tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83477218947045390832024-03-05T21:00:18.128-08:00Is there any taste in the white of an egg?and other valid questions...Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-16437394821197075792014-01-23T19:12:00.001-08:002014-01-23T19:12:45.626-08:00CarthorseI often find that feeling there in the muscles of my back, tense and twisting, forcing me to double over in fear. What should I do? How do I deal with this?<br />
<br />
No. I shove those questions down, deep, further than I knew I could. Lowering my head, I barrel forward, forcing my way through my path.<br />
<br />
Stop. Please make it stop. You're hurt.<br />
<br />
Head down. Push forward.<br />
<br />
It won't work. You can't go on like this.<br />
<br />
Head down. Push forward.<br />
<br />
Kacey, it has to stop.<br />
<br />
No stopping. Head down. Push forward. A carthorse pulling a heavy load up a steep hill. Just keep going forward.<br />
<br />
But you're not. It's too muddy. You're slipping.<br />
<br />
I dig my feet in further. I will not stop. I cannot stop. To stop is to say that I can't do it. I must do it.<br />
<br />
If you don't stop and listen to me, you will stop completely.<br />
<br />
I can't stop. To stop is to fail. To stop is to end. If I end, if I fail, I will have no meaning. No worth. Nothing.<br />
<br />
Stop.<br />
Just Stop.<br />
Stop it all.<br />
Now.<br />
Right now.<br />
<br />
I can't. I can't stop it. It keeps coming. The rain, the mud, the burden of the yolk. I can't stop it from coming, pushing me toward the muddy banks of the river, swirling with darkness.<br />
<br />
Take another path.<br />
<br />
THERE IS NO OTHER PATH! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT? THERE IS NO OTHER PATH! THERE IS ONLY THE RIVER BESIDE ME! THE WIDE And deep river...<br />
<br />
The river is wide. And deep. And cold.<br />
<br />
And dark...<br />
<br />
Is it worth it?<br />
<br />
Darkness. Void.<br />
<br />
The river is deep. The currents are fast. But there is another path.<br />
<br />
I want that one.<br />
<br />
Take the other path. There are so many to choose from!<br />
<br />
I want the river. I want the swirling eddies that mirror my fear, my feelings, my guilt. I want it to wash me clean as it pulls me down, down where I don't have to be anymore.<br />
<br />
You must choose another path. You know this.<br />
<br />
I should never have been. I should no longer be. The realization hits me like a spotlight. It is so clear and vivid, I know what needs to happen.<br />
<br />
Don't. Don't walk so close to the banks.<br />
<br />
Just let me peer into the water. Let me see the hole.<br />
<br />
You will slip if you don't walk away now. Please walk away.<br />
<br />
I can't walk away. If I go back to the cart, I will die from exhaustion before I reach the top of the hill! I will be nothing more than a shell, barely resembling the being I once was. Everything that brings joy is gone, far far away from here. I can't push forward anymore.<br />
<br />
Please. Please walk away. You're going to trip on the branches of despair.<br />
<br />
It looks so empty.<br />
<br />
Please, Kacey. You don't have to do this.<br />
<br />
It feels cold.<br />
<br />
It's lonely there.<br />
<br />
I'm already lonely. I'm already completely alone. Don't you get that? Don't you see that? I am totally alone! I am a nothing, shrouded in pain and fear, failure and disgrace. Nothing is around me except the entities that drain me. I give, and I give, and I give. Do I get anything back? NO. NOTHING. NO ONE.<br />
I am so totally alone.<br />
<br />
<br />
Run. Run away from the river. Run NOW.<br />
<br />
So I run. I ran. I ran without looking and ran into a field. There was nothing in this field. Whatever crop had been there had been harvested, the remains removed. It was nothing more than a wet, muddy field, with rows plowed in straight lines. I lay there, sobbing, letting the numbness subside as the fear and hate and discouragement slowly surfaced from the deep grotto where I'd buried it. The pain, the loss, the loneliness. So much more than I knew was even there. It filled me up and boiled over, frothing like a rabid animal, incoherent, inordinate, inconsolable. What can I do? How do escape this deep dark place?<br />
<br />
Then I remember, I know this field.<br />
<br />
I remember the seeds I tried to plant months earlier.<br />
<br />
This field hadn't been harvested. It had never been sown. Except for those few seeds I scattered in fear and hesitation.<br />
<br />
I start to scratch at the dirt, throwing clods of messy mud all over myself. My fingers run through the grains of mineral as I pray for roots to be there.<br />
<br />
Finally, I grapple what once was roots. An undernourished plant that failed to live.<br />
<br />
I had failed. Again.<br />
<br />
And now I was undeniably completely alone.<br />
<br />
I curl up in the mud, my eyes resting in their open position. No more tears could be produced, and the visions of failure danced before me when my lids slid closed.<br />
<br />
The rain masks the footsteps.<br />
<br />
The footsteps of the gardeners.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing here?" the new voice asks me.<br />
<br />
"I thought I planted something here. But I can't find it." My reply is weak. I can't even move my head to look at the girls.<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, I remember seeing those. They sprouted a few months ago."<br />
"I remember you planting. You never came back."<br />
"Was that what was happening? Sprouts? I thought they were weeds."<br />
"Well, you obviously didn't look close enough, either of you. They were quite certainly sprouts."<br />
<br />
They argue among themselves, unwittingly soothing my tension with their banter. I look up.<br />
<br />
"Yes, I planted those seeds. I didn't think anyone noticed."<br />
<br />
They look at each other. One gardener looks down at her shoes. She speaks next.<br />
<br />
"Where have you been? On the hill all this time?"<br />
<br />
I swallow hard as I decide to be honest.<br />
<br />
"I just came from the river."<br />
<br />
One gardener looks unremarkable. Two, the one looking at her shoes, and the one who noticed my sprouts, quickly glance at each other in alarm.<br />
<br />
"Why were you by the river?"<br />
"It's dangerous there!"<br />
"You could have died!"<br />
<br />
I look down again.<br />
"I don't want to go back to the river. But I can't pull that cart up the hill anymore." A loud sob escapes my mouth, violent and sudden. My hands slide to my neck and rub the spots where the yoke had lain not ten minutes earlier. "It chokes me," I whisper, "and drains me."<br />
<br />
A gardener kneels by my side.<br />
"I know just the cure for that."<br />
<br />
She offers her hand. I stare at it silently, deciding if I'm ready to accept what might come with her offer.<br />
<br />
I decide to accept.<br />
<br />
"I know an easier yoke," one said.<br />
"Same load, lighter burden," another chimed.<br />
"And you'll have help."<br />
"There's no way you're going up this hill alone."<br />
"Ever."<br />
<br />
<br />
The top of the hill wasn't what I'd expected.<br />
<br />
But I got there.<br />
<br />
My load was intact.<br />
<br />
My soul began to mend.<br />
<br />
And as I stood at the top, I decided not to look back.<br />
<br />
I didn't look back until I was at the bottom.<br />
<br />
On the other side.<br />
<br />
Starting a new climb<br />
<br />
Similar, but not the same.<br />
<br />
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-72445128166250535332013-09-17T21:28:00.001-07:002013-09-17T21:28:34.249-07:00When the going gets tough, Kacey gets frustrated Pt. 1Can I just talk about how bizarre my first month has been??<br />
<br />
<br />
Let's start with my car. <br />
<br />
It died. Yup. It died. In Kingman Arizona. Actually, about 15 miles from Kingman AZ. At about, hmmmm, 230 a.m.? Yeah that sounds right. Dad called AAA. I paced the forsaken highway and hyperventilated like mad. "Do You not want me to go??" I asked over and over again. It felt like God was sending me a message. Well, that's what I wished it was. You see, my car wouldn't start when we tried to leave so we had to jump it. And by we, I mean Michayla and Dad had to do it because I started yelling at the car so Michayla made me go lie down in the house. And when I was lying down, I asked over and over again "Do You not want me to leave?" I can look back now and see that I WISHED He would tell me not to leave. Coming here was scary. It was so scary. I don't think I realized how scary it would be. I thought going on a mission had cured me of living away from home fears. Heck no. I forgot how much of a controlled environment a mission was! I didn't want to leave home, then my car breaks down. While we waited for the tow truck, I enumerated all the reasons I had to go. "I can't sell my contract, my tuition is already paid, and where in the world would I work? What job would I do?" <br />
Dad: You have to go, Kacey, that's not the question.<br />
Kacey: It was earlier!<br />
Yup, around the time we hit Bakersfield he asked me if I really wanted to/ had to go.<br />
<br />
Anyway. We get to Kingman after our nice tow truck driver found us a place to park my little Amandine all week. Dad and I sat and waited for the sun to rise, and I looked for cars. Dad thought maybe we should just buy a new car in Kingman. But we nixed that idea and just decided to rent a car. Rent a car we did, costing us an unholy amount, and drove to Texas. We stopped for the night at Brandon and Sarah's and I realized how seriously relieved I was to have them so close (7 hours is closer than 30). While sitting around on Sunday morning, I made a post on Facebook about my car dying. I apparently made it sound like we were still stranded because a deluge of comments and messages came in about needing to be picked up? needing money? Are you okay? Hahaha, okay, my favorite though came the next day when Dad made me call Joe to make sure he was awake for seminary. <br />
<br />
Joe: I heard your car blew up.<br />
Kacey: Yeah. Sigh. It did.<br />
Joe: While you were still in it??<br />
Kacey: It didn't literally blow up, it just died.<br />
Joe: ... oh.<br />
<br />
Anyway. I got a message immediately from Benji S.... YES, THAT Benji S. Ex boyfriend still friends Benji S. He asked if I needed him to wire me any money. I said no, my dad was with me and we're gunna make it to Baton Rouge. <br />
<br />
Benji: Ok.<br />
Kacey: I'm just trying to figure out how I'm going to do my internship in BR.<br />
Benji: Where in Texas?<br />
Kacey: Dallas. My dad is with me, we rented a car. We'll get to BR okay, it's just after that that I'll be screwed.<br />
Benji: If you can drive a stick, I have a little truck I'm not going to be using for the next four months. I'm planning too drive a motorcycle to Houston next week, but I can put it in the back of my truck, drive the truck to BR then continue on my way from there.<br />
Kacey:... I can drive stick......... would you be coming through BR? or is that totally out of the way?<br />
Benji: it's not out of my way. Can you hold out for a week?<br />
Kacey: ARE YOU FOR REALS??<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yes. He was. We worked it out that he would come by that next Monday.<br />
<br />
Well. On Thursday I get a phone call.<br />
<br />
"Kacey, I can't fit my bike in the back of my truck. But I can fly you out to where I am and you could drive it back to BR."<br />
"Um, I think that's the best shot we got."<br />
<br />
It would be a 10 hour drive. I can do that. I drove to Seattle and back by myself, and that was a 14 hour drive.<br />
<br />
Then he calls back/<br />
<br />
"How about flying to Atlanta? That'll knock three hours off your drive. Then I'll just take the greyhound back home."<br />
"I can't let you put yourself out like that."<br />
"Kacey. Let me do something nice for you, please."<br />
<br />
He wouldn't let me pay for the flight. He was very sneaky about it saying "Oh I'll book it for you because you don't have internet so I don't want the price to shoot up on you." Then he wouldn't let me pay him back once I got to Atlanta. And then, he finds out his sister is driving back to his neck of the woods from Atlanta that day, so he didn't have to take the greyhound.<br />
<br />
Wow.<br />
<br />
This little truck is so great. His name is Danny Cooper. We are friends. Benji saved my immobile butt.<br />
<br />
Actually, Heavenly Father helped both of us. I seriously couldn't imagine something like that happening. And working out so well.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's sacrilege, but I thought of the pioneers. When Dad and I were sitting in Arizona for nearly six hours, I had time to ponder. We were still close enough to home that if I wanted to bail, I still could. Maybe all these problems really were God's efforts to stop me.<br />
<br />
How many pioneers could say that? On levels much deeper than I've experienced. I remember saying to Dad as we watched the sun come up, "Lots of pioneers had broken handcarts too, huh?" He chuckled. "Yup." "But, that didn't mean they weren't on the right path, did it?" "Nope." "I kinda feel like a pioneer. Except I had a tow truck. And no one has died. And I still have all my earthly possessions."<br />
<br />
<br />
And maybe Heavenly Father was giving me that opportunity. "If you want to, Kacey, you can still back out. No one is forcing your hand." And that's just it; I've never felt PUSHED to go to grad school. I have felt guidance in choosing a major and career, but never pushed. I feel like Heavenly Father let me decide. Maybe it didn't really matter. Or maybe He knew I'd pick the right thing. Or maybe, and I lean towards this theory, Heavenly Father lets us make so many choices for ourselves. He has missions in mind for us, but where we are, what career we have, and maybe even who we're with isn't as important as we humans like to think. Sometimes, for sure. Maybe even half the time. But for me? I try to make Him dictate my life to me. So in return, He makes me make my own decisions. Gosh, just like my parents. Wonder where they learned it :)<br />
<br />
I don't think Heavenly Father NEEDS me here in Baton Rouge. I think I wanted to go! So He said, "Okay! I'm okay with this, because you'll still do what I need you to do, and you'll still learn what I need you to learn."<br />
<br />
Now, I do feel like I have had lessons here that I wouldn't have learned elsewhere. And it's not that I feel like I don't belong here. (Well, in some ways, but only worldly ways). It's more like Caen- I knew I was there for a reason, I just didn't feel it. The only area I felt that in was Valenciennes. And in a way Versailles as well.<br />
<br />
<br />
End of Part 1Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-25295447100415439282013-06-25T20:29:00.000-07:002013-06-25T20:29:06.151-07:00Who knew a human bio class was food for the soul??So. I'm in this human bio class that is KICKING my big fat behind. And my behind is only getting bigger and fatter because I'm sitting on it all day trying to get through at least one lesson a day. (A lesson includes at least one 15-25 page chapter and a 30-60 minutes lecture presentation, plus a self check assignment). I've gotta finish this class before I go to Europe or I can say "Buh bye Master's program!"<br />
<br />
The first two lessons blew. Majorly. You know, one is a basic, "SHOVE EVERY BIT OF BASIC REVIEW YOU NEVER NEEDED TO KNOW BUT NOW YOU DO!" type lesson. Three chapters in that one. Shoot me. The second was on the chemistry of life. OMG. This lesson is still kicking my butt. I'm studying all the other chapters that are going to be on my test so I can compensate for the crappy score I'll get in that section. And then lesson three- the cell. That's when the fear of lesson two kicked into overdrive and I took meticulous notes on EVERYTHING. But that's when I started to really get intrigued by my topic. <br />
<br />
