Singledom: It’s Normal, So Relax « Thought Catalog

Thank you dearest Maryam for sharing this with me. I don't adhere to all the philosophies expressed, but you can't deny this made you laugh.

Loves.

Singledom: It’s Normal, So Relax « Thought Catalog

Reaching for the…moon, stars and my pencil

I was in the temple the other day and had the opportunity to chat for a little while with one of the temple workers. After mentioning that I want to pursue a law degree, she firmly reminded me that that’s a fine goal and ambition, but to remember that the best thing I can do in life is to be a good wife and mother. I know. Being a wife and mother is what I know I am supposed to do and be, and trust me when I say I do want these things. In fact, I want them very badly. I understand that they will bring me true happiness and will be more guaranteeing of salvation (if done properly) than anything else I can do in this life. However, I strongly believe that there is something else I have been sent here to do. Not something more, not something better. Just something else in addition to the incredible roles of wife and mother. I am been so incredibly blessed; I know I am supposed to bring these blessings to others.

I was talking to a dear friend a while ago and I told her of my newfound desire and ambition to attend law school. She asked my why and I said “because I have to”. Our discussion turned to how we have been given blessings and opportunities that few members of our race have ever been allotted. I feel that it would be unforgivably selfish of me if I were to ignore these blessings in my life. I currently am studying at Brigham Young University and the education I receive here is invaluable. I can help so many people and even more when I complete my law degree. I want to be like Gandhi and bring human rights and dignity to the harijan the ‘Children of God’, the lowest of low. This is my mission. This is my goal. I will be their voice, I will be their advocate, I will be their friend, and I will be a wife and mother. It’s a package deal.

While I have not achieved any of these things yet, I recognize that I am on the journey. I can see the moon and stars I am shooting for. I know that these lofty heights are reachable. I know that I will have to stretch myself in ways I haven’t even conceived of yet. But I will continue to pick up my pencil and do the work because I know that it is worth it. I know that proclaiming the freedom and triumph of even one human soul is worth it, whatever ‘it’ may be.

Still A Caterpillar

Well, no surprise, but I fail at keeping updated on this thing. You'd think for a communications major this would come easily. I just am always uncertain that my thoughts have any ramifications or importance or significance or even provide amusement to anyone outside my own head.

In my last post I talked about this blog being a platform for who I am becoming. I have new insight on the matter, so let me enlighten you. It's hard. I mean it's really difficult. It may be the hardest thing I've ever undertaken. Changing. I didn't think metamorphosis could be such a slow, long, drawn-out, painful process. Then again, isn't there a whole slew of cliches about the last flower to bloom is the prettiest, the finest gold has spent the most time in the refiner's fire? So why am I so surprised at this? I think it comes from a few misconceived perceptions of mine.

1. Pride-- I mean I knew I wasn't perfect, but I guess when you ask God to help you become better, you find out how far you really do have to go.

2. Patience-- For those of you who know me, you know I have none. I haven't even been blessed with an ounce of this virtue. But it's like what Morgan Freeman says in Evan Almighty "If you ask for patience, God's not just going to make you patient. He's going to present you with opportunities to learn patience." (And yes I just quoted Evan Almighty, don't be shocked for too long).

3. Time--This goes hand-in-hand with patience, but time really is a huge issue. Like I said, this whole 'changing' process is very long term. And I've never been good at keeping long-term goals (I don't have the patience).

Oh, you want to know about my progress in my self-improvement endeavor, do you? Well I've had to learn that I really can't base my self-worth or self-esteem off of the male attention I get (or don't get). I know, you must be rolling your eyes and saying, 'Uh, ya Kobie. Didn't you learn anything as a teenager?' Very valid question and apparently the answer is 'No'. I had to go through the crap that only the opposite sex can make a person experience to figure that one out.

I've also had a deep desire to become more solid in my faith and religion. I want to be absolutely converted to the depths of my soul. I feel as if I know so little. As a dedicated academic I put in hours of scholarly study every week, but I feel that my scripture study and study of doctrine is lacking. I want to "Treasure up the word".

