Dean + Talor; m e e t i n g

So I know this will probably be one of the cheesiest blog posts I ever write but I don't care.
Yesterday I was reading this blog and oh my gosh cute cute cute story. And it got me thinking about me and Dean and how we met and everything. So I'm going to share it with you. 

I met Dean officially a few days after New Years of 2013. It just so happened that I worked with his mom and his sister (aka my newest best friend Savaughn). One day he walked into work to take his mom out to dinner and I thought he was SO cute. I remember thinking he had perfect hair and the prettiest eyes. I told Savaughn later that night I thought he was cute and of course she immediately went to her phone and told him. So he got my number and we talked for a few days before I actually officially met him. 

He came and visited Savaughn and I while we were working one night. I only remember three things about him and that night: for some reason I went home convinced I was taller than him (I think I have a complex), he carried a gun, and he had a really good handshake. Depending on who you are, you may or may not know this but my first impressions of people are solely based off of their handshake--I don't know why. He got an A+. 

And then he called me the next day and asked me on my last first date I will ever have. 

Best first date of my life. We went and saw The Hobbit, ate sushi and went bowling (I beat him.) We had so much fun together and it wasn't really awkward at all. And then we continued to hang out and date. I had a night class twice a week and we would go eat ice cream or watch the Walking Dead (our first kiss? We were watching the Walking Dead. Romantic, right?) I just remember how cute and nerdy I thought he was when he'd go off on tangents about the zombie apocalypse and AR-15s. 

But we were friends before we really started our relationship. It took us like a month to hold hands, three months for our last first kiss, and like five months to officially become boyfriend and girlfriend. But that's why it was perfect. By the time I loved him, he was my best friend. I literally fell in love with my best friend. 

And I continue to fall in love with him every single day. 

The Bell Jar

  “I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.”

Today I'm talking about Sylvia Plath, my favorite writer e v e r.
For three reasons only:
One, it's raining, and it was raining the first time I read The Bell Jar.
Two, when I was re-reading my old journal, I quoted her like a thousand times.
Three, I'm going to name my future daughter Sylvia.

And I know what you're thinking--Gross, who would name their child after someone who committed suicide with her children in the next room? Uh, because she's beautiful and I've loved her since high school so keep quiet.

I've read The Bell Jar probably five times, but the first time I read it was my favorite because my mind was blown continually as I was reading. I had read ZERO of the book reviews beforehand--I didn't even know what the book was about--so everything was a shock to me. I never knew how fascinating it would be to read, in first person, about a person going crazy. Plath is such an amazing, yet troubled, person that the book is partly autobiographical. Crazy, right?

Anyway, all I know is that you should read this book if you haven't already for plenty of reasons. And you're going to love this book if you love her, or if you love her poetry, or if you love psychology, or if you are just so bored out of your mind that you don't know what to do with yourself. Read it and you will not regret it.

// “When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know.
"Oh, sure you know," the photographer said.
"She wants," said Jay Cee wittily, "to be everything.”//

Read more of her quotes from the book here.

j o u r n a l i n g .

 

Today I visited my old journal.

Old as in 2012.

I was surprised at how many times I had actually written, and what I had written about.

I remembered moments of pure joy, nervousness, peace, anger, and loneliness. 

For the first time in my life, I finally understand why writing in a journal is so rewarding and neat. 

 

I wrote letters to God all the time. For some reason, I found it hard to pray sometimes--I think that was due to my surroundings and friends. But I didn't want to stop talking to Him, so I wrote. (Which I'm positive were translated into prayers.)

 

 

Hahahaha. Apparently I decided I wanted to become President on the exact same day Neil Armstrong died? August 25th, 2012.

 I also just decided that regardless of my job in the future, I will never wear any type of suit. 

 

"Today. Today I went for a walk, hoping to find myself. Instead, I found God. I found Him in the clouds that swallowed up the mountain I call home. I found Him in the snow-kissed trees; the evergreens scattered along the fresh snow. I found Him in every inhale and exhale I took. I found God."

Success from a D-

In the year 2011, I made up my mind that I was going to be a high school English teacher. Why? Because I liked books, and I liked school, and Mrs. Nichols always seems really happy, so why not?

And then in that same year, I went to college, I took English classes and I just figured I was meant to be a teacher. I never questioned it, doubted it, or even thought about it. 

But then...I took an English class my second year of college and I fell in love with this thing that made 90% of Americans cringe...politics. My professor forced us to learn about our nation and government by making us read and question our ideals about society. And there was all of these statistics and arguments, and I l o v e d it. To this day, it is still my favorite class I have ever taken. 

