A Good Philosophy

She was a fresh and stunning nineteen years old when they walked out of that temple and into the next fifteen years of their lives. Then the world tilted for a time and everything was singed by the sun before it fell back into place. A little tainted, and a little healed. Now her daughter is a fresh and stunning nineteen years old and she's got a grip on the world like a walking cane and a magic wand. What she doesn't say is that life really isn't as complex as all that. It's just about carrying the water with you. Lifting where you stand. She's got an open mind, and a naked finger, and the single life never looked brighter.


Jumped the cliff, I don't know why.
Spread my wings and learned to fly.

Tip my dream hat. Hear me roar.
Swim the sea, and cry no more.

Sing my love to the blue blue sky.
Listen to the years pass by.

Memories caught in butterfly nets.
This is as good as it gets.

Running til my cares run out.
Feeling life beyond the doubt.

Skip a rock on this glassy lake.
Swing the bat as hard as it takes.

Pound those keys to Timbuktu.
Dream, and think, and fancy you.

Blink my lashes. Work and thrive.
Sing my song, cause I'm ALIVE.


(Poem written September '05)

In Continuum

There is a trusty row of links at the top of my browser that show up every time I open it, complete with their own little colorful icons. They quickly and painlessly send me right to the places I always go when I'm online. Email, Pandora, Facebook, Hulu, etc. One of these links happens to take me directly to this blog page. While I am often busy, and either don't have the time, or the substance to actually open up the editor and write a new post, I do habitually open that link and browse through my previous posts. On one such instance, I happened to read through my entry from this past February, detailing in part the struggles of my year away from "home" here in Mesa. (I only put that in quotes as I feel that while I do live in my own home in Mesa, I still do have a home in Lehi with my family.) How I tragically had to muck my way through a new school system without my usual band of buddies and graduate from high school in a "fanatically intense frenzy," I believe the phrase was. Whether or not moving out and back to Mesa again after graduation was the happily every after I wanted is irrelevant. But it most certainly is the next chapter in my story. :)

Now. To begin again where I left off. On August 31, 2008, my dear friend Meagan and I packed up our cars and made the painstaking twelve hour drive back to Mesa. We signed the lease on our first apartment, and began quite a different adventure than high school...

That first weekend in the apartment could probably be described as a whirlwind. With the help of my dear friend David, my loving parents, and a few other helping hands, we moved all of our things (my inventory significantly larger than Meagan's, I'll admit) up the narrow staircase and into our relatively spacious, albeit stinky abode. A whirlwind, yes. But it could also be described as a convection oven. I had nearly forgotten that despite the fact that in Lehi it was already cooling down to near perfect temperatures, Mesa had yet to fall below the triple-digits at some times of the day. I mean, it was September for goodness sake. And to top it all off, by some hilarious miscommunication, the electric company had yet to make it out to set up our unit, and would not be able to come back until the next business day. Which in our case (due to the holiday weekend) wouldn't be until Tuesday. Four days after we moved in. We could shower, yes, but there was no hair drying, microwaving, lighting, phone charging, or Heaven help us, air conditioning. We couldn't even plug in Meg's big fan to get some air moving. But, we did survive. And when that SRP man showed up at 4:00 on Tuesday afternoon, we were just sweaty grinning beams of gratitude and relief.

After we finally got some electricity under our belts, the next big hurdle was securing some jobs. The rent wouldn't pay itself after all. Before we moved out, I had been working as a Chiropractic Assistant and Office Worker, while Meg was a stylist at Great Clips. I had spoken with some family friends about starting up in the corporate office of a company they were at the head of, and Meagan was relying on the fact that she was a licensed and practiced cosmetologist to get her at least a starter job at a salon, so she could eventually work her way up to a position at Toni&Guy. (The opportunity to do so was a big part of her decision to come with me, as there are no Toni&Guy salons in Utah.) Upon arriving, however, things certainly didn't go as planned. The company I planned on working for could no longer afford to sign me on, as they were going through some odd financial and restructuring difficulties. The life raft I had been counting on to pull me up onto the ship of financial security had been yanked out of the water. But I was still under contract to pay nearly four hundred dollars in rent for the next six months minimum.