Our bodies, heck matter in general, are incredible. Like, who thinks up "See those little pieces of matter? Let's make a nucleus of neutral and positively charge particles, then circle these negatively charged particles around it like a merry-go-round on cocaine!" Seriously? And who thought that would work? I mean, come on. BUT IT DOES! IT TOTES DOES! And chemical bonds? BRILLIANT! Those are like the only thing I remember from lesson two cause I made really easy mnemonic devices for each one ("Ionic bonds are ironic bonds cause opposites attract!"). But seriously. Who figures that out? Well, God. Obviously.<br />
<br />
So yeah, being totes amazed by creation. But, oddly enough, the next lesson actually... dude, it was something I totally wasn't expecting.<br />
<br />
The next lesson was on reproduction and fertilization. Now, I took family life in middle school, but seriously, nothing this chemically in depth was discussed. I thought this lesson was going to swallow me whole with all the new vocab and internal anatomy I had to learn. But as soon as I started reading about how everything is set up to have maximum opportunity to reproduce... okay, don't laugh, but... I felt the <em>Spirit.</em> <br />
<br />
No joke.<br />
<br />
It snuck up on me, the feeling of comfort and amazement at how we have been made to create. Have you ever learned what has to happen for a child to be created? I mean, SERIOUSLY! It's a battle against the odds! Against external and internal situations! And then, once an egg gets fertilized, does that mean there'll be a baby. NO! It has to go through even more crap, so to speak, to begin growing! And have you ever seen the stages of development from a zygote to a fetus, to a baby?? It's a drastic difference! Do you know what has to happen for everything to work out? Holy. Crap.<br />
<br />
So maybe all of you already knew all this, and in some basic middle school level I did too. Honestly, though, the more I read the more I realized that creating a person is... it's incredible. And to make a person is the same basic cellular process of making any other organism. Which means... you are literally creating life the way Heavenly Father did. You have turned two haploid cells into a diploid, and this cell unwinds its DNA and copies it over and over. And over. And over. And then these cells with infinite possibilities start turning on certain genes so they can form bodies. <br />
<br />
We can do that. We can create. We can be like Heavenly Father. <br />
<br />
Oh my goodness. It just... hit me. Hit me like a brick wall. What we have been created to be able to do.<br />
<br />
And, sorry guys, but this whole section made me so grateful to be a woman. Even though I'm not really experiencing on the level of the fetus, I get to be there for all of it. All of it. And I get to help. I get to be the home, the incubator for this body. <br />
Maybe I won't. I mean, I've never been in a position to know if my body will support pregnancy. For all I know I could be barren. Seriously. So maybe I won't get to experience that till the Millennium. But oh man... I'm looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
I still don't know when a spirit enters the body. But the moment the sperm is absorbed into the egg, meiosis is resumed. Life commences. There's no denying it. So whether the spirit is there or not, I don't know. But I do know that life begins at conception. The moment those chromosomes drift towards each other to form a whole new set of DNA. The act of trying to become a live being.<br />
<br />
Gosh, I'm probably coming off as some crazed fanatic. But I'm telling you, this chapter seriously enriched my perspective on 1) THE Creation, you know, the 6 day one; 2) Human creation, you know, the one most of us can do; and 3) the sacred and exciting role I have as a woman. (All y'all can keep the Priesthood, I'm keeping my ovaries!)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
How can anyone learn about science and not see God's hand? How is that possible?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We had this young man who is Catholic attend our New Testament Institute class. And one night one of the class members went off about some miracles being explainable and how that's sucky, blah blah blah. But then this guy raises his hand and said something that I completely agree with. He said, "Just because you can explain a miracle, doesn't make it any less of one."<br />
<br />
BAM!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Humans. We are amazing. What we are capable of is both incredible and sacred. I wish I had the words to truly express how I feel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This class is kicking my trash, but hey, it's strengthening my testimony, so how can I complain?Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-77662173832524203892013-05-14T12:05:00.003-07:002013-05-14T12:05:48.616-07:00Things I say without really saying them"You are not supposed to make me happy."<br />
<br />
He's not. He's supposed to be someone I don't really give a second thought about. Not that way. But I do. I give him second, third, fourth... on and on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I want to come inside, but I don't want you to invite me out of politness."<br />
<br />
He was surprised last night to find out that I pay attention to what he says, how he says it. That I noticed things about him that no one "ever has before." Well, duh. I mean, I don't know how to show it, but I feel it. How should I show it? Questions are so limiting. They are far too often superficial. I want what you don't mean to say. I want what you don't mean to show. I want that part of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
"I trust you. That doesn't mean others don't frighten me."<br />
<br />
There has been nothing but opposition from our peers since this began. People whom I didn't even speak to --about anything beyond work, weather, and which day of the week it is-- all of a sudden felt it their duty and right to develop an opinion on the matter. And though he doesn't let it get to him, it makes me edgy. I hate knowing that coworkers feel it their job to inform him how aweful I am, and how I'm not right for him. How he's just a rebound. Ah, yes. Thank you. Even though you don't believe them, it still hurts me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I wonder if our obstacle will get resolved, or will I just have to leave?"<br />
<br />
He knows my expectations. They come up at least biweekly. He appreciates, understands, and is working on them. I worry that I will have to leave this relationship because I can't see his efforts leading anywhere, or if we'll actually make it to the more obvious and direct pinnacle. I'm praying for pinnacle. I have faith in him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I know you don't believe me; welcome to my world."<br />
<br />
We both express emotions that the other has a hard time accepting. Until our discussion last night; in fact, I think the direction our chat went has dissolved this issue a bit. I'm trying to get past that disconnect.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"I limit this not because I don't want it, but because I want it so badly how it's supposed to be."<br />
<br />
We have bounderies and standards set up. I don't do this to make us jump through hoops. These are not arbitrary limitations I set up. But understand why I do this. It's not because I don't care. It's because I care far more than I'll admit.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"It not only crosses my mind, it also crosses my heart."<br />
<br />
Sure I contemplate certain things. But I also feel them.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Are you ready to accept the consequences of letting me in?"<br />
<br />
Ha, talk about honey moon phase...<br />
<br />
(side note, when I was younger, I thought "honey dew" was just another way to say "honey moon.")<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And finally,<br />
<br />
"When all is said and done, I pray that this works out. I pray that we can be together forever. Because no one sees me like you do."<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-36059743031147738662013-04-12T11:57:00.000-07:002013-04-12T11:57:00.063-07:00The Turning Point
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Benjamin was instructed to go to The
Book to begin his search. It was pretty cool, actually. This book was about 1.5
feet by 3 feet, and one inch thick. The cover was made of wood from the Tree of
Life. It seemed appropriate seeing as this is the Book of Life. It is sometimes
kind of creepy to look at because if you look at it long enough you notice that
the grain of the wood actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">moves</i>.
Weird, right? I think so. And when you open it, the pages are interactive, like
a touch screen tablet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It saves on
space. You can look anyone up, alive or dead by family, geographic location,
era, or… name. Alphabetical is usually how I go. Be aware, however, that those
who have yet to be born are not in the Book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is a different category all together. There’s a Book for that too,
though.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Anyway, back to Benjamin. He entered
the cubicle sized room and went directly to the Book. He really had nowhere else
to go seeing as in the middle of the tight space was an ornate table with the
Book atop it and overstuffed chair for perusing. The chair was another nice
touch from my Boss. It changes to fit the desire of the person in the room.
Benjamin likes overstuffed chairs apparently. And he likes flopping into them
and pulling the Book into his lap, because that’s exactly what he did. Being a
technologically savvy man before death he quickly caught onto the cataloging
system in the Book. But where do you start when looking for your wife’s next
husband? Obviously with the living. He quickly found the button that applied a
living filter to his search. Next-- maybe location would be a good idea. Hmmm,
no, he thought. She’ll probably move to be closer to family, especially once
she discovers she’s pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But will
it be her sister in France? Or the brother in California? He didn’t know what
to expect, so he decided to leave the geo filter off. What to look for next… oh
yes, an easy one. Age. He gave her a fifteen year window. He didn’t want
someone too young raising his daughter (he didn’t actually know if the baby
would be a girl, he just liked to think of a little mini Alice), nor someone
too old that wouldn’t want to have any more kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby should have siblings. Then again, if
he’s older, maybe he already has kids. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div>
“No. I’ll set the limit at fifteen
years older,” he muttered as he set the filter. “I mean, look at David Tennant
and Georgia Moffat. It’s working out for them.”<br />
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
Finally he decided just to stop
there and see if any names or faces spoke to him. He was tired of trying to
think of characteristics that he wanted, dare he say it, to replace him.</div>
<br />
<div class="Standard" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Oh, Alice. I love you so much," he whispered to the empthy room. The familiar lump started to form right behind his adam's apple. "Please." The word slipped out of his mouth without permission, like a puppy escaping from the backyard. It was both freeing and scary as it ran away from him into his hearts deepest more selfish request: "Don’t love him more than me.”</div>
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-25888709710324732192013-03-29T12:59:00.000-07:002013-03-29T12:59:39.110-07:00The Turning Point
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Benjamin
was not my first rodeo. I’ve been taking assignments since before his great
granddaddy was a twinkle in his great-great granddaddy’s eye. I’ve worked
damage control, surveillance, deaths, tender mercies, comfort, communications,
and integral interventions. I’ve protected the innocent and supported those
under heavy burdens. I was in Caen when the American troops liberated the
French from German forces. I crossed the prairies with countless wagon trains
and handcart companies. I lived in the slums of New York just waiting to help a
ward. I’ve danced with the devil, and I’ve used guile to help people see the
truth.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I
have never, and I mean NEVER, helped someone find a replacement spouse.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">The
closest I might have ever come was with the Bjork’s. I helped them find their
next child. Oh what a sad case that was, but with a happy ending. They had both
wanted a huge family, but she had health problems that made it difficult for
her to get pregnant. Finally they had their first son. However, after seven
weeks of a wonderful life, I was commissioned to take him to the veil. SIDS. We
hate it just as much as mortals do. I remember Caryn begging her husband to
undo what had been done, but he knew he couldn’t. No one could. It was the will
of the Creator, thus there must be some purpose in it. Eventually, after it had
been determined that she was unable to bear any more children, they decided to
adopt. They tried to adopt 13 times. One success was Michael. He sadly… was
another trial they had to live. After Caryn and Luke had taken Michael home,
but before the adoption was sealed and official, Michael’s birth mother was
faced with a dilemma: another family offered to pay her substantially to give
them Michael instead of the Bjork’s. My boss tried to stop her. He sent Hall in
a dream to Michael’s maternal grandfather. Hall and I were partners at the time
and were often assigned to complimentary cases as was the usual protocol. Hall
told the grandfather that Michael was meant to stay with the Bjorks, that they
had been prepared to raise him as he should be. Grandpa told his daughter,
Michael’s birthmother, that God wanted him to stay a Bjork. But Megan,
Michael’s mother, had made her decision: she took him away and gave him to the
other family. This time Caryn and Luke had spent two months with their second
son. </span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">My
boss can do a lot. But he will never take away someone’s agency. Ever.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">There
is a happy ending, I promise. I feel obligated to tell you so that you see the
original point of my story. I had helped the adoption process with Michael
through subliminal persuasive methods, being an invisible force that gave
feelings of hope or frustration. This time, in order to give Caryn and Luke a
higher chance of success, I was asked to go Integral. Integral means that we
assume a created identity and slip into the ward’s life. In this capacity I
became the friend of a young girl named Dawn. Dawn got knocked up by her 22
year old boyfriend—she was 16. I both love and hate Integral assignments; I
become so attached to my wards that I sometimes forget what I’m there to do. I
thought I was supposed to help her make the decision to adopt out her baby, and
then choose the Bjorks. My boss had done a lot to prepare this couple to
receive and raise a son. And not just any son: Dawn’s son. But Dawn was already
thinking about adoption by the time I brought it up. In fact, my real job ended
up being there to support her while her family criticized her and told her to
keep the baby. With me there to stick up for her, she fought every obstacle
that came her way. It seemed like the powers of Hell were united against this
adoption. In fact, looking back at Ryan’s life – Ryan is what the Bjork’s ended
up naming him – the powers of Hell fought against him a lot. But he was
victorious in the end. Or, well, he was when I last checked. Eventually the
adoption was final, and Caryn got the son she had been longing for all her life.