So that's the current direction of my life. Hopefully the train stays on the tracks. Check back soon, or eventually, for updates!!!

Peace and Love My Friends.

Endings, Beginnings, and Continuations

Hello All,

I know it's been an inexcusably long time since I last posted. However, I have decided to take it up again as an outlet for my thoughts. So here's what's new, what's ending, and the things I will continue to pursue:

1. I have been accepted to the BYU Public Relations (PR) program (ranked Top 5 in the country)
2. I am now officially an International Development (ID) minor

• This I assure you is a very odd combination and my professors in the Comms Dept and ID Dept don't really know what to do with me. I personally, like it this way--I want to foray into a new field: applying the theory of public relations into the ID arena. Can you image how development work could improve if approached with a public relations perspective? I think the effects could be incredible and potentially revolutionary in the field of development work. It's just a theory as of now, but part of my motivation in starting to blog again, is to keep you, my few followers, apprised on my progress in blending these two seemingly contrasting areas.

3. My blog will be less of a This-is-what-Kobie's-up-to-these-days type of blog. You can all catch up on that by kindly stalking me on Facebook. Unfortunately, I am part of the generation that puts my life online. (Can anyone really truly refrain from it any longer?) But that's why I am friends with all of you, so you can see my life and keep tabs on me if you so desire. I want to use this blog as more of a platform for the bigger and better person I want to become.

I am an individual with drive, ambition and dreams and I want to share the embers of the fire here with you. Things like what I think about this political move, this natural disaster and relief efforts, this article published in such-and-such journal. Like I said the person I'm becoming. Hopefully you will all join me in the journey with your thoughts and insights as well.

God Bless.

Incredible Week!!!

So this week has been an amazing one!

Tuesday- President Thomas S. Monson gave the devotional here at BYU!!! It was incredible! My roommates and I all sat fairly close to him in the Marriott Center, (well we were on the 22nd row, but hey, for seeing the Prophet that's amazing!)!!! He was so funny and delightful. My favorite part was when he walked into the room. Prior to his enterance the room was just abuzz with anticipation and was quite loud as you can imagine, then the entire arena became silent as we all arose for the Prophet of God. It was outstanding! Where else in the world (other than BYU-H and BYU-I) can you be so spiritually educated along with secular learning?!?! I tell you, no where! I am so grateful that I made the decision to attend BYU!

Friday- Because, I had to work on my birthday (Saturday), my summer roommates decided to throw me a little part on Friday night. Keeping with tradition we watched So You Think You Can Dance, ate pizza, cake, and ice cream (thanks Becci!), opened presents and watched Newsies!!! I got two stuffed bulldogs (long story, but I was given the nickname bulldog over summer term and the name has kinda stuck... against my will) a stuffed tiger, a frog-to-prince magic toy, a African poster, giftcards, rook cards, $$$, candy bars, and many delightful cards from friends and family! Thanks everyone for the awesome birthday celebration!

Saturday-- My actual birthday!! I turned 19 on 9/19/2009! How legit is that?!? I have been looking forward to that day since I was a little girl. My day was pretty mundane, I woke up did my laundry, did homework, went to work, and did more homework after work, but it was still a good day.

About Bubbly Liberation

This was a paper I wrote for my Freshman writing class. I thought I would post it for you few who read my blog so you could gain a little insight into my little mind.... haha enjoy!

