Oh the Suspense

When one of my professors asks me to meet with him next week, he either wants to discuss

A) my inability to pay attention in class for longer than four point six eight minutes.

B) how poorly written my last paper was because I spent like three minutes on it except shhh because he doesn't actually know about that part.

C) something completely unexpected but rather terrible. Like that he is going to kick me out of his class because I'm a scholarship student and DISCRIMINATION. Or because I'm a Mormon and DISCRIMINATION. Or because I'm one-eight Jewish and DISCRIMINATION. Or because unbeknownst to me, my last paper is completely identical to a well-known thesis on the same subject that somehow managed to get published (some surprisingly terrible things get published) and I am going to be kicked out of college for accidental plagiarizing.

D) I am his favorite student and he wishes to give me an award and a penguin is also a possibility, but I tend to gravitate towards the negative in this instance.

You know that scene in the third Harry Potter where Hermione bursts into tears because the boggart turns into Professor McGonagall and tells her that she's failed everything?

Yeaaaah...Hermione and I have something in common here. I can't even begin to tell you how many dreams I've had where I fail college because I haven't been going to my math class THAT I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT.

And Here We Go!

I just realized I could have said, "I'm totally keeping the blog!" and then never posted again.

It would have been a great prank. Utterly hilarious.

Sure, some people would have hated me, but if hatred is not utterly hilarious, then what is?

Feel free to quote me on that.

...on second thought, maybe not.

Thus begins Year Two of Awkward Mormon Girl!

The Fate of the Known Universe or Actually Just This Blog

We did it.

One full year of blogging later, we have successfully transitioned from the first post to this one.

First order of business, please note this picture of Avatar Aang fist-bumping that I drew whilst at Etch-a-Sketch's place of residence.

 

Even I'm impressed.

Second order of business, I am hungry. I am hungry most of the time because I am a college student and I have a ridiculous schedule that doesn't allow time for little things like eating and sleeping. Please wait while I get myself a plate of cake.

Okay. Back. The cake is delicious.

Third order of business, the past year in review.

I knew in March 2013 that the upcoming year would be full of interestingness, but I never imagined it would turn out quite the way it has.

In March 2013, I was a distinctly frazzled college student in her third-to-last semester of college. Now I'm an even more distinctly frazzled college student in her last semester of college.

In March 2013, almost everyone I knew was on a mission. Now all of those people have come home, while a few others that used to be home are gone.

In March 2013, some of my friends were married. Now even more of my friends are married. Mazel tov.

In March 2013, none of my friends had babies. Now some of them do. Mazel tov again.

In March 2013, I was awaiting answers to many of life's most pressing questions. Now I'm still waiting. (Okay, to be fair like three of them have been answered. But apparently the answer to the other two billion and five is "You must learn more patience before you get this answer." Let's be honest--this would be a good thing for me to learn. I'm bad at patience.)

In March 2013, I had a pretty definitive picture of how things were going to play out in my life. And I was wrong. At least, I was wrong about the process. Whether I was wrong about the destination remains to be seen.

In March 2013, I was unsure what the future of this blog would be. Now I've gone through a year of distinctly frazzling college and missionary homecomings and farewells and friends' marriages and friends' babies and unanswered questions and three answered questions and no patience and a surprising process of arriving at an as yet-unknown destination--all of which have shaped me.

All of which have contributed to my decision to keep the blog.

I'm not saying that this blog will last forever. It won't. But I still feel like there's a lot more to be done with it. I've been really pleased with how things have gone so far, but I think they can get even better.

So stay tuned for danger. And by danger I mean more blog posts. But possibly also danger. Because around here, you just never know.

Happy anniversary, internet.

Everybody Does It

Context: We are going to see Muppets Most Wanted.

DAD: Who got me these Milky Ways?

LITTLE BROTHER: They're Baby Brother's.

DAD: You're going to sneak this candy into the theatre?

LITTLE SISTER: Once my friends and I snuck a watermelon into a movie theatre.

EVERYONE ELSE: ...

LITTLE SISTER: My friend cut it in half, wrapped it in Seran wrap, and put it under her shirt. Then when we got in the theatre, we all took out spoons and ate it.

DAD: That's enough, Little Sister. I don't want to hear any more about your lawless behavior.

OLDER SISTER: There aren't any laws about sneaking candy into theatres. And everybody does it.

LITTLE SISTER: Yeah. That's what my friends said when they snuck in a package of Oreos and a gallon of milk.

Faith in Humanity Restored!

I scraped a black Chevy Cavalier while parallel parking behind it.

This isn’t happening I thought. This isn’t happening.

But it was.

I parked and, with a heavy heart, went to examine the vehicle I’d just violated.

Always with the flaking paint. Why, Chevy
Cavalier? Why?

It was like every other Chevy Cavalier I’d encountered in the course of my life—old, not very well-made, with weirdly defective paint in various stages of flaking off. The only place where the paint looked good was the rear bumper. Of course, that was the place my car had scratched.

I bent for a closer look. No dents or dings to be seen, just a little white paint from my car. I spat in my hand and vigorously rubbed the bumper.

