And I'm Off

I'm going on a mission. If you wanna, read about it here.

http://hermanalyndeegardner.blogspot.com/

Can't even name this post....it was that good.

I've been putting off blogging partly because my computer is old and partly because I now live with my blog's  #1 fan aka my mother. However, I've found that pilfering through these pictures and talking about the wonderful experiences I had, helps me cope with the fact that I am living in a town that I have grown out of. So, these marvelous pictures come from September and October of 2012. First, I'm going to give a brief rundown of what led up to this adventure. If you don't feel like reading, skip to the pictures. This is, mostly, for me--the pictures I've seen. 

Rewind to my last semester at BYU-Idaho. I was having the time of my life. I had good friends, great roommates, a perfect job, and the best classes I'd had thus far in my college career. I was happy--happier than I had been in a long time. One of the professors I TAed for that semester was this wonderfully sweet professor, Sister Romney. This conversation I had with her sums her up perfectly:

Me: I'm glad we could meet today. I want to be sure of what you'd like me to do for your classes. 

SisRoms: I'm glad we could meet too. Are you hungry?

Me: No, thanks. So, with this assignment, I wasn't really sure how harsh I should grade them. 

SisRoms:  Do whatever you think is best, friend. 

Me: Are you sure? I started grading them this way, but I'm not sure...

SisRoms: Lyndee, you REALLY are so beautiful. I hope you know that. 

Seriously, every conversation with Sister Romney is this way. I'd leave a little unsure of what my job responsibilities were, but feeling great about myself. I adore her. ANYWAY, she was an adjunct faculty member, so the only reason she was allowed a TA was because she was one of the directors for the British Literary Tour. I'm not sure if she was a cheerleader in another life, but BOY HOWDY! was she for the Brit. Lit. Tour. She had me talked into going on that trip when she interviewed me for my TA job. 

Enter back story: Almost anyone who knows me, knows that I was once denied entry to the UK when I was 19. It was a huge ordeal that involved a horrendous plane ride in which a man next to me kept barfing and wiping his barfy tongue off with a napkin, immigration officers elbow deep in my underwear for the whole airport to see, photo copies of my journal filed as evidence, lots and lots of weeping over many a germ-infested payphone, mugshots, fingerprints, sleeping behind bars, and a whole heap of soggy, English, vending machine, tuna sandwiches.  It was traumatic, but I lived to tell the tale with only a red flag on my passport. 

So, when I was accepted to the tour, I was ecstatic, but apprehensive. All the directors said something would work out. We'd figure it out and get me over there. They all offered help, but it was mostly up to me. They were all teaching classes and trying to prepare for a month with 50 other people in a foreign country; they had a lot on their plates. 

Well, I graduated, moved in with my sister-in law, was hired by a temp. agency, and procrastinated. About a month before the departure date, I buckled down and tracked down an embassy in Phoenix. I found out I needed a visa and I applied for one. My temp. agency assigned me to a data entry job right around this time, and I was left alone in an office for 8 long hours a day. I don't want to sound dramatic or anything, but this was kind of a dark time for me. I had spent months and months preparing for this trip. I had payed $3700 towards the trip. I'd spent 5 months in a city that I vowed I'd never live in. And I'd prayed to God persistently for five months to please, PLEASE let this happen for me. 

The week before the trip rolled around, and I still didn't have my visa. I started preparing myself for the worst. I was angry. I was angry that I had gone against my better judgement and signed up for this stupid trip. I was angry at every person who had encouraged me to do so. I was angry at my family because I knew I would never be able to live down having spent so much money on something they thought was frivolous and unimportant. And it scares me to say that I was angry with God for commanding me to pray while knowing it doesn't matter how much I pray, how much faith I have in my prayer. It only matters what He wants, so my prayers were selfish, and that made me more angry than anything. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go, so I started planning my escape route from Mesa. As it turned out, I didn't need one. 

On Friday, 7 September 2012, my visa arrived in the mail. Two days before I needed to leave for Rexburg. Even now, I can't explain the dumbfounded joy I experienced at that moment. I called everyone that was affected by my travel arraignments, and the next day, I was in Mandy's car headed to Rexburg for the last time. 

Every minute of this trip was healing for me--every single minute. Sister Romney said at the beginning of the trip that traveling allows us a chance to examine our troubles and struggles and leave them behind. This trip was that for me. I know every step that I took towards this trip was planned by God. It was an actual miracle.  Take a look for yourself. I don't want to be rude or anything, but eat your damn heart out. 

