It's business time

See you on my mission blog

2009-11-19T15:16:00.000-08:00

I've decided to have my mom keep a mission blog for me. If you would like to follow me the address is http://sisterrachelsmith.blogspot.com/

Mondays

2009-10-19T14:33:00.000-07:00

I almost went a whole week without seeing my ex. Of COURSE I pull up behind him turning into school today. Of COURSE I start blaring my horn, pestering him shamelessly. Of COURSE he ignores me, laying his lead foot to the gas even before traffic will permit.

Oh Monday... you certainly know how to start off my week.

Pen Pals

2009-10-14T17:31:00.000-07:00

Well, the countdown has begun. It's T minus two weeks until I arrive at the MTC in Sao Paulo, Brazil. As I near the final days of preparation, the most important questions occupy the forefront of my mind. Like...

Who's going to keep me informed on all the current gossip?

My cousin, Megan, promised to send me some top notch letters similar to the ones she sent me when we were little, misspelld werds and all.

I dug up this little ditty to give the rest of you some guidelines for the quality of letter I will be expecting:

All joking aside, I would love to hear from you while I am away.

I'll be in the MTC for about two months, my mailing address will be:

Sister Rachel Elizabeth Smith
Brazil Maceio Mission
Brazil Missionary Training Center
Rua Padre Antonio D'Angelo 121
Casa Verde
02516-040 Sao Paulo SP
Brazil

I'll be expecting an excessive amount of expensive fed-exed packages.

My Return

2009-07-19T18:53:00.000-07:00

Inspirational music has been a reoccurring topic in many of my recent conversations, as has decision making. Due to poor multi-tasking skills, I was persuaded to combine the two current themes: I decided to decide to follow in the footsteps of some incredibly influential artists:

And make MY RETURN.

Their reunion tour, Spice Girls: Giving you Everything, was hailed by David Sinclair, author of Wannabe: Spice Girls Revisited as "colourful, energetic and wildly ambitious," "performed with genuine enthusiasm..." He raved that the girls themselves were "consummate entertainers" looking to be "in sensational shape," and "performing with every ounce of...passion in their hearts."

It is my quest to emulate the influence of such refined, musical genius.

My return to the blogosphere is bound to be just as spicy... but maybe a little less pink.

Snatch Happiness

2008-11-29T12:02:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago while at lunch with a couple girlfriends, my dearest Alison Goldsmith informed me that I was a pessimist. I told her she must be mistaken, for I was quite the happy, upbeat person. She proceeded to tell me that there was a difference, that I never really appreciated what I had at the moment. As I listened to her argument, I realized she was right.

I reflected on the words I heard sung by Annie Oakley the previous night in my little sister's jr. high play, "...with the sun in the mornin' and the moon in the evenin' I'm alright." It seemed extreme. I couldn't imagine myself with no home or food, waking up in the morning grateful just to have the sun. So I made a conscious effort to change.

Over the past three weeks I have been working to develop an attitude of gratitude. I studied council from the living prophets and endeavored to apply their teachings. I let people in my life know just how thankful I am for them. I changed my thought process, keeping a prayer of thanksgiving in my heart. It's amazing the difference in myself that I have already seen. I have been blessed with a greater understanding of what I have, and with a desire to uplift those around me. I'm happier! And things... just don't seem to matter so much. I'm surprised by the significant changes I feel and see in myself, and I'm ecstatic!

So, in accordance with the season I think I will share just a few of the things I am thankful for:

I'm thankful for my family, my greatest examples. I love them, individually, for so many reasons. I'm thankful for the little time I get to spend with them, where I have the opportunity to stumble across precious moments like this:

when, aside from the snoring, the house is quiet, and everything seems right.

I'm thankful for the beautiful fall we've been having! For the color orange, and walking out the door to find mornings like this:

For the tension in your legs after a beautiful fall hike.

Correspondingly, I'm thankful for my good physique; although, the considerable amount of late-night-deep-fried-mexican I intake is not the best indication of my gratitude.