I began immediately to search for some kind of administrative, or chiropractic related work, with little, to no success. For four weeks I applied to place after place, wrung my hands with worry, and received a dismal return on my efforts. I was beginning to think I would have to do just what a certain pessimistic boy told me before I left: bum out, and come right back home with a big hole in my wallet. But I hadn't given up hope just yet. My dear close friend Dallon suggested that I get a priesthood blessing to further invite the Lord into my search, and to settle my nerves. I promptly accepted, and wondered why I hadn't thought of it sooner. His dad, who happened to be the Stake President, administered the blessing not long after this, and I went home with tears in my eyes, but also a renewed faith that I would be alright. I got online and checked one last time on the Provident Living website for any leads on anything that I felt I could be capable of, and/or stand to do day in and day out. And there it was. The answer to all my prayers. "Mother of two seeking reliable nanny to work on regular basis." The compensation listed was substantial, and though the half hour commute would be a challenge, I felt that this was the perfect opportunity for me. I had, after all, nannied part time before, and I undoubtedly love caring for children. So I called. And left a message. And I called again. No response. I became very anxious and worried that the position had already been filled, but I didn't experience that closed-book feeling in my stomach like I had with a few other jobs I applied for. This one still had hope.

Finally, I got a call from Collette. She seemed very nice, and said she felt she should explain to me that she had found someone she thought she would keep in the position, but that her three year-old Riley still hadn't warmed up to her, which was odd for him. She wanted me to come over for a "test-run" day and check our fit. I did this, and as luck, or sheer Heaven sent blessing would have it, she opted to keep me. At last I was employed! And though the drive was mildly troublesome for my poor aging car, I felt that every minute of commute was worth it to spend my time in such fulfilling an employment. To this day I continue to go back to Collette's home and spend my time driving to and from the library, school, swim and dance practice, making breakfasts, lunches, and sometimes dinners, and doing all sorts of other mommy-mode things. Every day is a new adventure with those wondrous children, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

On the other side of the coin, Megan's search for employment was just about as tumultuous as mine. After several weeks of applications and some interviews, she was actually offered a job at another Great Clips salon. However, comforting as this may have seemed, Meg just wasn't content to fall right back into the rut she was in before. She wanted to move up and out of the eight dollar eleven minute haircut realm. So her pursuit of Toni&Guy status continued. As it turns out, the hiring process is much more complex and extensive than you would think. But once again, through the blessings of answered prayers, she got in. At the very bottom of the totem pole, yes, but still in. We both started work at about the same time, and are still gratefully working at the same places. Meagan was even promoted to a Floor Manager at her salon, and while the responsibilities that come along with the title are often exhausting, and upsetting (She now often has to open the salon on Sundays:( Though she comes to as many church functions as possible.) Life is life, and work is work. And no matter the ups and downs of living away from home and family, we're taking them all on side by side with smiles on our faces, and usually a song and a dance to go with it too.

I'm Thinking of You Often These Days...

Those people. We all have those people. You know, the ones that no matter what ever happens in life, how far away we go, or how little we see them, we simply cannot forget them. They're the people that will always have a little space in our hearts, because they filled times with a little glow that otherwise would have been very dim. They fix us. And for some unknown reason, they just fit. Right alongside us. These people are friends. They are lovers. They are confidantes. They are a hand to hold. They are a set of eyes to share a silent conversation with. They are smiles in poignant times. They are laughs in the brightest. They are any, and all of the above.
As I'm listening to this album, this song, for the umpteenth time, I'm thinking about you again. Thinking about what you might be doing. How you're feeling. If you've slept at all in the past few days. And wondering if I were there, or if you were here, we might both just be a little bit better off for it. And maybe it wouldn't make the least difference at all. But regardless of the past, and the could-have would-have should-have's that simmer in a too full mind, I'm just thinking of you. And that's alright with me.

