The Color Girl: My findings

Remember my last post about the color girl? There was a girl in my class who was always color-coordinated with her clothes and accessories. It was odd to me. I never got the braves to straight up ask her why she did that, but one awkward day before class started I overheard (or rather she spoke quite loudly) with another girl about why she is like that. This is what I discovered:

She says she has OCD and has to match everything. If everything doesn't match then it really drives her crazy. She told how one day she really freaked out when she didn't have a colored eraser, because she lost it.
She also has ADHD and is all over the place. She talks a lot and is kind of crazy, but she seems nice. She doesn't like to be labeled. She was talking about that- how she is perfectly fine with who and how she is, but just hates to be labeled like "one of those kids," and that makes sense.
She also told how this all just suddenly happened. One day, she got the idea in her head that it would be nice to match everything. So, from then on that's what she did. Color matching clothes, shoes, pencils, bags, notebooks, glasses, etc.
I can remember her name. She is Chinese? I think. However, she grew up in America her whole life.
Interesting people out there you meet, there are.

A Halloween inspired poem

Sugar cures the boogers

There was a man
Who lived in a house
At the end of the hill.
One day a little boy
Was walking home from school
And darted past that house
As he always had
But now, the boy froze
When he heard a deep
Gurgling sound
Coming from that house.
All went silent and still,
So the boy shrugged
And hurried home.
The next day
As he neared that house
All was silent and still
And so very unusual.
The brave boy
Didn't hurry along,
But crept up to the porch
And peeked inside
To find the man,
Who lived inside the house
At the end of the hill,
Was dead on the ground.
The boy ran inside
And saw the mans face
Then cringed, then laughed.
The man was dead
Indeed, this is true
He didn't eat enough sugar
Because, after all,
It turns out that
He choked on a booger.

Written by myself, Heather Hastings

The Color Girl

There is a girl in one of my classes whom I've noticed from day one. The first day of class, everything was blue. The second day of class, everything was green. The third day I didn't notice and the fourth day was pink.
Then, walking around on campus on the opposite day of that class I saw her and she was all yellow. Color coordinated outfit, with a matching colored bow or hair accessory, AND her school supplies were color matching. Blue pencil, folder, eraser, etc. Same with green. And pink. And so on. She even had a bag or purse to match the color(s).
So she has a color-of-the-day. I guess that's cool. My question is: why? What is it that inspires her to do this? Is that her sense of style? Is there something that influenced it? Is it because of her ethnicity and background? Some people usually color match somewhat... But I just haven't seen a wardrobe put together with this extent.
It's a curious thing to me, and I'm very curious to find out about it. If I get the guts to ask this girl about it, I shall post my findings.

Britain Bound

Over the past couple of months I have been preparing for my study abroad trip in a lot of different ways. To start with I want to thank everyone who helped me get here: parents, siblings, my boy, and many friends who have traveled themselves. With monetary means, physical prep and mental sanity, I made it. It has finally come!
Leaving behind the people that I love as I walked through security was sad for me, because I wished that they could come with me. At that moment it was a very scary thought in my mind that I would be traveling to a foreign country with unfamiliar people. I'd like to think that was a moment where I faced a fear of mine and I think that this whole trip (the day spent getting from Phoenix to London) has conquered that fear. 
Side note, Aerosmith has been my band of the past month. I'll explain this later.
While sitting on the long plane ride, some thoughts came to mind. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a small girl with an enormous heart. Sometimes I think that because I'm short and small with a quiet voice that people won't care about me or don't  recognize me for certain things. But as is now obvious, little people can do such great things. (So maybe I'm bragging about me, but let it be). I'm halfway across the world! See?!