  

 

   

 

"I decided at 19 years old that I wanted to live a life of experience, not affluence." --Brother Vaun Waddell

Amen, sir.

Amen. 

Over the Hill...

My mom turns 50 today! If you have her phone number, call her and taunt her. I'd She'd sure like that.
Mother, somebody would like to wish you happy birthday. You have two at home crawling all over you,
so they can just tell you in person.

And here are some videos of what my mom has to look forward to.
I have actually seen my mother do this dance. I get my coordination from her.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!

Graduation

Last night, I had a dream that I was standing in front of a classroom in my yoga pants and tie-die, rub my belly shirt. I was reading an essay that I had worked on for months. When I finished, my classmates booed me from their presence. I thought these ridiculous dreams would stop after I graduated, but I was wrong. I guess this is something that I'll just have to live with...forever. 

Anyway, I graduated. It went well. The morning of graduation I read a paper at the NULC in Ogden. I didn't get booed at, and it went surprisingly well. My parents and I then piled into the car and did the whole graduation thing that evening. My grandpa and cousin came too. My parents were obligated to come, but my hat is off to my grandpa and good ol' Chance. They're saints. 

I had a dream last night that I lost the fight.

I realize that I should be traipsing up the mountain of homework that is glaring at me from my desk, but I don't wanna, so I'm not gonna. Instead, I'm gonna blog about nothing. 

Well, uhhh...so I was just sitting here and "Free" by Mates of State came on my Itunes DJ. This song reminded me of a late night car ride years ago. Doesn't that make me sound old? Years ago. I think being old means that you can say things like "I've been eating there for years" or "I  was around when you chilluns were still biting ankles." Anyway, I digress. I was driving around with a few of my Idaho friends, and one of them mentioned that he had listened to this song when he was stuck at home, and it had saved his life. 

I don't assume to know how said friend feels, and I may have thought he was exaggerating a bit at the time (sorry), but I think I understand what he meant now. I imagine it feels a little like the way I feel right now. I feel like I'm drowning. I think of all that I need to do, and I can't breathe. I listened to the words of the song, and I thought about how good it's gonna feel to be free of the ominous amounts of homework and pressures of school in just 18 short days...well, until graduate school, but still. 18 days. 18 days and I am a college alumnus. Ah ya! 

"Living things need to be free

You are free

Like everything wants to be."

Answer a Question For Me

I was listening to Peggy Lee instead of doing my homework, and I stumbled upon this song that I have always enjoyed. I don't know if it's because I am reading some feminist criticism in my Lit. Theory class or what, but I found this interesting.

I don't know if enough people read my blog to ask a question, but imma do it anyway. Do you think this is offensive? I mean, is a woman only valued for the fact that she can cook and clean well...o and be a good lover too? I've been thinking about this a lot lately. When my mother encourages me to be more womanly, what does that even mean? 

Does it mean being a pious nun? A bra burning feminist? A housekeeper/cook/mother? A man-hating career woman? I don't think there is an answer to this question, but I'm curious to see what you (and when I say you, I am probably only talking to Kellie) think of this. Let me know. 

As of late...

Welcome to Lyndee's last semester at BYU-Idaho and as a undergraduate student.

 It feels nice, right? Well, I don't know if I would say nice. It feels about like the feeling when you're on one of those really tall rides at the theme park. The ones that slowly lift you up and then with out any warning it drops and you careen, seemingly, to your death, only to be halted right above the ground. This is exactly how this semester feels for me. My stomach and heart feel like they are someplace else all the time; dancing and making merry. I can't tell if I am nauseous or excited. Strange,  isn't it?

Something that, honestly, makes me just grin like the nerdy English major that I am, is the fact that I have all English classes this semester. 12 credits of unadulterated English majesty. I go to class excited and leave with my mind blown right off--yup, right off. It's a thing of beauty, trust me. In one class I get to read and write poetry and in another I get to study heroes. Ask me what I'm reading for homework tonight? Go ahead, ask! Ok, I'll tell you.

O no! Don't get jealous. It's ok. I'll let you borrow it when I'm done. Among other news, I have an awesome job.  I'm a Teacher's Assistant for two professors on campus. So, I go to work and there is a whole lot of this.

Only, I would never allow my papers to get this confangled. Nicely stacked papers just make you feel better about life, don't you think?

Lastly, because I know you are now all Hulk-ish and green with envy, I am helping with a poetry slam here on campus. LAST POET STANDING. 

Oooo! It's bedazzling! Anyway, I'll stop bragging. Life is just great and I hope your life is too.