Unashamed

People who know me know that if there's one thing I love, it's Sherlock.

Yeah, I know. It's a bit silly, isn't it? 

But it--the stories, the show, the man himself--is such a huge part of me. I don't know who I'd be without it. (Whoa, Lauren, aren't you being a little melodramatic?) Not in the slightest. 

Because of Sherlock, I see the world differently. I think and act differently. It's difficult for me to articulate just how much he's impacted me. I've always loved the stories; heck, the Great Mouse Detective was one of my favorite childhood movies, and the Robert Downey Jr. movie versions enthralled me. Two years ago, though, is when things truly took off. My dad showed me and my brothers BBC Sherlock, starting with the Hound of the Baskervilles for some reason. I was hooked. We then watched the Reichenbach Fall, and I knew I could never turn back. I was invested, and I had to know more. 

Since then, over these years, I've seen all the episodes multiple times. I've read every single Conan Doyle canon story there is (some of them several times). Even some of the more venerable spin-offs, like the Mary Russell books. I know all the theories, fandom inside jokes, fanfictions. Everything. I've never been so invested in anything. Some people know everything about guns, or horses, or chemistry. I know everything about Sherlock Holmes. 

Have you ever loved a fictional character so much it hurts? Like, you can't breathe sometimes? In some of my darkest moments last year, Sherlock and John got me through. (And, of course, Heavenly Father; but do you see what I'm getting at here?) He's important to me, and I don't care how weird that is to some people. 

But, during this last semester of college, I've had to put him away. Too much schoolwork, too many people, and so little time to devote to this phenomenon that I so love. Months, it's been, since I feel I've been able to really think about Sherlock. I was afraid I'd lost my fervor for it all. Like it was the beloved storybook or toy put on the shelf to make room for the practical things in life. Of course I still loved Sherlock. But had the distance lessened that love, perhaps? 

Today, when I watched the Sherlock BBC mini episode, something changed. Or rather, was restored. Throughout the whole thing, I'd been excited--giddy, even. But, as soon as Sherlock appeared on the screen in his video for John, I lost it. Seeing his mannerisms, hearing his voice, it all felt like coming home. It felt like discovering Sherlock for the first time all over again. It reminded me that I have been and always will be a Sherlockian. 

This may seem very strange to you. That's okay. I know it's weird to be obsessed about a fictional character on the level that I am. Still, it doesn't change the fact that Sherlock has always made me strive to be more intelligent, more physically fit, more observant. I am who I am because of Sherlock Holmes, in many ways. And as long as something you love drives you to do good things, meaningful things, then I don't see anything wrong with pursuing it. 

For me, the game is always on. 

Emphasis

It is an undeniable truth that music has a profound affect on me. So often, whether in hymns at church or the tunes on my iPod, I can find a song that expresses precisely what I am feeling or thinking. There are times when I've wondered whether I should have stuck it out with the piano or the clarinet, but I think I get so much more out of music simply by listening and feeling.

For instance, while listening to some new music lately, I found two songs that convey two very important things I've learned during this first semester of college.

1) Pompeii by Bastille

My last post (One of Those Nights) actually documented the night before perhaps the most pivotal point of this semester. Without going into too much detail, I was arrogant, thoughtless, and selfish. I am still dealing with the consequences.

I was left to my own devices

Many days fell away with nothing to show

...

We were caught up and lost in all of our vices

...

And the walls kept tumbling down

In the city that we love

Great clouds roll over the hills

Bringing darkness from above

When that awful consequence did come, I was undone. But I was left with a choice to make.

How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

...

Oh where do we begin,

The rubble or our sins?



Yes, it hurt. Yes, I have been deeply humbled. I am thankful Heavenly Father did not cushion the blow, because it helped me see how wrong I'd been. Ultimately, I chose to pick up the pieces and start again.

2) Emphasis by Sleeping At Last

In the space between then and now, my resolve and testimony have been tested--threatened to break, at times. I had never felt such stark loneliness before. Still, there are things I know that I could never abandon. Christ knows me, and He has never left my side.

The sweetest thing I've ever learned is that I don't have all the answers

Just a little light to call my own

Though it pales in comparison to the overarching shadows

A speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow the darkness whole 

Slowly, I have relearned that the Lord's ways are higher than my ways. I can't see the bigger picture--only He can--so I must trust Him. Whenever that suffocating fear grips me, I instantly turn to Him. And I know that all will be well, even if it isn't right now.