And I finally got the courage to take a political science class. 

And I hated every second of it. I had this professor, who I will leave unnamed, who strongly believed in a patriarchal society, who made you feel like an idiot for asking questions (it's not my fault he had such a strong accent), and who did not care about politics, only his own opinion. On the first day of class there were 20 kids, and on the last day, 2 or 3 kids were left. I was one of the 2-3 and I got a freaking D-. 

So I got discouraged and I went back to my English classes, where I got nothing but straight A's. However, I felt different. I wasn't content learning about Emily Dickinson and how to tear apart a novel. I no longer wanted to be in a high school for the rest of my career. 

It took a while, but I finally gained the courage to retake political science (and I got an A so suck it unnamed professor) and I fell in love with it all over again. After a lot of introspection, tears, and coming to the realization that I was unhappy, I thought about majoring in political science. Even though I had plenty of people questioning my decision, telling me I couldn't do it, and that I shouldn't do it, that's when I became my strongest and I became determined to prove them wrong. 

That's when I started over. 

The point of this whole rant is that we should never be afraid to start over, to recreate our dreams, and to say goodbye to unwanted dreams. It's okay to feel challenged, intimidated, and nervous--I remember a teacher telling me once that when I felt excitedly challenged, that's what I should pursue. Because dreams are meant to be exciting and challenging. And no one ever tells you that in college you'll most likely end up wasting more than a few credit hours and biting your nails down to nothing because you just don't know what to do with your life. But it's okay. It's life and it's what we have to go through in order to evolve. 

So thank you, to the those that were doubtful and discouraging. Because of you, I'm going to be successful and I'm going to prove you wrong--especially you, unnamed professor from heck.

Nike says it all. 

Chop chop.

Okay so after everything that has happened the last little while, I really felt like I needed a change. Not a simple change like painting my nails, or rearranging my room. Something a little more drastic. A little more permanent. And if I had done this in high school, I would have balled my eyes out. But right now, I feel pretty dang good. 

I cut my hair off. A seven inch difference. 

And I know, I know. What's the big deal? 

Well I was SUPER attached to my hair. In a way, it defined me. But I also felt like it hid me. And to be honest, a big reason I kept my hair long (for like a decade) was because everyone told me to NEVER cut it and how pretty it was, and how boys liked long hair better. Blah blah blah. So I kept it. 

And then this week I cut it. Soooo refreshing. It's just so nice to have a change and say goodbye to the "old you"--even though nothing has really changed. 

And Dean told me I looked like a Romney. I think he meant to say I looked political--which is fitting because this week I'm officially declaring my major in political science. 

Cheers to short hair and politics. 

t e n d e r m e r c i e s

"The Lord’s tender mercies are the very personal and individualized blessings, strength, protection, assurances, guidance, loving-kindnesses, consolation, support, and spiritual gifts which we receive from and because of and through the Lord Jesus Christ." (David A. Bednar, "The Tender Mercies of the Lord", Ensign, May 2005, 99)

Tonight my heart is full of gratitude for the blessings Dean and I have received in the past few days. Friday was a complete whirlwind, but since we decided to get married in October,  we have been happy and at peace. I was worried to tell people about our decision to wait, because when you're an LDS couple extending your engagement eight more months, people automatically assume you've sinned. And it was really hard for me to accept that I could not control what people were to assume about me,  and it's still hard, but it's time to release that worry and frustration and focus on bettering ourselves and our relationship. 

There are moments of bitterness, when I lose sight of how short eight months really is, and I think about the long stretch ahead of us; and when I think about other girls getting engaged and married and pregnant (geeze) in the span that I've been engaged. But I'm pretty sure it was Jeffrey R. Holland who said something about how other people's blessings shouldn't make us envious... and something about pickle juice, haha. 

But those bitter moments disperse into nothing when I acknowledge my love for Dean and how strong we are going to grow together; and how we are actually at seven months and twenty-eight days now. And most importantly, the truth that I fully believe in: God would never put something in our hands that we weren't capable of molding into something beautiful. It's these things I believe in that give me the strength to wake up happy and calm and peaceful. 

 In moments of weakness, I have experienced great love from God, from Dean, from friends and family. I am so blessed, so grateful, and so full of love. Thank you. 

Eternal H A P P I N E S S

This is a really personal blogpost, and I fought about putting it on here for a while, but I figured why not? We are all learning from each other's experiences.

