I swear the weather has direct effects on human function. Something about the atmosphere today made me very unfocused and very sluggish . . . anyway

Last night, when I was going upstairs, the house was quiet and dark. I walked into the bathroom to take out my contacts, etc. and I swear there was someone else there. I saw a tall dark figure the moment I turned on the lights– naturally I jumped in fright making a big noise . . . shut up I was scared. I then realized that the tall dark “intruder” was my reflection in the mirror.

It’s times like these that make me feel blond.

It reminded me of a time not to long ago in English class. Mr. Kim, my teacher, was giving a lesson when all of a sudden some of the posters on the wall behind him began to fall. Hearing the tape come off the wall scared Mr. Kim who jumped, yelled, and ran for cover. He had to spend the next 5 min. sitting down, breathing heavily, and enduring the mocking class for his fear that the ceiling had been falling down on top of him. lol

Memory for the Day:
After I came home from the hospital in February the priest came to surprise visit me during mutal since I couldn’t come. That was so nice of them to pop in my back door so unexpectedly . . . to them I have two things to say: I love you guys . . . Panic Room

“I feel diseased
Is there no sympathy, from the sun
The sky’s still fire
But I am safe in here, from the world
outside
So tell me
What’s the price to pay for glory . . .”
(Finch)

Yet another song I have begun to obsess over.
Wierd day. Not too good, but I was very happy during mutual . . . and anxious.
Joy and Happiness and Anxiousness.
Wow this blog makes me sound like I have ADD along with myriad other disorders *sigh*

P.S. Monday’s post you have not read yet (I accidently posted it as private instead of public)

For my Independent Reading Project I had read “The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” by James Joyce. At a first glance I will be honest, I was hugely disappointed and even offended. First of all, it is drenched in poetry and confusion. The events seem in random order and it is hard to understand.

Furthermore, like so many other books we have read in an English program I am not happy with (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Catcher in the Rye, Ordinary People, etc.) the novel was laden with scenes of prostitutes and masturbation, homosexual references, scenes of Catholic scandal, the glory of the artistically profane over the glory of God, and myriad sensual undertones. I was reminded of my offense with the same themes and undertones in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

The story was basically about a boy who grows up immersed in spirituality in the Jesuit priesthood, but decides to rebel against God, family, and nation to pursue his sensual desires as an artist and writer. I was offended and it sickened me to the nth degree, but then I remembered that Brother Zippi had recommended the Portrait of an Artist, and I thought about some things he had said. How could a former Bishop recommend a book laden with such offensive material?

Unsatisfied with my first glance, I took another. As I dove beneath my first shallow glance I discovered the most tragic story I had ever read because I know what the story could have been– My own.

As an both an Artist and a Priest I face the same battle between the sensual and the spiritual. I faced the same things that the main character, Stephen Dadalus, faced, and yet in almost every case I made the opposite choice he did. I realize there were major differences in our situations (There is a huge difference between America and Ireland, the Mormon Priesthood verses the Catholic Priesthood, and my hardworking father verses his alcoholic father), but I still found it sad that Stephen did not do what I did.

There is a conflict between the sensual and the religious, and Stephen thus decided to abandon the religious all together. How tragic! I, on the other hand, found a way to weld the sensual to the spiritual, joining those two passions of mine: religion and art. I am an Artist, but I am also a Priest in the Holy Priesthood of Aaron.

When faced with guilt, Stephen chose to rebel against the “conformity” of the Catholic Church and pursue his sensual delights, denying the more lasting safety of the spiritual joy. Again, how tragic. Although judging from his experience with the 1890’s Irish Catholic Church I can understand why he would find fault with the Catholic Authority, his denial of morality and God in general is the beginning of a painful, downward spiral. I am grateful for the peace and happiness of repentance through the atonement of Jesus Christ that allows me to embrace my own Church, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, rather than wander around in darkness as Stephen did.

Although both Stephen and I perceive freedom in our separate paths, his “freedom” is tragically misleading, whereas the freedom I seek is not. The perceived freedom that Stephen gains in the end is the ability to make his own choices, more specifically to pursue his own sensual passions, without being held accountable to religious authority. (I am not going to bring Godly accountability in to this for two reasons: 1. I don’t think that Stephen truly denies accountability from God and 2. while I believe in eternal consequences, I think it is better to analyze this novel with temporal Earthly consequences to avoid excessive dogmatic technicalities) After explaining how and why he will not conform to religious, family, or national institution, Stephen states, “I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defense the only arms I allow myself to use– silence, exile, and cunning” (247). Isolation– Is that freedom?