Life is a gorgeous, broken gift



One of Those Nights

I can't sleep.

Or maybe, I refuse to.

It's been one of those nights--one of those utterly chill Friday nights when you just do whatever the heck you feel like.

I enjoyed a marathon of that show New Girl, laughing so hard I had to leave the room. I've spent hours on Tumblr and Pinterest, staring at beautiful fanart, funny images, and pictures of clothes I've wanted to wear and places I've wanted to be. Listening to Katy Perry's new album, I made roasted veggies. My roommates and I giggled about boys, clothes, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink sundaes, and just how uncertain the future really is.

My PD Bio professor told me I am a great student after I confessed my worries about my major. A friend of mine gushed about my score on the chemistry exam. I didn't mean to, but I put off a big portion of my homework until tomorrow. Imagine Dragon's music fuels my soul right now, and I just remembered I need to do laundry. I am living on my own.

Some part of me aches to experiment, to change something. I wanna chop my hair off, but I think I'd miss it. If it weren't for curfew, I'd go for a run. I yearn to go to London. There's this strange emptiness in my chest, and I don't know how to go about filling it. With knowledge? With strength? With affection?

Experience?

My life right now seems to be a wondrous balance of right and wrong.

So yeah.

Everything is just fine.

Skies I'm Under

Last week, I had the exquisite pleasure of updating the music on my iPod. I uploaded the new (well, as new as last year can be considered) Mumford & Sons album Babel. One particular song I'd liked for a while, "Hopeless Wanderer", took on a new significance while I was out running one evening.

As I am wont to do these days, I had been daydreaming of my new life at BYU when the line "I will learn to love the skies I'm under" forced its way into my consciousness.

It made me realize that if I do not learn to appreciate where I am now--literally and figuratively--I will never be happy anywhere. Certainly a sobering thought for one who has longingly looked to the future all her life. This reminds me of what I frequently told myself last summer, that I must enjoy the little things, the little moments. And I do. On the drives to work, I notice the ever-changing sky, the verdant fields, and that relaxed way of life characteristic of mid July mornings. At the same time I try not to nitpick moments too often, for a watched pot never boils, as they say.

But that is not the point. Loving where I am means more than simply looking up once in a while to smell the roses. It means savoring my successes, my growth, and utilizing each day for self-betterment. It means being thankful, even though I am constantly looking toward that ever-longed for horizon. Most of all, I think, it means that I am happier where I am than where I was. I can see where I've come from and I know that right here is where I want to be. Yes, many mistakes pave my path--several instances that I wish had not happened, or had occurred differently--but I can appreciate those mistakes, and I have grown from them.

I am thankful for a loving and merciful God, who has ultimately turned my failures to triumphs. Though lately I've grumbled and griped and complained, I have been immensely blessed. I would not trade places with any of my past or future selves, for right now is a time of change. A transition. So often in life do we forget these transitions and skip directly to the next adventure; little do we realize that those transitioning times are what made the adventures great. They are a period of preparation and growth, and I am thankful for them. For I know that if I use this time wisely, my future will be everything I've ever hoped for. And I will be ready for it.

Becoming Jane

Jane Austen: one of the most beloved and insightful writers of all time. I thought that because I'd read all her books, I knew her. I wrote a few papers about the woman and her time, knew she lived the remainder of her short life as a spinster, and recognized that she loved her family dearly.

Yet, until I saw the 2007 film Becoming Jane, I actually knew nothing at all.

Most anyone who knows me can say my heart belongs in England; essentially any BBC/Masterpiece/PBS drama or comedy will suit me perfectly well. Thus, when I borrowed this movie from the library, I figured it would be a witty, satisfying, and--for some jaded reason--happy couple of hours. Just what I needed after a long stretch of work. What could have possessed me to think that Jane Austen, a spinster, would have a happily-ever-after in the romance department?

Thomas LeFroy, a reckless and worldly pre-lawyer, captures the sensible Jane's heart through a intriguing mixture of wit and wisdom. Any Austen fan would associate his initial prickliness with Mr. Darcy and his proclivity for mischief with Mr. Wickham. Incidentally, Pride and Prejudice is the novel Jane begins while courting Thomas. (Also, on an aesthetic level, the two make such a lovely couple that one cannot help but plead for things to work in their favor.) Finally, Jane has seemingly found exactly what she's hoped for: a marriage for love instead of money. Now if only Thomas' uncle will approve...