It wasn’t the 12 kids she’d always wished for. But Caryn got many opportunities
to mother so many children. I can think of at least 20 who would call her a
surrogate mother. She is such a force! And Ryan… well, he has great things
ahead of him. And Hell can’t stop him. Not while I’m watching out for him.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Anyway,
the point of that story was that I helped Caryn and Luke find the son who
didn’t REPLACE Michael… but filled the hole he’d left.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">If
I thought about this assignment that way, then Benjamin’s request didn’t seem
so foreign.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Yet…</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I
don’t know. Love is a hard thing for me to grasp. I have been in love many
times, including my current amour. But the thought that you can replace one
person with another… ick, that just makes my skin crawl. That’s not to say that
I think all widows and divorcés should remain single the rest of their lives,
not at all! I just think each person has a special role to play in our lives
and a specific imprint to leave. You can’t replace people.</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Filling the hole, Lina. Remember that you’re just
filling the hole. You can’t give her Benjamin again… but you can give her
another companion.</span></i><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Filling
the hole. What an interesting concept. There seemed to be holes in my heart and
life that could never be filled, no matter how hard I tried. Rachelle kept
telling me that it’s because the right person hasn’t found me yet. I tell her
that I’ve been alive more than two hundred years; if I haven’t found him yet,
who’s to say I ever will?</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">“That’s
your first problem,” she replies. “HE has to find YOU.”</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I
hate when she says that. I feel like it instantly invalidates the men I’ve
fallen for before they fell for me. Like my current love. Sometimes I voice
that insecurity. She smiles and says, “Evelina. He has to find <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>. The real you. The true you. The one
you hardly share with anyone. I don’t mean he has to find you physically. He
just has to be the one that brings out the real you. Does he do that?”</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">I
sigh. “I dunno. Maybe. I can’t tell.”</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">“Then
he hasn’t found you yet. So stop stressing.”</span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Agh.
Rachelle makes it sound so simple. So <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">easy</i>.
It’s not easy. Not for me. Not when my heart gets broken. And I hate to say it,
but every time that happens, I whisper in my heart, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Guillaume. Will you ever let me replace you?</i></span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">But
no one can replace Guillaume. </span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes
I hate him for it.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-12764784117235975362013-03-28T16:09:00.000-07:002013-03-28T16:09:20.000-07:00Last time I saw you We had just split in two. You were looking at me. I was looking at you.You had a way so familiar,<br />
But I could not recognize,<br />
Cause you had blood on your face;<br />
I had blood in my eyes.<br />
But I could swear by your expression<br />
That the pain down in your soul<br />
Was the same as the one down in mine. <br />
<br />
<br />
I love that song. It's not accurate in a lot of places, but this stanza just gets me every time. Especially that last line- "That the pain down in your soul was the same as the one down in mine." What an amazing idea!<br />
<br />
Anyway. Lots of thoughts lately. Some interesting things happening. FIRST! I had two answers to prayers given. THe same day. Faith works guys :)<br />
<br />
The other night, two nights ago in fact, I dreamt about an old friend. We never dated, but we both thought about it. We'd talked a bit here and there about maybe going forward. But I came to the sad realization that though he was wonderful, I was not the girl for him. Oh man, my heart is fluttering just remembering when it all took off. We'd met on my mission, serving together once, but seeing each other at nearly every zone conference after that. Anyway, I called him about something in my area (he was the only missionary still in the field that had served in my area), and he teased me about something. I don't remember what. It doesn't matter. So he teased me and I replied, "You're going home next week! Who's going to tease me when you're gone?" a pause. "Soeur Barros, you can't get rid of me that easily." We wrote regularly for a transfer or two after he left. But I figured out that I wouldn't make him as happy as he deserved. It was sad. He was kind. Sweet. BEYOND thoughtful. One of the best mission friends I made. When I got home we talked about it. It just didn't work out. Dang it, he was GORGEOUS too. SOOOOOOOOO pretty in EVERY way. Sigh, my heart is fluttering again! <br />
<br />
So I dreamt about him two nights ago. I dreamt that he was getting married in the next day, and I suddenly realized that I wanted to be with him. I intercepted him at a pre wedding activity and chatted with him about the upcoming nuptials. And then I did it. "I made a mistake." "You did?" "You're the one I'm supposed to be with. You're the one I love." He just looked at me. I mean, how would you react? I started to cry and said, "I know i can't have you, and that I can't deserve you, but... you need to know how I feel." He took my hands from my face and held them in his own. "Kacey... what do you expect me to do?" I started crying even harder, then woke up. <br />
<br />
That dream has been in my head for two days. Mostly because I was sooooo SKANKY to try and steal a fiance like that! But here's the crazy part... I just saw on facebook that he got married. Yesterday. <br />
<br />
NO JOKE!!!<br />
<br />
I dreamt abouts tealing this guy the day before his wedding on the DAY before his WEDDING!!!<br />
<br />
Kindaaaaaa cool/ creepy... if he was a girl, I'd be like, "Let me tell you this crazy dream!" But since he's NOT a girl. And NOT single. I'll keep this one to myself and the blog readers. Hmmm... maybe one of you will be able to figure out who it is. Reread my blog posts from my mission. Especially when I first got to France. Then maybe you'll figure it out. :)<br />
<br />
Bref. C'est fini. Je suis fatigue. A bien tot.Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-23575422721228070032013-02-11T12:11:00.000-08:002013-02-11T12:11:34.799-08:00I'm (not so) secretly in love with Colin Morgan...So. A few thoughts for this week.<br />
<br />
No, Felipe and I aren't dating anymore. Let me just throw that one out there. It's not that I'm tired of people asking. I'm mostly tired of people asking where Felipe is. Not in a like suspicious where's your boyfriend way. They're just used to seeing me alone at activities and knowing his whereabouts. Red flag anyone? I didn't think so... speaking of red flags... wait, let's not get there yet.<br />
<br />
I respect Felipe for being honest with me and not delaying it once he figured it out. I'd love to say that it surprised me. On one level it did, but mostly... it did not. I never felt like he really invested emotion into me. Not really. To the best of his ability, yes, but... well, like most men that I date, he seems a bit emotionally unavailable. I'm not making this up to make myself feel better. I've just learned to recognize it in hindsight. Also, I had some help from my resident marriage counselor/ bishopric counselor Brother Haines.<br />
<br />
I sat him down yesterday. On Saturday he saw me and knew immediately that I'd broken up with Felipe. So I figured he was perceptive enough to help me with my question: Why is it that the really really good guys that I date say "You're an amazing person, and I don't know why, but I'm not falling in love with you." I have a fatty list of men who were less than acceptable that wanted to marry me. So when I date men of high caliber, dedicated to God and the gospel, why do they not fall in love with me. <br />
<br />
"Am I shooting to high? Do I need to date men who aren't as dedicated to the gospel as I am?" I asked Brother Haines.<br />
<br />
"No, don't do that. I don't think that's your problem."<br />
<br />
After much discussion, here are some things he pointed out and I realized:<br />
<br />
1) There are some things that occur in my parents' relationship that bring me comfort in my own dating life. Though that isn't necessarily bad, some of those things are really bad for me. Things that hurt me. Like emotional distance. I sometimes rationalize away my boyfriends that are emotionally unavailable because their behavior mimics my dad's... however, my dad isn't emotionally distant from me (anymore). So it creates a false sense of security. Bienvenue chez Felipe.<br />
<br />
2) Though I initially shy away from men who remind me of Ben Pitman, once in a relationship with them, I find comfort in the similarities. I decided yesterday that in some way, that comfort stems from my desire to go back and fix what happened between us. Though there is not a SINGLE thing I could do to fix that situation, if one emotionally distant man would fall in love with me and marry me, then it would "dispell" all my insecurities from that experience. Well, probably not really, but subconciously that's what I feel. Isn't that soooo INTERESTING???? Brother Haines found my deduction interesting and said that now that I'm aware, then it will be easier to avoid.<br />
<br />
3) I was always bugged by some of the things Felipe said or did, but didn't know why. Until this weekend. Here's an example of something that bothered me: He never once said, "Kacey, you're amazing," or "You're wonderful," or "you're great." It was always, "Kacey, you're an amazing person," or "you're a wonderful person," or "You're a great girl." <br />
<br />
Can you see the difference? It's completely detached! By not saying things directly and specifically about me to me, it kept a HUGE emotional distance between us. <br />
<br />
THAT DRIVES ME BONKERS!<br />
<br />
So Brother Haines gave me the challenge to pay attention to how people say things and not what they're saying exactly. Does how they say something show a controlling person? An emotionally distant one? Or maybe someone who seeks closeness as much as I do?<br />
<br />
And that was the most profound discovery of them all yesterday: "Kacey, you need someone who can be as emotionally close and intimate as you can be. And your kids need that too. Remember, you're picking for them too."<br />
<br />
So, moral of the story is: I've GOT to find a man who is emtionally available. One who wants to, and CAN be, as emotionally close as I can/am.<br />
<br />
Maybe this all sounds cray cray. Oh well. I thought it was very eye opening. And it makes me feel better about not being with Felipe anymore. Though I love him, and he is wonderful, he isn't able to be what I need. And vice versa, I'm sure. I'm not perfect. <br />
<br />
<br />
On other notes, I miss Texas and boy-o's sooo much! Payton, I wish you could come over and play with my dog! And Derek, I keep the acorn you gave me in my pocket. It's my little talisman at work.<br />
<br />
And yes.<br />
<br />
I'm not so secretly in love with Colin Morgan.<br />
<br />
Especially when he uses his real accent.Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-39430591892810020092013-01-25T09:43:00.001-08:002013-01-25T09:43:46.082-08:00If a dream is a wish your heart makes, what's a nightmare?I've had two very vivid nightmares this week about the musical that I'm in. The first nightmare was that during one of our rehearsals an alien invasion occurred. We had to try and escape by pretending to be one of them (I know, super original). We joined a wagon train of circus preformers and then got hearded into the woods. I was in a small cabin packed with people. I knew that if we followed their instructions they would leave us alone. The only problem was that one of my guys from work, who refuses to listen to ANY instructions, was there. I kept trying to get him to stay in the room so the aliens wouldn't blow us to smithereens. It didn't work. I woke up.<br />
<br />
The next nightmare was... wednesday night? Yeah. I dreamt that Chelsea was tired of some people showing up for some rehearsals but not all of them, so she said that the entire cast would run the entire show every night. It was miserable. Then more people dropped out, so I had to do a waltz with Brother Haines and then a ballet number with Roshanak. Everyone had great costumes but me. In fact, there was this great balliwood number than Chelsea decided to add in and their costumes were PHENOMENAL! I was so jealous. That is until one of the married cast members brought her children to practice and ravens came down and tried to eat her baby. Super scary, right? I was wigged out.<br />
<br />
So, Chelsea. I don't hate the play. I apparently worry that it will attract aliens and scary birds. And please don't make me do a waltz with Brother Haines.<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-70530838160435704872013-01-22T12:12:00.000-08:002013-01-22T12:12:03.248-08:00I'm not dead...Apparently Mom tried to call me like three times since Christmas. It wasn't until Sunday night that I actually saw that I received a call from her. Yeah. My phone hates me. Felipe's phone hates me too... at least I used to think so. I'm starting to believe that it's all my phone's fault... for example, he won't get half my texts. Here's a story from Sunday night that illustrates that perfectly:<br />
<br />
My toothache was at its worst. I was bawling, almost drowning out the neices' bawling in the room next to mine. Dustin and Tara tried to figure out some remedies, when I text Felipe "Do you have consecrated oil?" I HATE asking for blessings. And Felipe was in a meeting, so I hate texting him while he's busy. I don't know why, I just do. Dustin didn't have any oil, and I knew that in a desperate situation he could give me a blessing without it. But Felipe promptly texted back, "Yes I do." I sent him a text saying that I needed a blessing ASAP because I was in terrible pain and none of the medication I'd downed was helping. Twenty minutes later, I was still waiting for a reply. I start crying for a whole new reason thinking I've somehow offended him by asking for a blessing and I'm so stupid and my prayers should be enough and blah blah blah. Despair. It's amazing how quickly I reach that point when I'm in massive pain. Anyway, the stuff Dustin got me started helping so I text him and say "never mind. It's going to be fine." Fifteen minutes after that I get a call from Felipe. In a cheerful voice he says, "SO who needs the oil?"<br />