In contrast, the freedom I seek is the freedom to be in control of myself and to be able to pursue lasting happiness. I seek to achieve this not through rebellion, but through obedience to the laws and ordinances or the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That seems impossible, but it isn’t. This is how it works. Let’s look at something simple small like fornication. (comic relief here)

According to Stephen’s theory of freedom, he should be able to be as promiscuous as he wants– experimenting “as freely as [he] can.” Taken to the next step, however, and that is not freedom. A girl gets pregnant, he contracts an STD, he is constantly breaking hearts and being bogged down by relationships, or else, if he continues with hired help he runs into self-degradation, lowing self-esteem, addiction, and loss of respect for himself and women. That is freedom?

By my theory, I adhere to the conduct of sexual purity of the Priesthood. It is restricting. I cannot do many things with women before marriage; I may not “express myself . . . as freely . . . [or] as wholly as I can.” But taken to the next step, however, and there is freedom. Since I waited until I was 16 to date, I gained maturity that has helped me avoid unhealthy relationships. I now have the freedom to date any girl I want (provided that she wants to as well). I have the freedom to leave that relationship without having to worry about “strings” being attached. I have the freedom to think what I will of women, to respect them and as such gain respect from them. I have the freedom to learn about myself, and to discover the kinds of traits I want to develop in myself and in relationships. In the future I will have the freedom to choose anyone I want to get to know better, and when we make the covenants of marriage together, then we will have the freedoms and responsibilities of creation. We will have the freedom to choose the best environment to develop the talents of parenting. That is freedom.

Freedom is more than being able to choose, it is being able to control oneself. It is being able to achieve the most amount of possibilities. How many possibilities are there with bad choices compared to the possibilities of boundless freedom? I go back to the kite analogy. A young girl is flying a kite with her dad. Oh how free the kite is, floating in the wind wherever it wants. She lets out more string, and the kite flies higher, freer. She decides that she wants to give the kite ultimate “freedom,” she cuts the string. Now the kite is “free,” right? The kite’s possibilities are narrowed, it falls to the earth, void of the freedom to travel where it will.

That is why the story of Stephen is so sad. He could have what I have, but he didn’t know how or where to find it. He could be as happy as I am. “Wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10) There is joy in freedom, but Stephen’s freedom can only last so long. I testify that you can touch the sensual while still maintaining the standards of the Priesthood. I testify that you can touch the spiritual while still maintaining the passion of the Artist. Don’t narrow your options, expand them.


P.S. sorry about the length of this post, I most definitely invested way to much thought into these parallels

This has been one interesting weekend. I was really sick today, and also on Friday. I have a cold- it wasn’t too bad yesterday though. Maybe that’s cause I got a nap.
Yesterday was pretty fun. I got up early for Youth Conference Practice. It was long, but fun, and I got the hang of it. Youth Conference is going to be so much fun. After practice James, Andy, and I went out to Panera Bread for lunch. Then we swung by Andy’s house for a bit. I went home and took a much needed nap, and then I had to take my sisters to the park. I got home barely in time to drop my mom off at church and go to this place in Buffalo Grove that just opened up called Eskape. There I met Heather, as well as Mary, Dana, John, Sam, Aaron, and Adam A . . . the laser tag was a lot of fun. We’ll have to do that again. We then went across the parking lot to a carnival, and then to Burger King. And that was Saturday.

Today I felt like crap but I went to Stake Conference anyway. And that was Sunday.

Memory for the Day:
Mary’s phone conversation with Weggs where she was waving her hands thinking he could see her over the phone.
“It was like this, Jeff, Like this.”
“Mary, I can’t see you”

I am in such a good mood today.

much joy and happiness


After the testing today (which were, as I predicted, jokes) I went home and frantically cleaned the house, checked my mail, ran around, and then Andy and Jeff Prows came over. Jeff lost a few games of pool, and then it was back to his house for dinner with the missionaries and the Prow’s infamous “company.” More pool, tacos, ice cream, Gina jokes (much fun) etc etc

Oh, and Andy thought he could take me down so we wrestled with JP as ref. and I so beat him down. It was amazing let me tell you. Sure I feel dead now, but I had more points than him and I pinned him. He almost had me for a while, but I had won. YAY! Joy and Happiness . . . then at like 9:30 my dad picked me up and I went home, only I left my wallet and keys etc at the Prow’s-

Memory for the Day:
when I fell out of the raft at High Adventure . . .

