Just happy

Yesterday morning, while trying to put together a bottle with a baby on my hip, I felt like a woman. The run-a-household, soothe-a-crying-baby, rearrange-the-cupboard-so-the-pans-don't-fall-down kind of woman.

Yesterday afternoon, while walking home from the bus with a flimsy purple draw-string backpack strung over my shoulders, I felt like a little girl.

Consistency is uncommon.

I walked to the Brookville Market, just down the street, because I had visions of broiling a bagel topped with smoked gouda, tomatoes, and spinach, but alas, I lacked the spinach. The market is charming in a small, brick kind of way, but not so charming in its stupid-expensive pricing. Four dollars for a bag of spinach? Looks like gouda and tomato will have to do.

Later Becky picked me up and we stopped in at Parkside for a minute to grab dinner and bikes. I took an ibuprofen because my lower back was killing me (but not stopping me!), and the two of us took the Rock Creek trail path further south than we've ever taken it before... 13.5 miles down through the beautifully lit golden-hour forest and along the rushing river.

I had one of those laugh-out-loud moments of complete joy and gratitude, whizzing along with Becky at my side. I'm so glad to have her; I'm so glad that she is willing to run herself into the ground with me so that we can catch as many of those moments as we can. Who cares if the way is long or the light is fading or our bones are aching? In good company, it's always a good time.

Stuck in a Small World

One balmy summer evening just a few months ago, I was riding my bike west along Strathmore Avenue, chasing the fading glow on the horizon. I'd just finished a long ride with a friend, but after seeing him off, I had decided to take the long way home to see the sunset. Cycling west west west I crested the hill and then there it was, waiting for me. Pink and orange clouds, lit up by an invisible sun, swirled over shadows of silhouetted trees like painted portals to another place. The sight was simple, but so soulful, and I felt that if I could reach those clouds, they could take me to another planet.

At that moment, a thought swished into my head--like a little revelation: "It's so easy to get stuck in a small world."

It's so easy to get stuck in a small world.

The thought cycled though my mind on repeat for the rest of the ride. Stuck in a small world. That's not what I want to be. That's never what I want to be.

I think a lot of us live in sad little bubbles of sameness. We push the same snooze button on the same clock at the same time every morning. We drive the same road to work or school or wherever. We listen to the same radio stations. We stop at the same stop light. We stand in the same line at the same grocery store, with the same things in our cart. We see the same people. Think the same way. Repeat the same platitudes. We live in the same world.

There is so much that we don't know. So many places we haven't been, people we haven't met, things we haven't done. Am I the only one disheartened by this?

Sameness is so easy to fall into, because same=comfortable. I'm so afraid it will catch me. I'm afraid of being the same. 

Ay it's so easy to get stuck in a small world. Don't do that to yourself. Live big! Swim in the vastness of the ocean! Visit all the places! Meet all the people! Learn all the things!

Change is the law of life! It's beautiful! Embrace it!

Take me here instead!

In other kind of but not really related news, I regret to inform you that I'm going to have to bid adieu to this blog for the time being. Time to let go. I'm feeling a little untrue to myself since it has been, you know, almost two months since I lived in Washington, and Washington is not in the foreseeable future.

There are no more wishes from Washington, only wishes for Washington.

Oh but don't worry, I'll be returning someday. I'm too in love with that humid, hurried, heart-holding home of mine.

Until then... you can find me over here at my other blog.

Stay sameless,


<3 Jenna

Thoughts from Thursday: On Having Curly Hair

Having curly hair builds character.

Did you know that women with curly hair are statistically 65% more likely to have more character than their straight-haired counterparts?

Moral of the story: It's the curly friends you want. It's the curly wives you want. IT'S THE CURLY PRESIDENTS YOU WANT, OKAY??

I don't really remember the moment my hair became "curly." Nobody ever mentioned my having curly hair when I was a child--it was just golden and wavy and angelic. But some time during puberty, (I almost typed "pubic years." I don't think that's a thing... I hope that's not a thing.) my hair went from wavy to curly, and then it just kept getting curlier and curlier, until we reached critical mass:

Ready for a nuclear chain reaction.