I'm thankful for my quick mind. Again, the significantly less considerable amount of studying I do is not the best expression of my thanks.

I'm thankful for Jack Johnson, for providing the soundtrack to a roommate dance fiasco that ended a little something like this:

I'm thankful for little moments that brighten your day:

Like my bus driver, who when I board, tilts back his head to give me an appropriate, "Whassup girl? How you doin?" and the view I get out that bus window of the adorable, enthusiastic elementary kids.

Like consuming unhealthy amounts of jelly bellies through hours of arrested development and coming home to a spotless house, having the best roommate in the world!

My Uncle Paul shared a wonderful quote with me from the late President James E. Faust: "Perhaps we need to snatch happiness in little pieces, learning to recognize the elements of happiness and then treasuring them while they last."

I love the advice and I will strive to continue to do so, showing my gratitude through my thoughts, words, and actions. I will refrain from focusing on the lack of time and money, or my current relationship status, which, aside from my current affair with Cap'n Crunch and the Pilsbury Dough Boy, is non-existent. I will persist in developing an attitude of gratitude until with only the sun and the moon, I am more than alright.

Pouring Rain

2008-09-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

With the beginning of the semester comes an onslaught of extremes; nothing seems to be done in moderation. Whether the forecast is pouring rain or dry spell, the magnificent balance I found over the past three months has dissipated with the introduction of the fall semester.

"Welcome to junior year" is something I am quite accustomed to hearing. What exactly does that entail? Well, as anyone who is foolish enough to inquire 'how my week was' knows, I am happy to explain. Let me unload on the rest of you with a glimpse into the past week:

* 2 ten-page lab reports * 2 lab sessions * 1 six-page assignment * 3 quizzes * 4 hw assignments * 2 midterms * 2 sibling birthdays * 1 performance of "Honk" * 1 baby blessing * 1 wedding * long school hours * work * etc.

I was feeling terribly weighted, looking forward to the end of the week when I would finish that final structural analysis midterm and all stress would be lifted from my shoulders. No such relief came. When that biting, St. Louis screech declaring, "times up" came, panic arose instead. More strain was added to the heap that was supposed to have just been depleted.

A thought arose in my mind that I'd had during the week whilst sitting in institute. I was reflecting on my previous, hopeful frame of mind vs. my current state. I thought how light I'd felt only a week or two prior, and how I'd let the work load weigh my down. I felt a bit foolish.

I determined, as I have many times, to stop looking forward to some future date. Thinking everything will be better tomorrow will just prevent me from enjoying today. I'd forgotten, so quickly, the perspective I had been steadily gaining. I set out to do things to uplift me today. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself (Matt. 6:34).

And then I forgot it just as quickly.

So I'll continue to remind myself. With the hustle of school, my mind is apt to get caught up in the madness. I'll remember to slow down, take a deep breath, live like I'm 20, and think outside the box that is engineering. Like my dear cousin Val said, "sometimes you just need to take a run, breathe in some crisp fall air, and place your burdens on the shelf..."

So to the onslaught of extreme amounts of homework, extemely unfit professors, and the extremely unacceptable amount of emails in my inbox each day from the notorious Dr. Chambers, I say bring on the freakin' rain.

Carrie Oakie

2008-09-12T16:39:00.000-07:00

I've posted some lyrics before, but I don't think any of my fam has ever heard anything I've written. So, using a terribly outdated camera, I recorded, as best I could, the most recent couple of songs I've worked on. The guitar is not magnificent, but alas, one day it will be.

This first song I wrote about a 1.5 months ago, the most recent song I've completed. It titled: Another Week, and here 'tis:

Let's talk it out, 'cause I've been gettin' sick of the silence.
Another week, and I'll be gettin' sick of this same, dry tune.
Now I know your thoughts and your words don't oft mingle,
But I've been left to my own since the middle of June.

Let's walk it out, 'cause I've been gettin' tired of waitin'
You left me with false hopes to which I could cling.
I've been feelin' alone for quite sometime now,
And missin' you seems to be the one song I have left to sing.

