Positive Thinking

I read in a book somewhere that the power of positive thinking does nothing for you. I thought that was strange since the power of positive thinking has done EVERYTHING for me. Let me tell you what I mean..

(Also, can we talk about how this picture is THE BOMB?!)
I woke up this morning at 6:45 AM to get ready for my 8:30 class. I went to go get in the shower and one of my roommates was already in. "Grrrr" I thought. "But it's alright. She usually takes short showers anyway. I'll just wait. No big deal." Right then and there, she popped right out. "Cool." I thought. I got ready and went to my 8:30 class. I walk into the classroom and NO ONE is there. Strange, right? That never happens in college. I quickly looked around to see if the class was hiding. Nothing.  Was it my birthday or something? I had no idea. Then I started to become irritated. I woke up super early to get this class on time and no one was even there! BOOO!!! "It's alright. No big deal." I thought. "This way I can get some homework that I didn't get done yesterday." And now, I sit here writing this blog post in the library thinking about this could have affected my day. I could hold onto my irritation and annoyance and let every little thing annoy me. But it won't. Because I have the power of positive thinking.

Things I Learn From My Communication Research Methods Class

Communication Research Methods. It's a class. It's really hard. I'm going to fail. Ha! Okay. That's not completely accurate. I think I'll do fine, however, my brain exploded when I found out I had to take this class. The first day, I sit down and I'm in sheer panic. I don't know what to expect from this class, but all I know is it's going to be really hard. Truth be know, it wasn't as horrifying as I made it out to be. Instead, I actually learned something. My professor started talking about a wall she encountered as she was going to grad school. She called it the Statistics Wall. She said that as she took more and more statistics classes she felt like eventually she would hit a wall. She imagined the wall being 20 feet high, all completely cement with barbwire on the top. She kept taking classes and kept acing them and wasn't hitting any kind of wall. Even though she totally hated statistics. When she decided to finally graduate...(she's one of those crazy teachers that LOVES school and was in school for like 25 years...) she went to talk to her statistics professor about taking another statistics class and she ended up telling him about her imaginary wall. He looked at her and said "It's not a wall, it's a door." She explained that, that statement changed her life and that instead of thinking that she'll eventually hit the wall and become a statistics puddle, that she flows freely door to door, picking up every kind of information she can possibly get. MY MIND WAS BLOWN. And I began thinking about how I could apply that in my life. Instead of believing that I'll eventually fail and become a "statistics puddle", I should believe that every opportunity is just a door. It opens and closes and I have to make the choice to open the door, whether I fail or not. I won't hit a wall. I just close a door. I don't fail at something. I just close a door. I don't get rejected. I just close a door. And it's not like I won't ever be able to open a particular door again because I've already got the key that unlocks it. Life shouldn't be about hitting walls. It should be about opening doors.

Dating Advice from my Grandma & Grandpa

My schedule for today was non-existent. I was going to sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. Then my parents scheduled an appointment to go get my car fixed, so alas I had to get out of bed and go over into town to get it fixed. Afterwards, my mother told me that my grandma had something for me, so I needed to stop over and get it. I didn't just stop over.  I sat and talked to my grandparents for two almost three hours. It was wonderful. I'll give you the play by play. I arrive. Me: "Grandma? Where are you?" Grandma: "Down here!" (she appears from downstairs) Hi Elisabeth!" Me: "Hi Grandma! How are you?" Grandma: "Good. How are you?" Me: "Good! I thought I'd just stop over and visit." (okay. kind of a lie...) Grandma: "Oh, I'm so glad! I love when you come visit."  I then helped my grandpa shovel the driveway and then we sat down for hot cocoa. Grandma: "My favorite part of winter is hot chocolate and toast!" Me: "Me too!!" (Sidenote: my grandpa has early onsets of dementia, so his social graces are less than graceful) Grandpa: "So, have you found any handsome young men yet?" (this is totally out of character for my grandpa to ask me this...) Me: "Oh there are plenty of handsome young men, they just don't ask me out." Grandpa: "When I was datin', you just go up and ask a girl out. It didn't take anything. You just did it." Me: "Oh yeah?" In my mind: You tell those young men! Grandma: "I just don't understand why boys won't ask cute girls out." Me: "Me either!" Grandpa: "Now, when a boy gets...I don't know how to say it, but...overbearing. You just tell him to lay off and go find some other girl. You don't be with a boy like that." Me: "Don't worry, Grandpa, I won't." And that ladies & gentleman is why I stayed for almost three hours. Dating advice from my grandma & grandpa is priceless!