Oh, I've tried to tame it. I've tried ironing it, diffusing it, braiding it. I've tested every single brand of mousse and gel on the market. I've used coconut oil and avacado oil and argon oil. I've washed it with honey, guacamole, even beer.

I bought a silk pillow case. I stopped washing the conditioner out. I piled it in a curly mass on top of my head, (affectionately dubbed "The Pineapple") before I went to sleep (ask Becky, she has a photographic evidence!).

Right now I'm in Phase 57 of How to Handle My Hair. In Phase 57, I use 5+ high-end hair products, the combined cost of which equals just about $100.  I never sleep on wet hair. I go up to 4 days without washing it. And my latest kick is to not comb it or even run my fingers through it--even when I'm in the shower. That way it's dirty and tangly all the time, but the effect is that it's actually less crazy. Imagine that. Curly hair is counter-intuitive like that.

Speaking of counter-intuitive, most people believe that curly hair can be cut the same way that straight hair can be cut. This is a big fat fallacy and one that the hair dressing community needs to understand already!!!

I don't think I've walked out of a hair salon happy since I was 13. Nobody can do it right! Nobody! Not two hours ago I walked out of a salon for curly hair and I still left disappointed (hence, this rant).

But honestly, even though these people were "curly-hair certified," my expectations were still low. Because really, it's just never going to look good.

If you see a girl with curly hair, chances are she's used to getting crappy hair cuts. She's used to leaving the salon with a smile, saying "Thanks--it looks good," and then getting in the car, looking in the review mirror, and laughing (or crying) (or swearing) because it happened again.

Chances are she spent her formative teen years trying to figure out what the heck to do with her unruly hair and then just got used to the idea of standing out.

Chances are she's spent tons of money and time and maybe even tears in search of products and gadgets and all manner of garbage to get her hair to behave "like everyone else's."

Chances are she's learned how to take all the off-hand comments about frizz, fluff, poodles, etc, etc.

Chances are she's been on a long journey of self-acceptance and she's come to a place where she's comfortable with they way she looks. She's embraced herself for who she is. She's stopped trying to fit the mold.

She has character--and lots of it.

Sitting in a classroom

Yesterday, as I was sitting in kinesiology class, listening to my professor lecture about the finer points of muscle origins and insertions in the foot, I looked out the window and what did I see?

The world.
Going on out there.
Without me.

I rested my chin in my hand and watched the setting sun bathe the mountains in orange. And then I had the sad little dejected thought:"What the heck am I doing in here? Why am I not standing at the top of that mountain? I am not a science person. I do not care about dorsi flexion or anterior displacement. I do not care that I'm supposedly ruining my feet by wearing flip-flops. I do not care that I don't "load my weight" correctly on my lateral arch and my gait is therefore screwed up.

I'll have you know, professor, that I hiked to the top of a waterfall once, in flip-flops. And I've walked the world on that arch, with that gait! And I intend to keep walking, even if I'm doing it wrong!"

Of course, I like education. I like to learn. And I realize that there are millions of people in the world who would give a lot of things to be in my shoes (my flip-flops, if you will) right now. But sometimes my brain gets a little warped by all the information going in and I just want to ditch school and catch the next flight to Budapest, you know?

There's this little Hasidic (not to be confused with sadistic) saying that is printed on a little piece of cardstock sitting on my dresser:

Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength.

I've observed the way my heart has drawn me, and I've chosen the way.

Now to just stick with it. The mountains will still be there tomorrow. The sun will still set. You can't have it all, at least not all at once. And anything worth chasing requires a little bit of sacrifice and patience anyway, right?

Wasting Time

Since I don't live in Washington anymore, I should probably get over myself and start writing on my other blog (yes, I have another blog. Four other blogs, if we're getting technical). But I can't let it go! So let's just pretend that I still live there and I'm just on a little sabbatical to Utah for a minute.

Right now I should be finishing my lab assignment for physiology, which was due today, but I pulled my most flirtatious half-smile on my (really young) instructor today and tossed out an excuse about how I couldn't get Excel to work, and he said I could turn it in late. How late, I didn't ask. But I should probably get it done tonight.

Right now I should definitely be studying for my kinesiology test on Thursday. I have to memorize chapters one and two AND every flippin muscle in the body. Right now I've got gluteus maximus, IT band, and rhomboid major down pat. Only like, 103 others to go.