Don’t mind me, passersby. Just giving a spit bath to the bumper of a stranger’s car. Like you do.

The spit bath got off most of the paint, but “most” is not “all,” and I knew it. I would have to offer to pay for the damages.

Like I didn’t have enough problems in my life. Like I didn’t have enough people mad at me.

”It isn’t my fault!” I said, and while it was true that I hadn’t purposely set out to hurt anyone, it was also true that I had. I’d tried take care of someone I loved but instead I’d put them in a place where they no longer wanted to have anything to do with me. I’d tried to parallel park but instead I’d ruined somebody’s car. Everything I did was a disaster. Why did I even try?

I pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a quick note.

Hey! I accidentally scraped the back of your car while trying to parallel park. I’m so sorry! Let me know if you need any touch-up paint or anything. 801-XXX-XXXX

I hesitated. Should I even make the offer of touch-up paint? Obviously, I owed the owner of the Cavalier something, but did making such an offer implicate me in some way that created legal loopholes for settlement? I knew my mom might think so. She was the one who had always advised me to take pictures of any damage I caused to another person’s car—just to make sure they didn’t damage it worse and then blame me to get extra repairs or money.

After a moment, I decided that even if the note could be used against me, leaving it was the right choice of action. I tucked it under the windshield wipers. I snapped a few shots of the car’s body with my camera phone, just in case, and then I went to class.

For hours, I kept checking my phone, waiting for the angry phone call or text. At worst, I’d get sworn at, threatened, asked to pay to repaint the whole bumper. At best, things would be professional and polite. In either scenario, I’d have to part with a sizable (to me) portion of my hard-earned money to correct my own mistakes. That was fair, of course, but it still weighed on me.

Or maybe the weight I felt was something else entirely—the many-weeks-long remembrance of the fact that there was someone who wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t respond to me, seemed to blame me for everything that was going wrong but wouldn’t allow me to try to fix things or change.

Whatever the reason, the pressure of this weight bore down on me until it was almost squeezing saltwater out of my eyes.

Finally, hours later, a text from an unknown number.

I stared at my phone screen for a while before opening it. Once it was opened, I stared even more.

Unknown Number: Hey my name is Chevy Cavalier Dude, I own the black cavalier you bumped into this morning. Just wanted to let you know it's no big deal. She's a tough car and I think she'll be ok haha I like how you let me know, I appreciate that. So thanks!

What the…no swearing? No threats? No asking for money?

Instead, kindness? Laughter? Thanks???

Cautiously, I wrote back.

Awkward Mormon Girl: Hey Chevy Cavalier Dude! My name is Awkward Mormon Girl. I'm glad your Cavalier is okay! I felt really bad about the whole thing.

Chevy Cavalier Dude: It's all good! That car has had a lot worse things done to it. I appreciate you telling me. That means a lot and you're a good person haha. So no worries!

At this point I wondered if I was actually awake. Strangely enough, I was.

Awkward Mormon Girl: Well, thanks! For my part, I think it says a lot about you that you aren't angry.

Chevy Cavalier Dude: Thank you. It was a mistake and I understand that!

I reread those texts several times. They were like soothing magic to my soul. And suddenly, all my problems were solved. Nobody was mad at me anymore. And I found a lot of money in my wallet. And my homework did itself. And the Fraggle Rock movie finally got made. And I could fly.

JK LOL. The only thing that happened from the soothing magic was that I was reminded that people can be really good to each other when they want to be. I'd almost forgotten.

Not much has changed. But that's okay. For now, remembering that kindness exists is enough.

So thank you, Chevy Cavalier Dude. Thank you, with all my heart.

In Which I Do Not Seduce Anyone

Baby Sister has a starring role in a play. She shines and glitters on that stage like the star that she is.

(Little Sister just said, "Stop your blog post! Right now!"

And then I did, and she said, "Write down what I say!"

And she said, "Baloney cheese purple strudel."

Now she is telling us her dream where her friend married a dolphin in Florida. I'm just gonna leave that there.)

Ah, the theatre. The smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd, and all that. Though honestly, I've been doing theatre for twelve years and I don't even know what greasepaint is (I assume it's some kind of makeup). And the crowd doesn't really roar. Mostly it just sits there in a judgmental silence punctuated by the occasional cough.

Also, little-known but important theatrical fact: mic tape is of the devil.

After the show, the cast mingled with the crowd in the Hometown High foyer. The Hometown High foyer was built in the fifties, but it has this identity crisis where it thinks it's actually part of Ancient Greece. There are pillars everywhere.

As I watched Baby Sister greet her admirers, I couldn't help but remember back in high school when Runner Bean came to see one of my musicals.

Oh, Runner Bean. I liked him a lot. I didn't quite know what to do with myself around him. On this particular occasion, when he greeted me after the show, he leaned against a pillar, facing me, and I ended up stepping really close, and then the following words flew out of my mouth:

"If you stand there, people will think I'm seducing you or something."

And then I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him so that it no longer looked like I had pinned him against the pillar.

I said this. I did this. And to my eternal mortification, it cannot be unsaid or undone. And every time I look at the foyer pillars at Hometown High, I will remember.

