/Classes/

These are the classes I still need to take before I graduate:

Remaining GE's:
-Civilization 1
-Civilization 2
-Third Year Writing
-American Heritage (Retake)

Major: Family Life- Marriage and Family Emphasis:
-Aging in the Family
-Cross-Cultural Family
-Advanced Family Processes
-Moral Foundations in the Family OR Family and Public Policy OR Marriage and Family Therapy

Minor: Gerontology:
-Sociology of Aging
-Internship (I plan on fulfilling this credit through working with local hospice care.)

Minor: Psychology:
-LDS Perspectives in Psychology
-Personality
-Intro to Social Psychology
-Psychological Statistics

I'm kind of crazy and want to take 18 credit hours for one semester so I can finish both my major and my gerontology minor in just one semester. Those 18 hours would include the internship and if I did that then I probably wouldn't work during that semester. I don't think it would be that different from this semester since I'm currently taking 15 hours and working a part-time job. I would finish my psychology minor in another semester and take one of my civilization classes. Then during a spring term I would take 9 hours of my GE's.

I really just want to finish as soon as I possibly can. But a major thing I need to keep in mind is how well I will perform if I'm rushing through these courses. I need good grades to get into grad school. Booooooooooo.

How do I still have so many classes?

I'm considering dropping the psychology minor. That would leave me with just two more semesters of school and no suicidal tendencies. The psychology minor would probably be helpful in getting into grad school though.

I DON'T KNOW. School drives me crazy. I want to finish it as soon as is humanly possible but I am so glad I'm planning on serving a mission. (Not that I consider a mission some kind of vacation.)

Also. I am so dang mad that I am probably not going to get an A in my stupid Family Adaptation and Resiliency class. How can my professor approve my term paper's research question, let me turn in research assignments pertaining to that specific research question and then tell me after I turn in my detailed outline (a month before the term paper is due) that my question is probably not what he is looking for in the paper? Thankfully I won't have to completely change my question but I will have change it around a bit and find more research that deals directly with the changed question. SOOOO lame.

But in other news, my siblings come next week! (As do two exams.)

//

This is one of those weeks where I wish I was at home or that my mom was here. Where I wish I didn't have to worry about cooking or cleaning or getting to and from school.

This is one of those weeks where there are seriously not enough hours in the day. (I've planned out the use of each hour for the rest of this week and I'm still barely squeezing enough time in to do an article summary for one of my classes.)

Why am I blogging?

Because if I don't take a five minute break from studying I'm going to explode.

Yeah.

My upper body is sore and burned. My left arm itches like crazy. But I'm still alive. Hope you're happy.

Monday while I was sobbing on the phone to my father, a friend called and took me to Seven Peaks for free and then to his family's house for hamburgers and hot dogs. It was a good distraction. Hopefully things like that will be more than distractions soon. Hopefully they'll actually be enjoyable.

Yesterday for my birthday I woke up around 7:30, walked to school, ate an english muffin for breakfast, read for my research class, did my office hour, tried to go to devotional but it was packed already, read for abnormal psych class, tried to go see Larita about my work hours and failed since it was her lunch break, read for abnormal psych class, ate a hot pocket (yes, a hot pocket) and sour gummy worms and drank an orange soda, thank you BYU vending, went to the Human Development lecture (it's strange sitting in a class and not actually having to pay attention), got on a bus and went home. At home I tried to do more reading for my research class but ended up taking a nap instead. Hey look guys! I'm still functioning!

I went bowling last night. With Lucinda, George, Adam, Scott, Audrey, Sarah, and Matt. It was good. My roommates and I are going on a road trip to Las Vegas sometime. We're also going country dancing (WHAT?!). Tomorrow I'm cooking for twelve people. I stole some free pizza for cinnamon tree residents yesterday.

Not sure what's going on. I'm not going to write him anymore. At least until he actually gets out or until I can manage to write something that doesn't say, ohgoshineedyousomuchrightnow. I still know his classes and where he's going and when some of his performances are. But I have to ignore that knowledge. Well most of it at least. I cannot see him at all until I have gotten this under control. I don't want to even run into him on campus anymore.

School seems slightly more doable than it did on Sunday. Slightly. I'll try not to fail all of my classes.

My dad is coming up to see me.

It's Happened...

I've become one of those people.

You know the ones I'm talking about, the kind of person who becomes so hysteric that she practically shouts over the person trying to comfort her. That was me. Just earlier. Crying and yelling over the phone while my lungs struggled for air in short, loud, shallow breaths. That was me. Cutting off my parents with shouts of "There's nothing I can do!" and "I don't understand what he meant!" as they tried consoling me.

