This week has been pretty eventful. More eventful than most at least. Partly because my 18th birthday was this week! Can you believe it?! I sure can't...People were telling me that I could buy smokes all day. I think I'll just stick to voting....
And, just to stay true to the facts, it was also my great-grandmother's birthday and a friend's birthday. Though I'm not sure what they did for theirs, in celebration of my officially becoming an adult, I decided to go all elementry and have my mom bring cupcakes to economics class. Though not all my friends were in that class, it was really the only one that would work. Besides that, putting cupcakes and economics in the same sentence is just sort of fun :)
I also used some of those cupcakes to ask a certain classmate to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with some corny signs that read, "It would be the best birthday present ever if you would go to Sadie's with me." Since he wasn't in ecomonics, I left it in the office. Unfortunetly when I passed him in the hall shortly after he got it, he saw me but nothing seemed to register. I guess I should've let him know who's birthday it was...
Anyways, I also discovered this week that I'm supposed to have a 'query letter' prepared for that conference. But I didn't even know how to pronounce that word, let alone what it was. Thankfully, there's geniuses out there who have invented convenient things like Google so my panic didn't last too long. Apparently it consists of three parts: a statement of the length and type of your story, a summary, and then something about yourself.
I was already a little daunted from the get-go because my story wasn't at all finished. I don't know how many pages it is nor do I have the word count. But numbers just seemed such a shallow look at a story because I could tell you how long my story is. It's hours lying in my bed daydreaming. It's half a notebook of planning and ideas. It's running two miles nearly everyday and coming up with fun details. It's countless Tangled clips and trailers that inspire me to no end. All the drawings taped to my wall, all the conversations my friends have endured, and all the moments when I just want to slam the keyboard against my forehead.
Unfortunetly, this thing also has to be under one page so that wasn't happening. Instead, I sidestepped the length, told the genre, and moved onto the summary. Once that was done, I hit another block: lists of writing accomplishments. All the samples I'd looked at said something along the lines of, "This is my third novel published, I'm in this-and-this critique group, and I have tied in first in a Fictional-Romance contest."
Yeah. That wasn't happening either. So, throwing my shoulders back, I squeezed all I could out of my life experience thus far. I wrote how I've entered a few contests (though I've never placed), got an english class award, and....have a 4.0 GPA. (hey, it worked on the scholarships). I was really tempted to write about winning an award for an 8th grade essay, but I doubted that would get me much credit.
So, in short, I'm going to march right up to Mrs. Lisa Mangum, hand her my letter, and take whatever I can get.
I jumped that hurdle. The next one, however, was a little tougher.
Every Mr. G's customer (in other words, the entire town) knows that my plan after college was to go to Brigham Young University. Ever since an educational fireside when I was about 14, it's been the plan. One of the many reasons my mom sent me to EFY was so that I could get in a bit of a campus tour.
And then the e-mail came.
I stared at my screen blankly, a little bummed but probably more surprised than anything. Everyone said I would make it. My parents said I would make it. I said I would make it. The only one that didn't say so was the college.
The longer I sat there, the more it sunk in. And the more it sunk in, the harder it became to hold back the tears of disapointment. Of course, I didn't move though, so eventually, with a pathetic whimper, the flood began.
I looked at my mom, who was standing behind me, to see that her eyes were watery too, which made it both better and worse. She muttered the most sincere, loving apologies I think I've ever heard and which made me feel like the most loved daughter on the planet but eventually there was nothing for it but to be a girl. To run into my room and throw myself onto my bed princess-style and cry into a pillow.
I'm not sure why. It wasn't like I was desparingly sad. I wasn't even really angry. I guess I'd just got my hopes up to such a high level that it was a bit of a fall.
I cried and cried yet I knew I couldn't complain too much. My parents and I had been praying that I wouldn't get accepted into the wrong college so I knew that this was, of sorts, and answer to prayer. So, through the mess, I muttered prayers aloud, thanking my Father in Heaven that he cared enough to answer this prayer, though it hit hard. I thanked him for my dad who came in and, with little words, gave me a long hug that said everything. For a mom who was just as much into this as I was. And for a baby brother who came in and, after asking why I hadn't made it, left the room with the explanation of, "Ah baracles."
My thoughts exactly.
I also thanked him for texting and for awesome friends that I know are reading this right now :). They made me feel sooo good about myself. I even felt that, after texting them, I could move on. I even had plans to work on the above-mentioned, unfinished story. But my brain wasn't in the fun-creative mode so, again, there was nothing for it but to be a girl:
I grabbed some birthday chocolate and plopped down to Pride and Prejiduce.
(Something tells me I'll be using that method a lot in the near future.)
The cool part about all of this was what I learned about myself, about prayer, and about my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can give a sincere thanks through tears. I learned that guardian angels probably do exist, though most of them are visible. (Including my little neighbor 'Bean' who came over the next day to tell me she was sorry about not making it :) I learned what college I'm not supposed to go at this time and have decided to apply for every other decent-sounding one I can get my hands on. I've determined to see this more as a stepping-stone and less of a stumbling-block. It only makes sense with what I've been asking for.
And, through that whole wet-pillow episode, you can bet I felt supporting arms around me. Despite everything. Despite being silly and only applying for one college with all the confidence in the world. Despite crying over a prayer answered and despite feeling a little overdramatic at the time, He knew my disapointment. He knew my hopes and my frustrations. But He also knew the bigger picture and I felt that that's exactly what he was leading me towards if I would take His hand and let him lead.
Funny. After reading about Captain Moroni that week, I'd also been praying to feel closer to the Lord.
Make that two answered prayers.