And when I hear your name, I don't think twice.
And when I see your face, my heart never breaks in two.
And I always listen to my friends and my family's advice.
And I don't cry when I think of the last time I held you.

Now I know we don't know each other so well,
But you said we were kindred of a spirited kind.
And I recall the strength in the calm of your embrace,
As I've not yet rid the thought of you from my mind.

And when I hear your name, I don't think twice.
And when I see your face, my heart never splits in two.
And I always listen to my friends and my family's advice.
And I don't cry when I think of the last night I spent with you.

Let's talk it out, 'cause I've been gettin' sick of the silence.
Another week, and I'll be gettin' sick of this same dry tune.

Honestly me.

2008-08-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

My attempt to lighten the tone and break the chain of serious thoughts left me a bit unsatisfied. Yes, the water bottle incident had me livid for a moment, a minor distraction from my mind's inner-workings, but the frustration was gone in a matter of minutes. It left no lasting impression. So now for a little Q & A:

Q: Why did I choose to record such an insignificant event?
A: I guess I somehow felt it was necessary that I switch things up. I've never felt too comfortable discussing things so intimate.

But why? What is so wrong with the way things really are? I love reading all that my family has to share, heavy or light. Its them, and so full of life. I love when someone can open up to me, I honestly feel privileged. I've never thought less of anyone for trusting me with a part of themselves. So why, when I'm the one sharing, does it have the tendency to leave me feeling embarrassed and vulnerable?

This is where I'm at right now. This is where my head is, and where my voice should be. I'm not sure if it's just a matter of time before I'm "back-to-normal", or if over the past seven weeks my character has changed. I feel it's the latter. Time passes and my thoughts continue to be sober, composed. I've become more level-headed.

I've found that statements of the heart don't always have to be so profound or dramatic. They don't have to be laced with overpowering emotion, triggered by one significant event. They just need to be honest. So here I am, open and honest. This is me. And this is where I am right now:

I feel good; I feel content. I've been proactive in tying up loose ends and I feel more complete. I am hopeful.

I feel so comfortable in my own skin. I'm progressing. I've made some wonderful friends with characteristics I admire that I am striving to make a part of my life as well. I'm trying not to depend on others for my happiness, and I'm trying to remember that I'm not responsible for the happiness of others'.

I'm a lot less sarcastic, it's made me feel much better about myself. I strive to be honest, honest in my intentions, with others, and with who I am. I hope others feel comfortable enough to be honest with me. There are things I've seen in myself that I'm striving to correct. It feels good to be able to recognize my strengths and my weaknesses, to see myself put up a fight. I do believe that weak things can be made strong.

And some days I feel weary, emotionally exhausted. It's been such a hard couple of months, and I find myself needing someone, anyone's shoulder. And when I forget myself and serve others, I've found I benefit more, even though sometimes that's hard to keep in perspective.

I'm not always happy, but I feel at peace. More than I have in a long time, I feel like I am headed in the right direction.

So this is me, unashamed. And this is where I am right now.

Public Enemy #1

2008-08-15T11:46:00.000-07:00

Name: Pratanu Ghosh
Most Recent Offense: Drinking from my clearly-labeled water bottle

This is a serious problem.

Here's how it all went down: I was sitting in my office, filling out my time card. On the desk next to me were two, clean water bottles, void of any labeling or tagging. Next to them.. MY water bottle.

After completing my duties on the computer, I turned toward the door, looking over my right shoulder. There was Pratanu.. drinking from MY clearly-labeled water bottle, holding the cap with the big, black 'R' in his right hand. I exploded.

"PRATANU! THAT IS NOT YOUR WATER BOTTLE!" IT HAS MY NAME ON IT. WHY ARE YOU DRINKING OUT OF MY WATER BOTTLE?!"

"Oh. Yes. Okay, okay."

I proceeded to rip it from his hand and chuck it into the garbage.