To his credit, Runner Bean laughed. In a slightly hysterical manner. Like he couldn't wait to escape me. But still, he laughed.

Bless that boy. He always made everything okay.

(P.S. In case you were wondering about the rest of Little Sister's dream, it went thusly:

"...and all of a sudden my friend came back from his vacation and he was a black man. The End.")

The Art of Manliness

It was night, and it was raining. The car was in the church parking lot. The car's battery was dead. The car needed to be jump-started.

Easier said than done.

"I have jumper cables," Madam President volunteered. "Do you know how to jump-start a dead battery?"

"No," said the woefully unprepared Awkward Mormon Girl. This was not the first time her car battery had died that week. The first time, she had sworn to herself that it would never happen again.

She had also sworn many times that she would get a spare key and Velcro it to the inside of her purse so that she wouldn't have to call home on the frequent occasions she locked her keys in her car. That hadn't happened, either.

"I don't know how to jump-start one either," said Madam President.

Since neither of them knew how to jump-start a car, they decided to consult something that would know: the internet.

"Here's a blog post on how to jump-start a car," Madam President announced after consulting her smartphone. The blog post was from a blog called The Art of Manliness. That was promising. Everyone knows that manliness is about jump-starting cars, not about standing up for truth or treating people right.

With some difficulty, they were able to figure out the mechanical workings of the mysterious device known as a hood. They propped the hoods' lids open and, standing in the rain, used a flashlight to gaze upon the dark interiors.

"Okay," said Madam President. "How do we do this?"

"Okay, so, connect the red cable to the positive terminal," Awkward Mormon Girl said, scrolling through the blog post.

MADAM PRESIDENT: Which one is the positive one?

(thoughtful silence)

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Well, this one kind of looks like the picture on the blog. See, if you turn the picture around... Oh, look, there's a marking on it.

BOTH: (peer closer)

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Is that a negative...or a positive?

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: It's a positive...I think.

CABLE: (is attached)

MADAM PRESIDENT: Okay, so that must mean that we attach the black cable to the negative terminal. I'll just-

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY. STOP! The blog says that if you attach the negative cable to the negative terminal, there will be a terrible explosion and you will die a horrific, horrifying, fiery death!!! You're supposed to attach the negative terminal to some other piece of metal somewhere under the hood instead.

An examination of the engine ensued.

Asked Madam President, "Is that metal, or is it just gray plastic?" They had never in their lives had such a hard time telling two completely different materials apart.

Finally, after much ado, all the cables were attached. Madam President hopped into her car.

"Stand back, Awkward Mormon Girl, in case one of our cars explode," she said. "If I die, tell my family that I love them."

Gingerly she turned the ignition. The blog said to let the engine run for a few minutes before turning on the dead car, so patiently Madam President and Awkward Mormon Girl waited.

After an appropriate number of minutes, Awkward Mormon Girl tried her engine. Nada.

"Maybe," Madam President said, "if we let the engine run longer..."

They did. Todavía nada.

Thrice they tried, and thrice they failed, and all the while it was cold and dark and rainy. After the third try, they made up their minds to leave the car till morning and come back with a more experienced adult.

At that moment, two members of the bishopric exited the church building. They saw what Madam President and Awkward Mormon Girl were trying to do, and immediately offered their assistance and mad skillz of manliness.

The first thing they did was reconfigure the cables.

COUNSELOR: Which one is the positive one?

(thoughtful silence)

OTHER COUNSELOR: Look, there's a marking on it. Is that a negative...or a positive?

The red cable was attached to the positive terminal. And then, horror of horrors, one of the counselors attached the black cable to the negative terminal!!!

Madam President and Awkward Mormon Girl gasped, waiting for a terrible explosion and horrific, horrifying, fiery death.

But there were no explosions. There were no deaths. Just Awkward Mormon Girl's car starting up, quite nicely.

As she got in the car and drove away, Awkward Mormon Girl swore that the next time her car battery died, she would jump it herself.

And also, she would definitely get a Velcroed key.

Testimony Time

I know that Jesus Christ lives. I know that He is my Savior and the Savior of all mankind. He knows our pain. He suffered for our sins. He died and rose from death so that we, too, can live again.

I know that there is a God and that we are all His children. He loves all of us. His greatest desire is that we will become like Him, and so He has provided a way. He has a plan for each and every one of us, and if we are brave enough to follow that plan, He will take us to new heights and lead us to unimaginable joy.

I know that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is Christ's true church upon the earth today. The fullness of His doctrines can be found within the Church.

I know that much of the Bible contains the word of God. It has been distorted over the years by the many translations and interpretations, but it still holds many important teachings and prophecies.

I know that the Book of Mormon is true. It is scripture just like the Bible, and it remains undistorted.

I know that God continues to give revelation to His children upon the earth. He speaks to us through our current prophet, President Thomas S. Monson, to give us such instruction, wisdom, and encouragement necessary to do His will. God also speaks to us personally and individually by the Holy Ghost and the Light of Christ.

I know that Thomas S. Monson has been called of God.

I know that those who follow the word of God will be happy. They will not lead easy lives. They will not be exempt from difficulties or sadness. But they will be blessed, and they will experience joy.

In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.