<br />
"Are you serious?"<br />
<br />
"Uhhh, yes...."<br />
<br />
"I did."<br />
<br />
"You?"<br />
<br />
"You didn't get my texts did you..."<br />
<br />
"Nope..."<br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah. I'm starting to think it's my phone that's defective. The moral of the story is, if it's an emergency, even if he's in a meeting, I'm supposed to call him if I need a blessing. He says no matter what. Okay. Lesson learned. Never trust the phone.<br />
<br />
Funny story though, Clove oil was the thing that made my excruciating pain go away. I tried major pain killers, including benzocaine (liquid orajel). But onle eugenol (a.k.a clove oil) did anything significant. I'm all for trying natural things. But holy moley, I never expected an oil to help that much that instantly! This does explain, however, why I think that cloves taste like the dentist.<br />
<br />
Hahahaha, our dog totes licked my plate of crush cloves. We know because he had this aweful look of horrer on his face as he stuck his tongue out like fifty times. Serves him right for getting on the counter and trying to steal food. <br />
<br />
Life is good right now. I'm trying to improve my relationships with those at work. I'm also trying to have more charity. Gosh, for someone who loves to love people, I have a seriously hard time being charitable with those I see on a regular basis. <br />
<br />
AND OH EM GEE! I'm leaving for Texas in a WEEK!!! WHO'S EXCITED???? I'M EXCITED!!!!!!!!<br />
<br />
Oh, here's another funny story from this week. I've been posting pictures of opal engagement rings (anyone who knows me knows that I don't want a diamond, I want an opal) on pinterest. Mom told Dad. She said he had a small heart attack. She waited a bit before she told him, "Allan. Don't worry. She's done this a couple times before."<br />
<br />
"Mom. You know I've been doing this since my engagement broke off. I told myself I'd never settle for a ring I hate again."<br />
<br />
"Oh I know," she said slyly. "But don't tell Dad that..."<br />
<br />
No, I'm not engaged. Felipe and I have not talked about marriage. I just don't want to be surprised with a ring that I don't like again. In fact yesterday I told Felipe that if we got engaged not to get me a ring; I wanna help pick that out. Instead, I said "Get me a Portuguese grammar book. That'll show that you REALLY want me around for eternity." He laughed. I looked at him seriously and said, "No. Really. I want to help pick it out. If I have to buy it myself to get the ring I want, so be it. Get me the text book."<br />
<br />
Anyway. Lunch is almost over. I'd better be off.<br />
<br />
Au revoir!Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-67718307380023210992013-01-08T12:05:00.001-08:002013-01-08T12:06:04.654-08:00Magnificent Magnets and Scary Slacklining"Kacey. This is Joanne. Tom's mom."<br />
<br />
Tom's mom? She never calls in...<br />
<br />
"Hi, Joanna! What can I do for you?"<br />
"What happened yesterday?"<br />
"What?"<br />
"What happened yesterday? Tim had tears in his eyes, crying until he fell asleep that he didn't get to see you yesterday."<br />
"He did get to see me. I didn't spend all day with him, I have other people that I needed to take care of, but he saw me for quite a bit of time."<br />
"Well why is he so upset?"<br />
"Joanna, I have no idea."<br />
"I don't want him coming home upset."<br />
"I'll do my best to make sure he gets all the time he needs."<br />
"Thank you."<br />
<em>click!</em><br />
<br />
Cassie walks up to me.<br />
"What was that all about?"<br />
"Heaven only knows."<br />
<br />
Work. Since we changed the structure of the program one of my individuals (well all of them actually, but he's the only one that makes such a big fuss about it) has been feeling neglected. I want you all to know that the amount of attention I give him is no less than before. He just gets... seperation anxiety I guess. I've now worked out a system with him that if he doesn't talk about me and participates in the activity I'll spend some one on one time with him. It seems to be working. I wonder if it works with kids... I'll have to test that out someday... Today he asked me to go to lunch with him again. Last week I said no. This week I said, "I don't think my boyfriend would like that very much. You'll have to ask him first." That seemed to shut him down for a bit. We'll see how long it lasts. <br />
<br />
Speaking of my boyfriend... I spent some time with him and his family last weekend. His dad makes me smile. We're very similar. Sometimes we'll get talking and Felipe will zone out. And if I'm around when he calls Felipe, he now asks to speak to me. Sunday night he just made my day: He was talking about the photos he put up on facebook and how all his family teased that I was his new girlfriend. He laughed and said "If I was twenty four I would grab you up so fast! No one would have a chance to date you because I would marry you so fast!" I laughed and said "Pass that word along, okay Kleber? Pass that along..." He laughed and said he would. He makes me laugh.<br />
<br />
The other night I went over to Felipe's house and just hung out. I'm tired of being home alone. With no West or Michayla, my life is sad and lonely. So I'll just go over to people's houses and do nothing. Felipe was winding down, so we watched this revealing magician's secrets show. Every time he paused and gave me a chance to guess how they did it. I said "Magnets!" like six times. He always laughed and said, "no, not magnets." After I went home, I guess he saw two tricks that used magnets. He made sure I got to watch them later. I told him we should run away and be magicians. I think I've got him half convinced to do it...<br />
<br />
Friday night was especially lonely. Felipe was at his capeoira class, and I just didn't want to be alone. So I ran over to Chelsea's apartment. We had a nice printing excursion and I diagnosed her with some physical manifestations of her stress. Afterwards she said, "You know, you live so far away, you should just sleep here. We'll give you some blankets." Liz gave me some pants and I fell asleep while they watched Smallville. I dreamt about zombies I think. Oh, no, I dreamt about Dutch Jews and public pools in the 60's. And Saint Bernards. Yup. That's what couches do to me. But it was fun. I'm glad they let me do that. I might try and do it this Friday again.<br />
<br />
Sunday was extraordinary because Felipe actually got to sit next to me during Sacrament Meeting. The other ward was so depleted that we were combined, but they hosted. So he got to sit with the congregation! It was soooo... strange. I didn't hardly know how to sit next to him. I ended up mostly ignoring him (sorry, Babe). Of course, that was before he viciously elbowed me in the back while trying to get a pen from my hand. After that there was no ignoring. There was war. It was twenty minutes past the normal time that the meeting ends, so I thought it was fair enough.<br />
<br />
Last night I rushed home to check my phone (cause I left it at home) and asked Felipe if we were hanging out that day. (We're both booked for the rest of the week.) He said yes and "dress warm. Sporty warm." WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? He gets to my place and says, "Hurry! We've got to do this before the sun sets!" "What am I supposed to wear??" "Not that." "No jeans?" "No jeans." "Boots or tennis shoes." "Those-" he said, pointing to my sketchers. "Okay."<br />
<br />
What was the big hurry? Felipe was taking me slack lining. He set it all up in the trees next to my apartment. Slack lining... it's like tight rope walking. I looked at him like he was crazy and said, "No way, Felipe." He laughed. My face didn't change as I stated, "I will die."<br />
<br />
"It's two feet off the ground. You're not going to die."<br />
"If anyone can manage it, I can. Do not underestimate my powers of bad luck."<br />
<br />
It ended up being fine. I didn't die. Felipe showed me some sweet tricks. I almost fell a couple times. Then I had to one up myself when he said it was easier barefoot by stripping off my socks and shoes, crossing the snow, and jumping on the rope. I'm proud of me.<br />
<br />
So, life is boring right now. Good. But boring.<br />
<br />
Now all I need to do is think of a great name for our new magic show...Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-2543446532972598942012-12-11T09:42:00.000-08:002012-12-11T09:42:00.731-08:00I kneel down hold my ground...Tell me again why I've decided to go to grad school? Wait, let me correct that. Why I decided to APPLY to grad school. I'm beginning to feel very certain that I'm not going to get accepted ANYWHERE. And it's driving me nuts. I wrote the world's crappiest personal statement on Saturday and it's got me wondering... what am I thinking? Why do I think I'll get accepted into a program that I know nothing about? Like, I seriously know presque rien, or nearly zilch for my anglophones, about the field of social work. I just know that it's where I want to be. I know that I was made to help people. And I know that God's okay with me doing this. Well, I think He's okay with it. I've been so doubty about my own abilities lately that it's hard to tell. DUDE. Did you know there's a spiritual gift of being able to discern whether an inspiration comes from God or some other source??? I just read that during my studies on Sunday. I am soooooo putting my name on the list for that one!<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
I was talking to Felipe the other night, you know, when he wasn't cheating on me with his REAL girlfriend, the TEXT BOOK. Ohhhh yes, I know how much time he spends with her. They go to the library. He takes her home. He even takes her to the cadaver lab... When I see her in MY seat in his car I could scream with rage. That little....<br />
<br />
Bref. Talking to Felipe, and ... crud. I forgot what I was going to say. I'm sure it was deep and important. Cruddy cruddy crud crud OH!<br />
<br />
I remember.<br />
<br />
So, I was talking to Felipe about grad programs and he was doing his very best to convince me that I'm beyond stupid if I think I'm not going to get accepted. I expressed my concern that maybe I was making a big mistake, and then I realized that God won't let me if I'm being righteous. He asked what I meant. Then I gave him the best example I could. It has now been long enough since this experience that I'm actually able to share it without feeling bitter or sad.<br />
<br />
So. I was freaked out about dating when I came home from my mission. Kim can testify of this. Yeah. Totally wigged. But when I came home, a man that I greatly loved and admired told me that he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was so taken aback, I didn't know how to respond. But I knew that I would LOVE to marry him... once I got to know him better. For three months he courted me, and for three months I couldn't decide. Finally, after two weeks in the wilderness, I realized that I couldn't marry him. That just like my job in the wilderness, the idea of him was wonderful, but I didn't really want him. He wasn't the right one for me. I wasn't the right one for him. That was hard, sad, and difficult to express, but I finally did. <br />
<br />
Two weeks after that, another boy caught my eye and asked me out. I enjoyed my time with him, but something wasn't right. Well, two things weren't right: he wasn't as committed to the gospel as I was, and.... I was kinda in love with another guy. I say kinda because I didn't know him well enough to be REALLY in love with him. But what I knew I loved. Anyway, so I tell this boy that's trying to date me that I'd like to continue dating him and see where it goes. But he needed to know that I had very strong feelings for another boy... who was serving a mission at that time and returning in two months. He said he was willing to take his chances, and thus began our relationship. I almost broke up with him like three times, and begged the Lord to tell me what to do. He trusted me enough to try and figure it out.<br />
<br />
Things started to get serious with this boy, so much so that even my dad noticed. "You're not checking the mailbox every day, Kacey. Has Kyle talked to you about marriage?" I nearly choked on my chili relleno, and said, No. He hasn't. His comment did make me realize that I was thinking less and less about my missionary. "My Missionary," ha. We'd never dated, never talked about dating, never even alluded to it. He was just the man I cared about who happened to be a missionary at that time. Anyway, there was this one weekend where everything came together perfectly and I realized I soon would want to marry this boy. That was odd for me. I told him, "If someone asked me to pick between you and him four days ago, I would have picked him in a heartbeat. But if they asked tomorrow.... I don't know who I'd pick."<br />
<br />
THE NEXT DAY.<br />
<br />
I get a letter from my missionary. He says "I wasn't going to bring this up, but I felt impressed that I should..." He then goes on to tell me that he was aware of my feelings for him and his feelings were similar.<br />
<br />
Holy. Crap.<br />
<br />
I had four days of solitude babysitting my nieces to figure this one out. At the end of that week, I knew I had to break up with him. I HAD to know if my missionary and I could work. He was my best friend, after all, and doesn't everyone dream of marrying their best friend?<br />
<br />
No, it didn't work out between my missionary and I. I'm not sorry about that. I'm not sorry that he sent me the letter. We are still good friends. I still love him... I'm not IN love with him. But I love my little BFF. I know that if I hadn't gotten his letter when I got it... if he'd waited till he got home to say something... I'd have been at the very least engaged. Engaged to someone who wouldn't help me reach my full potential.<br />
<br />
"I'm a home wrecker!" he said when I told him the story. I laughed and said, "No, you're not. You saved me from making a huge mistake. And if we become nothing more than friends, at least know that you were inspired to send that letter when you did."<br />
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The Lord trusted me. But when I almost made a stupid mistake, He beat me over the head with a romantic two by four.<br />
<br />
Halleluyar.<br />
<br />
So there. That is proof that if Grad school isn't right for me, God might have someone send me another proverbial letter, right? If I'm being righteous and trying hard to listen to the Spirit, i won't make major mistakes, right?<br />