And, after having a Stake President looking me directly in the eyes and telling me "It'll work out", and a homemade birthday cake and song by my cousins and family, I think I'll be just fine :)
And, just to stay true to the facts, it was also my great-grandmother's birthday and a friend's birthday. Though I'm not sure what they did for theirs, in celebration of my officially becoming an adult, I decided to go all elementry and have my mom bring cupcakes to economics class. Though not all my friends were in that class, it was really the only one that would work. Besides that, putting cupcakes and economics in the same sentence is just sort of fun :)
I also used some of those cupcakes to ask a certain classmate to the Sadie Hawkin's dance with some corny signs that read, "It would be the best birthday present ever if you would go to Sadie's with me." Since he wasn't in ecomonics, I left it in the office. Unfortunetly when I passed him in the hall shortly after he got it, he saw me but nothing seemed to register. I guess I should've let him know who's birthday it was...
Anyways, I also discovered this week that I'm supposed to have a 'query letter' prepared for that conference. But I didn't even know how to pronounce that word, let alone what it was. Thankfully, there's geniuses out there who have invented convenient things like Google so my panic didn't last too long. Apparently it consists of three parts: a statement of the length and type of your story, a summary, and then something about yourself.
I was already a little daunted from the get-go because my story wasn't at all finished. I don't know how many pages it is nor do I have the word count. But numbers just seemed such a shallow look at a story because I could tell you how long my story is. It's hours lying in my bed daydreaming. It's half a notebook of planning and ideas. It's running two miles nearly everyday and coming up with fun details. It's countless Tangled clips and trailers that inspire me to no end. All the drawings taped to my wall, all the conversations my friends have endured, and all the moments when I just want to slam the keyboard against my forehead.
Unfortunetly, this thing also has to be under one page so that wasn't happening. Instead, I sidestepped the length, told the genre, and moved onto the summary. Once that was done, I hit another block: lists of writing accomplishments. All the samples I'd looked at said something along the lines of, "This is my third novel published, I'm in this-and-this critique group, and I have tied in first in a Fictional-Romance contest."
Yeah. That wasn't happening either. So, throwing my shoulders back, I squeezed all I could out of my life experience thus far. I wrote how I've entered a few contests (though I've never placed), got an english class award, and....have a 4.0 GPA. (hey, it worked on the scholarships). I was really tempted to write about winning an award for an 8th grade essay, but I doubted that would get me much credit.
So, in short, I'm going to march right up to Mrs. Lisa Mangum, hand her my letter, and take whatever I can get.
I jumped that hurdle. The next one, however, was a little tougher.
Every Mr. G's customer (in other words, the entire town) knows that my plan after college was to go to Brigham Young University. Ever since an educational fireside when I was about 14, it's been the plan. One of the many reasons my mom sent me to EFY was so that I could get in a bit of a campus tour.
And then the e-mail came.
I stared at my screen blankly, a little bummed but probably more surprised than anything. Everyone said I would make it. My parents said I would make it. I said I would make it. The only one that didn't say so was the college.
The longer I sat there, the more it sunk in. And the more it sunk in, the harder it became to hold back the tears of disapointment. Of course, I didn't move though, so eventually, with a pathetic whimper, the flood began.
I looked at my mom, who was standing behind me, to see that her eyes were watery too, which made it both better and worse. She muttered the most sincere, loving apologies I think I've ever heard and which made me feel like the most loved daughter on the planet but eventually there was nothing for it but to be a girl. To run into my room and throw myself onto my bed princess-style and cry into a pillow.
I'm not sure why. It wasn't like I was desparingly sad. I wasn't even really angry. I guess I'd just got my hopes up to such a high level that it was a bit of a fall.
I cried and cried yet I knew I couldn't complain too much. My parents and I had been praying that I wouldn't get accepted into the wrong college so I knew that this was, of sorts, and answer to prayer. So, through the mess, I muttered prayers aloud, thanking my Father in Heaven that he cared enough to answer this prayer, though it hit hard. I thanked him for my dad who came in and, with little words, gave me a long hug that said everything. For a mom who was just as much into this as I was. And for a baby brother who came in and, after asking why I hadn't made it, left the room with the explanation of, "Ah baracles."
My thoughts exactly.
I also thanked him for texting and for awesome friends that I know are reading this right now :). They made me feel sooo good about myself. I even felt that, after texting them, I could move on. I even had plans to work on the above-mentioned, unfinished story. But my brain wasn't in the fun-creative mode so, again, there was nothing for it but to be a girl:
I grabbed some birthday chocolate and plopped down to Pride and Prejiduce.
(Something tells me I'll be using that method a lot in the near future.)
The cool part about all of this was what I learned about myself, about prayer, and about my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can give a sincere thanks through tears. I learned that guardian angels probably do exist, though most of them are visible. (Including my little neighbor 'Bean' who came over the next day to tell me she was sorry about not making it :) I learned what college I'm not supposed to go at this time and have decided to apply for every other decent-sounding one I can get my hands on. I've determined to see this more as a stepping-stone and less of a stumbling-block. It only makes sense with what I've been asking for.
And, through that whole wet-pillow episode, you can bet I felt supporting arms around me. Despite everything. Despite being silly and only applying for one college with all the confidence in the world. Despite crying over a prayer answered and despite feeling a little overdramatic at the time, He knew my disapointment. He knew my hopes and my frustrations. But He also knew the bigger picture and I felt that that's exactly what he was leading me towards if I would take His hand and let him lead.
Funny. After reading about Captain Moroni that week, I'd also been praying to feel closer to the Lord.
Make that two answered prayers.
And, after having a Stake President looking me directly in the eyes and telling me "It'll work out", and a homemade birthday cake and song by my cousins and family, I think I'll be just fine :)
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