It seems the moments went so fast
I couldn't bask in one for long before it passed
And now they slip right by
And my thoughts, they're craving you and I
(No they don't have us no, not anymore)

You journey back to our hometown
We spend an evening graced with all our sights and sounds
But the morning breaks our high
When you say, it was only one more night

Don't go, cause I made it through goodbye
Now I'll make it better
I know we needed a little time to our lives
And I believe that you would never make it back
I take it back baby
But now that you're here
Don't go

The broken sidewalk looked like states
I stood on Tennessee and begged for you to stay
But you kept your eyes down low
And you took the Colorado's home

Don't go, cause I made it through goodbye
Now I'll make it better
I know we needed a little time to our lives
And I believed that you would never make it back
I take it back baby
But now that you're here
Don't go

Don't leave me stranded on the street
We used to meet that split between our houses
I don't wanna go back alone, no

Don't go cause we made it though the night
Now I'll make it better
I know we needed a little time to our lives
And I believed that you would never make it back
I take it back baby
Now that you're here
Don't go...

A Little Insight

Disclaimer: This note was originally intended to be an all-encompassing reply to the many surveys/questionnaires I've been "tagged" in on Facebook as far as "talk about yourself so that everyone can read all the things about you that no one really cares about!" I realize it is quite lengthy. Hopefully this will sate your desire to read the many varying personal surveys I could be answering, and answer any questions they may, or may not, have contained. Mazel tov.

Sixteen Things

1. Many of you already know this, but I'm something of a grammar Nazi. I loved all my English and Literature classes in high school, and even though I'm fully aware that I'm far from all-knowing on the intricate and extensive workings of the English language, I still find it fascinating and thoroughly enjoy it. I can definitely be a nag when it comes to speaking correctly, and lazy or over-abbreviated writing (on the computer or in text messaging) is one of my biggest pet peeves. However, taking creative liberties in writing in order to more fully expound meanings and/or emotion (i.e. Grammar B) is one of my favorite things. :) My Creative Writing teacher senior year said, "If you do it by accident, it's ignorance. If you do it on purpose, it's art."

2. I was born in the bedroom of a tiny, pink, termite-eaten, duplex apartment in San Diego, California on 1/11 at 1:00 in the morning, weighing in at nearly 11 pounds. The moon, at that exact moment, was 100% full. No joke. (That's a lot of ones.) I can't say I remember this personally, but my parents tell me I "delivered myself" and that all Dad did was catch me. The midwife showed up some time after the fact when Mom was just sitting in bed holding me and said, "Well isn't this a pretty picture." I'm very proud of this story. :P My name (Danielle Nicole) is apparently the female version of Daniel Christopher (The man my mother did not marry). Dad says my nick-name (Dani) came from a Diet-Pepsi commercial with Michael J. Fox in it that aired during the super bowl in the late eighties. (Wow! I found it on YouTube! Click here to watch.)

3. I am the current Choir Director in my College ward. Words cannot express how deeply blessed and honored I feel in receiving the call. Living in Mesa for so many years and building and developing so many wonderful lasting friendships, and then moving right before my senior year of high school to a different state and having to start completely over ripped me to shreds. I was a black hole of a mess for a long time. I did eventually gain (Through another miracle of music, and the inspired choir teacher in Lehi, Mrs. Covington) some new friendships and found a way to muck through the change, but I still felt the pull to go “home” to Mesa. After graduation when I actually did move back, life definitely didn’t greet me the way I left it. I felt so strongly that there was a reason I was back, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. And then I got called in to the bishop’s office less than a month after we moved in, and so many things started falling into place. I’m here because of my calling to share the gift of music and its power to edify and enrich lives in a way nothing else can. And for that I am so grateful.