Without giving too much away, happiness is not in the cards for the optimistic couple. Several instances of shattered hopes occur in the story; one of which just about destroyed me.

You see, Jane and Thomas decided to cheat the game and run away. Neither could endure the lie of attempting to live with another person, so they left. For once, all was well. That is, until Jane discovers that Thomas has been providing for both his parents and his numerous younger siblings. If he elopes with her, he forsakes his reputation and must work all his life to support two families. Ever wise, Jane forsees their love, as pure and unshakable as it is, turning into regret, resentment, and bitterness as the years go by. She explains this to Thomas with tears in her eyes.

Thomas: How can you, of all people, dispose of yourself without affection?

Jane: How can I dispose of myself with it?

How much love does it take to walk away? To know when even the bleakest glimmer of hope cannot redeem? I am not sure whether I could do what Jane did. As her carriage pulls away from the inn, she sees Thomas behind. Walking with the carriage, a look of broken abandonment on his face. It was at this part that I cried like a wounded child. Pounding my fists on my knees, I willed Jane to go back. I thought, but this is the exact antithesis of her stories!

But, two parts of the movie caused me to ponder. One, when Jane is discussing the beginnings of Pride and Prejudice with her sister. Jane describes how her novel depicts things of the heart, though it also sports a happy ending with a wealthy man. It is as though she combines Thomas' love and intelligence with another suitor's wealth. Two, when she is conversing with said other suitor after the events of her elopement, he notes that she refuses to marry without love--and for that matter, refuses to marry with love. That truly struck me. Jane was so completely selfless that she let Thomas go. She not only knew she must let him live another life, but she also trusted him to do so. These two parts helped me realize who Jane Austen is and why her novels are such treasures even today: Despite all the hardship, betrayal, and disappointment in her life, Jane still believed in triumphant love. Her novels portray young women of little or no fortune finding happiness amidst the trials of poverty and familial discord.

Jane is not a despondent woman pining after what could have been, but a masterful artist holding on to her irony--"Irony is the bringing together of contradictory truths to make out of the contradiction a new truth with a laugh or a smile.” She knows, from experience, that her stories are akin to fairytales and are not entirely probable. However, at the same time, Jane Austen's novels hold some of the most realistic characters and situations. Most everyone can relate to them in some way or another.

If it were not for her brush with love, Jane Austen probably wouldn't have had the profound effect on humanity she has had for almost two centuries. So although I cried shamelessly and came away emotionally drained after watching Becoming Jane, I feel better acquainted with the beautiful mind and heart that was Jane Austen.

You Never Know

Be true, be true, be true.

This last Friday, Tess and I decided to ring in the weekend by going out to one of our favorite treats after school. When we arrived at the store--which has been newly remodeled--we found ourselves surrounded by confectionary goodness, eye-popping hues, and all the smells that belong to a proper sweets establishment. Tess fangirlishly commented that we were practically in a real-world version of Honeyduke's. I agreed.

After we'd finished our jaunt about the store, one of the employees called out to us "Hey! I know you girls--you were those wonderful youth leaders at Girls' Camp I never got to know. You girls are amazing!" Tess and I were flattered, to say the least. We stood and reminisced with her about camp for a bit, and then she helped us select our "poison" for the day. Once Tess and I settled on our flavors, I noticed a box of said sweets on the counter with different flavors. Curious, I asked about what they were, and after explaining, the lady asked "Do you want one?" Tess and I assumed she meant instead of the flavors we'd picked. The lady then said, "You can have one free. In fact, because you both are such good examples, you can have all of them for free. They're day-olds anyway."

There were seven of them. FOR FREE. What is this? Tess and I could hardly believe it. To make this lady even more fantastic, she offered to bring us waters after we'd sat down to enjoy our treat (By the way, I keep the treat and the name of the establishment a secret because then everyone would go expecting a free something-or-other).

My point in telling you is this: no matter where you are, what you're doing, or who is around you, always be true to your standards. You never know who is watching. You never know who might be counting on you. Though you may not be physically or publicly rewarded like Tess and I were, God and karma will treat you well.

That I promise.