Raised by a Rat

So once upon a time, there was a mommy rat and a daddy rat. These two rats never had much when they were baby rats, so they held on to anything and everything, piling it up where ever they found room. They kept things they found. They kept things they were given. They kept things they purchased from the local rat market. Basically, anything that found it's way into their little rat hands, they found a spot to put it and kept it.

Eventually, these two rats had three baby rats. The three baby rats never had much, but they always had enough. However, they were raised by rats who kept everything and so these three baby rats too kept everything they possessed. The few times the baby rats decided to go through their things and get rid of it, the momma rat would come in, and go through everything the baby rats had put in a pile to get rid of. The momma rat would hold everything up, and say "are you sure you're never going to use this again? because you won't be able to get a new one." The momma rat would look through everything the baby rats tried to get rid of, and put the majority of it back into the baby rats' habitat.

These three baby rats all grew up. But in growing up, they learned to hang on to everything. In fact, the youngest rat, the girl rat has all of her toys from when she was a baby rat. She goes through her closet thinking she's going to get rid of clothes, only to put all of them back into her closet, because she never knows when she's going to use them again. She keeps things she hasn't used in years, but has lugged back and forth between her two homes for five years now, thinking, "what if I need it?" when she hasn't needed it at all.

This baby rat, that's all grown up, thinks about when she's out on her own without her momma rat. She thinks about where she'll be living and what she'll actually need to hang onto. She even thinks that maybe, just maybe, she'll be able to get rid of some of the things she has packed away for a rainy day.

My Painter

I was listening to the radio yesterday, and there was a song, about how a portrait becomes perfect if the painter is near.... or something along those lines.

It got me thinking about having our Savior nearby us at all times. I've noticed the closer I feel to my Savior, the more perfection I feel. I know I am not perfect. In fact I kinda hate the word, and any words in association with that word. However, I do feel that when I am closer to my Savior, I feel more like my Savior.

When I am doing what I am supposed to be doing, I feel as if my portrait is beautiful to more than just me or those who know me. My portrait is beautiful or "near perfect" to those who don't know me.

I don't know if this makes sense, but it really struck me that I need to strive to do better to keep my Savior close by me at all times.

A Dollar A Day

So I was reading a blog a while back. A friend of an acquaintance if you will.

Anyway, she talked about how she only spends a dollar for every day/use of an item.

I really like this. It helps me put into perspective how much I'm paying for something. Not that I've ever had a hard time, because I don't stop in a store until I hit the clearance rack anyway, but I really like this idea.

I think sometimes I overspend. Whatever the case may be. Probably mostly clothes and shoes (although lately, I feel that I'm paying a good deal of $$$$$$$ on food, which is kind of depressing to think about.) So when I read her reasoning, I kind of agreed.

So I have a new philosophy of spending. I have to look at the cost, and then decide if I will use that item as much as I'm spending.

I think, sadly, this will be easy for me for clothing. I spend $20 I wear it 20 times, I think I can do that. But it'll be the bigger ticket items to come up in my life fairly soon (furniture and electronics and whatever else comes with moving into an apartment and living on your own.) I'm going to have to start reasoning out couches and tvs and tables to see if they're really worth my hard earned teacher's salary to pay for.

It has already put my thinking into perspective.

Story. I was looking at movies with my roommate (not for me, but she wanted to look at them, because anyone who knows me KNOWS I only buy movies the day after Thanksgiving. Bargain.) Anyway, I was looking at these movies that are 15-30 dollars, and thinking there's no way people ACTUALLY watch those movies 15+ times. I thought about my own movie collection and wondered about how many times I watch my movies. Of course, for my brother he gets more than his money's worth on a few movies, such as Bolt and Monsters, INC. because my niece and nephew LOVE those 2 movies and will sit and watch them as long as they're playing.

I just did a visual count of the movies I have here with me at college and it's somewhere around 80 movies, unless I counted wrong. That's crazy! Good thing I only spend $2 on most of them huh? (minus a few of them that were gifts such as my Harry Potter collection and Disney movies) But even still, if all of those movies were only $2 (they're not, some were much more than that) that's still $160. That's a lot of money on something you can't do a lot with, really. It's entertainment, sure. But you can't really do anything productive with them.

Just some (expensive) food for thought.

A lot of Nothing

I feel like I have so much to say, so much is floating around in my head, but I'm having trouble formulating it and actually figuring out a way to include my thoughts here.

I stink lately at this whole blog thing. I stink lately at a lot of things. I stink at trying to figure stuff out.

I'm going to make an effort to be better. To be better about blogging with more style and finesse, and pizazz. To be better about really relating my true interworkings and musings.

I feel like even if you don't care about what I'm saying, I do. I have to keep telling myself this. I care about my thoughts, and I need to get them down.

Hopefully my blogging will come alive this 2011.

New Zealand

I think I've mentioned it quite a bit on here now, but I am going to New Zealand to student teach.