4. In going along with number three, oh, music. Music is what my soul is made out of. I’m going to sound like such a cheese ball for the next little while, because there aren’t very many other ways for me to describe the power and influence that music, in all its many forms, has in my life. I’ve been singing since I was in the womb. Anywhere, and anything. Even if I don’t know the words, I’ll sing. It’s a passion I have that will never ever change. I also love to play the piano. I could never boast to be nearly as good as Kira, and countless other people, but it’s like therapy to me to just sit down and play. I took up the viola in fourth grade as well and played for nearly eight years, trained in the pedal harp for three years, which I also love, and devoted one entire season my junior year to percussion and auxiliary instruments in the high school marching band. Needless to say, in my book, music is huge. (Ps. Pandora Radio is the best thing since sliced bread. Pandora.com)

5. When I was five years old, I fell off of our dining room table and knocked one of those heavy duty cultural hall tables over onto my leg. It broke. My leg, not the table. I don’t remember this all too vividly, but several years after it happened mom told me that she and my dad had driven me to the emergency room that day and somberly debated in the car whether or not it was worth the enormous cost to actually take me in. we ended up just driving back home and mom basically carried me around for the next few months. It was a miracle that my leg healed perfectly all by itself. This wasn’t the only time my family was blessed with excellent health during my childhood either.

6. It’s probably a really good thing all us kids had ironclad immune systems, because we were definitely connoisseurs of the outdoors. My favorite was eating bugs. :) Yeah, I was that girl. Ants, beetles, spiders, slugs, you name it, I probably ate it. (Ants are actually kind of spicy.) This lasted probably until I was about six, and then I decided that it was really gross. Haha:) – On a slightly different note, but still in the category of health, I was born with a congenital heart defect called Patent Ductus Arteriosus. It's a condition having to do with a small valve between the aorta and pulmonary arteries right next to the heart. When a baby is in the oven, that valve is essential to blood flow because the baby doesn't breathe real air yet. Then when the baby is born, it closes up so that a normal circulation can begin. Well, my ductus arteriosus didn't close up when I was born, so for seventeen years I had an unnatural strain on my heart (re-pumping blood) and my respiratory system (increased blood pressure in lung arteries). I developed a disease with similar symptoms to asthma called Reactive Airway Disease. All of this was pretty much passed off by doctors as a mild heart murmur and bad eating/exercise habits until one doctor in Utah (after we moved there in 2007) informed us that my murmur (my heartbeat sounded like a fuzzy sloshing instead of clear thumps) was in fact NOT normal, and needed to be looked into. I had two echo-cardiograms (like when a pregnant woman gets an ultra sound) of my chest, and one esophageal echo-cardiogram (I was put under and a similar machine was inserted down my throat to see my chest) before the cardiologist decided that the best way to keep me alive for a few more years was to get the valve surgically closed. On November 31st, 2007 I checked into Primary Children’s Hospital and had the 3 hour surgery done. I told them I wanted a cool scar to show off, but the doctors decided they were going to do a "less-invasive" catheter procedure instead. (That just means that instead of cutting me open on the side of my rib cage and leaving a wicked awesome six-inch scar, they made a small slit in the crook of my leg and used a long catheter to sail up through my veins to my heart to insert a little plug in the valve. Which I felt was MUCH more invasive than the upstairs route...) After two days of hospital toast and mashed potatoes, I checked out. I didn't have a cool scar from the incision to show off, but the gruesome, literally black bruising I got from the excess blood, extending fourteen inches from my hip and down my right thigh, caused me to walk with a limp for the next five weeks before it went away. A little over a year later now, I'm feeling fit as a fiddle. Better than I ever did before the surgery. And now I can do things like climb mountains and stuff without dying. Yay life! :P
7. I’m starting cosmetology school this month, and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s been my secondary education plan for some time now, and I’m finally making it happen. I like things that are pretty. Things that are aesthetically pleasing. And if I find something, or someone who is not, I like to make them that way. It’s just how I am. I feel like getting my cosmetology license will be a really great way for me to further this fulfillment in my life. I could just cut and color hair my whole life too, but what I really want to do with that education is get into movie making. I want to do hair and makeup professionally on movie sets, and photo shoots, and runways, and red carpets. That would just be incredible to me.
[7-24, UPDATE: Many of you may know by now (or not) that I have in fact opted out of the beauty school program that I began in February. It isn't tragic, or upsetting, and in fact I believe it was most definitely the right choice to make at this time. All my reasons for attending remain, and I do still love to color hair and do little things like that on the side. But I didn't LOVE taking clients and doing hair in that salon-focused setting. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel strongly that one should LOVE what they are doing, especially under the commitment of sixteen hundred hours, and fifteen thousand dollars. The reality of the situation was that because of the schedule and hours I was required to attend, I began to feel a significant strain on my health, sanity, and finances, as many of my potential work hours were now unavailable to me. I did successfully complete and graduate out of the Freshman class, so I do have a general knowledge and understanding of the majority of cosmetology-related concepts, and was also able to spend over a month on the floor taking clients, so it's not like the time I spent was a complete loss. I simply felt that for the things I need to accomplish in my life right now, and the visions of things I want to accomplish in the future, this means of education was not the right path. In stead, I have changed my focus to a major(s) that better fit what I know I LOVE to do. I hope to begin taking classes this Fall at MCC on Child Development and Family Relations, as well as Piano, and Voice Lessons. My purpose in focusing in these areas is to improve my skills and general knowledge of the care and successful raising of children (whether they be mine, or my employers'), as well as honing in on my talents in music so that I have the means and knowledge to teach voice and piano lessons from home when I have my own family. Doing hair has been a dream for a long time. But music, and family, have always been a part of me. I am thrilled with my new educational potential, and can't wait to get started:)]