I deleted the message. The harsh bluntness with which you wrote couldn't possibly have been what you wanted to convey. I deleted it almost immediately. Read it once, twice, three times total and deleted it. It would've been hard to remember what you said last night if I kept that message with me. It's the ending note that lingers at the end of a performance. That's the one stuck in people's heads as they exit the hall. I want to try erasing it just enough so I understand there's nothing I can do to change it while at the same time remembering your hope, your kindness.

This is it, I guess.

It's really over.

Family

Yesterday we celebrated Brenden's grandfather's 80th birthday. It was wonderful.

It's difficult for me to express just how grateful I am for and how much I love all of Brenden's family. They've accepted me with arms wide open. I've only felt this kind of connection with one other family besides my own and it's because I've grown up with them in my life. How could I feel so comfortable and welcome with these new faces? Brenden's grandparents have especially been wonderful to me here in Utah. It's been nice to be able to get away from school once in awhile and visit with family.

As Brenden and I made a birthday card for his grandfather on Sunday evening, Brenden asked me to do the writing since my handwriting easily beats his on any/every level of neatness. It had been so long since I wrote "Grandpa" in a card. And the simple act of doing it struck me with such a sense of belonging and family that I cannot even begin to express my deep love and sense of appreciation for Grandma and Grandpa Binns.

After Grandpa Binns opened his cards and gifts, he started telling us stories of his life, little things he remembered and things that his mother recorded about him when he was a baby. His stories made me so happy and being with the family as he shared them made the experience even more meaningful. I saw Brenden's youngest cousin sitting next to his grandpa and hoped he would remember that night.

I didn't have that kind of experience growing up. Since three of my grandparents passed away before I was four, I didn't hear many first-hand accounts of their lives. My grandfather who passed away when I was sixteen was a quiet, prideful man. He was a good man but still very prideful and stubborn. I think his pride restrained him from sharing many stories from his life in the Philippines where he was too poor to continue in school to become the doctor he always wanted to be or even stories from his life once he moved to the United States where he was too poor to support his family without government aid. I will always regret having not asked him more about his life. My grandfather was a wonderful man. He found his greatest joy in his family. And I'm finally beginning to understand why.

I love my family so much. And I loved being with Brenden's family last night and addressing them the same way I would as my very own family. When I was trying to get Grandpa Binns's attention, I said "Grandpa" and he responded easily. My own dear grandfathers will never be replaced but being able to say "Grandpa" and having someone respond knowing it was me who said it, allowing me to call him "Grandpa" as one of his own grandchildren... what an exquisite feeling! That saying, you don't know what you have until it's gone, is so true. Sometimes I want to just grab people by the shoulders and say "APPRECIATE THIS!" especially when it concerns family.

These days, these moments are never coming back. Soon enough we will all be old and wrinkled and telling our own tales to our children and grandchildren. I won't forget Uncle Matthew's face as he laughed at one of Grandpa Binns's stories. I knew that Uncle Matthew was Grandpa Binns's son but when I saw him looking at Grandpa Binns with so much love in his eyes and heard his laugh at his story, I really understood with an even deeper understanding that Uncle Matthew was indeed Grandpa Binns's son. They were not simply two adults sitting near me conversing. They were father and son talking, laughing, loving. It was beautiful.

Sometimes someone may complain about being known as "So-and-so's sister" or "so-and-so's daughter" wondering why people don't know who she is as an individual. And while I understand that frustration, I think the depth of our relationships define us more than our hobbies or talents. I know that being Reuben and Irene's daughter means more than the fact I enjoy reading. I know that being Reuben, Chris, and Stef's sister is so much more meaningful than the fact that I can create images on paper. Our relationships make our lives more meaningful. They make us as individuals more meaningful.

a memory.

When I was sixteen years old, I saw my grandfather die. The day before he died the hospice nurse told us that with the levels of pain killers he was on he would no longer be able to understand what was going on around him. Even so, I continued to sing and play his favorite song on the piano for him as much as I could. As I was playing through it once, I noticed tears were forming at the corners of his closed eyes. I rushed to his side and held his hand and whispered into his ear how much I loved him. I wasn't sure if the tears were simply something his body was doing to take care of itself or if they were an emotional reaction. But after telling him how much he was loved and just holding his hand for a few minutes, his tears began to steadily stream down his cheeks. I stopped talking and just hugged his arm and cried with him. My uncle realized that my grandfather was crying and he grew angry with me and yelled at me for making my dying grandfather experience even more pain. I immediately got up and ran to my bedroom where I began to cry even more heavily into my pillow, this time alone.