Not that it would have been such an ordeal, but after 527 counts of inaudible english, 469 counts of incompetency, 342 counts of obstruction of operatives, 4 broken machines, and other countless, illicit acts, his lips touching that piece of plastic just put me right over the edge.

An unsolvable problem? I think not. Here is one solution I feel appropriate to share with the blog-viewing crowd:

The next day, I walked into my office to find this little number:

Oh how the tables have turned..

Perspective

2008-07-31T12:39:00.000-07:00

I didn't grow up in a home where emotions were shared or expressed, and I never developed the ability to put my feelings into words. I have a couple of friends who, over the past few years, have helped me to become more open; although, it's still extremely difficult for me to... find the words. I usually don't. I think more often I just describe a situation, then my friend recalls a similar, personal experience, and relate what they felt. Then, the work is done, and I exclaim, "Yes, yes! That's exactly how I'm feeling!"

I'm not sure that's how it works this time...

In one such conversation, I had a friend encourage me to write. He said it sounded
like the grieving process in my home wasn't very satisfactory, and shared some ways his family mourned. He told me he regretted not writing down memories of a relative. That struck me. So I'm writing, not necessarily of memories, because they're few, but to remember.

I jotted down some thoughts last week, but I've been too busy to compile them into an organized list until now. This is bound to be lengthy, but it's more for my benefit than for anyone else's reading enjoyment:

My perspective has changed. I haven't yet deciphered the difference, I just know there is one. Somehow I seem to think differently about every step. I've become more alert. I've become more aware of everything and everyone around me, of my direction, my environment, even my breathing. I'm not sure if my head is in the clouds or if I'm completely grounded, because I seem to be floating through in such a heavy manner.

I think differently about people I see. I wonder what they're going through, which passengers are experiencing devastating hardships. It's more close and common than I ever realized, and it's so important that we help each other along. I try now not to pass anyone without giving a smile. A lot of worries I had now seem so trivial, in fact, they seem to have fled my mind. While other issues seem more critical and daunting than ever.

I'm not sure how to explain it, but I think I'll figure it out in time. I just feel that every emotion and thought I am encountering seem to be in terms of before and after July 7, 2008.

I know that sounds so dramatic and maybe over thought, and I feel stupid and embarrassed of the effect it has had on me. I feel silly when I think of all those who were so much closer to David than I and how it must be affecting them. But I can't help that I too think about him every day of the week.

I dunno, I thought life would go back to normal in a short while. I knew life would never be the same for some, but I thought it would continue on as it always had for me. I think one day it will, which is why it's so important for me to record how I'm feeling now. So I don't forget the motivation I'm experiencing, the need/longing that I have for direction in my life, the utmost importance of developing strong, loving relationships with friends and family, and that the way we live each day and treat every person we come in contact with is so important. Not much else matters, I think.

I hope that by recording this, I wont forget. That I will continue to make each day count, to let everyone in my life know they are loved, and seek for the love and acceptance in my life that somehow seems to be missing.

It seems David was tied to everyone through music. He's the one that introduced me to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Music has always spoken to me, it's the only way I feel really adequate in expressing myself. Going to open mic nights and hearing the melodies and lyrics of others speaks to such a deep part of my soul. It's so real and so honest. And somehow, this tragedy seems to have give even my medium a new meaning, striking depths I'm not sure I knew existed. I was touched when Diane asked me to sing with her at her father's funeral. I'll never forget what I felt as I heard her offer Blackbird to David, what a strong, beautiful woman. Thank you Diane for letting me play such a small part in supporting you.

There are quite a few more things I had scribbled down, but I suddenly feel very peaceful. A good sign to end here, I think. In any case, the lengthiness of this already may be a bit much for even the likes of Denise, and that's saying something.

Heartsong

2008-07-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

It's hard not having any family around. The house is empty, and I feel unbelievably alone. The only comfort I really have is my guitar, it's helped a little bit. I can't wait to see everyone tho and give you all big hugs.

Heartsong: July 08, 2008

G Em C D

I wish my fingers could play the notes my heart in singin,
Be a reflection of chords that through my soul are ringin.
They'd play a melody of longing for the way things used to be.