8. I’m a movie junkie. Addicted. I just love really good movies, and I love watching them. I could sit on my couch and just watch movies all day. Going to the theater is a fun treat every once in a while, but I prefer the comfort of my own living room, some Bryers ice cream, and a blanket. Anyone who has ever watched a movie with me probably knows that I also believe in a certain way of watching movies. People who try to guess what’s going to happen just tick me off. And asking questions the whole way through is a pet peeve too. The people who make movies usually do their best to answer questions you might have throughout the duration of the movie, so just shut up, pay attention, and let them do their job! Also, though the story may be over as the closing scene fades out, there is still a certain mood a movie leaves you in, and the music in the closing credits is a beautiful way to ease out of it. Immediately switching the movie off before the credits to do something else is expressly forbidden.

9. I don’t know if I’d use the word psycho, but you’re probably getting the idea that I can tend to have slightly OCD tendencies.. Lol. Once again, I like things that are pretty. A clean house counts as one of those things. My motto when it comes to housekeeping is that everything deserves to have a home. And if it doesn’t have one, then it doesn’t deserve to be in your home. I do go through spells where I just don’t feel like doing that sink full of dishes today, but chances are within the week I won’t be able to stand the sight of it any more. I like things to be just so. And I don’t really have many quips with taking the time to make things just so. My children may despise me for it for a while, but just like with my wonderful mother who trained me so well, they’ll be grateful for the habits in the end.

10. I want to raise babies. I currently nanny part time in North Scottsdale, and taking care of those children is so fulfilling to me. To be such a huge part of an individual’s life when they’re just soaking up the knowledge, and watching everything you do is so incredible. Aside from music, I feel that nurturing and raising children is my calling in life, and I am so excited to have the opportunity to raise my own family. For various reasons, I still feel like a small family will be enough for me personally (three to four kids max.), but I know that my influence and teaching in this life will not stop there, and I am thrilled to be a part of it.