Bubbly Liberation: Finding Freedom in a Kitchen Mishap

For as long as I can remember I have been a perfectionist to the extreme. I over-involve myself, become over-worked, and in conjunction with my personality, this causes great stress and anxiety. When anything goes wrong in my life I tense up and stress out. This is the story of my liberation from an evil, conniving, manipulative, ensnaring enemy, myself.
* * *
Cleaning Checks. The physical manifestation of Hell in the life of every college student. Unfortunately they are one of the evil necessities of being young and living on your own and thus I plodded on, or more like scrubbed and brushed and soaked and scraped and wiped and dusted on. The detail required to properly fulfill each duty was incredible! One could not simply grab a wet wash cloth and wipe down the soiled surfaces of the stove—Oh no!—that would be much too easy. A Reader’s Digest version of cleaning procedures for the stove and oven are as follows: “Wipe out all crumbs and spills using a white scrub pad, warm water, and 409. Rinse and dry completely. Wipe down the rest of the stove/oven surfaces, inside and out, with a damp rag to remove spills and crumbs…Clean oven window with Windex inside and out. Pull out oven drawer and clean inside and out with 409.” Thus was my first task on that fateful day, and needless to say it took me nearly two hours to clean that stove to the best of my abilities (and the insane requirements), and found myself quite pleased with the sparkling appearance of that particular kitchen appliance. I set the oven on self-clean and proceeded onto my long list of duties.

The cleaning activities continued on for nearly the entire day. I began to see a light at the end of this never-ending house purification ritual and sauntered on into the kitchen. I glanced at my beautiful stove feeling my lips pull up in a smart-alecky smirk of satisfaction, but something much in contrast to the beauty of my excellent work caught my eye and I beheld something terribly wrong. Next to the stove was an avalanche of bubbles spewing forth from our dishwasher!

“BECCI!” I screamed, voice liquid with fury, “What did you do to the dishwasher?” The tenor of my angry words was a beckoning call to the rest of my roommates and they poured into the kitchen to witness the cause of my dire distress.

“I didn’t do anything,” said Becci defensively hesitant.

Ally’s voice came from the corner of the kitchen, “I ran the dishwasher.”

Anger began bubbling in my throat like a hot spring in Yellowstone and my words came out like the hiss of a snake.

“What kind of soap did you put in the dishwasher?”

Ally made her way through the spreading suds and selected the orange Joy dishwashing soap, not the white bottle of dishwasher detergent.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“What, it says dishwashing soap?”

I viciously lunged for the bottle in her hand ripped it from her grasp and waved it in her slightly bemused face yelling, “Yes, Ally, dishwashing soap for like hand washing dishes- NOT to put in the dishwasher!” My frustration was exponentially mounting while my voice proportionally rose. I continued to lob malicious accusations at Ally and to my befuddlement, Ally simply looked at me without the slightest indication of guilt and failure as my face would have rendered if I had been in her position.

As my roommates and I took in the situation and realized Ally’s simple mistake of confusing the types of soap, my eyes narrowed in disgust. Seeing the gloriously clean stove becoming tainted with bubbles, caused my eye brows to become subjects of gravity, creating ugly wrinkles on my forehead and my head nearly exploded with frustrated rage. But then the most unexpected sound—or at least unexpected to me in my frazzled state of mind—met my ears: laughter. Each and every one of my roommates had succumbed to hysterical laughter. Some of the girls literally crumpled with laughter as they saw the hilarity in the situation, but their peals of laughter felt alien to me. While they seemingly went insane I simply stood there, palms upturned toward Heaven, all expression absent from my face completely dumbfounded as I attempted to understand the current scene of events as they unfolded around me.

This laughter hit me like a bulldozer. It thrust my mind into a state of bewildered confusion. I could not comprehend how this scene before me could equate to laughter. My mind ran amuck with hundreds of thoughts all coming to my attention simultaneously. How is this funny? This isn’t funny! Our clean kitchen is being invaded by corrupt bubbles! What if this damages the dishwasher? We can not afford to replace a dishwasher! Why would she put Joy in the dishwasher—that’s like a known bubbly soap! Frantically, my mind spun out of control trying to somehow gain control in this absurd state of affairs. I felt so disoriented. But then upon seeing Ally, with eyes so squinty, laughing at her own mistake, everything became illuminated.

I was liberated from my self-constructed walls of perfectionism—laughter too sprang from my lips and the blinders were lifted from my eyes as the hilarity of the situation became apparent. The wall that had kept me frozen in place and time was broken and I experienced the understanding all my roommates had felt moments before. This was ridiculous! Ally had placed the wrong kind of soap in the dishwasher and now there were bubbles oozing out all over the floor! We were truly experiencing one of those “movie moments,” when life simply does not go according to plan and the only way to handle the unforeseen twist is just to laugh. Bubbles oozing out of a dishwasher was not some tragedy. No one was hurt; nothing had been damaged. We simply had bubbles pouring out from a kitchen appliance that should not have bubbles coming out of it at all.