I wish my lips could speak all the comfort I would like to give,
In words so strong, like the wills of your son and daughter to live on.
They'd give such sympathy to lift your friends and all our family.

Do you know that it kept me up at night, reflectin?
Do you know that it's finally startin to set in?
Do you see, no ones here to call me superbaby.

My mom reminded me to remember your all too perfect lawn
And all good memories, to make it easier now you are gone.
To give it some time, we'll eventually all find some peace of mind.

Do you know that deep inside my heart you'll always be?
Do you know that I'll still love you for eternity?
And one day I'll find, my memories of you will never die.

Do you know that it kept me up at night, reflectin?
Do you know that it's finally startin to set in?
Do you see, you're missed by your big superbaby.

I know this song wont change that I miss my Uncle David,
But it seems to help my heart and soul to feel elated.
It's hard for me to see, but I love and miss you. Love, your superbaby.

Loneliness and Cheeseburgers are a Dangerous Mix

2008-06-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, some of my family got together for dinner at the Ol' Spaghetti Factory. My uncle took a couple of pictures of the group at dinner on my camera:

Nice lookin' group, that.

And then there was me...

And I pose the question: Why am I still single?

Here are a few of the reasons I can think of off the top of my head:

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing.

2008-06-19T14:38:00.000-07:00

Seems I've been doing a lot of all three lately. Sitting on the couch watching television. Waiting for the span of commercials to end. Wishing someone were home to grab my lazy butt another popsicle out of the freezer.

Wishing things were different for us.
Wishing that it could somehow just work the way we want it to.
Wishing I didn't take everything you are for granted..
Wishing I would have treated you better.
Wishing it were easy or even possible for me to know how to just be your friend.
Wishing you the absolute best.
Wishing it were easier.

Wishing I could see you.
Wishing I heard from you ~~more often~~ ever
Wishing you were more like him.

Wishing you were home because I need you so bad.

It all seems to be getting me nowhere really.

Physical Therapy

2008-06-18T15:09:00.001-07:00

Physical therapy was not as bad as expected. In fact, surprisingly, I actually kind of enjoyed it. Being a lover/liver of instant gratification, I was lookin' for surgery. I would have even settled for some pain meds. But when I got the RX for therapy I was a complete baby about it, tears and all. And yes, I know, everyone has made it quite clear that post-surgery would require therapy as well. But still, going straight there just seemed like such.. work.

The week leading up to my first session I warmed up to the thought a little. It was 1.5 hours out of the week that I would have someone down my back, watching me to make sure I went through with a workout for once in my life instead of the usual divorce court with a bowl of Breyer's rocky road. And as it turns out, getting me knee back into tip-top shape is not going to be much work at all. I told her that I'd been biking everywhere and that my knee had been feeling 1000 times better. And then I paid her $20 to tell me to keep it up and that I didn't need to see her.

The best part of the trip was the waiting room. As I was filling out paperwork, a receptionist was asking some basic questions to an older man. It went a little something like this:

Her: Are you married?
Him: Not anymore.
Her: So you're single then?
Him: Yes. Are you?
Her: *Awkward laugh* Yes.. *more awkward laughing* Well.. you just snuck that right in there...

Me: [That's what she said]

Him: I've found the best thing is the massages.
Her: Most people do.
Him: I just had my butt worked on and it hasn't ever felt better.
Her: OH! I'M OFF! *Grabs coat frantically and rushes out the door*
Him: *Watches her flee to her car through the glass window*

It was pretty entertaining. So with the doctor's permission, I can now be the ultimate multi-tasker: being environmentally friendly, saving on gas money, getting sun, and healing the knee can all be done with one bike ride. And it doesn't hurt that my girlfriend, who is ever so funny, got me a flowered basket and an I <3 my mom bell for my birthday.

With all this being-so-productiveness, I can probably extend my couch time to include Christina's Court.