11. I love photography. Again, with the pretty things. Sometimes when Kira goes through all her collected pictures on the computer, she’ll send me hundreds of them to oogle over. Which I do. Zealously. It’s a passion we share. I love taking pictures too. I wanted to take some classes in high school, but never had room in my music stuffed schedule. Dad was a professional photographer for a while though, so I like to think it’s somehow in my blood. I always always always have my camera with me, so I’m always prepared for those Kodak moments my life is riddled with. :)

12. I love getting flowers. My absolute favorites are poppies and peonies. Especially the peonies that look like little scoops of ice cream. :)Any color they come in. however, like most of the things in my life I’ve got pretty over the top taste, and those flowers are definitely not tossed out in the garden section of your average Wal Mart. I know the flower budget will probably come a lot closer to the venue price than the napkins, but I’ve always imagined my wedding reception hall, or back yard, or wherever, to be covered in these beautiful blooms. I love them.

13. I'm really not one of those crazy fall all over yourself screaming crying fangirls, but I have no reservations in admitting that Mark Ruffalo is totally my celebrity crush. Ohdeargoodness, he’s so tasty. Just look at him! There’s something about that dark curly hair and strong manly jawline that just makes me tingle.. Haha:)
Shia LeBeouf was looking pretty smokin' in this shoot for GQ as well. Oh baby.
OH! Which reminds me: facial hair. I’ve just got a thing for it. I can’t explain it, but the stubble just kinda turns me on. Scratchy kissin’ and all. Mm.
ALSO. Last, but definitely not least: Adam Brody. Is my boyfriend. (Not really... I love you Dallon!) Ohhhh goodness agsdfkabjahvfevakbkahhhhh.... *melts* Are you catching the trend here yet... (It's true! She has a type!)

14. I’m kind of addicted to reading magazines. Well, reading and looking at all the pretty pictures. :) Yet another of the really great perks to my job is that Collette, my boss, also loves to read and collect magazines, so when she’s through with any given issue of her numerous subscriptions she gives them to me. Score, I know, totally. I really love all the ridiculous high fashion stuff, like in VOGUE and ELLE, and I’ve also had a lot of fun with like MarieClaire and surprisingly, GQ. I know it’s really for guys, but they’re so cheeky in that one, I love it! Haha:) Sometimes if I find something in a magazine that I really love, I’ll tear it out (Yep, you guessed it, there’s a very particular method for that too.) and save it either in the folder I’ve got for stuff like that, or put it up in my room somewhere.

15. In about seventh grade, after deciding that my ridiculous group of friends said just about enough ridiculous stuff to fill up a whole book, I started writing it down. (“The palest of ink is better than the fondest of memories.” :D) I just got one of those little mini Mead journals and carried it around with me in my backpack, so that I could bust it out any time someone said something hilarious, or I heard a really great quote, etc. eventually I filled that up entirely and had to get a new one. Some time later I came to the conclusion that my “quote book” wasn’t really doing anyone any good just sitting in my bag, so I found myself some good sturdy paper and started rewriting all the best quotes, cutting them out, and sticking them to a little wall in my bedroom. I kept writing down new things I heard, and the wall kept filling up. Eventually it spilled over the top on to the ceiling even. When I moved out and in to my apartment here in Mesa, I had to meticulously remove them from my wall, stick them to wax paper, and then painstakingly remove them again to stick to my new wall. Time consuming, kind of pointless, but the quote wall lives on. So far it’s been quite a hit, and it makes for some cool room décor I think.

16. I consider myself to be something of a water baby. After living in San Diego for seven years, and then coming to Arizona and being totally land locked, I feel like (and this is going to sound ridiculous) a little piece of me got left behind at the beach. I’ve always always loved being in the water, and though I do have a substantial aversion to direct sunlight, swimming is one of my favorite things.(A nasty burn I procured from an extremely brief encounter with a tanning bed. Mistake.)
I love the sound of running water, love drinking water, and someday hope to live somewhere with a good view of the ocean, preferably on the west coast upwards of Oregon. The hot summers here always seem to totally drain me. We just don’t get along at all. But the cold, and the snow, and the rain, and the wet? BFF. Hands down.