That night I had a dream in which my grandfather was neither dead nor alive; he was present in some kind of state between life and death. He said he had to tell me something. He said, "I love you, Nining." In my dream I thought, nining, what does nining mean? Then my dad woke me up and told me that my grandfather's breathing had changed, his breaths were more shallow and further apart. My dad said that he would probably pass away within a few hours and everyone was gathering around his bed to say goodbye. My mother's side of the family had spent the night to be with my grandfather so we were all there, gathered around the portable hospital bed in our living room on which he lay. I remember holding my youngest cousin as he cried quietly. We all took turns letting my grandfather know each of us were there with him. Then my mother promised him that we would take care of each other and that he did not have to hold on for us anymore. Almost immediately after she said that, my grandfather took his last breath and was gone.

Later that day, my mother was in the kitchen preparing something to eat for my great aunt and uncle who were flying in from California originally to be with my grandfather before he passed away but now to help my family with funeral plans. I told my mother my dream and when I got to the part about what my grandfather said I told her I wasn't sure if I remembered the word right, that I thought he said "nining" but I wasn't sure because I'd never heard the word before. She looked at me with a strangely amazed look on her face as she told me that "nining" was a term of endearment in my grandfather's native language. He called me "nining" when I was a baby, much too young to remember.

I truly believe it was my grandfather who visited me in my dreams that night to tell me what he had wanted so desperately to tell me the day before. I have the firm belief that he is with my grandmother today. I know that death is not the end and that families can be together forever. I am so grateful for this knowledge and for a loving Heavenly Father who created a plan so that all of this is possible.

Winter Semester 2009

I am happy.

Very happy.

stop #1: provo, utah

My eyes sting. A big issue with such a small living space is the lack of ventilation. My mom was frying something for dinner tonight and my eyes began to sting and there wasn't much I could do about it inside. So now I'm sitting on the balcony of our condo, I can smell cigarette smoke and hear the water falling from the mushroom in the pool. I'm wearing green shorts, a yellow cursive shirt, pink flip flops and a comfy, much too large BYU Cougar sweater. I have my Death Cab songs on shuffle (currently Expo '86). The wireless signal is much stronger out here. I might be spending more time outside now. :)

After all the complications of sending in my final portion of the BYU application, I have been readmitted and will be going back in January. By some miracle, my friend that I was planning on rooming with for this Fall semester has an empty room in her current apartment. I called the apartment complex today and filled out an application. They said I should be able to room with her, no problem. I am very excited.

After I'd read that I'd been readmitted, I told my parents. My father said congratulations and good job while my mother proceeded to jump up and down very excitedly and wake everyone else up in the condo (it was about 5:30 AM on a Saturday morning). She asked me if I was excited since I appeared to be showing no real excitement whatsoever which is how I tend to react to a lot of things that would cause others to jump up and down. (It's one reason why surprise parties aren't the best things for me. I don't get that excited about them and others can see that and they're disappointed and everyone's sad. Or I feign excitement and feel really awkward.) While I am excited to be moving away and on my own again, I'm not sure I can say I'm really "excited" about BYU. I'm incredibly grateful to be going back. And perhaps my feelings of excitement are merely blanketed by my intense gratitude.

I took forgranted my experience at BYU the first time around. I did not try hard at all. I didn't want to be there to begin with. When I realized I probably couldn't go back, I had more feelings of loss and confusion than I could comprehend. Since learning of my readmission to the university, I've found myself holding back tears of gratitude each time I've thought about BYU. I couldn't believe they readmitted me. Me! A girl they'd given a scholarship to who didn't attend most of her Church meetings, who barely pulled off a 3.0 GPA fall semester, then dropped all of her classes winter semester, then dropped all of her classes again spring term before actually being dismissed from the university. Can you imagine the amazement I experienced at reading my application status: "Winter 2009: Admitted"? A single word relieving all of my fears and doubts, answering all of my questions about my near future, freeing my mind of anxiety, providing that evidence I so earnestly sought, the evidence that I was doing something right, that my efforts were making a difference. Wow.

I'd read a quote somewhere, I'm pretty sure it was by Neal A. Maxwell, that went along the lines of this: "We should surrender our wills to our Savior, not out of fear, but out of immense gratitude for the sacrifice He made for us." How very true! If we understood just a tiny bit of what the Atonement means, of what our Savior did for us, there is no way we wouldn't be trying our best to follow the commandments.

