Boo.

MY COMPUTER'S HARD DRIVE CRASHED.

And I've lost everything on it. Because I am an idiot and do not regularly back up my data.

Key things lost:
Music (though Chris has a lot of it)
(I had almost all of my pictures backed up)
Schoolwork since Winter 2010, including ALL of my internship homework due in 1.5 weeks
Random journal entries, letters never sent, recipes
Also... Microsoft Office.

Having lived through a hurricane puts things in perspective though. And even though all I wanted to do yesterday was cry, I feel a lot better about the whole situation now.

It's refreshing to start over. It's refreshing to be reminded that these things that we own really mean nothing. That even after losing a house, most belongings, and everything I've put on this computer since June 2007, I'm still alive and well. These items aren't my life after all.

International Cinema/Dean's Lists

BYU is showing Heima in two weeks for International Cinema. I love Sigur Ros and I love that BYU is showing this.

Also, I made TWO Dean's Lists for my academic performance last semester.
- Dean of Students Dean's List (for multicultural, international, and open major students). Meaning I got a 3.95 GPA or higher while taking a minimum of 14 credit hours and maintaining a 3.5 overall GPA.
- College of Family, Home, and Social Sciences Dean's List. Meaning last semester I was in the top 5% of my college.

I highly doubt I'll pull off another 4.0 GPA for a full semester but I'm glad I did it at least once. It makes me feel kinda smart.

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.

an email (an answer).

This post is tied to my previous post where I stated a desire to help others with disabilities but not knowing what I could do. This morning I received this email:

Are you planning to stay in Provo over spring and summer? At the University Accessibility Center (UAC) we provide opportunities for students to serve fellow students with disabilities. If you are interested in being a note-taker, campus traveler, test reader/scribe, or other various things, we would love to work with you!

Even if you won’t be on campus over the spring and summer semesters but are interested, don’t be discouraged. We need more volunteers throughout the entire year. To become a volunteer, simply email us at uacvol@byu.edu with your full name, email address, and phone number. Or, you could stop by at our office in 2170 WSC. Once you do this, we will be able to contact you and provide more information on how to get started. We hope to hear from you soon.

University Accessibility Center
2170 WSC

How timely.
I'm going by there today. :)

a walk.

Walking back from school today, I found myself quite pleased with life. The day was a pleasant one, overcast and a little windy but not too cold. I find that those days make me feel the happiest. They bring back feelings from my childhood around fall. Fall was always my favorite season. People say that Galveston doesn't really have seasons and I mostly agree. And I've always categorized portions of my life not by the seasons as defined by weather but by seasons defined by the school year. And fall was always my favorite. And I've only ever associated overcast, windy days with learning to ride/continuing to ride my bike during the fall. Windy, overcast days were the only days the weather was decent enough for me to play outside. I love windy overcast days; they bring me back to some of the best memories and feelings of my childhood.

But that's not where I was going with this.

Walking back from school today, I found myself quite pleased with life. The day was a pleasant one, overcast and a little windy but not too cold. I just finished my last midterm for the semester (imagine that! a midterm the week before finals!) and had made an appointment with a counselor to discuss my new major and scheduling. Plus we talked about musical theater in my music class today! I plugged in my headphones and was listening to my ipod as I walked home. I occasionally smiled at strangers like I do when I'm in good moods. When I got to the intersection at Bulldog and University I saw a man across the street from me with a long, thin pole. He was blind and I began to wonder how he would know when to cross the street. This intersection did not have the chirping sounds that some did on campus for those that are seeing-impaired. Somehow he knew because shortly after the "walk" light came on, he began walking. I walked by him and felt like I should do something. He looked like a student, about 20ish carrying a backpack, should I walk with him the rest of the way to campus? Should I shout hello over the sounds of traffic? I didn't know what to do. I wanted to reach out to him with anything, he couldn't see a smile or a wave as a subtle greeting. If wanted to do something it would need to be bigger and a little more generous. But I just walked by. And as I walked by, I was flooded with emotions. At first I felt sad for him, I could not imagine losing my sight or never having it to begin with. My life would feel so empty without the visual memory of the beach at sunrise, or how Japan looked from the airplane as we were landing, or the sight of the kicking, tiny, chubby feet of infants. I tried to shift my sadness to gratitude for my sight and then for medical advancements that make sight better for some people. Then I began to feel happy for this man because despite his handicap he was taking the challenge of attending a university to get an education. And I began to feel more gratitude for this country we live in that makes it possible for those with handicaps to live more normal lives than perhaps those with those same handicaps in other countries. And before I knew it, I had tears threatening to spill over. I was just overwhelmed by so many feelings in such a short time. I didn't even know what feeling it was that prompted the tears to begin with. I just knew I wanted to do more to help this man and people in a similar situation and I didn't know where to begin.

These feelings are good for me. They help me remember that I have so many things to be grateful for and they prompt me to act in good ways towards others. These feelings tell me that I can experience feelings of unselfish love but I need to turn those feelings into actions somehow. I really do want to do so many things for people. I have a feeling that most people want to do more for others than what they are currently doing. But I let my busy schedule get in the way. I think that as soon as this class is over, or as soon as I'm done with this semester, I'll have time and energy to focus on others. I have time and energy now that can be better spent doing things like volunteering with some volunteer group on campus or working with children through BYU's TOPS tutoring program than using my "down" or "free" time to sit around lazily and watch a movie on TV or browse the internet or find myself completely consumed in facebook-ing. This life is not mine. It belongs to my Savior and I should be doing the things that He would have me do.

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.