First Order of Business

2008-06-16T14:08:00.000-07:00

I have this thing that I sometimes like to do, but am not extremely good at: freestyling. Whenever I get up to do it tho, I am asked for a rap name. I've been thinking about it lately..

For those of you who have seen Flight of the Conchords, I wanted something Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros-esque. For those of you who have not, shame on you. Watch this and catch up with the rest of us, please.

Flight of the Choncords: Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros
So... I came up with the name Flowmingo. A couple of my friends came up with alternative names for me: Ginger G and The Daywalker. Let me know what you think.

One of the few things I have ever been compelled to write, and the most recent, was, in accordance with the theme of this blog, a rap. I'm a little hesitant to share it, but maybe someone will identify with it, who knows. So, for the first audience which is [only in probability] bigger than Kevin's basement, a demonstration of my rapping skills:

LOST
May 25, 2008

my hands are persperatin
as the tempo's elevatin
and there's no contemplatin
as I feel the chords vibratin

so, i'll spew my thoughts for the whole room to hear it,
and there's no time to edit 'fore you listen and i fear it.
cause i'm gonna spout off the things that i am feelin:
how my stomachs turnin and how my head is reelin,

It get's a little deep here.

how i wish i knew my left from my right,
and i wonder how i ever got so far from the light.
i feel so confused and i feel so alone
i feel stupid for admitin, but like i said there's no control

over words that leave my lips,
and i'm embarrassed of the glimpse
of my soul you've captured since
these words made appearance.

so, let's stop and break it for a second.
i'll slow down and fake it cause i reckon

that i've said to much, you've seen me in my skin,
and it's out of my comfort to let anybody in.
and it hurts to admit to myself that i am lost,
to hear these words leave my lips when i know that the cost has been payed.

so, let's stop and break it for a second.
i'll slow down and fake it 'fore i wreck it.

So there it is. I don't know why it's so embarrassing for me to share that because everyone goes through times when they feel a bit inadequate. Welp, probably a little bit much for my first order of business, no? But then again, at least I got to skip all that unnecessary, tiring, nauseating small talk and got right down to business. And I loves me some business.

Flight of the Choncords: Business Time

Untitled

2008-06-14T20:04:00.001-07:00

Some people have a way with words. [And by the tasteful entrance I bet you can guess what comes next..] I am not one of those people. I doubt any compilation of words I post here will make anyone who reads them [if any] laugh out loud or feel in any manner. In fact, I can almost guarantee it. So why, I ask, am I starting a blog? Perhaps by the end I will have an answer.

It's not very often that I am compelled to write. Again, today is no exception. You know that game all guys despise, when you're laying in silence and you pipe up and ask- "what are you thinking?" Alas, it's one more quality I share with the male gender. [Well that's not completely true, I love asking.] My response used to always be - nothing - until I started, ironically enough, thinking about it.

I realized there are always a million things running through my head at any given minute. By the time the question has been stated, there are a million answers I could possibly give, but it's just too hard to pinpoint a single one. I have this friend who seems to be the only person who could really get an answer. He'd pick and help me find one thought I could tug at until I just unraveled. He has this way of making me feel completely vulnerable. But he's been gone on a mission for the past year, and now, once again, my mind is one big, cluttered, tangled disaster.

It seems to be the trend lately, leaving. All my friends are doing it, so feel free to jump on the bandwagon. Whether they're in Japan, New York, Wyoming, or DC, the results have been the same - I am alone. [And they are all missing out on the wonderful benefits you get from being my friend, i.e. cookies, remaining off my hit list etc.] And because all my dear "friends" have left, there is no one left to talk to, another contributing factor to the mess in my head. One good thing that has come from it though: a rekindled friendship with Alison Guiler; although, she seems to excel in the area of doing-enough-talking-for-the both-of-us, so I am still out of luck.

This, I suppose, is a reason to start this blog: writing to my new best friend, the oblivion that is cyberspace, because there is no one tangible left to talk to.

Look at me, answering my own rhetorical question- Why am I starting a blog?

To have someone to talk to. How completely pathetic.