 And I'm doing it on my own. Sure, people got me here. I've got a group I'm traveling with. But ultimately I had a dream for this experience to come one day and I kept dreaming until this dream came true. And it did! 
I have mixed feelings about how to describe myself. I love being with people and I get attached pretty easily, but I love to do things on my own. I love to make things happen and be the one to instigate it. I love being free and independent to just let my mind take off without others blocking it. Yet, within that independence, I still really enjoy the company of another person. So I'm trying to get at that all this time I've thought I'm small and childish and this trip is just something I'm doing. But as I sat on the plane thinking about what's ahead of me, well I guess I am more of an adult than I think. Perhaps I'm more mature than I let myself believe. God is the one who's gotten me here, no doubt. And maybe, just maybe, when I come home I'll see myself a big person and what others think will not matter so much. Just maybe.

Stay tuned, the juicy details after touchdown come next.

SSS grateful: Dads.

It's gonna be Short.

Hopefully I can make it Sweet.

And above all, know that I am Simply grateful for my dad.

Dad

For 18 years, I have been a part of his life.

From him giving me wheel barrow rides in the front yard to me driving him around for errands, I think I am shaped quite a bit after his ways. Thoughtful minds, an interest in how things work (math and science, sort of), literature, small hands, a terrible fear of heights, a fear of getting hurt (we're both kind of babies when it comes to pain) are a few little things we have in common. 
He's spiritual, so very incredibly smart, has a story for everything, is one of the most sensitive guys I know and 

He's my dad, and he's a keeper. 
Thanks for being there for pretty much everything. Thanks for your example and for guiding me through life. Thanks for supporting the family and staying strong even when all else was weak. These words may be short fed, but I love my dad very much.

Justin Brother-in-law
He's like my second dad, a brother and a go-to guy. For many things in my life I secretly look towards him and wonder what he would have to say about it. With three kids of his own, his goofiness and all, he's on my list of fatherly love.

Matt Brother-in-law
This guy is a smarty. If you ever need something to think about, go spend some time with him and your perspective might change a bit. I know it has with me, making me a better person and looking at certain things with a different eye. Completely worthy of being a father, he's got the love as well.

Matt Brother
What can I say? My brother Matt is the punk I used to beat up all the time when we were little kids, and I never saw that one day he would have a beautiful daughter of his own. He is the hardest worker I know and he will get anything done that he sets his mind to. He is caring, compassionate kind of funny and sometimes weird... but hey, I love him for it. As a brother, he's done well. As a father, he's done even better.

As a girl who is completely boy-crazy, I think I'm partial to my dads. Thanks to every dad out there who has touched my life. If I know you, you probably have. Keep up the good influencing and know that you are loved.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

A Memorial for the Death of a Lifelong Friend (Not really)

Something like four and a half years ago, I found myself a device (inherited from my brother) that became a great friend. It is known as a BlackBerry Pearl, aka my phone.

About a month ago, I played a little too hard one night and didn't bother to take care of it, which resulted in it dying even more than it already was. The whole middle row of keys stopped working and for the past month I haven't been able to use the following characters: T, Y, G, H, B, N, 2, 5, 8, 0 and the space bar. Imagine how much I haven't been able to do with my phone!!!! Ah!

But alas, I cracked. I finally gave in and decided I was well overdue for a new phone. A touchscreen smartphone, for that matter. 

It happened last night.

I went from this...  To this...

I'll have you know that I loved that BlackBerry. It served me so well for everything I could ever NEED in a phone. I'm sure I dropped that thing over 5000 times and still it stayed with me. He was a fighter. He was slow. But he always got me through.

Even though I may have shed a tear as I switched phones last night, I am very excited to have a phone that can now do anything I would WANT it to, and do it coherently with the entire alphabet, plus some. We'll see just how long it takes me to drop it (knock on wood)...

The difference may take a bit to get used to, but I am in love with it already. 

Don't call me preachy, just take a look inside.

There is no human I know that is perfect. I, for one, am far from it.

But isn't one of our major goals in life to try to become the best that we can be?

Shouldn't we always be constantly striving towards that direction?

If so, then when is it OK for us to slip up a bit? Is that even acceptable? 

Aren't there times in life when we just really desire in our hearts to be a good person, but the things that we do alone in our life don't necessarily reflect that?