“Swing, Swing, Swing from the tangles of
My heart is crushed by a former love
Can you help me find a way
To carry on again.” (All American Rejects)
I’ve decided that that song is dangerous. I can not listen to it while driving, because I love it so much I am likely to hit multiple cars, animals, or people without even noticing . . . only exaggerating slightly. Seriously I think I’ve decided that song tops even (yes this will blow you away) it tops even Unwell by matchbox twenty. It comes very very close to Iris in terms of favorite songs.
darn it I have to go I’ll finish this later

*later*
alright, I just bought the All American Rejects CD and the Good Charlotte CD. Some good stuff . . .

anyway . . . today is very surreal. I’ve been thinking. Yes I know that’s dangerous, you don’t have to tell me. This one is a little explosive actually. Tearing down some walls. Burrying the stones. Enjoyed every bitter-sweet moment of it. This is what happens when instead of school you just have a few hours of the ACT.

Especially after yesterday. Yesterday I only had to go to the first 3 periods and then I got to eat lunch and go on a field trip. The actual field trip itself was kinda wierd. I felt un poco uncomfortable, but the art show that we set up was amazing. I am in love with Erica’s painting of Ailie . . . ahhh its amazing. I can’t wait for A.P. art.

Tomorrow will just complete the awesomeness because there are these jokes called prarie state exams in the morning and then another early dismisal. Sweet. And I feel so free and ready to move into something new. Ahh what’s funny is that none of you know what I’m talking about. That’s ok. Don’t worry about me, I know what’s going on and you’ll just have to trust me to resolve it all . . . yes JP, you don’t have to know everything I’m going through just cause you’re my friend *cough*

There is anxiousness in the air.

“Can you help me find a way to carry on again?”


P.S. Jeff, if you even mention the drama I will hit you.

Happy Easter! It’s been a pretty good weekend . . . with some interesting not so good details . . . It’s kind of ironic how you can combine the good and the bad into one time frame. Today is Easter, the most joyous holiday because we celebrate the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, and yet it is also Hitler’s birthday.

Friday we had no school, and I had a lot of fun (though I was tired cause JP kept me up all night!), yet at the same time, as some people can attest *cough prowfessor* it was not so pleasant. Friday was actually my busiest day- hopping from my brother’s eagle project to dance practice to my haircut (no more red, yAy!) to the Prow’s house, etc.

Saturday was a little more fun- more eagle, then Heather came over to work on History and we got to dye easter eggs. I enjoyed that. Then the Jacksons and my grandparents came over for dinner. I love the Jackson’s- they always make me feel at home and safe and warm and fuzzy- I remember when President Jackson was just Bishop Jackson and I used to sing him songs like “I am a child of God” on tape . . . and draw him pictures . . . good times good times (that is my memory for the day). Anyway, then there was a huge party at the Prows house. Much fun, though again with the bitter-sweet I had a little bit of a hard time.

Today=Easter. Always much Joy and Happiness. After all, it always gives me faith, hope, and charity in the Atonement of Jesus Christ. One thing Brother Niazi said that I really liked was that we really celebrate easter every week. It’s true. Every Sunday before we partake of the sacrament we sing a song about Christ that is always very eastery (is that a word?) and then we remember the atonement and resurection of Jesus Christ. I like that. Well, better get going . . .

I made a new Quiz that everybody has to take (Latter-Day Saints and others alike). It’s the What kind of Mormon are you Quiz? I took it and was deemed “Peter Priesthood”

Molly Mormon/Peter Priesthood

What kind of Mormon are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I also took the How emotional are you quiz?:

Emotional Wreck. You are extremely emotional. You
feel contentment moreso than happiness and your
emotional lows are to the extreme. You need to
cheer up and start enjoying your life. Where
there is rain there is a rainbow and you need
to see it more than others. Do something that
makes you happy.

How Emotional Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Check out my Satires.

Memory for the day: Remember those Special Needs Dances . . . that’s where Kristina taught me how to dance and the little nine year old girl hit on Andy who was around 15 at the time. “Hey Andy, do you want to go outside and talk?” That was so funny. Good times. Good times.

Memory for the Day:
Throwing Brother Swartwood into the pool last summer at Lily’s pool party. Good times Good times. I love the warm weather . . .