My Challenges

I have never had cancer. I have never been in a car accident or experienced the horror of a hurricane. I have never dealt with death and I have never dealt with fatal illness. I have never felt the tragedy of a lost love. I have never had depression. I have never felt the sting of divorce experienced by my peers. I have never been bullied or ridiculed. I have never had major surgery and I have never gone through a messy break-up. BUT I have felt embarrassment. I have felt loneliness and despair. I have had hatred towards how tall I am. I have had major self-esteem issues. I have felt like I wasn't good enough for anyone. I have been stretched thin and stressed out. I have cried over boys who didn't deserve my tears. I have changed who I was so people would like me. I have felt inadequate. I have felt unfairness. I have picked at my weaknesses like open wounds and I have felt pain.

My challenges aren't visible to those around me, but I still have them. And ya know what?  That's okay.

Human Beings

Along with the millions of other people in the world, I am a human being. I make mistakes and I am terribly insecure. I'm prideful, arrogant, rude, and obnoxious. I was sitting in church today and I wasn't feeling particularly happy, I was letting my natural man get the better of me. I looked over to my right and there was a boy sitting on a pew all by himself. I had a prompting to go over and tell him that he should come and sit by me, but I didn't follow through. Half-way through the meeting, a different boy goes over and sits by this boy that I should have sat by. I was furious. I was annoyed that this kid had done what Heavenly Father clearly wanted me to do. I was annoyed because this particular boy was kind of a jerk to me, but then he turns around and does such a Christ like action. As I started to get more furious, I had a thought.. He's a Child of God. Just like you. My pride and arrogance trickled away. I realized that I was being a human being and I needed to be a spiritual being. My epiphany continued as I began to realize that even though this kid was kind of a jerk, he's a human being too.  He makes mistakes and I shouldn't think that he's a jerk because Heavenly Father doesn't think so. He's a Child of God. Just like me. And Heavenly Father loves me, even on the days when I'm being a jerk.  Even on the days when I don't say hi to that kid that passes me every day. Even on the days when I think mean thoughts about my roommates. Even on the days when I pull away from Him because I don't think I need His help in my life. He loves me, no matter what and having that knowledge makes all the difference in my life.

I'm SOO Funny

Don't let the title deceive you: I'm not funny. I'm not witty or charismatic or clever. I try to be, but more often than not, being funny just leads to embarrassment. Ya know. That awkward moment when someone tries to be funny. You still think they're cool, but they're just not funny. People tell me I'm funny, because when I'm not thinking about saying some witty remark, I actually say something quite hilarious. Why does that happen? When you're NOT thinking about being something or doing something, it actually happens. As much as I wish I was funny, I also wish I was one of those people that other people notice. I know that's super selfish and conceited, but I notice people.  And when I notice people, I wonder if they notice me. I'm sure I stand out. I mean, I'm a girl who's the average height of a man. But do people notice me? Do they notice that I try my hardest to be kind? Do people notice that I try to with all my heart to conform to their opinions because I just want them to like me? Do people notice that I get really uncomfortable in certain situations? Or that I blossom in others? I guess the point of this post is maybe I just need to not worry about it and more often than not, people will notice me. Even if I'm not that funny.

Old Men & How They Taught Me About Modesty

I must have some kind of aura around me that says: "Please! Every weird person in the world, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE come talk to me!" Because ya know what? I talk to odd people on a daily basis.