These questions, among many similar others, have been on my mind profusely over the past five weeks or so. 

I have been mentally, spiritually and emotionally battling with myself over what it is in my life that I'm doing right/wrong and what I need to do/not do. For a couple of months I just couldn't ignore the feeling inside of me that I'm not where I need to be; not physically speaking, but in every other aspect. Part of me thought, "Stupid Satan, get out of my head! I'm perfectly fine with who I am." But still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'm not up to par with where God needs me to be. I feel like we just weren't on the same ladder for a while, and somehow I needed to climb back on board with Him.

We are told and given all the resources that we need to succeed in life. So why is it that sometimes we don't use them? Why is it so hard to begin the simplest of tasks? WHY oh WHY do we let ourselves fall so far away from the top when the rope to climb back up has been dangling beside us the whole time?
I'm not saying these are my problems, but I just wonder the answers because at some point in our lives we're all there...

So, about me. Maybe I haven't been using all of the resources I've been given. Maybe for a while I was living on hope more than I was on faith. I slipped, and maybe, just maybe, I got stuck and even though no one around me could see it, there was a big black hole growing around me. And in order for me get back up to par, to feel like I was aiming towards being the best person I can be, I had to make a change. 
So this is what I did.

Prior to last week I had been pondering, praying, etc. about my life and where I need to be going. Again, my heart was telling me three things while my mind was telling me three different things. For a stubborn and indecisive girl, this sure makes it tough to decipher what is really the best.

Anywho, at the end of the week I had had enough. If the change I made wasn't changing how I felt, then I needed to find a change to make me. And really, that is perfectly what happened.

My Plan of Awesomeness

On Sunday May 25th I decided that every day for the next week I would go to the LDS Mesa Temple and serve by being baptized for those who have passed away (yes, I'm a Mormon if ya didn't know). Then I would workout every day as well because physically being active makes a huge impact on my clarity.

Day one: I went on a hike at sunset with fabulous friends. 

Day two: I woke up (an hour late) and did baptisms.

Day three: I woke up to do baptisms at eight o'clock and then went for a scorching run afterwards. This is also the day I hit a road block.

Day four: I woke up and went to do baptisms at eight o'clock, however when I got to the Temple I didn't go inside. I was pretty discouraged from my new road block and what I truly needed more than anything was to have a heart-to-heart with God. So I sat on the grass under a tree, pulled out my notebook and tackled my thoughts. That was a really good plan, indeed. Then I walked around the Temple with my pal and we went swimming afterwards.

Day five: I woke up and did baptisms again at eight o'clock.

Day six: I woke up and went to do more baptisms at 7:30am. I later went back to the visitors center at the Temple with my dad and we watched a video together.

Day seven: My church had stake conference, a large church meeting with members from multiple buildings, and I was blessed to take a sweet new investigator friend and listen to exactly what I needed to hear.

The very next day, Monday June 3rd, I started a challenge I was issued to read The Book of Mormon from cover to cover in sixty days.

One of my favorite parts about all of this is that my amazing best friend came with me for all of it that he could, and he did so very willingly. I'll let it be known that he is part of what pushed me to change and I am very blessed to have a friend like him.

My plan to be in the House of the Lord every day of the week actually turned out a lot better than I thought it would. I went in search of answers, in search of peace and a better me. I'm pretty positive I recovered all three.

I don't intend for this to be braggy, so I apologize if it sounds that way. My point is that our actions make all the difference when we're looking for a difference, sometimes it just takes a while to get there. I just wanted to share some thoughts that have been a part of me lately. I want everyone out there to know that life is wonderful. It is incredible, intriguing, amazing and so very wonderful. If you don't believe that then I highly suggest that you go find out that it is. I don't want you to miss out on anything. 

One last thing... you as a reader have some homework. Go read Alma Chapter 7 in the Book of Mormon. This is a section of scripture that I've read, re-read and read again along my journey, and I do believe it has made a big impact on me. I started with verses 9-13, and then I read verses 18-21, then verses 9-17 and finish through 18-27 (that's just me, read however you'd like. But I'll tell you, it is awesome).