So, Dean and I had planned on getting married April 25th. But that's not what The Lord had in mind. Our engagement isn't like most others. For the usual LDS couple, you get engaged, pick a date a few months away, call the temple to make an appointment and go from there. For us, we got engaged in September, picked a date in April, and then Dean had to get some things done. He had to get a clearance letter. A clearance letter is what you have to get after you've been divorced, stating that you can be sealed again. So we got that taken care of, and had been waiting (im)patiently for the three weeks they said it would take. 

It took f o u r. Could you imagine? If anyone were to ask me what were the worst few weeks of my life, I would say it would be those. The second that letter got sent to the First Presidency, Satan swept around me and kept me occupied the entire time. I'm sad to say that I lost hope, I wasn't patient, and I lost sight of what was important: getting married in the temple. I began to question if the First Presidency really cared, what if they made a mistake, what if the letter got lost. I pushed Dean away in frustration, sadness and desperation. I didn't lean on The Lord, my prayers were infrequent, sporadic and selfish. I felt like the letter would never get here and no one understood my pain. Which was so unrealistic and untrue. I had Dean, family members, and close friends who tried to keep me happy, calm and at peace. But I began to hate wedding planning. I dreaded going shopping for decorations, making plans, etc. Thinking of April 25th made me want to cry. 

And then the letter came. Yesterday. And we found out that they had given him clearance to get sealed to me. However, the sealing had to take place eight months away from the date of the letter, which was February 13th. That would put us getting married in October. Our question had been what do we do? Wait another eight months to get married (marking us at a year of being engaged, which for lds people, is unheard of) or do we get married civilly in April and get sealed a year later? I was so sad, hurt, and confused. 

Lucky for me, I have theeeeeee greatest parents in the world (the extra e's should show you that). They came over, they cried with me, and then they told me and Dean exactly what we needed to hear: that six months of a delayment is nothing compared to eternity, that positive things were to come out of this, and the most important: that we COULD get married in the temple. Tears of frustration instantly turned into tears of gratitude. This wasn't a letter of sadness, it was a celebratory letter. And although we could list the negatives, we decided to list the positives. We could save up money, we could go to New York for our honeymoon now, we could have a fall wedding, we could get finished working on our house, we could get married in the temple. 

So Dean and I plan on calling the temple today, and scheduling a wedding for October 16th. 

And although it wasn't the answer we were wanting, it had the important part of what we wanted: the sealing. And I know we will be so blessed for this decision, and we both feel so at peace. Those terrible four weeks are erased into unending happiness and joy. AND I woke up to a blessing in an email: I received a scholarship for the summer semester (which I wouldn't have been taking if I got married in April.) 

For the first time in weeks I woke up today feeling h a p p y and peaceful  and full of love for God and the Gospel and the apostles. They are so intune with God, I feel so ashamed I ever doubted them or Him. God is great. God is kind, and God knows what He is doing, and He is doing it for us--why should we fear? 

God is love. 

Feminism in a blog post.

Okay okay okay. So the other day my little sister recommended that I watch this documentary called Miss Representation. (PS it swears and there's some graphic images.) You can see the trailer here. And I don't want this to be a boring feminist rant, but I just think it's really sad that women are having a hard time being taken seriously. And when you get sad about that, it's hard not to want to punch boys in the face. (And I encourage it if he's being abusive or just down right stupid.) 

As a college student, I've experienced times where I've felt men put me into stereotypes; whether it's in a classroom debate, talking to my friend, or an idiotic stranger who has yet to understand exactly what a woman is capable of. And i don't mean to sound rude towards men--I have a really wonderful fiancé who accepts and applauds my feminist moods (even if it scares him sometimes.) I just wish that every single man who has ever been born would celebrate women and their greatness haha. 

But in all seriousness, I do think women should celebrate themselves. Not only have they mastered stiletto heels, curling irons, and remarkable beauty; they give birth, they are excellent mothers and incredibly strong--mentally, physically, and emotionally. So give yourself a pat on the back. And wake up everyday for the rest of your life patting yourself on the back, because we will never see the day where men are capable of all that. 

Which is why you should chase your dreams and be confident with who you are. You should be a doctor if you want to, or an engineer, or the president of the United States, or a mechanic, or a receptionist, nurse, teacher, or a stay at home mother. Any great thing you do in life should be celebrated by you and others, because you're a really cool, complex gender and you're just a really great human that's capable of so much. So don't be afraid to call out the hypocrites, the idiots, the liars, and stand up for yourself and all that you are. A woman.