It's taught me a lot about my social skills, let me tell ya. I bring this up because of an experience I had today. I work at an art museum and it usually closes at 5:00 p.m. But today was an exception. There was a special presentation and I had to work later.  After we closed at 5:00, I went home to eat food then I had to be back up on campus at 7:00 to re-open the museum. My manager told me to meet her at a specific building for the presentation and then we would walk back to the museum together. Well, sometimes people make mistakes and my manager told me the wrong building, so I was walking all over campus trying to figure out where this presentation was being held. As I walking, these two random old, balding men stopped me and asked if I knew where this presentation was being held. I told them that I was looking for it myself. We conversed a little more and then began the trek to the science building where we collaborated that, that would be the most sensible building to house this presentation. As we began walking towards the science building, one of the old men said "Back in the 60's, I hated chemistry." He then points to the other old guy and says "Bob here is a chemistry whiz! I took the class with him so I would pass. Did you know that Bob is from Boston?" Me: "Oh really? That's way cool! One of my friends is going to M.I.T." Bob: "Wow. That's impressive." Me: "Yeah, he's a very intelligent young man." As this conversation took place a herd of girls in matching t-shirts and short shorts walked across the sidewalk and onto some grass. The other guy (not Bob) then exclaimed with ferocity: "Gee! With the style now a days, I have to look up at the sky!" Bob started laughing hysterically. And so did I. Because really, he's SOO right! All these girls were basically wearing their underwear. Long story short, I did find the building where the presentation was held, however, I was very impressed by these old men. They had character and integrity. I'm sure they weren't Mormon and they were---what seemed like--a hundred years older than me, but they taught me a powerful lesson. Modesty really does make a difference. People notice how you carry yourself and what kinds of messages you are sending by how you're dressed. These guys might have been old and odd, but they taught me something. And that's all that matters. Right?

I'm Expecting A Letter

Never before in my life have I actually been excited when I check the mail.Every time I drive by my mail box, I think...maybe I got a letter today?I never expected that I would WANT to check the mail every day.It's kind of a new & surreal feeling.Maybe that's what my mom was talking about.When I asked my mom whether I should write a missionary, she said, "Write all those boys you went to school with" She said the names of a couple of boys I knew and I immediately dismissed them. Why would I write them? They were never really friends with me. Also, mom?! What?! Why would I write THOSE boys. You're ridiculous.I think what my mom was trying to convey to me was that it's not really about the missionary you write, but about the feeling you get when you receive a letter and vis versa.I'm sure those boys that I write to get just as excited as I get when they receive a letter.Writing a missionary isn't complicated.It's all about making someone's day.And why wouldn't I want to do that?

I Like To Be A Chauffeur

I have always had a compelling desire to help others.I've never been very good at it and I've never been very good at knowing how.However, my partrichartical (sp?) blessing encourages me to and I've always had a willing heart.Lately, I've had so many opportunities to do service for others.It's nothing big.I don't cook lavish meals for starving college students or volunteer to help the leprosy colonies in India, all I do is give rides in my 2003 Mitsubishi Galant.Which is weird.A lot more college students have car problems (or don't even have a car at all) than I thought.How wonderful it is that I can help others just by giving them a simple ride?!Now, I'm not trying to boast or even self-promote myself, I just think it's interesting HOW I've been able to serve others.I've been so focused on the big stuff (leprosy colonies) that I haven't realized the service I can do right in front of me.I can pick up litter as I go running or text somebody to tell them how awesome they are.Besides, I like being a chauffeur.

Writing Missionaries

As an average 19-year old girl, I am at the age where writing missionaries is kind of a big deal.I know there are some missionaries I should write to.However, I don't really want to.Ehhh..I don't want to because I don't want to get caught up in the hype of writing a missionary.Explanation: I don't want to write a missionary to expect something to happen when he gets home. Ya know what I mean?People always tell me that missionaries LOVE letters.But I'm not so sure.If they love letters then why don't they write back?Or better yet, why do we put missionaries all in the same category?What if some missionaries are so popular that they are constantly getting letters from girls and they hate it?I don't want to get put in that "every girl writes to me" category.What are your opinions?Yay or nay to writing missionaries?I'm very stumped on this subject.