I don't quite know how to repay my Savior and Heavenly Father for this second chance I have at Brigham Young University except to study hard, involve myself, and stick to the Honor Code while doing my best to reach out to others who might need me. I want to make a difference in people's lives. I think I'm actually in a position to do that now. Before I was so incredibly selfish, so self-centered, so unaware of those around me who could've used my friendship. I pray that I can be a better person this time around.

Yesterday at Church after Sacrament meeting, I went up to Bishop and gave him a hug. I then told him I was readmitted to BYU. He pulled me into another hug. It's nice to know how much he cares about me. This whole process helped me realize just how much our leaders truly care about us. I told Brother Nance about it as well. He gave me a nice big hug (I love his hugs) and then got a little choked up as he told me thank you and that I have been such a good example for him. Me? An example for the first counselor in the bishopric? I love Brother Nance. He's been like another father to me. He was the first bishop I can remember having. He and Sister Nance have always been there for my family, always been there for me. To think that he'd consider me an example, is overwhelming. These people that I look up to, some of them look up to me too. It only makes me want to be better.

I only want to be better.

an update an update!

Someone told me when I graduated that college would be the time during which I would grow the most and become my own person. I think they were right to an extent; I don't think you necessarily have to be at college to take advantage of this period of growth in your life. Late teens and early twenties tend to be when people really start distinguishing themselves from the messy indistinguishable blob that consists of their parents and younger siblings. You don't have to be at school to do that, although much of that learning experience happened while I was at BYU. Now that I'm home I'm still learning a lot. It's weird and unfortunate to think that I'll be twenty soon and I'm still living at my parents' house. The only thing that makes me not start wailing and attacking doors to get out is that I know these last few months will probably be the last months I'll ever spend actually living here. If I don't learn to appreciate my family now, I'll never have a better opportunity. I've realized my family isn't perfect and that all of my siblings have things about them I don't like and then I fantasize about my future family and how perfect they'll be, when in all honesty, there will disagreements and imperfections there too. If I don't gain the skills to just deal with people that aren't like me or appreciate them, then I'm going to have a pretty rough time in life.


Fun Story time:
My family, Summer and her mother, and Brenden watched Shanghai Noon last night. I decided I wanted to try one of the stunts they did on there. Unfortunately, I didn't even consider that even when they did the stunt in the movie, the character ended up on the ground in pain, I just thought it looked cool. So I had Reuben hold my left leg up as I tried to swing my right leg out from underneath me and kick him in the face. Apparently when none of your limbs are touching the ground, you end up falling pretty fast. And hard. I may have finally accepted that just because I'm asian doesn't mean I'm automatically a ninja.

hello.

sickness.

I have no sanctuary.

I am listening to Death Cab for Cutie's album Narrow Stairs. I just closed my eyes (Yes I can type with my eyes closed) and I'm trying to imagine that I'm back in my dorm room in Heritage listening to this CD when I first got it. It's a little hard. Eyes open again.

I was told that I could go back to BYU when it appeared as though I was ready. Which means there is an actual chance that I would be going back. I love/d BYU, don't get me wrong. That place was amazing for me. But I'm back home now and I don't feel like I will ever go back. I fear it was a very temporary place for me. I wish I had spent more time outside. Simply being outside gives me a sense of freedom and space that I will never experience here at my home. I wouldn't mind sitting out on one of the jetties in the evening. But if I tell my mom I'm going to sit on the beach she'll ask me why, what for, where, how long, and having to give reason for my meditation seems to destroy it for me. And so I will lie in my bed with my computer on my lap since my desk is completely cluttered with my sister's things. I will walk back and forth from my bedroom to our living room. I don't want to read anything. I don't have any paintbrushes. I don't have my paper. I don't even have a key to my own home so if I wanted to take a walk somewhere I wouldn't be able to get back in. I don't have car keys and even if I did gas is so ridiculously expensive that my normally relaxing drives would only stress me more.

It's easy to be depressed now that I'm back at home. I love my family. They are great and supportive and caring. But sometimes they smother me. And when we are all cramped in this tiny little house with no rooms for any privacy except bathrooms it gets a little chaotic. I'm glad I got my job back at the library. That job was rather medicinal for me. A somewhat strange safe haven. The Dewey Decimal System provides me with a sense structure that no one can disrupt.

I just had an interesting idea. Maybe I will become a librarian. If working in a library is the only job I was able to keep for more than a few weeks perhaps I should consider it more seriously or at least consider something with a similar work environment.

It's 3:35. I should start peeling some potatoes.

Oh my goodness, someone save me.