Read all about it! Moms of many and few

My mom... is the very woman who held me in her arms after nine months of being in her belly and after 12 long hours of labor (it may have been 10 or 14, I'm not sure). Uncontrollably and undeniable, that is the moment when any mother falls in love with her tiny baby and it's stuck upon the two of you forever and ever. Even though the words might not have been said so often over my life of eighteen years, I do Love my mom, and I know that she Loves me, too. Sometimes actions aren't as easy to recognize at the time, but looking back and looking forward I see that actions can speak louder than words, and they do. 
My mom has gotten me through this life. There are so many times where I thought my independent little self could do something on my own, and usually I did. But had I not had her example in the back of my mind I wouldn't have been able to do whatever it was I was trying. My mother is a blessing in so many ways, and I will always be forever grateful for her in my life. 

For who she is.
For who she isn't.
For all she has and hasn't done.
For all the love and strength given to me.
For walking me through life.
For being my mom. 

My sister Rebecca... is the logic in the family. Anything you ever need to know, she can tell you. Even in the silliest form of an answer, she has it. She knows how to Love unconditionally and beat any trial that gets thrown at her. She carries strength and gives out Love with honestly like it were flowers. She never ceases to amaze me. Following close behind our mother, with three children herself, her love is worth the world. And as I've found out, we don't see each other nearly enough, but I still love her all the same.

My sister Elizabeth... is someone I've gotten to know better in the past two years. She is a strong woman, probably more so than any of us in the family. I admire that. She never gives up. She has been through a lot and is wiser from all of it. She is a woman I can always find something in her that I need to learn. She knows how to Love with her whole heart, and her kindness can't deny that.



My sister Lisa... is absolutely positively my bestest friend. We are as close to twins as two people who aren't can get. She gets life. She sees people through the eyes of God and is always taking care of others. She was there to back up my mom when three little boys were weighing her down and now she has three children of her own who she renders to each day. She is grounded with zeal and has all the affection that any person could need. 

These women are my hero's.

 I don't know what I would do without any of them. I can go to all of them for everything or each of them for something, and they always give me what I need to learn and grow. It's kind of like they have been my watering can all of these years. I love them all so dearly and am incredibly blessed, so so blessed that I can be a part of their life- all thanks to my mom.
To all of the other women in my life, thank you for your example. I wish I could name you all, because you rock.

My Dilemma.

I want someone to talk to. So here I vent my recent feelings to you, my dear reader:

I am a writer (the kind that breaks all the rules). I am going to college to major in education and become an elementary teacher. At the core of my heart I just want to take science, history, psychology and such writing classes to expand my knowledge so that I can be the writer I need myself to be. If I could study and practice writing, I would write more often. 
I undoubtedly want to be a wife and a mother, with a husband I can love endearingly with precious children whom we can love and teach forever.
Above all, I want to serve my Heavenly Father and do in my life those things that would make him smile.
I don't know what the next chapter of my life is going to be, but He does. And I trust that.
Now and again I think to myself how great it would be to get married, not physically go to work, take the classes I want to take and just be a better writer! Maybe even get published, too.
However, that is not reality. 
Reality is that I should be prepared to support my husband with a job if anything ever comes up in the future. I have goals to fulfill, and as a prerequisite I've got to be a teacher. I'm young, and so I can't get married just yet (I think. A boyfriend first would be good). A mission? I haven't reached that chapter yet. I feel that I am right where Heavenly Father wants me to be, for now.
Sometimes it is fun to dream though...

Lately

I am surrounded and blessed with incredible friends. Just on my list, I have 32 friends who either have their mission call or have already left for a mission. I could probably get that number up to 50, and like one third of those friends are girls! The ones who already have their call are pretty much gone. It seems like once they know where they're going, they enter a whole new world "missionary mode" and that becomes their new life. I feel very left out of this loop, especially with my birthday being in October. That means after study abroad in the summer I start my papers and head out myself, or continue going to school and hunting attractive guys. In any case, my friends are dying out for a better cause quickly...

