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.

In Retrospect

A beginning at the end.

December 28th:
We picked up my returned missionary brother from the airport
We opened presents about 7:30 PM
Stayed up until 2 AM with my brothers, talking, listening to new music

Suddenly, my long-lost brother is back. I see him every day, and I love it. Sometimes, though, my mind plays games with me: The past two years have been a dream, haven't they? My family's all together again; I'm sharing a bathroom with my brothers; every little quirk my family ever possessed has become magnified in these past few days.

But no. No matter how similar now and then are, we have changed. I am no longer the fearful, starry-eyed girl who held life at arm's length. These years have taught me about perseverance--to stick with my goals, and if I do, I'll reach them. About love--there are many more types and kinds than I realized--and how I must never take it for granted. About true, Christ-like kindness--this life is not merely for me and my hopes, but to help others reach theirs. About knowledge--there is so much not only to learn, but to experience, feel, and explore in this life; why should I waste it? Knowledge encompasses a greater sphere than simple book-smarts and cleverness. It's about the experiences we have and what we glean from them. In other words: it's wisdom. I am working on becoming wise.

It excites me that How To Save A Life has been around for an entire year. Looking back over my old posts, I can remember each of those feelings, sharp as a pin prick. Lessons learned, ardent achings articulated--blogging is a whole different vehicle for expression, and for a while, I did not think I could do it. Surely, other people carry more fascinating tales and more inspiring messages than I do. Yet, I know that something I have to say can help someone, somewhere. Who knows? Maybe I already have. I'd like to think so.

There's a lot more to discover out there, and I plan to find it. I want to improve, turn my flaws to fine points, and become the person I've always wanted to be.

So here's to another year--another chance to thrive!

Revival

I'm a lot like a hobbit.

With a few exceptions, I don't like much change. Routines are comfortable for me; knowing when, where, and how something happens provides a certain degree of security. I hate admitting it, but when plans change, my feathers get a bit ruffled.

Bilbo Baggins felt the same way when a band of dwarves marched into his house speaking of adventures, singing of past dangers, and consuming every ounce of his food. "I can't just go running off into the blue! I'm a Baggins! Of Bag End!"

At every turn, Bilbo worried about the accumulating mud on his floors and the dwarves' roughness in handling his family heirlooms. Essentially, he focused on the lesser things, not realizing what an incredible opportunity had presented itself to him.

I, too, have let my gaze slip from what matters most. Perhaps that is why I've neglected my blog for so long! When I am not scribbling away at an essay or intensely studying for an exam, I usually find myself watching an episode of my favorite show or wasting life away on stupid Pinterest. Honestly, I am comfortable. Safe, I guess.

But that isn't really living, is it?

Bilbo's fear of stepping outside the Shire is understandable. An adventure? Something so much bigger than you that you might not come back the same? Sounds daunting. Throughout Gandalf and the dwarves' visit, Bilbo's repeated answer was "no."

However, when the choice left him, he realized what he had lost. You could just see the hope on his face as he scoured his house for the crew the next morning--and the disappointment at not finding them.

No matter how accustomed to habit and mundaneness we are, we are almost always intrigued by something new. A chance to see, hear, and be what we never have before. Once the initial fear is pushed aside, our perspectives start to look a little like this:

All things considered, Bilbo overcame his fear rather quickly. Throughout his journey, he followed the best he could and worked diligently not to be a mere accessory to the crew. He actually ended up saving their leader--Thorin, a stoic and initially cold-shouldered dwarf. By his actions, Bilbo proved that no matter how small you may be, no matter how inexperienced or insignificant you may feel, you can make a substantial difference. I admire him greatly for that.

As for myself, I cannot quite decipher what's been holding me back. Am I afraid of what I can become? Am I simply too comfortable with where I am? Am I just lazy? Whatever the case, I am not where I should be. Sitting, studying, waiting. It's safe, easy, and completely... lifeless.

For the longest time, life has just been a theory. A question. Some faraway point I've been working up to my entire existence so far. Somewhere I've heard it mentioned that high school is like a treadmill--you're running, sure, but not progressing. You do grow stronger, but a treadmill can only provide so much. If you could only get outside; then you could see what you have missed.

But this Wednesday, a joyful gasp escaped me as I woke up smiling. 18. I'm an adult. Childhood is behind me, and there's nothing but endless possibilities in my view. Who will I meet? What new obstacles will I face? What undiscovered joys and sorrows await me?

I've decided that 18, my 18th year, will be the year of possibilities--of adventure. For anything goes. This is the beginning of my life. From here on out, I will work to fulfill my potential and change to become what the Lord, the world, and those I love need me to be. Nobody said life and love would be easy, but I've never heard anyone say it wasn't worth it.

I'll leave you with this:

Once upon another time
Before I left the child behind,
I saw myself in summer nights
And stars lit up like candle lights

I make my wish, but mostly I believed
And yellow lines and tire marks
Sun-kissed skin and handlebars
And where I stood, was where I was
To be

Once upon another time
Decided nothing good in dying
So I would just keep on driving
Because I was free.

-Sarah Bareilles, Once Upon Another Time

A Bit of a Fangirl...

This last Saturday I had the privilege of going to a book signing of Brandon Sanderson's (who, in case you didn't know, wrote the Mistborn trilogy and is currently finishing the Wheel of Time series). I AM A HUGE FAN of this guy and his work. In fact, the night before, I laid everything out and talked to my dad about going there early to get in line.

Excuse my complete and utter nerdiness, but I thought this expressed my thoughts pretty well. 

My dad, my uncle, and I went to Barnes and Noble to save a spot in line. Somehow we managed to snag second place! The girl in front of us was a friend of Sanderson's sister (both of them are named Lauren, too). For the next two hours, the four of us talked, read some of Sanderson's books, and totally geeked out. It is always fun finding someone to discuss your favorite books with; the whole reading experience seems to become more satisfying.

With the minutes closing the distance to 2:00, I started to feel anxious: I didn't even know what I was going to say! I could imagine myself blurting something along the lines of "Um hi. You're really cool. Sign my books?" That, or an embarrassing involuntary fangirl squeak. No! I would be eloquent, poised, and totally not over-excited. However, when my dad declared "I can see him!" my composure slipped a little. Those of you who have ever met your favorite musician, actor, or author, you know the feeling. All things considered, I think it went nicely when it came to be my turn.

Wow. What an experience! Sanderson seemed happy to be there and happy to sign my books. I had brought one of his stand-alone books for my brother's Christmas present, along with my Mistborn trilogy, for him to sign. He even personalized all of them! While he did that, he gave me some invaluable writing advice (which I will graciously share with you): Write every day, but don't focus on what you write--instead, focus on how you write. Find out if you are a binge writer or a more spread-out one. Once you find out what kind of writer you are, develop yourself; then you can zoom in on your content. This is key because no matter how novel or creative your ideas are, no one will want to read them if your writing is poor. Neat stuff, no?

After my Sanderson book-signing experience ended, I was floating on cloud nine and unable to utter anything intelligible. "OH MY GOODNESS" were the only words I could process! So, although this post offers no insight to life, personal character, or self-improvement, it does serve as a channel to express how ecstatic I was about Brandon Sanderson coming to my hometown. Good enough, right?

In closing, I'll say this: meet your heroes. Any chance you get, take it. Grab it with both hands. Even if he/she turns out to be a jerk, at least you'll know better. But, if he/she turns out to be a kind, gracious individual, it's one of the coolest feelings in the world. It means there is good in high places.

I apologize for the encroaching comic... dang formatting.