<br />
Right. That's what I tell myself.<br />
<br />
I'm gunna feel like such a reject if NO grad schools accept me.<br />
<br />
<br />
This is worse than dating.<br />
<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-40601988069483660722012-11-13T12:56:00.000-08:002012-11-13T12:56:17.259-08:00Gentlemen's ClubToday all the girls from my table called in. It's just me and three gentlemen. I call us "The Gentlemen's Club." Because they all have addictions to certain drinks, and they're sitting in a circle around me, I feel like that is an appropriate name.<br />
<br />
You know when you have those dreams that seem to be on your mind until you dream again? That is me today.<br />
<br />
I stepped through a door into a world different than this one. It was a place where "should have's" were kept, along with all the "could have's." It was like walking in a world that wasn't congruent with itself, yet it flowed successfully. I strolled down the path and stumbled upon a could have I haven't thought about in a while. There he was, standing en pleine forme, and looked at me expectantly. <br />
<br />
"Hi Kacey. Is that what you're wearing on our date?"<br />
I looked down at my outfit which seemed fitting for most any occaision.<br />
"Yes. I guess so."<br />
He shrugged.<br />
"Well, you're the one who wanted to wear costumes. Let's go, I hate being late."<br />
He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a Halloween party. I began to see the inappropriateness of my garb. A girl I didn't recognize saw us and smiled. She announced to the group, "Hey look! The Pitmans are here!"<br />
<br />
It was odd. I didn't feel elated or anything like that. We were just like before, only with rings on our fingers. After the party we chatted, sitting distantly on the couch. The emotional distance between us was manifest physically as well as mentally. Our discussion was choppy. Strained. Finally, Ben broke the tension and explained that he almost ended our engagement a few weeks before the wedding. I sat there, shocked.<br />
<br />
"You what?"<br />
"It just felt like the right thing to do."<br />
"So why did you marry me?"<br />
"I was too scared to call it off."<br />
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This information did not surprise me the way his early declaration did. It made sense and was consistent with the man who was sitting beside me. I moved closer to him and took his hand in mine, trying desperately to feel some kind of spark between my husband and I. <br />
<br />
"I'm glad you married me," I said, trying to convince myself as much as anything. His hand was clammy and limp in my hand.<br />
<br />
"I don't know if I am," he replied.<br />
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"Good," I thought to myself. "Because I don't either."<br />
<br />
Later in the dream a bunch of random happenings occured, leading me to work and living in an RV. But when I woke I didn't think about the weirdness of my living situation. I thought of the odd disatisfaction I felt with being married to Ben.<br />
<br />
I think this came about because this weekend my parents met Felipe, and they interrogated me a bit on the subject of our relationship. Unlike the last time when Mom came, I didn't feel anxiety or panic. I just felt calm and happy. He makes me happy. He reminds me a lot Kim, odly enough. They have some similar characteristics, characteristics that I love. So while talking to Sydney last night, I realized: I don't feel panic. I don't feel scared. I feel good, happy, and hopeful.<br />
<br />
And that's scary.<br />
<br />
I don't know how to deal with this... hmmm... calm situation. I haven't felt it in ages. And the last few times I did it ended very badly. Or abruptly. Or... yeah. Luckily, Felipe's name is Felipe, and not Ben (now all you Bens know I love you, but you should all understand my curse by now). So maybe there is hope :)<br />
<br />
I am happy. All you could have beens or should have beens-- stay confined in your world. I love my world quite a lot. I don't want to be married to Ben. I want the bright future I see ahead of me.<br />
<br />
Happy happy joy joy!<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-20597856640521075522012-10-17T12:58:00.000-07:002012-10-17T12:58:17.228-07:00It is long overdue..."Kacey! Kacey! Brandee, where's Kacey?"<br />
"She's on break, Tom."<br />
"Oh. Where's Kacey?"<br />
"On break."<br />
"When's she coming back?"<br />
"When her break is over."<br />
"Brandee."<br />
"What?"<br />
"Kacey's my bud."<br />
<br />
enter: Kacey.<br />
<br />
"KACEY! You made it!"<br />
<br />
<br />
I love that guy. Tom (name has been changed) has this huge thing with me. As soon as I leave, he starts asking the nearest Staff, which is usually Brandee because one of her individuals is almost always in the bathroom and my table is right next to the bathroom, where I am and when I'll be back. And as soon as I get back he'll throw his arms in the air and say, "KACEY! YOU MADE IT!" Like I'd been on the verge of death or something. And if I was, all I'd have to do is think of that and I'd come right back to life. He just makes me laugh and feel all warm and fuzzy inside. We are good chums. If he ever goes on trips that I don't go on, every other thing he says is, "Where's Kacey? When are we going to pick her up?" Awww... someone misses me!<br />
<br />
Here are some other funny ones I've heard/ seen.<br />
<br />
A tall man from the other department sees me coming out of the changing room, stops me and says, in all seriousness: "He is using bad words."<br />
"Uh oh."<br />
"Yeah, I told him we don't use bad words. Because there are womans here."<br />
<br />
Yup. Womans.<br />
<br />
The same man today hugged his peer and said "Guess what I'm going to be for Halloween!"<br />
"What???" the other responded enthusiastically. "I'm going to be a mousy!"<br />
His peer takes a second, cocks his head and says, "A mousy?" The best part was, another peer, a woman (not to be confused with womans) smacked his arm and said, "Duh. A mousy."<br />
<br />
Another thing that happened this morning:<br />
<br />
<br />
One of the individuals here, let's call her Susan, was in our department one minute, then she was gone the next. I looked around wildly and said, "Where's Susan?" Another Staff said, "She's in bathroom number two." I calm down. Uh duh Kacey. She's independant in the bathroom so she doesn't write her name on the outside like a Staff would. Then Brandee comes up with one of her guys (told you she's always by the bathrooms...) and says, "Is there anyone in here?" knocking on bathroom two. I say, "Yeah, Susan." She opens the door a bit, pokes her head in, looks around and says to me, "No, there's no one in here." Panic starts to set in as I realize that Susan has been off the floor for at least the five minuts I thought she was in the bathroom. Crystal, the Staff that told me she was in there in the first place, exclaimed, "What? THat's impossible! I saw her go in!" At that very second both Brandee and I look back at the bathroom and Susan is standing in the doorway. "Hellloooooooo!" she crooned in her shakey old lady voice, as per usual. I nearly wet my pants it startled me so badly. Brandee almost dropped the individual she had. Susan was apparently throwing her paper towel away behind the door the first time we looked in. But it was spooooookkkyyyyyy....<br />
<br />
<br />
My life has been up and down lately. My car keeps giving me heck. I applied for auto loans at my two banks (Wells Fargo and US Bank), but both rejected me on no previous debt. Yeah, my credit score is good... I just have no comperable debt experience. To quote one of the bankers working with me, "How dare you live within your means and not incurr debt!" Right? So I applied at this one federal credit union here in Reno that one of my friends got her loan at. I didn't actually expect them to approve. THey didn't exactly- they gave me a counter offer. $10,000, with the stipulation that $10,000 is 80% of the Kelly Blue Book value of the car. The highest APR (which is only if the car is the oldest it can be) is 4.99%, going down with the age of the car. I feel like there was one more stipulation. Hmmm. I don't remember. I'm gunna go talk to the banker today. Hopefully I can find a car that fits all those qualifications and is tons better than the car I have now. Which is in the shop. Again. Shocker. It hates me. Sigh. Ma pauvre Amandine...<br />
<br />
Anyway. Lunch is almost over. I've gotta study some more tonight for the GRE. Then it's my birthday party. I was supposed to go shopping with Felipe to help him put together a costume (he just wanted to buy one, how silly! Thrift Stores are the way to go!) but my test studying is taking precedence. He understands. He's a stricter studier than I am.<br />
<br />
Bref. <br />
<br />
La fin.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Brandee! Where's Kacey?"<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-52198097044942507142012-09-28T22:46:00.001-07:002012-09-28T22:46:34.962-07:00To Whom it May Concern28 septembre 2012<div>
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To whom it may concern:</div>
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Hi babe. I know I don't know you yet, but I felt like writing to you anyway. Why? Because I've had some big thoughts lately. Uh oh, big thoughts. Yeah, I know. But they need sharing.</div>
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Today was rough. This whole week has been rough. It has taken every ounce of will power and some tender mercies from God to get through it and still love my job. It's been a combination of being short staffed at work, demanding individuals, and my personal life running amok with my emotions. I could run through a bazillion true scenarios that happened this week, but I have no desire to relive them. Don't get me wrong-- there have been some amazing experiences this week. While work has been frustrating, tense, and demanding, I've also had some rewarding realizations as well. But those... I'll tell those to you in person. I told my mom over the phone last night, and it just didn't have the same impact it did when I told Felipe in person. Yeah, I know. So, I'll share those special things with you later. Just remind me to tell you.</div>
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I've had a lot of interactions with the Spirit this week. I believe a large part of that was triggered by my trials. I love how difficulties do that, whether consciously or subconsciously. I also had the chance to see the Spirit tell me and another person the same thing. Wow, I haven't experienced that since... since Olympia. Also, another story. If you really want to know, ask me about it.</div>
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Anyway. I broke today at work. I swore. I never curse. But I cursed today. It was a plethora of things, which basically boiled down to my coworkers being inconsiderate, my workload being endlessly added upon, and my individuals that I serve being beyond their normal demanding. I couldn't handle it anymore. At two p.m. I finally had a chance to go to the bathroom, at which point I cried. Yes, I sat on the toilet and cried my little stressed heart out. But only for a minute, because I still had work to do with my individuals before they went home. </div>
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The worst part was, one of my supervisors just got back on Thursday from three days off. While she was gone, work was MUCH harder and we ALL had tons more to do. She didn't see that, of course. But she felt the need to criticize and yell at us all day. Hmmm, yell isn't the right word. Guilt trip? Yeah. She was critical and full of guilt to dish out. It made me want to scream. She didn't see how much we all had on our plates and how we were all doing the very best we could with what we had. She didn't see how discouraging and deceptive her comments and demands were. She didn't see that I tried to run every time I saw her come near my part of the department. She didn't see me kneeling next to one of my individuals and say, "Look, I know you're feeling crappy cause you're on your period, but so am I, okay? I know you're tired. Me too. And I know you can't speak. But please try to keep your yelling down to a minimum, okay?" My voice broke at this last part. I was asking her not to communicate in one of the few ways she can just so my senses didn't overload. She grabbed my hand and put it on her shoulder, a gesture she does often, in an attempt to prompt me to rub her back. I smiled through the hellish stress, rubbed her back, and said, "Please, girlie. This is my only request."</div>
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After all this, and after several hours of thought, I had some realizations. One- my job is hard. I love my job. But it's hard. And no amount of criticizing or encouraging is ever going to change the difficulty of my job. I don't do my job because it's easy. I do it because I believe in its power and validity. I do it because I believe that I am making the world a better place by doing it, and completing my responsibilities to the best of my abilities. I do it because I love and care about these individuals. Oh how I love them. When one individual's mother told me that she can't believe her son calls me by my name because he won't even call his sister by her name... oh my heart soared. And when another individual who is normally prickly and violent grabs my hand to hold it while he sits quietly and waits for the bus... I want to sing out in joy. Literally. When I see one of my girls complete her training WELL, even if it's only once out of the five times a day we do it, I feel so proud and giddy it's ridiculous. That's why I do my job. It wasn't until today that I realized that my job is hard, no matter what. And knowing that lightens my soul. Why? Because I know that I can do my job well, no matter what an irritated supervisor says or does. I know that I am a blessing to this company no matter what any of my friends say. I know that I am doing good, no matter how tired or stressed or PMSy I am.</div>
