another person because we will never truly experience the exact same amount or type of pain as they have. Every individual is burdened with different types and degrees of pain. In a way, pain is like a snowflake, never exactly the same as it was before. Our bodies, minds, and hearts adapt after experiencing pain, and so every subsequent pain is altered by anything that came before. Pain can be remembered and held on to, like a grudge. Most often, pain can only be felt, but not visibly seen. As the hymn "More Holiness Give Me" so eloquently puts, "Sorrow that the eye can't see." Pain is almost impossible to measure because it is so unique to each person.

      But the real beauty of pain is the fact that is the start of  process towards strength. Whatever the end result may be, we eventually know that pain will end. It will shape us to be better people, and help us to become who we need to be. Exercising is the best metaphor for this concept. When you work out for the first time in a long time, your muscles feel it. There is an ache in your bones that tells you that you are molding your body into something better. The loss of breath, the roar of your thighs, the desire to collapse: all of these tell you to keep up the work. Your body will eventually use the pain to strengthen itself. It will become better because you have endured the pain. The pain will lessen as you continue to exercise, to teach your body how to find new levels of strength.

      All of these thoughts stem from a painful weekend, on all different levels. A sore throat, aching body,  and a broken heart vary in levels of intensity. And fortunately the reality is, the pain will not last. Eventually my throat will heal, my body will replenish, and my heart will mend with time. These different levels of pain will take different amounts of time to overcome. I will have to work and wait in patience until the pain will entirely subside. But when it is over, I will have become a stronger and better person. The pain will have taught me new lessons: get more sleep, take better care of myself, and to be a more compassionate person.

      And the most incredible thing about all of this pain is the resounding fact that one individual does exist that understands my pain: my Savior, Jesus Christ. He knows my sorrows and my struggles. He knows what I have gone through. One of my favorite heroines of the scriptures is the Woman with the Issue of Blood. I can empathize with her pain in a very personal way, and I have always admired her powerful faith. She knew that if she only touched the hem of the Savior's robe and had the faith, then she would be healed. This short exchange with Christ teaches us so much about her and about Him. I want that kind of faith. I want to be that aware that I could notice when someone in a crowd would reach out and touch me. I want the Savior to heal me. Because I know that He is the only one who will truly heal me. This was reaffirmed to me last night as I was searching for comfort and discovered the most recent Bible video on the Mormon Messages YouTube Channel: Jesus Heals a Woman of Faith. I recommend it to everyone. It brought me comfort, and it reaffirmed my knowledge that it is only through the Savior that we can truly be made whole. He will help us turn our pain into strength. And that is the musing of a marvelous me.

      How have you overcome pain? Who are your heroines or heroes for finding strength in pain? Please share your musings with me.

Mudslides and Memories

          Hello, blogging world! This is my venture into a writer's blog, and so I think the best way to begin is with a story from today. New beginnings, new stories, new adventures. So read on to take a peek into the musings of my mind...

         I am taking an English class that I absolutely love, but this morning, I overslept my alarm and was running behind. There is a detour by my apartment that makes getting to class on time really difficult, so I decided to take a shortcut I have tried a few times before. Speed walking down a grassy hill surrounded by trees is not a good idea. I looked up momentarily to see two handsome guys walking uphill, and I thought to myself, "See, other people take this route too!" I looked back down to notice that it was getting progressively muddier, and that is when I slid straight through the mud. I took a knee but popped right back up, determined to make it to class on time. Tim Tebow would have been proud. But then I caught a glimpse of my leg and shoe and realized I was covered in a thick layer of mud and grass. To add to this incredible moment, I could hear the attractive guys muttering obvious things like, "Oh, man, she just slid in the mud!" and "That sucks!" That is when I knew I had to give up and go home. There was no way I could go to class looking like that. Not even if I stopped into a bathroom and tried to clean it off. It smelled like embarrassment, and my red Toms looked like they had survived a muddy soccer game. I really had slipped in the mud.

      There is this really lame feeling that washes over me whenever I have to miss class. It is a feeling of being lazy and unmotivated. I hate that feeling. I love school, in a weird 'I'm Hermione Granger!' kind of way. And I particularly love this class, my senior thesis writing course on Women's Folklore. I did not want to miss today. However, getting covered in mud and realizing I could not violate the professor's tardy policy is enough to force me to give up. I came back to my apartment and washed the mud off, all the while planning my e-mail explanation to my professor. The running water offered a soothing moment to remember that this was not the first time I had been late to school because I slipped in mud. In junior high, I was late one day and slid in a big patch of mud on the road to school. I covered my favorite pair of dark wash American Eagle jeans in a thick layer of mud. Being a true pre-teen, I cried as I pathetically trudged back home. I came home, changed my pants, re-brushed my hair, and my dad drove me back to school. This experience turned into a funny anecdote with my friends, but now that is happened to me twice, I think I want something more from it. (I should also add that I am proud to say that tears were not my immediate reaction this time.) 

       So here is what I have come up with: Sometimes, mud happens. It may be a normal day, with nothing but simple plans. It does not necessarily have to be a day with excitementand high hopes. It can just be a routine schedule, and then... mud happens. As much as this sounds like a simple, home-spun homily, it all depends on what you do with the mud. You can choose to let it ruin your day. You can be angry and curse Utah County for running sprinklers in shady areas, and in the morning no less?!? You can rant about professors who have tardy policies and feel the need to control their classroom like a high school is run. Or, you can take the time to calm down, wash off the mud, and then take a day to yourself. Start a blog that a kind friend suggested, eat the breakfast that you skipped, and catch up on some reading to get ahead of the weekend. Mud happens, but life moves on. And that is the musing of a marvelous me. :)

      Please subscribe to my blog, as I hope to make my posts a common occurrence. I would also love any comments or thoughts on my experience. C. S. Lewis said, "We read to know we are not alone." Well, right now, I would love to read that I am not the only one who has ever slid in mud on a normal day.