The Girl Who Grinned at the Sky

I'd just finished a particularly frustrating session of one class, and was trudging along to my least favorite and most dreaded class. No end was in sight, and the wind whipped cruel cold inside my “good” winter coat. The bright sun mocked overhead, shining sarcastically down. I looked up to glare it down, unappreciative of how it mocked my colder loneliness.

The sun remained.

However, my attention was caught by something else. A brilliant azure accompanied the sun, and no cloud was in sight. The pure blue stood beside the sun, silent, yet almost apologetic. It seemed to say, “something will happen soon. And it's always, always for the better.”

Its silent words tugged a half smile across one of my cheeks.

I realized I was still walking, and refocused my gaze to what was in front of me. Instead of being distracted by my looming class, I saw a girl coming toward me, noticing the same thing that I just had. Except she was different. Her lips peeled back against her broad white teeth, and she grinned. At nothing, just the sheer color above us both. She also remembered she was walking, and she looked straight ahead. Our gazes met.

Her gigantic grin only grew.

It was contagious. Now not only half my face was affected. I no longer noticed the wind's chill. She introduced herself and asked if she'd met me before. I assumed it was because we were instantly joined by the bond of sky smiling, and told her no.

She had met me before, I find later. She wanted to date my next-door neighbor. I can't understand why he wasn't interested. Later she and I flew a kite in a park. I haven't seen her since.

Life is Good

I've had a lot of time to think about what I'm going to be doing until school resumes in January. My first thoughts were to convenience - stay in Logan, work with people with disabilities, don't move, save money, keep friends and make new ones, quit Michaels ASAP. That didn't work.

My next thought was National Park work... somewhere that pays room and board. Work until late October, go home, play with new RM (my sister, she's been out a year now!), and resume the Logan apartment and job hunt.

I was sitting in Institute one morning, zoning out of announcements when one caught my attention. "Want to work in Yellowstone?..." I wrote down the hours of the institute's employment office I didn't know existed and resolved to go that week. Miracle #1. I was hoping that the institute may know of more jobs better suited for my standards - no Sunday work, close to church, friends to go with...

Anyway, a few days later found me flipping through a bunch of brochures in the employment office, picking out the occasional national park job, summer camp, internship for a foundation that works with people with disabilities... Wait.

I went home, hopped online, and looked up the foundation. I found that they ran a summer camp and they did things year round too. They were currently accepting applications. I fiddled around with the application, filled it out , and got stuck on references, as usual. I'd gotten the BYU Psychology Professor from the homeward, the mother of an autistic girl that loves me, and ... the third? I wanted to use my special needs institute teacher, but, she's one of those people that has to run and do everything all at once. For a week I kept going to class early trying to catch her (i couldn't after class - i had a class WAAAAaaaaaayyyyyyy across campus.) Finally, i was determined to get it over with and be late if i had to.

I showed up ever earlier than usual, but she was running late. She scurries in frantically setting up her lesson. I conceded to being late after all. She looked at me, said Hello, and moved on. Suddenly, she said, "Amy, i have something for you! did you know that you can graduate from Institute this semester?" "uh, no" "come over to my office, I have a paper for you." Okay. Miracle #2.

No, I wasn't eligible for graduation after all, but that paper came at the exact right moment. Sister Parker was not only willing to be a reference, but she was also familiar with the camp and foundation :)

Anyway, I filled in the blank spots and sent it in. Just as I was walking away from the post office, I realized I hadn't even enclosed a resume :(

The next week was spring break. I was driving about with a friend when I got a phone call. IT WAS THEM!!! we scheduled an interview for later that week. Miracle #3. Had they called the next week, I'd have to borrow a car (Ehh... nerve wracking) or bum a ride (yeah right, during the day during the week, who's going to be going to SLC then?) But since the interview was DURING spring break, ...day trip with mom. Oooohhhh yeeeeaaaahhhh.

Wednesday they called back wanting to postpone the appointment. I consented to later that day instead of the next week. That morning rolled around and I was getting ready to go. A bunch of silly things kept going wrong. Like no eyeliner because I thought i hadn't packed it (i had, i found when I went home and unpacked) Or my new shirt suddenly being a constricting one size too small. or nearly spilling lunch we'd just picked up all over my resume I actually remembered to bring. Stress.

They showed me around the camp while they were waiting for the interviewer to show up, we interviewed, and the waiting game was on. 1.5 - 2 weeks.

During the waiting game the ward mission leader came over to teach a lesson in my ethiopian nonmember roommate's general vicinity (she excused herself halfway through) and we talked about miracles. He challenged us to pray for a miracle daily.
The 2 weeks came and went without a peep.

Finally, I decided to ask for a miracle. Just a phone call either way, whether or not I actually got the job.
That night ~ 5 pm I got one. (Miracle #4)
Unfortunately I was working so i didn't answer it. I called back as requested the next morning and received the news. I HAD gotten the job!

I'll be in Salt Lake, not too far from home OR Logan, i work Sunday night to Friday afternoon, the job provides room and board (which really means that my entire paycheck goes straight into my pocket), I won't be living at home, and BEST of all, I'll be working with people with disabilities of all ages and with disabilities of all types. Helllloooo career exploration.