Tonight I wasn't in a hurry to get to bed, so I had some unusual me time. 
When I was a tiny little midget, my dad would wrap me up in towel after bath time, sit me up on the counter and tell me to smile as I looked at my foggy reflection glowing in the mirror. Then I would open the medicine cabinet mirror and stick my head in-between the two mirrors to see how far I could see a reflection.
I did both of these tonight and I really gave my eyes a stare down (this isn't weird, I promise). I discovered something amazing I haven't seen for a while. My eyes are lined with grey, then blue, then green, then yellow, then brown, all seeping out of a very black pupil. As I moved closer or farther away from the mirror my pupils would fluctuate and adjust to the difference. My eyes are very much mine and I see so much of my personality in them.
Your eyes are alive, children. I find it so intriguing! The Eye. I am incredibly thankful for my eyes that I have been blessed with. I love them.
Now go try it out for yourself. It makes you happy =]
On somewhat of the same note, I was thinking about the opportunity I will have one day after this life to become a Goddess and possibly build my own world. (Yes, I truly believe this. The scriptures say so.) Well, I thought about God and all that he can see right now. Everything. He knows everything, he sees everything, and he feels everything that happens to us. Holy smokes, it makes me so happy. In Alma chapter 5 in the Book of Mormon there is a scripture that I love. "Can you imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day: Come unto me ye blessed, for behold, your works have been the works of righteousness upon the face of the earth."
I'm not sure how that connects to my eyes, but those words have been flying through my head. 
The world is wonderful. Life is incredible, every single aspect of it. 
It's good stuff.

Today is A Soft Day

I woke up this Sunday morning expecting the sun to be shining and to feel warmth in the air. That was not the case. Before I opened my eyes I was snuggled up to my blanket and felt a chilly breeze sweep through my bedroom. There was no shining sun but a cloudy sky and damp ground. I find this poem is very fitting for this cold and beautiful Sunday afternoon. 

I am thankful for my body and my health as I am so blessed to have both in this world. We have so much in our life to be truly grateful for, so I ask, what do YOU thank God for today?

A Soft Day

A soft day, thank God
a wind from the south
with a honey'd mouth
a scent of drenching leaves
briar, beech and lime
white elderflower
and thyme
and the soaking grass
smells sweet
crushed by my two bare feet
while the rain drips
drips, drips from the eaves

A soft day,thank God
the hills wear a shroud
of silver cloud
the web the spider weaves
is a glittering net
the woodland path is wet
and the soaking earth
smells sweet
under my two bare feet
and the rain drips, drips,
drips,drips from the leaves. 

Winifred M. Letts

Day Three

Blue Buttons in a Bottle (For Forest)

They could go as far west or north or south as they pleased, but they could never cross the border to the east. The eastern land was strictly off limits, and Kirby would never know why. Soldiers sometimes patrolled that border to ensure that the Bears (that's what the curious upper-class citizens were called) stayed clear of it and that no body ever saw beyond. If anyone were to get close enough to see the other side, they would either die instantly from electric shock or be forced to work for the government indefinitely if caught. It was territory no Bear had dared to venture into- until late last year.

The first Blue Bear from the south to ever question if there was something on the other side of the border was Kirby Atkins, the most rich and famous man there was in the valley of L'Ours. With his corresponding guard, Forest, a Green Bear from the North, Kirby felt as if he knew all the ins and outs of the valley, except for near the east border.

Bears was a term for the upper-class with a color based on their background. Purple Bears mean royalty. Next in line after royalty are the Blue Bears, like Kirby. Blue Bears stand for knowledge and youth- the ones that people like to keep around. Purple and Blue Bears live all over, where as the other colors are classified on location. In the north live the Green and Orange Bears, to the west live the Red and Brown Bears, and the south live the Yellow and Pink Bears. White Bears are the government, if you would believe it. And lastly, Black Bears are the unspoken of. Your spine would shiver and your teeth would chatter if you were to ever encounter a Black Bear, or what some people refer to as, a Black Beast. In the entire population, only three Blacks have ever been known of to the public. They are said to have come from beyond the border, from the east.