On a Sunday Evening

Okay, I know you're probably biting your nails in anticipation for the rest of that riveting story from yesterday, but I'm not feeling quite in the mood for more autobiographical blithering just yet. Today, I'm writing about mugs. Actually, I'm writing about Kira's quirky obsession/knack for finding really unique and awesome pictures/things online. I was just looking through the collection of some of my favorite pieces, and decided that there was a pretty awesome set of mugs. like this one that looks like it's filled with something almost too pretty to drink.Then there's the very Gabe inspired camera mug.I've got a feeling this one was probably photo shopped, but it still looks cool. And let's not forget the odd, yet tender pregnant mug.
I've got all sorts of weird random things. From boats and cakes, to shoes and baby onesies with symbols of fully charged batteries on them. Enjoy, and consider this a small taste of the oddities you may or may not see in the future. Maybe next time I'll display my collection of unique band-aid's. Cheers!

There's No Place Like Home

It has been one year, nearly to the day, since I last logged on to this secret little nugget of memories. In my defense it was a fanatically intense year, and definitely one I will never forget, but now that the storm has subsided to a degree I find myself once again itching to write.

For the record, I really can't give myself credit for remembering this thing. A very good friend of mine actually started one up himself, and when he told me about it I recalled an assignment in my Creative Writing class last year that required me to have one. I then proceeded to attempt to find it/log in. After about ten minutes of incorrect passwords, captcha's, random questions about my childhood pets, etc. I actually got in. Eureka!

So now as I sit here on this beautiful February day, listening to my sister croon out of these derisory laptop speakers, drinking a cup of my favorite tea, I can't quite decide what I'd like to write about; what would be significant enough to share. I suppose I don't have a lot to live up to. There are only so many posts on here already, and most of them were cop out poetry that I pulled from my notebook and posted to get a grade. On the other hand, a whole years worth of writing has now passed. Perhaps with no specific target in mind, I'll just attempt to (as briefly as possible) recap the events of my eighteenth year.
[an ironic postcard I found one Sunday on the PostSecret blog]
I think it's probably safe to say that I did a lot more brooding and complaining about my senior year than any polite young woman who is about to graduate from grade school should. After all, I was finally in the home stretch of the homework riddled late night early morning routine that was high school. However. In my case the circumstances were stretched to an uncomfortably frenzied state. As previously discussed, my family moved from our nine year home in Mesa to the lovely Lehi, Utah the summer before my senior year. Aside from the black hole of nearly comatose depression that consumed me in the face of my social decapitation, there was the issue of my school classes and credits. At my high school in Mesa, I was on track to graduate. Even with my music stuffed schedule, I had fulfilled all the core credits I needed to comfortably complete my senior year and graduate with my class. But the Alpine school district was set up entirely differently than mine. I ended up having to take about four sophomore classes during the day, as well as an online bowling class, American History, and all sorts of ridiculous stuff like that.

That American History is what really killed me. Aside from the hundreds of dollars spent on extraneous classes, this one was a multi-faceted full-frontal student torture program. I had to purchase packets of information and review work, purchase the coursebook to read from, and drive myself repeatedly to the specific campus that the "packet school" was based in. HOURS of brain and energy grinding work went in to that stupid semester. And by the time that deadline was a week or so away, I wasn't half finished. Classes, finals, work, and three months of Am. History were all crammed into about a week and a half. I barely escaped with my life. And by some freakish miracle, I actually got it done. By the split piece of an angel hair I made it in time to graduate with my class. If you couldn't tell, I'm still quite a bit bitter about the whole thing. I don't think I'll ever forget what that hell felt like, and it's a good thing too. My children will never be subjected to a move like that at such a crucial time.

But anyway. Before the steam starts pouring out of my ears again, I'm content to leave the horror story at that and move on to the exciting twist at the end of the story. On August 31, 2008, my dear friend Meagan and I packed up our cars and made the painstaking twelve hour drive back to Mesa. We signed the lease on our first apartment, and began quite a different adventure than high school.

[To be continued...]