I need prettier hands . . .

No, seriously. I think this is why I haven’t been going on dates. I have ugly hands. As in they are hardly feminine. I have large fingers and fat nails or rather wide and they are short. Oh my goodness. I have George Coztanza nails. Sick. The point is I am working on making them nicer. I am growing them out. I am going to take care of my cubicles. And then in February I am going to get a manicure professionally done. I think it will add in my confidence. I know it seems like such a little thing. But usually confidence comes from the little things. Right?

Michael Flatley has some competition . . .

Okay, I grew up watching Riverdance so I know Michael Flatley well. If you don’t, you might want to watch a youtube video of him first just so you can understand how truly hilarious this is. I couldn’t help but laugh.

House at Riverton . . .

House at Riverton by Kate Morton. A book my childhood best friend, Jenna, gave me for Christmas. I have read it quickly. Instantly, I was caught up in the story, the scandal, the mystery. And the book was excellent. But at the same time . . . I am . . . I don’t know what I am actually. Sad, angry, inrigued? All of the above maybe. From the beginning you know that the poet dies. It’s written on the back of the book. And maybe it’s just how it happened that upsets. How all of the stupid things happened. How they could have been so easily prevented if the truth had just come out, if people had just been themselves, if a war had never happened. The book made me realize how our lives can change so completely in just a moment, with one simple decision. Our lives are made up of choices. Choices that we need. We need our agency even if sometimes we hate what we do with it. And how can one choice that seems so right at the moment really be so wrong? Does that make sense? I think I’m blabbering. My mind is a whirlwind after having read the book and there is no one really to discuss it with seeing as no one else of my acquaintance has read it. I just . . . I’m so preturbed. So irritated and not sure that I wouldn’t have made the same choices. Tragedy. A real tragedy is when it all really just depended on the choices. If just that one thing had not been done, if only that one thing had been said, if only that one misconception had been corrected. But I suppose you can always ‘what if’ it but once a certain choice is made and a certain consequence has followed you can’t very well go back and change the choice. I just wish I had someone to really discuss this with. Urgh. Don’t you hate it when you have a million thoughts and you just want to talk . . . oh well. The point is the book was good. Even if I hate that life sucks sometimes and it doesn’t turn out in fairy tale endings. Love . . . I don’t always get it. I don’t always get myself. Okay, I should stop now. This is probably the most confusing blog entry anyone has ever read.

Christmas, New Years and Weddings

My Christmas was delightful . . . got some fun things such as a Flip Camera, a dvd/vcr player, a board game called Louis XIV (which I still argue was more blood thirsty than Bismark), some great films (Chocolat, My Fair Lady, State Fair, etc), Henry VIII chocolates (From England- Renbeth got them for me), a romance pro/con list (hard to explain), a couple books, a t-shirt that has my cannibals eating a clown joke (thank you  Guadalupe), an “I know . . . right” sign (again thank you Guadalupe) and a ton of other good stuff including edibles. Needless to say I have much to be thankful for.

For New Years Guadalupe, Beezer (my other roomy) and I went to the Institute Dance. Was it thrilling? No. But it was fine and we were proud of ourselves for being so social.

As far as weddings . . . I attended two and went to three different receptions. 3 weddings in one month. Talk about every 24 single girl’s dream. Ha ha no it wasn’t that bad. The first was just a reception. The thing that sucked there was not so much the fact that I was reminded of how alone I am but my car broke down, had to get it towed and had to pay $300.00 to get it fixed. Oh the joys. The second wedding was for a girl who is practically a sister. The Hunting Family (As I will call them for this blog) is a second family to me. Rochelle was my best friend in college and her little sister LeeLee got married. It was the first Temple wedding I was able to experience. It was lovely. Oh and I did everyone’s hair (bridesmaids, the mother of the bride and the bride herself). I was quite proud of myself. That one I felt a little more down about life. The wedding was wonderful and I loved seeing everyone and I was so happy for my darling LeeLee but I just  . . . you know.

Well, our third one was for Guadalupe’s brother. It went really well. Not only did I get proposed to but I was chipper the whole time. I didn’t feel depressed or alone. Weird. But not really.

See, the last couple months have really sucked for me. I’ve been horrible. Oh you wouldn’t think that just seeing me because I was the usual Freckles everyone knows (I’m a great actress). The point is I felt a part of me missing. I was constantly down, pessimistic, sad, lonely and miserable. I felt discouraged about everything just thinking that I was not enough. Not a good enough friend, sister, daughter or possible girlfriend for anyone. Blah is a great way to describe my feelings. Poor Renbeth had to put up with me calling her depressed frequently. Well, then something happened. I went to church on the Sunday after Christmas. I was feeling down and planned on leaving right after sacrament meeting. As I listened to the first speaker they said something about hope. Can’t remember the specifics but it made something click in my brain. I had no hope. My hope was a sliver if even that. And I need hope to be me. I had my passion, my love, my testimony, my caring, my faith, etc but no stinkin’ hope.

So, then my thought was how do I get the hope back? What is hope? I concluded hope was having felt or seen a small something to leadyou to believe there was something greater. For instance, in the movie the Secret Garden in the mess of dead plants Mary and Dickens (think that’s his name) find wick. And they had hope that a beautiful garden could grow. This made me realize that I needed my own wick. And then it hit . . . I needed to pray to feel Christ’s love. May sound cheesy but seriously is there a greater power? No. I knew that if I prayed for it I would feel it and then I would get my hope back.  But then I suddenly didn’t want to. I begin to think stupid things like “Well, if I pray for it, I know I’ll feel it, and I know I will get my hope back and then I’ll be happy and I don’t want the Lord to think I’m satisfied because I’m not. Maybe it is better for him to see me miserable so that he’ll give me the things I want.” Ridiculous, huh? I suppose we all have our moments of being dumb though.

Our Bishop helped me see that in RS/P. We had a combined lesson and he taught. He talked about how we should be praying for revelation and then we needed to just act on it. I realized that I had gotten mine and I needed to just do it. As Juan would say I needed to “Buck up and get over it.” So, I started to pray for the love and ever since then I feel like me again. I smile and mean it. At the wedding for Guadalupe’s brother I seriously felt no heart ache at all. I just felt excited for when it would happen for me. And I feel now like it will. I feel hope for some other things I was discouraged about too. It is seriously amazing what feeling Christ’s love for you can do for you. I’m back in the game. My hope is getting stronger and I’m good.

Oh some New Years Resolutions: My usual from the Poisonwood Bible I am gonna be kind to myself. And I have another one but I’ll keep that to myself. : )

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