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Secondly-- I realized that this is going to happen again, but in a different context. Like I said earlier, I don't know you yet, but I love you deeply. So remember that I love you when I say that I know you're going to be that angry supervisor some days. What do I mean? I know your job won't be all peaches and cream. And I know there'll be days that you might get jealous that I'll be at home with the kids. And I know there'll be times that when you get home all you can think about is how crappy your day was, and why can't the house just be clean, or the kids be calm, or fed, or bathed? Why do you have to come home and take control? Babe-- I'll be doing my best. And that job is a hard one, no matter what anyone says. But I do it. Why? Because I love it. Because I believe in it. I am not perfect, and I know I won't be a satisfactory wife and mother every day-- haha, probably NEVER-- but I will be doing my best. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't criticize. Don't forget that I'll already be getting criticism from a lot of other sources. People ask why I have so many children. Why don't I work? Why don't I have my own life? I get that from every angle. I don't need to get that from you too. So all I ask is a simple thing: I don't think your day is peaches and cream. I don't expect you to be immediately and completely satisfied with the state of our home. But I do expect you to love me and respect my job. Respect and support me. I'm your help meet. You're not my supervisor-- you're my coworker. Remember that I appreciate everything you do for us. Remember that I love you more than you can ever imagine. And I think, with all that in mind, things will be just a tiny bit easier.</div>
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I wish I knew who you were. I'm working very hard to find you. I'm putting myself out there, trying to improve myself, and trying to follow the Spirit. I'm doing everything in my power to get to you. But I am limited. I am only one half of the equation.</div>
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I hope we are desperately in love. How badly I want to be in love again. I have found that it is easier for me to respect and admire a man than to love him. But my heart yearns to love and be loved. Please-- romance me. Don't make our marriage a fulfillment of a commandment and that's all. Make it an adventure. Make it full of love, and fun, and chemistry, and respect. Make it a relationship worth perpetuating beyond the grave. If you promise to do that, then I promise to do the same.</div>
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Sigh.</div>
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I will wait, I will wait for you.</div>
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Dear whomever you might be, I'm still waiting patiently.</div>
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Love,</div>
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Kacey</div>
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-11918735241141418642012-09-26T11:24:00.001-07:002012-09-26T11:25:37.436-07:00So that's why I came home giggling....<br />
Today's cast of characters is:<br />
Tom<br />
Betty<br />
Sam<br />
Bill<br />
Lydia<br />
Janice<br />
<br />
Just FYI- these aren't their real names. For confideniality reasons, I can't use their real names. <br />
<br />
1.<br />
<br />
Linda (one of my coworkers): And that's all I have to show from Japan. Now we're going to talk--<br />
Tom: About SAFETY!<br />
Linda:... No, Tom, we're not going to talk about safety. We're going to talk about Japan some more. But thank you for wanting to be safe.<br />
Tom: Let's do a fire drill!<br />
<br />
2.<br />
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Karen, an SRC coordinater, walks through the lunch room yesterday. Tom yells "Have a good Christmas!" Cassie, one of my coworkers, looks over at Tom. Tom smiles and says, "Have a good Halloween!" Cassie says, "Yes, Tom, that one is a little bit closer."<br />
<br />
3.<br />
<br />
Sam tries to cuddle with me while we wait for the bus at the end of the day. He used to walk away every time he saw me. Now we're BFF's.<br />
<br />
4. <br />
<br />
I sneeze while standing by my table. 20 feet away, and from inside the bathroom, Betty yells "Bless you!" Twice.<br />
<br />
5. <br />
<br />
Lydia was getting in another individual's face. I walk over to break up her obvious tyraid.<br />
Me: Lydia, you need to go sit down.<br />
Lydia: He has lots of girlfriends, you know.<br />
Me: Oh really.<br />
Lydia: Oh yes. I stepped on the bus and found one!<br />
<br />
6.<br />
<br />
This one needs a little preface. At work we have small whiteboards on our bathroom doors. We write the initials of the individual that is in them and the time they entered. We do this for several reasons. 1) so Staff can see from across the room if the bathroom is taken. 2) Staff can deduce about WHEN the bathroom will open up. 3) So we don't forget an individual in the bathroom. 4) So we know where each individual is at all times. <br />
<br />
Well, Mike, my boss, was walking through the area and saw a small line for the bathroom. Someone hadn't erased the last individual's initials off the door, so it looked like she was still in there... half an hour after she went in. Mike, a little irritated that an individual had the bathroom for 30 minutes, especially when there is a line, shouts, "JANICE D. IS STILL IN THE BATHROOM?"<br />
"YUP!" Janice D shouts. From right behind Mike. HAHAHAHAHA! I nearly wet my pants.<br />
<br />
7. <br />
<br />
Lydia: I feel like a tire going round and round on a wheel.<br />
<br />
What does that even mean?<br />
<br />
8. <br />
<br />
These are the pompom chickens the guys at my table made. Awesome.<br />
<br />
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Yes. Tom picked the smallest head and the biggest googely eyes to go with it. And Bill is my big friendly giant, it's no mistake that his yellow chicken actually looks like him.<br />
<br />
9.<br />
<br />
Whenever Bill leaves the bathroom without washing his hands, I immediately tell him to go back and wash them. This morning, anticipating my interrogation, he sees me, smiles, and turns right back around into the bathroom.<br />
<br />
10.<br />
<br />
Betty asks me what I'm doing tonight. Every two minutes. I've never felt more pressure to have a social life in my entire life.<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, just a few fun experiences from this past week. I love my job.Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-32070587906465759302012-09-18T12:54:00.000-07:002012-09-18T12:54:01.426-07:00Happy National Chicken Month!Today has been one of those days where... there's not ONE thing wrong. Just a bunch of... little things. Not only a bunch, but more like a gazillion. I woke up early to do some sun salutations (my body has been super tense so it's a part of my new routine), but forgot that I had to take West out this morning. So I brushed my teeth while West ran around and peed on everything (he now owns half the apartment complex). Then I bolted out the door to try and get to work on time. I decided to make some tea, comme d'hab, but the hot water wasn't working. Not only that, but once I got it to work, I decided to try a NEW tea. Today was not a good day to do that. I ended up throwing the cup out it was so abrasive. Anyway...<br />
<br />
One of my guys yells loudly to communicate. Usually I can deal with it. Today it just grated my ability to think. Then another one of my guys threw his drink on the ground. And another one didn't want to eat the honeydew for snack. Then I was in charge of an activity, and as soon as I opened my mouth, the entire crowd of people started talking, yelling, making incoherent noises. So I shut my mouth. They stop talking. I open it again and it's like a TRIGGER. Not only that, but one of my guys has been talking incessantly about Christmas. "Are we having a Christmas party?" "Yes, in December." "So on June 21st we're having a Christmas party." "No, in December." "Christmas is just around the corner!" <br />
<br />
I breathe deeply and decide to proceed with caution.<br />
<br />
Then. We have staggered lunches, shoot me, and I'm on the last lunch. Not only that, but no one tells me until right before lunch time that the guys are eating in Skills, not in the lunch room. Now my only issue with that is instead of 12 microwaves we only have two. Well, one and a half, because one is utter CRAP. Bref. So I am stuck in the kitchenette of Skills trying to heat up forty lunches with one and a half microwaves. It's exhausting. Then I go back to my table and see that the guy who threw his drink that morning had just thrown his milk all over the floor and my chair. The man next to him decides to inform us all that he's ready for the Christmas party and Christmas presents. I lost it. <br />
<br />
I went off in French. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?! Pourquoi est-ce que vous m'embettez comme ca?" (I say vous because they all were driving me nuts) I bent over and started to wipe up the floor. "Vous aimez me faire du mal? Parce que j'ai l'impression que vous me detestez aujourd'hui! S'IL VOUS PLAIT, laissez-moi!" <br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
For like a second.<br />
<br />
The first person to speak was.... "So, Christmas is right around the corner, Kacey."<br />
<br />
<br />
I just stared at him as he ran through his speech about a Christmas party in June. By the time he got back to "Christmas is just around the corner," I just giggled. Oh how ridiculous was my anger. My fatigue, however, was very real and felt by three other staff. We just got on lunch and Heaven help us get through the afternoon.<br />
<br />
Anyway. I love it. I'm just ready for a nap.<br />
<br />
Yay naps!<br />
<br />
Last night I saw Felipe's capeoira class. It was like dancing. In jello.<br />
<br />
Wow I'm seriously tired. Dancing in jello is a very inept way to describe capeoira. But I don't care. I'm just gunna sit here and down a can of Coke.<br />
<br />
Judge me now.Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-70833994079328498982012-09-15T14:44:00.001-07:002012-09-15T14:44:25.749-07:00No matter how you heart is dreaming, if you keep on believing...The dream that you wish will come true.<br />
<br />
Heavens help us if last night's dream comes true.<br />
<br />
<br />
Had another crazy dream. I went on another mission. To Las Vegas. Apparently Vegas is north of Reno in my dream, and you take a train to get there. I get on with my family, and when I report to the mission home I see a TON of my Paris Missionary Bud's, including Elder Draleau and Soeur Cope. Soeur Cope was great, hanging around me, helping me get used to stateside missionary work. She also told me about this big conference that we have where we pick which color Power Ranger we are. Uhm, what? Yup, that's right. I found out that all the "missionaries" that were with me were all RM's, and this whole "2nd mission" thing was a cover for our REAL mission- Power Rangers. Ohhhhh yes. I tried to be the pink ranger, but Cope said she already picked that one. So I was the Magenta Ranger. Slightly less cool. Anyway, there were four of us in this helicopter at one point, me, Draleau, Cope, and some other elder, and our job was to jump out of the helicopter into a raging river. Oh heeeeeck no. I screamed and said "NOT ON YOUR LIFE!" so they slowed down over a small lake and we all hopped out. I did a sweet dive while wearing my amazing pink swimsuit (I really do love this swimsuit, it has now made two distinct appearances in my dreams) and then we got to work: we were infiltrating this sketchy company. While undercover as tourists, we discovered why this company was so sketch- they kidnapped people and harvested all their organs! And stuff like their arms and feet and shiz like that! In fact, all the employees had at least one limb missing, and their prosthetic limbs were all crappy. By the time the tour ended, I figured out that the main source of the organs were tourists, just like us. That was confirmed when I saw that Draleau was missing. I told the group that I was bookin' it back into the factory to find Ben (Draleau). But the group tried to stop me because I called him Ben, which obviously meant that we had an inappropriate relationship. I tried to remind them that none of us were actually missionaries, and that it didn't matter what I called him because all his organs were going to be harvested! The group then got into this debate about how lame my animal was-- a dolphin, can't say I really liked my animal either-- but I told them to stuff it. Cope came with me and we snuck back into the factory. We found Draleau and started to sneak him out right when I woke up.<br />
<br />
C'est fou ca. <br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway. So. I'm sitting here on Michayla's computer because mine crashed. Just like my CAR! Ha. Hahahaha. Yup. I just shelled out $680 to fix my car. Well, luckily Mom and Dad lent me a big chunk on that money, but still. Doesn't that seem excessive? obviously not because my computer wanted to crap out too. But oh well. At least it lasted as long as it did. And my car has much more pep than before, which is good. <br />
<br />
Thanks to all who replied to my last post. It has helped me. In fact, I am still dating afore mentioned guy. We'll see what happens. I dunno. I just get SUCH anxiety about dating. It's been this way since my mission when Heavenly Father gave me an unsolicited Denial. I'm like, "What if that happens again? Why should I date if God could at any time say, 'nope, not that one'?" Why? Because that's what dating's for. There was this one time I was talking to Ben, yup the one from my dream, and I was expressing this same anxiety. And he laughed and said, "It seems you have finally figured out the purpose of dating." Indeed. And it's fun, right? Not just anxiety ridden? Yes. Yes Kacey it is. Remember, it's been nearly six weeks that you've been going on dates with this boy. Don't discount the fact that despite all your doubts, you still like him enough to keep dating him, and have awkward DTR's and putting yourself out there because you don't always understand his cultural issues. Yup.<br />
<br />
Anyway. That's my post for the day. I hope you enjoyed.<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-42547491608783340302012-09-11T11:40:00.000-07:002012-09-11T11:40:05.111-07:00I don't mean to complain and allSigh. Let me start off with my dream.<br />
<br />
And it was the opposite of what I asked for, btw. (yes, in my nightly prayers I tell Heavenly Father what I don't want in my dreams, eg scary nightmares, sad things and specific men).<br />
<br />
I dreamt that He (an unmentioned male) thought he was in love with me. "I just can't tell though, Kacey, because now there is this other girl, and she's making me all confused." In my dream we hadn't seen each other for a while so that made sense. He gathered up all the letters we sent over the past few months, and studied them, like he was going to get an exam on them. I just watched. Until he said, "A bunch of us are going to lake Shasta" (is there even a lake shasta?) "and you should come. It'll help me decide." SO I go, looking mighty fine in my pink swimsuit, and I see her- the other woman. She's this petite blonde with short flippy hair and big blue eyes. Why is the other woman always blonde? Anyway, we hang out, I hit it off big with everyone in the group. But he sits in the corner and thinks, looking over and over at our letters. In the end, I don't know who he picked- I woke up. But it doesn't matter. Because neither of us in real life is exactly-- available. Well, kinda. Anyway, that was my dream.<br />