Kirby was scheming in his mind an impossible plan when Forest interrupted him.

“Kirby, the orders are here,” Forest announced. “The trucks are switching out the equipment and then we must leave as soon as possible.”

“Is that an order or a suggestion?” Kirby asked.

“Well, based upon the lack of events lately, I would highly consider it a suggestion.”

“If the tree fits in the ground, then I guess it fits.”

“Excuse me?”

Kirby stood up from his hand carved wooden desk with a chuckle and patted Forest on the back as he turned to exit his office. “You're excused,” he added before closing the door, leaving an as-usual confused twist on Forests' face.

Part Two to be added soon...

Day Two

Even though I didn't exactly reach my original goal of writing every day in January, I can still reach my 30-days writing goal. So a week or three later, here is what I wrote from the second writing prompt.

Drip-drop, drip-drop was the sound of the quiet, innocent rain as it softly fell from the sky and drizzled down the rigid surface of the stone. She sat motionless staring towards the tombstone in front of her, eyes black and cold. No outward emotion could express the empty, broken pain she felt in her heart at that moment. A perfect existence had been sucked away from her and she now had to cope with the death of an only brother and father who were once an immediate part of her delicate life.

Pulling her away from her distant thoughts and most recent memories, she felt a hand gently clasp around hers. Turning her head and pressing her right side against his as if to push away the pain, she recognized the butterfly collection box sitting in his lap. Breaking the eerie silence inside of her, she began to hum a tune as her softened eyes scanned the sight of each butterfly he had collected throughout the years and was now giving to her.

While determining whether her face was soaked from the rain or her own tears, she noticed the spring time sun trying to creep through the canopy of trees above them with little effort as he leaned over and lightly pressed his lips against hers, as if to say You don't have to go through this alone. In the stillness of the trees around them she realized that this hollow pain could never be forgotten, but perhaps with him, in that very silent and reassuring moment, she could relinquish a part of the anger and pain that dwelt deep inside. This tombstone may have captured the only two lives so dear to her, but she wasn't about to let it capture a third.

Day One

FYI: Just so you as a reader know, doing this makes me nervous. I am hesitant to ever give someone a copy of my writings or post them somewhere because of copyright issues. My words are mine. I don't speak much, and when I do I often surprise even myself. Enjoy the simplicity of this first one. I always appreciate feedback.

It was the first night that Julie was spending in her new apartment in the suburbs of New York City. In just a couple of months she would be getting married and her fiance would be moving in with her. As she was laying in her new, clean bed in what seemed like a new and fresh apartment, something suddenly was not right. Her body began to tingle all over, then it started to burn and an itching sensation crept over her skin.

What is happening to me? Julie thought.

Without further hesitation she tossed off her covers, flew out of bed and slammed on the light switch as she was about to jump in a cold shower, when suddenly she stopped in mid motion. She held out her arms looking at them with caution, paused, and after a moment of realization she screamed in horror. There were tiny, slimy bugs crawling across her skin.

Maggots.

“Why would there be maggots?” She asked herself with a gasp.

Julie was going to school to become a nurse and already had a minor in anthropology. The bugs immediately registered one of two possible situations in her head. Maggots meant flesh; quite possibly the flesh of a human.

Even though it was almost two o'clock in the morning, Julie immediately called her fiance Scott, who was a firefighter.

“Hello?” Scott answered in a groggy voice.

There was silence.

“Julie? Are you OK?” Scott asked, more alert.

After a short pause Julie said with a staggered voice, “Someone died in this apartment.”

Before Scott could respond, his phone went dead. Julie was left standing alone outside her bathroom door with maggots trying to eat her alive and a dead body somewhere in her new apartment.