Pahaa-- what have I gotten myself into? I do not know. I have never felt so unmotivated to do school in my life. I like school, remember? But I'm just too absorbed in thinking about what I'm doing with my life to actually do anything with my life.

The struggle is so so real.

Anyway, please feel free to pray for me and then enjoy this picture of me and Becky G. at Harper's Ferry a few months ago. Would've been the perfect picture, if Becky had just put her arm around my waist instead of my shoulder, right?? Everybody knows that, Becky!!

Also, fun fact I just realized. At this very moment I'm wearing the exact same outfit as I'm wearing in this picture-- red shirt, jeans, hair in a bun. Crayzy.

Also, again, real quick-- I've noted like, 6 grammar/usage errors in this blog post and I'm not even going to fix them. Partially because I'm too lazy and partially because maybe I forgot how to fix them.

Proof I'm getting dumber by the minute! Give me back my brain cells!

On Stress

I've been feeling a lot of stress lately--more so than any other time in my life, I think. So much stress that I have scary and stressful dreams at night, my muscles are bunching to the point of chronic pain, and I frequently shed tears of exasperation. So much stress that I literally just had to pause this blog post to go puke in the toilet. I'm not even kidding. TMI? This is my blog!

Sometimes I get caught up in these negative thought processes, like "If I don't choose the right physiology professor, I won't pass this physiology class, if I don't pass the class, my pre-req GPA will be too low to get into OT school, and if I don't get into OT school, my life is ruined."

I think that's called a logical fallacy of the slippery slope variety. But I can't help it. My brain just does that to me.

But decisions. How does anybody ever go about making decisions? Everything affects everything, so one little slip-up could cost you your entire future!!

Everyone always says (wow, did you like that double hyperbole?), "Jenna, you expect way too much of yourself."

It kind of bothers me when people say that, because what am I supposed to do? Lower my expectations for myself? When did that ever do anyone any good? My expectations are high, but they're achievable, and it's high expectations that have gotten me this far in life.

It's more faith I need, not lower expectations. And with that faith I must try to convince myself that I can get an A in physiology even though I haven't taken the pre-reqs and my teacher flat out told me I probably wouldn't pass. That I can get all my volunteer hours in, ace the GRE, and write a killer personal essay without holing myself up in my room for the next four months. That I have a great purpose to fulfill, and even if I fail physiology, with God on my side I CANNOT FAIL at life. That He will most certainly provide a way.

Isn't that powerful--the thought that God is on your side? It's hard to remember sometimes, but God is in control. God knows WAY more about physiology than my physiology professor. In fact, God knows all there is to know about physiology. And He wants me to succeed. So I will. And I will put my trust in Him and not in the fleshy arm of Dr. T.

I can do hard things. This is my dream and I'm going for it. Because, in the words of the iCarly theme song, "There's no chance unless you take one."

What Am I Doing With My Life? and other minor conundrums...

Well guys.

I made the leap. I left my beautiful East Coast life to come back to Utah for school.

When I really think about it, I am kind of confused as to why I did what I did... (see below)

Pros of Staying in DC
-Fantastic roommates
-An adorable (cheap!) apartment in a great location
-Lots of real, fun friends
-Great ward with a bishopric who loves me!
-GREEN EVERYWHERE
-A job I like where I make lots of money
-Happy! I am (was) so HAPPY!

Pros of Moving to UT
............


You're probably thinking, "Well what the heck Jenna! Why did you ever think it was a good idea to leave DC??"

And I will tell you, "You know, I don't really know why I thought it was a good idea. I'm still not sure it was a good idea. But I'm acting on faith here, and hoping that that faith wasn't misplaced."

Because the truth is, I've felt compelled to return to this dry, arid motherland for months. Maybe that was me misreading the Spirit, but boy I sure hope not. Either way, here I sit, in the motherland. In a green chair in a lonely corner of the library at SLCC, to be exact. I'm trying really hard to stifle my superiority complex and find the good in this place. I'm trying really hard to give this all I've got. Because I made the leap. I took a chance, even if it was a stupid one. I'm chasing dreams.

In the wise words of the late Marina Keegan,

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.