Our laughter subsided enough to allow air to refill our lungs and then we decided that something had to be done about our current catastrophe. Opening the dishwasher was like opening a Christmas present of bubbles and suds including the atmosphere charged with excited curiosity. The bubbles filled the entirety of the dishwasher and had kept perfect form, remaining in a square shape although the door was no longer containing the bubble to the confines of the kitchen appliance. After removing the bottom rack we used mixing bowls to extract the bubbles. We decided to find the silver lining in our unusual predicament; the floor had yet to be washed so we used the bubbles to our best advantage as our cleaning solution. We then proceeded to transport the bubbles from the dishwasher directly onto our filthy floor.

However, bubbles on the floor of a dormitory kitchen turned the residents of said dorm into little children on the first day of snowfall. Basking in my newfound liberation I flung my bucket of bubbles onto my roommate who was standing directly in front of the Taj Mahal of stoves and doused my magnificent work of art in the remnants of our dishwasher catastrophe! Gasps from the girls rippled through the room as they saw the bubbles vandalize my pride and joy (I had made it no secret on how hard it was to clean that stove into perfection). These shocked exclamations were intensified as the bubbles began to sizzle like bacon as they made contact with the stove— remember, the oven was running on auto-clean mode and was subsequently scorching hot! Ten eyes watched me as I dismembered paper towels from their roll with ferocious power and ran to my dear child. Their eyes showed fear of my reaction. My roommates are no strangers to my perfectionist personality and they all subconsciously removed themselves from my path of rage and fury. But they had not recognized themselves as my liberators; my roommates had not witnessed the change that had taken place within me. The steam arising from the hot stove and rupturing soap suds did not cause one of the mini heart-attacks that normally plague my body at the first sign of disturbed peace. I simply went forth to salvage as much of the stove as possible while internally laughing at myself, at my discovery, and at the very bubbles themselves.

Prior to this turning point, my life had been defined and restricted by my paralyzing perfectionism. When a toddler my parents thought I was deaf when I reached the age of two and still was unable to speak. After consulting experts they knew that I was a normal hearing child and that perhaps I just did not want to talk. A few months later, as I say on my changing table while my mom dressed me in a cute pink dress I whispered “wrain.” Rain. It was my first word and when it only left my lips when I was convinced it would be flawless. From that day on my mom claims that I have never stopped talking. I had refused to talk, even with the encouragement of young parents to prod me along, until I knew that I could do so perfectly. Even from the youngest stages of life my perfectionism ruled my actions.

After my epiphany and subsequent liberation, the nature of the bubbles was actually altered. Corrupt bubbles were no longer attempting to take over my kingdom of Tidy Kitchen. Rather, as my roommates and I continued to frolic in our silly mishap, it became just that: a silly mishap; it became impossible for me to see it as a catastrophe or a great hindrance to our house cleaning. My new freedom allowed me to feel the slimy goo of soap suds slither through my toes and enjoy it. We flew across the slick linoleum floor coated in bubbles like penguins indulging in the small break from our back-breaking house cleaning. The bubbles ended up on all sorts of places rather than the intended destination of the floor. MaCall decided to try a gender change and become a miniature Santa Claus complete with the signature white beard, but this time a bubble beard! I laid down in my jeans and t-shirt in the middle of the still unclean kitchen floor and moved my arms and legs in great arcs, up and down, up and down, with soap foam coating my arms in a silky film. I felt so free—free from the prison I had erected around my own heart and brain.

The bubbles came to represent more to me than mere spheres of soap and water. They became my American Flag, my Statue of Liberty, my Declaration of Independence. Granted, the bubbles themselves did not hand me a certificate declaring my liberation from perfectionism or fight an internal revolutionary war on my behalf, but they were the instrument to enable my self-liberation. Remember the Alamo, Remember the Bubbles!