Growing

I just got home from Trek, but I didn't learn as much about the pioneers as I thought I would. I spent 4 days pulling a handcart UP A MOUNTAIN ending at a grand 9000 ft. in elevation (by Scofield) wearing a dress with too many layers, but I wasn't as physically drained as I thought I would be. We didn't spend as much time as girls' camp with the spiritual aspect of everything, but I was more touched and stirred by the spirit than I thought I would be. I didn't get homesick, I didn't get blisters, I didn't sprain anything or get heat exhaustion, but there were times that were harder than many things I have faced in a long time. And I grew SO much. Here are some things I learned.

I love the priesthood.
The men of my family were so kind, pulling more than their share just so that Little Carrot and I would not have to do quite as much. They helped carry my bucket, helped set up our shelter every night, and helped us not to give up. At the top of Heartbreak Hill (explained later) there were several priesthood blessings given, and the contrast of feelings before and after those blessings was tremendous. Throughout the whole experience, I felt the power of the priesthood over our camp, and I saw the magnificence in the men and boys who respected that authority. I saw strong teenage boys weeping in behalf of the girls. It was one of the most mature, strong, compassionate things I have ever seen. I certainly do not think them less tough for it (probably even more so, I think). I need the priesthood in my life. I am so greatful I have friends who hold it.

I need to feel more.
I am feeling more and more that I am feeling less and less. I do not believe that one can get used to the spirit, and that a dulling in the influence and power that the spirit has upon one is definately not a good thing. I need to be more sincere and pleading in my prayers. I need to search for the truth in ways that I have not before. I need to write more meaningfully in my journal. I need to open myself up to the spirit, and not be afraid to cry. People may think me a fool, but I am sure that the Lord will not. I cannot allow myself to let go of the Iron Rod, thinking I know which way the path leads.

I can be weak, and should be humble.
They had a Rocky Ridge. With no exaggeration, this hill was a half mile long at a 40 degree angle. I pushed the handcart the best I could. We were not one of the first handcarts. Near the end, I felt that my pushing was becoming less effective as a result of my fatigue. Then, when we were at our slowest, people from the previous handcarts ran down and helped. I felt weak. We made it to the end. After resting, I ran down to help the other handcarts. My pushing again was, in my perspective, ineffective. I did my best, but I felt so pathetic in not being able to really help those other handcarts up the mountain. At one hill, lovingly called "Heartbreak Hill" they took the men, boys, and adult women away from us. The young women had to pull the cart up by themselves. On flat ground, there is nothing easier. On a steep incline, the task was a burden. I looked at the ground we were to pull the 300 lb. handcart over. The sandy soil would be a nightmare, and the huge rocks dispersed around the trail looked to be more than I could bear. As the men and boys walked up that hill, I sat down and I cried. The carts before us with five or six girls each were struggling, and my cart only had three girls to push it. I was scared.

I can be strong, and should be confident in the Lord.
At Rocky Ridge, after "helping" that other handcart up, I was drained, and I knew that I would only be a burden to any handcarts I attempted to help after that. So I decided to sing. With three other girls, I sang to tired handcart pushers as they neared the end of the pull. Their faces were filled with a gratitude for our sometimes rather poor singing that I will never forget. I still felt bad that I could not physically help these people, but I was grateful for the chance to lift their spirits. Heartbreak Hill was hard. As I had suspected, the wheels spun uselessly in the sand at times, and the rocks stopped the handcart in its tracks several times. But in my determination, I pulled the handcart with all of my strength, and our three did better than many people's seven. The boys joined us halfway up the hill, and we could see tears in their eyes as they watched us pulling it alone. Those boys pushed as hard as they could, and were a great relief, but many admitted that they were tired after about 30 feet (and were amazed at how far we had made it alone). Then, 3/4 of the way, our adult leaders joined us. By this time, I was tired, but I refused to be a burden. I pulled that cart, despite an asthma attack, and even though at times my eyes blacked out, and I wasn't sure how much farther I could push. We made it to the top, all of us heaving, all of us closer than ever. Some passed out. Some suffered heat exhaustion. Many did not pull the whole hill. I made it. I suffered, and was not as strong as I thought I might have been, but I made it the whole way, and even pushed the cart afterwards. The boys offered to give me a ride, but I'm pretty sure they weren't totally serious anyway.

I have a weakness for young, strong, single, Russian, good-looking, recent converts.

Co-section-leading

Marching band is going much better, the rookies are really coming along in their technique. That one, however, is still not the most...agreeable...but he's getting better, and hopefully will continue to be better as the rest of the section improves in the following commands area. THomatoe and I are officially co-section-leaders. Which will be really cool. I think we both have a pretty good balance, and we can let eachother know if we're pushing them too hard, or not hard enough. I can try to be the hard one, and he can be the more relaxed one. Or maybe we'll both try to have the same level of discipline. I dunno.