<br />
My question that I pose to the big wide universe is-- how much? how much do I allow before I either cave or say something? I've met this guy (Ah! right?) and he's pretty much awesome. We've gone out quite a few times over the past month, and we continue to see each other, but... anyway. The events in my life have led me to ask the universe what is it I need to look for in my future spouse. Like, I know what I SHOULD look for, and said person totally has a ton of these VERY important and key qualities. But... like, what do I accept and what do I hope to see change? LIke one of the things I love most about my friendship with this guy is that we are similar in some very core ways, but we are pretty much different in every other way. And that makes it fun and exciting! But where do I draw the line? When does different go from exciting to irritating? When am I in the wrong, or when am I being wise? I don't know. Obviously this guy is in no rush to get engaged, so I really have time to figure it out. But I've never posed this problem to myself, or anyone else really. <br />
<br />
So there. There is my short post for the day. My lunch break is almost over. And I am excited to get back to work. I love my job. Don't really know why, just-- I do. I get warm fuzzies when I walk in to work every morning. Yay!<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-50417141236716492052012-08-26T19:45:00.000-07:002012-08-26T19:50:57.143-07:00I'm gunna be fiiiiiiiinnnneeee!!!!!Sometimes work is rough. Why? Because I haven't learned everyone's specific needs yet, so I feel like I'm scrambling to make sure no one dies. Odd. One of my coworker's favorite anecdotes about me during my second week of work is this: "And Kacey stepped in from the lunch room, grabbed her hair and said, 'THERE'S JUST SO MUCH!'" Yes. That about sums it up. There's just so much. <br />
<br />
The thing is, everyone has all this specific health things, but most of them don't happen very often. So, like, I forget them. Luckily one of the more serious ones didn't happen when I was on duty. I came back from lunch one day and another staff pulled me aside and said, "Okay, so everything is fine, but I feel like a horrible person." Ah yes, that's exactly how I love to start my afternoons. What had happened is she was helping one of my guys to the bathroom. We'll call him Joe. Joe is older, super cheery-- except when his Alzheimer's kicks in. He is a little shaky and once in a while, not often at all, will just fall. Because of that, we have to hold his hand while he walks. Oh everyone loves "Joe"! He's a lover not a fighter! Well, my coworker was walking him to the bathroom. She let go of his hand for a second to grab something, and in that second he dropped to the ground. A complete and honest accident. She wrote the report (Our policy is CYA- Cover Your Butt) and told me what happened. "I checked everywhere and the only thing I could find was his knee got scuffed. So I did First Aide and he's fine. In fact, he will tell you he's fine." <br />
<br />
"I trust you, Cami. He doesn't need to tell me he's fine," I reply.<br />
<br />
"Oh no, Kacey. I know. But he'll tell you anyway. And his bad mood is completely gone."<br />
<br />
See, he'd been in such a bad mood all morning. So much so that when his home staff came to pick him up for a Dr's appointment he would NOT get into the car. They had to reschedule his appointment. So to know that him falling put him in a good mood... that was odd. I didn't buy it.<br />
<br />
She was right, by the way. The first thing he said when I went over to him was "I'm fine! I'm gunna be fine!"<br />
<br />
"I know, Joe! I heard!"<br />
<br />
"Kacey! I need your help!" another one of my individuals said. I turned to her and said I'd be there in a second, while my coworker came over to watch the others while I helped this one. As my coworker approached, "Joe" stood up and started singing. He has this amazing warble of a vibrato and it always sounds straight off a vinyl record from the 50's. What did he sing, you might ask? "I'mmmmmmmm Gunnnnaaaaaa be fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnneeeeeee!"<br />
<br />
Yes. He sang that for ten minutes. <br />
<br />
I understood then what Cami meant.<br />
<br />
Oh I love him. He's one of my favorites to be around. He'll sit and sing allll day long. It's a wonderful thing!<br />
<br />
There's another woman there with Alzheimer's. It's not as bad as Joe's, but it can get pretty bad. I love her compliments though. One time I was helping her over to Cooking Class, and she looked right at me and said, "Boy you are cute, Doll!" She calls all the female staff "Doll" at least once. Though she can get catty with the other girls. I just tell her, "you're an adult. Act like one." "I don't want to talk to her!" she'll say. "Well then-- don't!" I say back. That gets her quiet real fast. Oh she's sooo funny.<br />
<br />
Hmmm what else... One lady that I work with always asks me "What're you doin' tonight?" I tell her, then she forgets and asks me again about an hour later. A bunch of our guys do that. Sometimes it's just for attention, so if I've already answered the question, I'll just turn the question back on them. There's one man, we'll call him Bob, who is the best at it.<br />
<br />
"Kacey. What does High Sierra mean?" (Though he can't say his r's so it's more like "High siewwa")<br />
"What does it mean, Bob?"<br />
"The mountains."<br />
"That's right."<br />
<br />
"Kacey, Kacey. What's Wal Mart?"<br />
"What's Wal Mart, Bob?"<br />
"Supah centah."<br />
"That's right, Bob."<br />
<br />
Bob has what we call "Shiny Moments," as in, he'll change topics midstream as if he got distracted by something shiny. The other morning he went up to Crystal and said, "Cwystal Cwystal, I know how to spell your name."<br />
"Okay, Bob, how do you spell it?"<br />
"C- Aw- I"<br />
"Okay, that works." (because it's CRY)<br />
"S- Linda. Wheah's Linda? Why isn't Linda hewah?"<br />
<br />
And we all lost it. He's so funny.<br />
<br />
I look forward to my every day question from Bob "Kacey, Kacey, what does High Siewwah mean?"<br />
<br />
And "Joe" and I sing every day while waiting for the bus (he's obsessed with Elvis) "Wise men say only fools rush in..."<br />
<br />
My internal song though, from now on, whenever I have anxiety is:<br />
"Iiiiiiiiiii'mmmmmmm gunnnnnaaaaa be FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN NNNNNEEEEEE!"<br />
<br />
I love my job :)Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-60708730759115521552012-08-16T19:42:00.000-07:002012-08-16T19:42:44.259-07:00Blast from the past...I found my first journal. I loved finding this old journal. My parents were BRILLIANT to do this. I'm totally doing this for my kids. And here is why:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
This is the very first entry I dictated to Dad on April 5, 1992. <br />
<br />
"Kacey is my name. I like to jump on the trampoline and on Michayl's bed when Tori is laying down on it. Today I went to Cheryl Anderson's house and played as my mom and dad watched General Conference. <br />
<br />
Grandma Carlee took four of us to McDonalds. I got a hamburger, some fries, and a drink of soda. I like McDonalds and I go to the Pizza store. I eat pizza with fries at the Pizza store. I took my Barbie to the Pizsa store. It was hot.<br />
<br />
I like to talk to Grandpa David.<br />
Grandpa David gave us a talk and a puppy. We call the puppy "RJ" (which stands for Rusty Junior).<br />
<br />
I like to play with RJ at our home. He bites me on the leg and makes me scream. I then hit him on the head. He cries just a little tiny bit.<br />
<br />
We washed the Blazer yesterday.<br />
<br />
We watched a movie about Ninja Turtles.<br />
<br />
Mary Beth came over to my house this week. When she was here we played horsey land. While Mary Beth was here I changed into another girl.<br />
<br />
I like to play with Tori and Mary Beth.<br />
<br />
I like to play with RJ."<br />
<br />
<br />
Some of my favorite quotes that only a child could get away with:<br />
<br />
"Kelsy's mom, Sister Edgin, and she's got eyes and a whole head about her, was my teacher."<br />
<br />
<br />
"The girls got the master bedroom downstairs. It's VERY big! The boys made the stairs. We slide down the stairs. Heavenly Father made the world."<br />
<br />
"We moved already. This is an old house."<br />
<br />
"Mommy is silly."<br />
<br />
"We went to the store. Tor-pee (Tori) went with us."<br />
<br />
"Tomorrow will be Brandon's 2nd day at school. And blue track started and my friend Kathleen from the airport goes to my class. She always late on the playground. I always see the teacher and know she is there."<br />
<br />
"My Dad told me on the phone she had a baby girl. Kathryn, my baby sister, is so cute that everyone in my class will want to hold her. She likes when everybody holds her. She sleeps a lot. She barely even eats, but mostly sleeps. When she sleeps she acts like a statue and stays very still."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sigh. Life was good as a kid.<br />
<br />
Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-56782724167074214802012-08-06T18:55:00.000-07:002012-08-06T18:55:27.939-07:00Then Sings my soulPart of me really wants to write down everything I've been experiencing and feeling, but another part of me just doesn't see how that's possible. I try to fit in everything that I can remember before FHE starts.<br />
<br />
Reno is awesome. my job, though intimidating at first, is WONDERFUL!!! It reminds me SOOO much of being on a mission. How you ask? Well, first off, I'm in the Skills department. We work with individuals who are the lowest functioning. People in other departments often say "Gosh, I could never work in skills. It's too tough." Why does that remind me of being a missionary? Well, it's what people said about me serving in France. And within the mission, that's what people said about Valenciennes, one of my absolute favorite areas. "Not enough success; too hard." People, listen up: I LOVE THE SKILLS DEPARTMENT!!! I can't imagine being ANYWHERE ELSE! I have grown to love every individual I serve in my department, even the ones who scared the crap out of me at first. I say scared because I really was quite uneasy; what are their disabilities? How am I supposed to act? What am I allowed to let them do, and what behavior am I supposed to hinder? But as I got to learn about each individual even the most unpredictable and THEIVING (oh yes, we have drink thieves) have become precious to me. What makes me love them the most is when I'm doing the down and dirty work: the toileting. Mom and Michayla were nervous for me on this point. But I decided, hey. I've changed a bazillion baby diapers. I'll just think of them like that. But I didn't have to do that. Why? Because all I'm doing is helping them with something they can't do for themselves. It's not an imposition. It's an opportunity to serve. It's what I believe the Savior would do.<br />
<br />
Each person in my department, and there are about 40, has such a unique personality and set of talents. Yes, talents. There's one man, whoooooeeeeee! He can keep rhythm better than any drummer I ever played with. I remarked that today to his staff, and she said, "It's not just music that he keeps time to. He'll do it for your rhythm too." She started clapping a beat and MAN was he ON!!! So I tried the same thing. It took him like two seconds to get it right. I made it a little more difficult: triplets. Shiz, that man was ON IT! Then he started smiling and laughing. His staff turned to me and said "He loves doing this. It makes him so happy." How simple! How fun!<br />
<br />
There's another individual who tries to steal hugs. He'll come to your side then slip his arm around your shoulders. Today he tried that with me for the first time. But I cut him off, like I'm supposed to, and said "no." Then he asked politely, like he was supposed to, and I agreed. That's generally the rule: they can hug you if they ask. And I love my hugs. <br />
<br />
One man looks like a blond Robert Pattinson. He's non verbal, but I love him. He understands so much, we just don't understand him. I wish I could. He loves to interact with people and communicate the best that he can.<br />
<br />
Then one of my favorites is a woman. She is just so cheery! She is always saying, "Hello! How are you?" and smiling, even when unpleasant things happen. It's not that she's oblivious; au contraire. You can visibly see that she knows what's happening. But she chooses to be cheerful and upbeat about it. How many of us can say that?<br />
<br />
I could go on and on about this place. I actually look forward to work. I won't get to take over my own table for a few more weeks, but I found out which one it is, so I'm looking forward to it.<br />
<br />
My ward seems pretty great. I've made some new friends. And... well, I'll talk about that later :)<br />
<br />
Anyway. Off to FHE!!!!Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-20084060830635055032012-07-12T21:13:00.002-07:002012-07-13T07:10:11.477-07:00Draft: the mountain waves shall dash upon you<br />
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This is a draft of an article I'm sending in to the Ensign. Comments and suggestions are beyond welcome--- they're what I'm looking for!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This was a battle I’d been fighting
for quite some time. The dark feelings
of hopelessness, irrational anxiety about my future, and the sureness that
nothing could save me from my own imperfections plagued me at all the wrong
times. I was raised in the church being
taught that none of these feelings should occur if I was being righteous, and
according to the tools I’d been given, I was being righteous. So why did these feelings persist, especially
during my personal scripture study, sacrament meeting, and moments of
pondering? What was wrong with me that I
couldn’t feel what I’d always believed?
I didn’t pay these emotions too much heed until the second to last
transfer of my mission, when my episodes of anxiety became frighteningly
overwhelming. I had a wonderful
companion who knew my history with depression (which followed my fiancé calling
our wedding off one week before the date).
