On Talks and Friends

I like to read what other people have to say.  As such, I sometimes follow the blogs of people that I don't know very well because I like to see what they have to say.  One of these blogs I read is called Fish Out Of Water, written by Blake Fisher.  I've only met him once, by accident, when I was looking for Megan Nield.  We talked for about two minutes, and then he went back to work and I went back home.  


Anyways, on his blog, he wrote about how making new friends is tough.  I really related to the ideas he presented.  I really felt that I needed to comment on the post.  I usually don't comment on serious posts unless I have something that I feel needs saying.  


This is what I said:
Emotional roller coasters, they just happen, and I think that goes in correlation with the friends roller coaster for me. One of my friends is leaving on a mission in a week and a half, and now that it has hit me that she's leaving, I am somewhat depressed. I realized she was the only real friend I had made since I got back to Utah, and that I'd let my other ones fade out, which means when she leaves I'll have to make an actual effort again. I begin to think, "Well, there's all those people that I go to parties with, but they always look at me like I'm crazy when I talk, and then ignore me. There's no one for me to pair off with in the groups, so I often am not invited, because no one wants to deal with me." 

I even expressed this to my mom today, and she just said, "I really do think you're a lot like Temperance Brennan from Bones, and that's why people don't know how to deal with you. Maybe if you stopped acting like her people would want to associate with you. Since you say you don't go off talking about your ex-husband or rant about other things in your life that aren't so great, then that is the only reasonable answer to your problem." That's the reason making new friends is hard, right there. It is hard because you have to find people who will accept you for you. You shouldn't have to change who you are to be accepted and loved.


The more I thought on that post he wrote, and what I said in return, I decided that I need to stop--stop trying to be something I'm not.  If I don't belong, then I need to find somewhere where I do belong.  When I went to stake conference this morning, the first speaker was one of the counselors in the stake presidency.  He was wearing a football jersey, and we all didn't know exactly how to take it (his white shirt and tie were under the jersey).  It was inevitable--he spoke on appearances and why they matter.  


In the area that I am currently living in (and probably in most other areas), it matters that I've been previously married.  Being me, I feel that potential friends should know that I'm divorced, because if they are sincere they will be my friends despite it.  However, the associations that come with the word divorced are not good ones.  It implies that something went terribly wrong, and so no one wants to ask if I was the problem.  Many assume that it had to have been me that did something, or that I'm a complete wreck and basket case.  So, they just say, "Oh," and move on.  Generally, after that, I'm ignored, and must start the process all over again (this situation is particularly true when it comes to dating).


By the end of the counselor's talk, I felt that I needed to get away: to move out of the area in my life of worrying about people judging me based off of my relationship status and how much money my dad makes.  I'm not going to be gold that makes itself look like brass to fit in.  One day I'm going to find some amazing people that will accept me for who I am.  I already know a few, but I expect to know more as time goes by.

One...Two...

The last two days have been busy, but great.  Monday morning I went grocery shopping and did laundry, and then went to Lagoon with Leticia Cromar.  We only went for six hours, but we did things I had either never done at Lagoon, or hadn't done in a long time.  One of those things was watching a show in the Carousel Plaza.  It was The American Jukebox, and it was really fun.  I didn't realize how talented those people were that worked at Lagoon.

Today was filled with errands.  I took my cat to the vet to get his rabies shot and to see why he wasn't eating very much and was puking so often, and found out that he just needs a little medicine and everything will be fine: which was a relief.  Then I went to Provo to get the key to my apartment so I can move in next week.  I must say, I'm excited.  I get my own master bedroom upstairs, and the place looks really nice.  It was just re-carpeted and has a hardwood floor in the living room.  I'll also have two closets for clothes and storage.  I ran into a girl I'll be sharing the apartment with, but I don't remember her name.  Really, I need to work on making a point to remember names.

Then I went up onto campus.  It was Education Week.  Somehow I'd managed to forget that.  So, instead of getting lunch, I grabbed an apple juice and wandered around in the BYU bookstore.  I did buy a green fine tip sharpie; if I'd have walked out of there without buying something it would have made me feel awkward, since I'd spent so much time in there. 

After that, I got the grand idea that I'd find Helaman Halls and go say hi to Megan Nield, who I knew was a Conference Assistant for the summer and working there.  I wandered, and ended up at Heritage Halls.  A nice girl told me where to go while walking to her job in the ASB.  So, I wandered for ten more minutes and ended up at the Cannon Center.  There, I slowly wandered over to where it said something like Education Week Registration.  I figured I'd head that way, because it seemed like something that Megan's job would require her to do.  Instead of finding Megan, I found a guy in a green shirt.  His name is Blake Fisher, and I read his blog.  My first sentences spoken to him were, "I know you. You don't know me, but I know you.  I read your blog."  He smiled and told me that he often feels embarrassed by what he puts on his blog, but he'd rather have people reading it than write in a journal where he knows no one will read his story.  Blake has a good smile; if I were better at reading people, I might go as far to say as I embarrassed him a little by bringing up his blog.  Still, good smile either way.  We talked for a minute or so, and then he had to get back to work.  Neither of us knew where Megan was, so I left.  

I drove home without event after that, and went to cooking dinner.  I have been craving chinese food for a long while now, and so having stir fry for dinner was perfect.  Then I went to Missionary Council.  We split up into groups, and Ryan Taylor and I got to go out visiting together.  Our luck was terrible.  The people we caught were married already, so we couldn't really invite them out to the YSA ward for church, and nobody else we could have invited was home.  Still, I didn't mind so much, because I was with someone I like to be around.  Also, it was nice to have my car door opened for me every time I went to get in it.  I'm really going to miss that.  

When I got home Megan Moulding and I had strawberry banana orange juice smoothies and watched an episode of Bones.  It's always nice to end the day with your best friend and your favorite television series.  So, even though days can be busy and full of wasteful driving time, they can still be great.  If every day were like today, I would be perfectly content with life.