10 weeks from today actually, I will be boarding a plane to head to a land close to down under. (I would say down under, but calling a Kiwi [new zealander] an Australian is the biggest insult EVER).

I'm really excited, and I'm really happy I went ahead and went through with my decision to go down there. It's completely out of my comfort zone and something completely unexpected for me to do.

I had decided not to go. For about a week or so in September. I just decided I couldn't afford it, and that it really was a long time in another country, etc.

But when I was talking to my good friend Ryan on a date we embarked upon to get yummy Aggie Ice Cream, I realized I needed to go.

I realized I would regret not going for the rest of my life. My mom always talks about all the things she regrets. I hardly ever hear her talk about the things she's proud of, and happy she did do. Which made me realized that in 1o or 20 or even 2 years, I didn't want to be my mom, talking about all the things I could have done, and how I could have gone to New Zealand and I could have done this or that, but didn't.

So I took a proactive approach to the situation. I decided I was going to go. I filled out the study abroad application, paid the $100 bucks (for the application) and applied for my passport, all within 24 hours.

The trip is about $5000, and I didn't work as much this summer, so again I decided it was worth it to go into educational debt to go to New Zealand. I had zero debt at the beggining of the school year, and decided it wasn't horrible to go into debt for NZ. So I applied for student loans.

Now I'm going. I keep having emotional roller coasters regarding this decision and the advice I keep getting about luggage and money and whatever else. But I'm glad I'm going. I'm glad I don't regret applying, and I know I won't regret going, (once I get there).


PS- If any of you have any advice as far as money and luggage and etc. let me know! I'm going to be there for about 9 weeks, so that's something to take into consideration.

Western Cheeseburger

Today after I went to Skyview for observations, I decided to go to good ol' Carl's Jr. because we don't have one anywhere near home, and I'm going home tomorrow.

As I was sitting there, eating my western cheeseburger, I started to get a little sad. I was thinking, which as we know is never a good thing, and my train of thought just never stopped. Let me guide you through my stream of consciousness:
...
I started off by thinking about how I haven't cried at all this semester, not really. I have gotten a little upset, and maybe teared up for a minute or two, but I haven't full blown cried since January or February.
...
Then I started looking at Carl's menu. They offer all sorts of goodies. Then my eyes stumbled upon a chicken sandwhich, a santa fe one I think.
...
This chicken sandwhich made me think of Brent and how he would probably like this sandwhich, which made me think about the one time he brought me food to work when I was in high school I believe ( I was at Famous Footwear, so that narrows the timeline down.) He got a grilled chicken sandwhich from Wendy's and I was thankful, but upset, because it wasn't something I would eat, but something he would eat.
...
So while I was looking at this grilled santa fe chicken sandwhich up on the menu, I started to cry while I was eating my amazing Western Cheeseburger. Not a sob or a wail cry, but tears welled in my eyes and before I knew it they were trickling out.
...
I realized just how much I miss my brother. How much I missed OUT on with my brother. Our childhood wasn't a happy one, quite difficult actually. I sat and wanted to have Brent close to me, to develop our relationship with one another and to continue to bond. But I can't have that.
...
Which made me think of how much simpler life was. Life was a lot easier, (even though it sucked, if that makes sense), and we missed out on so much. I don't have a bond with my brother's the way my roommates do with their siblings, and I don't have a close connection with my family/extended family either. I think about how much I don't have, and it makes my heart hurt. Not in the sense that I'm ungrateful etc., but so often I think about how nice it would have been to have this great support system beneath me, supporting me and lifting me up instead of constantly tearing me down.
...
Everyone always tells me it's okay, because I can get that when I get married. But there's no guarantee. There is no guarantee that I will get married, nor if I get married that he comes from a good wonderful family. There's no way for us to know.
...
Which this past thought makes me more upset, because five years ago, if I told you what I would be doing would have been: Well, I'll be married, and finishing up school. Then depending on where he is in school, find a job and help him finish school. Then when we're both done with school I'll start having children.... etc.
...
Now five years later, I'm not married, and in Utah, at my age, being unmarried is not acceptable. In fact, it's frowned upon. I hear it all the time in my institute classes, and in sunday school, etc. It's not entirely my fault I'm not married.
...
Sitting in Carl's Jr. alone, eating a Western Cheeseburger. Only someone like me would be okay with something like that.

Last Day

Yesterday was my last day attending this lovely university as a student.

(Technically, next semester I am still enrolled as a student, but I will be student teaching so I won't be attending any classes. Which by the way, a $300 fee to do someone else's job??? Really? You're making me PAY that to do someone's job???)

It's kind of a strange feeling. I have been here over the last 4 1/2 years of my life, and so much has changed. I've changed. I definately am ready to be done with classes for a while (until I decide I want a masters.... :S), but at the same time, there are so many memories made on this campus.

Sometimes I don't feel quite ready to turn this chapter in my life, but I know once I get going, I'll be just fine.