For you.

Never again.
I've seen my mistakes:
Risks I'll never take,
As long as I want to stay sane.

Never again.
Turn away from the past,
Let this will power last,
And not be as normal in vain.

Never again.
I will be who I am,
Not the lovestruck lamb
Who cries till her cheeks are all stained.

Never again.
Take the languor away,
And do what he may,
My detachment will be plain,

For never again
Will I give up
The confidence built up
At times I was free,
And left to be me!
I'll fight every feeling,
Ne'er be sent wheeling
For some blue-eyed grafter,
Or cold-hearted shafter
Who leaves in a hurry
When things come out blurry,
And gives every reason
For disinterested treason
He can beg and protest
With all of the best
Or lie down at State Street and Main,

But I will not be moved,
And I think I have proved
That to me he's now just a bane,
And can say to my once worthy swain:

"Never again!"

haha it kinda sounds like a song from a musical...maybe lengthened...Anyway, I think that explains a lot. It's not meant to be depressing, really. And for me it's not. Never again! I am an independent daughter of God, and I don't need to let myself be pained out of some faux nobility. I've been stupid and naive, and I need to grow up. So I'm growing up. Trying to lose some melodrama. My life is not some novel, so I need to stop trying to put myself through the classic cycle of aggrivation to get to the happy ending. so HA HA HA I'm doing just what I'll bet you've been wanting for a while, but only because I want to! I can only say this: I know with a surety that you will, and probably do regret much of what you've done. All of it could be justified, but I would like to say that I really think you could have handled it better. And in all honesty, I've done a lot of stupid things myself. We're old enough not to act like that. So there. You probably won't even read this, but just in case: I'm sorry for my part. I forgive you for your part. But I'm not in any state of mind, nor will be for a while, to have much to do with you at all.

Once upon a summer's eve

My brother Cashew and I played tennis tonight. It's fun. I always win, which makes it not as fun as it would be if otherwise. We had a sectional this morning. The rookies planned it. Weird. Well, it's good that they're so dedicated. Summer seminary was good. Soccerball, Seaweed, and a couple others taught. Seaweed asked me to give a thought, but there was never time. Overall, I felt kinda worthless because I didn't even help with the ice cream...oh well. Next week I'll be better. I hope I don't squander this ephemeron of bliss on feeling worthless. I need to go do more things. I need to get more things done. Cool.

Summer steals my thunder

Today was a pretty productive day. I went to Marching Band, where I actually got some things done in my section, and memorized most of the music. I came home, got some lunch, and then went to Jazz Band. That wasn't totally productive, but at least I found out what we were playing. I came home, practiced piano, and then got some Kingdom Hearts done (ha). I did my laundry, wrote a bit, and learned a song on the guitar. I still need to write a few more songs...*sigh* the composer's work is never done...hehe. I'm feeling a bit isolated and most days I don't accomplish much at all. I know I could definately do more, even on days like today. Still, I guess the only cure for that is to work harder at working hard. And writing and composing come in spurts as long as I think about it often enough. So some days are bound to be unproductive in that area. Well, gotta go do something of worth.

Hm.

WHY AM I STILL AWAKE!? I'm longing for things I don't want. I'm trying to do stuff I don't really want to do. I just seem to want to be depressed. Well I won't be. Ha. I don't need you. No more depression. I need to forget! Need to forget and to focus on what needs to be done. So I guess that's what I'm going to do. Someday I'm going to sound intelligent and in control of my emotions. That day is not today.

In memory of the deceased

I barely knew you. You were sweet, but never quite knew what you wanted. Therefore, you never got it. You were never brave enough. You were never strong enough to incite action from me. You held on long after I thought you would. After all, how can two of you live in the same heart? One must die. I'm kinda glad you were the one. The other was stronger. The other is deeper, less selfish. I'm sorry you had to die so young, with so little to show for it. Those that are born as a fire burn out as the same. Still, I mourn your passing. I mourn what you might have done. Nevertheless...only one can persist in a virtuous heart.

My ethnicity

I'm creating my race. American society has decided that I have no race worthy of recognition. But I do. I've been getting kinda tired of being just...white caucasian. I have a heritage; I have an ancestry. I am not from here. I am not Native American, although they are socially allowed to celebrate and be recognized for their background more than I. I am worthy of something other than a label. Yes, I'm white. Yes, I'm caucasian, or however you spell that. I don't even know what that means. But as others are African American, I am Danish Scottish Italian Welsch American. I am Yongan.