She urged me to call our mission president and tell him what I was
feeling. “Soeur Barros, there’s no
reason you should be feeling this; you’re working so hard and we’re having so
much success!” I called up my brand new
mission president who gave me advice directly contrary to what I thought was
best. Having faith, however, that he was
called of God, I took his advice and managed to keep this anxiety at bay for
the remainder of my mission.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I, as many returned missionaries
do, lived in a lovely land of denial after my mission. I was still riding on that strong spiritual
high when the episodes returned. About
six months after my return home however, denial abruptly ditched me and left me
with cold hard reality. Yick. I didn’t like reality. Not only that, but without denial, my
episodes became stronger and more prominent.
I would be sitting in Sacrament meeting when an episode would start
up. First came the feelings of “I need
to do better,” which developed into “I’m so terrible because I’m not doing as
much as I could,” and then quickly progressed into “I’m such a useless person I
can’t do anything right or well enough to satisfy God.” Obviously, none of those were true. But they felt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so real</i> that it shook me down to my core. I created a habit of praying like crazy when
I started feeling this way. My prayers
never shortened or softened the experience, but feelings of peace and love
never failed to creep into my heart as the fear subsided. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anyone in my family can tell you
that I’m horrible at hiding my emotions.
My dad frequently tried to warn me that what I was thinking was written
on my face. Though this attribute has
often been a gift, at this point in my life it was a curse. I’d have exert every ounce of willpower and
energy I possessed to only allow silent tears down my cheeks and not the
violent sobs of distress that my heart so desperately wanted to express. After I was called as the ward organist and
required to sit on the stand, it became ever imperative that I hold it in. Though, after a while, I found my calling to
be a tender mercy: members often tried to console me after the meeting about my
less than amazing organ abilities, assuming that that was the reason I cried
every week. Who knew: because I played
wrong notes, no one caught on to the fact that I was losing my emotional grip
every week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I rationalized and ignored these
episodes a good three months before I told my parents that I needed to speak
with someone about it. I’d come to
realize that this wasn’t a spiritual matter, but an emotional and maybe even
chemical one. My family has a history of
depression, and, like I said earlier, I had experienced it before. My dad, a bishop in another ward, gave me the
name of an LDS therapist that the stake president liked to refer people
to. I called him up and made an
appointment. While certain aspects of my
life started to improve, my episodes did not. In fact, they worsened steadily. I remember two episodes specifically that
show my never ending and drastic deterioration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My normal episode pinnacled with an
unshakeable feeling of hopelessness about my future. Literally, when I tried to think about my
future, I saw and felt nothing expect bleak, black, darkness. But this episode culminated with my
irrational but very real question of “what is the point of planning my
future? What is the point of having a
future? My future holds NOTHING for me.” That was a distinct progression from my
normal “ehh… my life is junk.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The second episode was much
scarier. My heart jumped off the cliff
of hopelessness and dove down to “I have no point. Nothing in this world would be different if I
didn’t exist. I wish God had never
created me because… because I’m useless. There’s no point to my life.” Alas, that was
not the bottom—not yet. No, I knew I’d finally reached the bottom of the
depression ravine when I “knew”, and this “knowledge” was very appealing, that I
didn’t have to have a future. I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> disappear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When my heart crashed into those
rocks, my soul shuddered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The episode slowly ran its
course. I found the desire to pray,
which was quite a breakthrough, actually.
I hated praying during these past few episodes because it brought me no
consolation, and in reality, I just ended up yelling at God; I was too deeply
lost in the depression to truly pray. The
moment did come where I found enough faith to pray and ask Heavenly Father to
help me. “Help me feel like I’m worth
something,” I sobbed. “Like there’s a
point to me. Like my future is worth
living for.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No big response came. I was still so upset that I wouldn’t have
been able to hear it if one had. I did,
however, feel an undeniable and unmistakable peace. The calm was almost palpable, like a blanket
wrapped around me, protecting me from my anxiety and depression. A cliché, I know, but the feeling was so
physical there is no other description. My
breathing slowed and my heart began to beat at a normal pace, allowing me to
fully exit the scariest experience I’d ever had. The peace continued to fill my heart and
surround my being. I had the wistful
thought “I wish my patriarchal blessing spoke about this.” I chose not to look at my blessing. I’d honestly NEVER had an experience where
what was specifically written spoke to me in a time of need. Sure, sometimes the Spirit would calm my
heart if I read my blessing, but never any of the words. Not in this kind of situation. And I wasn’t yet in a state to understand the
Spirit in any way beyond the peace I was already experiencing. So I decided to open the scriptures and read
a few verses, which pulled me a little further out of the dark abyss that was
my mind. My hunger was not yet satiated,
and like a child needing breakfast to fully wake up for the day, I had the desire
to feel more. My patriarchal blessing
again popped into my brain. Not able to
deny the urge any longer, I decided that I was far enough beyond the episode to
be able to hear the Spirit speak to me.
So I pulled out my blessing and started to read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I never got beyond the second
paragraph.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I didn’t have to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the first few lines of my
blessing, the words that I so desperately needed to hear were written on this
paper printed nearly ten years earlier. Declarations
of my divine lineage and priceless worth pierced through my cloud of
self-depreciation and self-loathing straight to my soul. I read with disbelief the specifc qualities
and purposes Heavenly Father had given me, qualities that directly contradicted
the deep and penetrating emotions that possessed my heart not ten minutes
earlier. Amazement washed over me and
practically knocked me to my knees, prompting me to pray once again. I poured out my grateful heart to my loving
Heavenly Father for the words of love and encouragement He prepared so many
years earlier for this specific experience.
For the comfort He so readily gave me at the end of each of my manic
episodes. For the love that He
possesses, a love that doesn’t tire of my repetitive depressions, but continues to attend my needs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have no words to describe the
peace and joy that filled me. I can only borrow the words of the scripture in 3
Nephi where it states “no tongue can speak, neither can there be written by any
man, neither can the hearts of men conceive so great… [was] the joy which
filled [my] soul.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Believe it or not, I’m also
grateful for the severity of that manic episode. That episode was so scary so quickly that it
woke me out of my pride and got me to tell my therapist what was going on,
after months of living in denial.
Through his help and the help of my doctor, we established that I suffer
from a mood disorder, specifically a mix between depression and bi-polar
disorder. I take medication for it, and
my episodes have all but disappeared.
I’m grateful that Heavenly Father has given us modern medicine which helps me
regulate this chemical problem. I bring
this up because I don’t want anyone to think that I believe prayer and faith is
enough to overcome issues like depression or other mood disorders. That is not true. Some things are physical and require physical
remedies. Heavenly Father gave us these
resources for a reason. And, as I
learned through this experience, it often takes faith and prayer to have the
courage to use them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The other half of this, and maybe
the more apparent half, was that He was ready for me when I came to Him. Yes, He showed me my weakness, and used the
moment to show me that His love is always there, ready to comfort and reassure
me—especially in the place that I least expected.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know that Heavenly Father is
aware of each of our needs. He loves each
of us in such a unique and individual way.
I am grateful for the knowledge I have about my relationship with my
Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, through the restored gospel. No man can convince me to turn from the
gospel. Not when I’ve had experiences
like this one that help my testimony grow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“For behold, ye shall be as a whale
in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you.
Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the winds
have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the drains and the floods have I sent
forth.”- Ether 2:24</span><o:p></o:p></div>Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-19683968326042099842012-07-08T22:17:00.001-07:002012-07-08T22:26:07.817-07:00Do you ever feel already buried deep?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Uh. Yes.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So. Cool story.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I had another episode tonight. A full out freak out end of my world episode. They're getting worse. I'm going to talk to Mark about it. I think we'll be able to figure something out. I hope. Nahh, I'm pretty sure we'll figure something out. But this one... oh man, this one made that feeling so tangibly real it scared the living daylights out of me. Enough to tell Mom that I'm starting to wig out. That this is only going to get worse if not dealt with, worse to an unimaginable end. I say unimaginable because I really really don't want to imagine what the end is. Luckily, and who knew THIS would ever be the case, because of my psychology education I know that those thoughts and episodes need to be taken seriously and dealt with by a professional. And that there is a solution/ help for me. Gosh, I can't tell you how comforting that is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Anyway.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So I have these episodes, and everyone who's Christian, just let me tell you that I am usually in an emotional state that includes zero rationality, so faith is completely out of the picture. For about an hour. Then I escape my cyclical brain enough to breathe. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tonight I thought to pray. Pray or read my scriptures or something. I was more ready to text one of my close friends than talk to God because I knew that everything I felt was in contradiction to what I believe. But when I was calm (enough) I decided to pray. That prayer was pretty much everything I'd already screamed at the wall with less volume and less English (I find it easier to pray in French-- it keeps me thinking about what I really want to say to the Lord). And as I finished I thought, "I wish my Patriarchal blessing actually addressed some of this crap." For those of you who aren't Mormon, here's what a Patriarchal blessing is: </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"></span><br />
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" uri="/study/topics/patriarchal-blessings.head">
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #2f393a; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Patriarchal blessings are given to worthy members of the Church by ordained patriarchs. Patriarchal blessings include a declaration of a person's lineage in the house of Israel and contain personal counsel from the Lord. As a person studies his or her patriarchal blessing and follows the counsel it contains, it will provide guidance, comfort, and protection.</span></div>
</div>
<div class="divider" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(212, 209, 200); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yeah. Comfort. That's not always the case for me. Anyway, I decided to open the scriptures, and of course, as usual, I fell upon a scripture that brought me some perspective and a little comfort about my situation. Then..</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I decided to put my patriarchal blessing to the test. And you know what? The exact issue I was having was addressed in the first paragraph.</span></div>
<div class="divider" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(212, 209, 200); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seriously.</span></div>
<div class="divider" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(212, 209, 200); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Who knew?</span></div>
<div class="divider" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(212, 209, 200); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God did, that's for sure.</span></div>
<div class="divider" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(212, 209, 200); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 15px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;">This probably means nothing to you guys, but... it means a lot to me. It means that many years ago, Heavenly Father saw me having an episode tonight and had just the right thing to help me. Thanks for the foresight. It really helped.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;">Even with all my trials and tribulations and insanity, I cannot and do not deny that God lives. Christ is His Son and atoned for my sins. He has reestablished His church on the earth. And I belong to said church. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;">God is good.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2f393a; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><br /></span></span>Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8347721894704539083.post-15981221666470296512012-06-25T00:20:00.001-07:002012-06-25T00:20:18.491-07:00Driven to distractionGosh I love alliterations.<br />
<br />
Do you ever reach a point where thinking about yourself and your life make your heart hurt like crazy? Or you mind explode with doubt? So you just have to find the right distraction. One that will remove you from reality JUST ENOUGH to forget the problems but not forget life. You can still function, you know? <br />
<br />
That's me. Driven to distraction.<br />
<br />
Funny thing is... the distractions don't make me happy. They never did. But now I'm more aware of it.<br />
<br />
I hate when it washes over me like a wave of water, an undertow pulling me down. An immediate rush of adrenaline to fight the currant surges through me, but it is short lived. So I just let myself be pulled down, down, down.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of down. I thought it would go away. But it doesn't. Just like the tides of the ocean, my need for distraction ebbs and flows in a constant circle. Just when I think I've got it figured out, it smacks me down again. Down, down, down,<br />
<br />
I'll do what I must to break free. <br />
<br />
But sometimes... I just get tired.<br />
<br />
Soooo tired.<br />
<br />
Too tired.<br />
<br />
So I've asked for help. Cause all the resources I have now aren't enough. Outside sources must be tapped. <br />
<br />
Alors, voila quoi.<br />
<br />
I'll be fine. I believe that. I hope for that. I don't feel it right now. But the circle will turn and so I'll feel it soon enough. <br />
<br />
Plus the first round of help starts tomorrow. HALLALUYAR!<br />
<br />
Teehee.<br />
<br />
<br />
And some great lyrics about the ocean from random artists, seeing as I was apparently so inspired by it tonight:<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Now floating up and down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">I spin, colliding into sound</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Like whales beneath me diving down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">I'm sinking to the bottom of my</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Everything that freaks me out</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">The lighthouse beam has just run out</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">I'm cold as cold as cold can be</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Be</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">I want to swim away but don't know how</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Sometimes it feels just like I'm fallin' in the ocean</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Let the waves up take me down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Let the hurricane set in motion, yeah</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Let the rain of what I feel right now, come down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;">Let the rain come down</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; color: black; font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">and in my dreams<br />we can live about the ocean<br />only in my dreams<br />will we live above the ocean<br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; color: black; font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; color: black; font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;">Deep in the ocean <br style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" />There lies a wave for you</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, Arial; font-size: 13px; line-height: normal;">I wonder 'bout the herds of the sea<br />If they will hurt or if they will help me</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: sienna; font-family: verdana; font-size: 12px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; color: black; font-family: tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<br />Kacey Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11650521224870950949noreply@blogger.com0