Only downsides:
A: not terribly awesome pay. but that doesn't matter, because room and board is included.
B: I have to work over memorial day weekend. My extended family always gets together and has a huge remembrance day : we decorate graves of family members in five different cemeteries in the high Uintah mountains. We get about 8 generations back, to the first generation pioneers. My grandmother and her sister come out and join their siblings in the festivities, and we exchange old stories about the ancestors. And then there's a huge potluck at one of the uncle's houses. It is awesome. And I'll have to miss it. But, Carolyn (my missionary sister) will too, and maybe i'll get to see grandma and her spitfire sister the day before or something.
C: There is another huge family reunion in New York this summer. I will most likely miss this. Maybe Carolyn and I will have to take a nationwide jaunt to visit family we both haven't seen for two years. I might have enough skymiles to pull it off, after last summer's trip to Romania...
D: I have to find another job at the end of August.

conjugating

studying on the floor in front of my open door in the newfound sun.

sending a surprise package to my sister.

sunning myself on the roof of the roommates car while she borrows my shoes and library card to check out the entire movie collection.

failing at eating the heart of an artichoke because I couldn't get past the hair.

trying to fend off a cold.

succeeding.

going to three different pharmacies in search of sudafed.

failing.

running into the best friend's boyfriend buying the best friend food to make up for a fight.

running into said bf's bf while playing -arco -olo in the last store whose pharmacy was closed.

being glad the sun is finally out and the weather is finally warm.

watching it snow again.

crying because the frigid wind is so strong it blasts the moisture out of the eyes and onto the cheeks.

failing at fending off the cold after all.

kicking the trash out of the dreaded presentation.

cooking Sunday dinner for ten.

sleeping while sitting up on the couch three nights in a row because of the cold I failed at fending off.

meeting a girl who grinned at the sky.

grinning at everyone else because she was grinning at the sky.

teaching boy from upstairs to cook fried rice.

talking about dating with two olderish single men for an hour.

cooking super-hot mexi rice and stuffed peppers.

being accosted on facebook about me not being myself.

hearing that the rice was too spicy.

being accosted via text that i was upset and worrisome.

sneaking food into a movie theater with a dear friend.

feeding super-hot mexi rice to a real man.

realizing the real man knew the grinning girl.

being accosted on facebook for dating advice about a different girl i never really knew.

eating an entire bag of peanut butter m&ms between midnight snack and breakfast.

going on a date with a guy i never really knew but with whom I wouldn't mind seconds.

kicking all my roommates out of the apartment.

bumming a ride home from a girl i still don't really know.

sitting in the apartment alone.

wondering if the sister ever got her package.

being glad the sun is back just in time for spring break.

wishing something would happen around here.

retracting that wish.

wondering how the trashcan got that full in my absence from my bed.

In Retrospect

We do dances differently here. We don't go on dates until we're 16, and even then, we usually go in groups. Two or more couples. I guess it's a good way to learn how to date, it keeps kids out of trouble, and it forces them to meet new people.

My little brother went to Prom this year. He rented a tux (with a bow-tie. I love bow-ties.), bought her a corsage, matched his vest/tie to her dress, and went in a group of five total couples. I don't know where he got his information, but he did it right. I'm proud of that kid.
My boyfriend's sister went too. Scott and I were setting up the family trampoline in the backyard while she was getting ready with a family friend and cousin. We came in muddy, dusty, scratched up, and she was standing there like a princess in her black and white dress. We were scared to touch her, all we could do was watch.

A knock came at the door. Everyone was there: Grandma, Dad, Mom, Friend, Friend's 18 month old baby, Cousin, Boyfriend, Girlfriend, Princess. We crowded out of the entryway of the split level house to greet the poor boy coming to pick her up. Baby was running around behind the cameramen, throwing rocks and getting trampled. All the people, pictures, screaming baby. . . Scott and I left. Even still, I couldn't help thinking of the only time I went to a formal dance.
I was a senior, I felt obligated to go to Homecoming with an acquaintance. Turns out he had almost no friends and spent his days and weekends reading anime at home. He was a temp janitor for a local elementary school. He was huge. I hardly ever talked to him, and the date was no different.

While at this dance, I hardly danced with our group, preferring to panhandle around the high school's gym in search of my friends who were actually enjoying their dates. At one point he thought I'd ditched him. (I hadn't. . .intentionally) I wanted to throw up whenever I looked at my date, and I tried to stay away from him as much as possible, though I couldn't entirely out of politeness.

This year's Prom was Scott and my five-month mark. We've never had a fight, though we have had our problems. We've had the good fortune of being able to work through them and becoming stronger and closer because of it. I'm home for the summer. I don't have to miss Scott any more - I've seen him every single day – a far cry from our once-every-two-weeks-maybe arrangement.

Anyway, Scott's sister, I hope you had fun. You too, Brother, even with my Homecoming date in your Prom group.

The Impossible is Possible Tonight

I broke down today.

That never happens.

And of course, it's when it's snowing in April, I'm uncontactable, and I won't see my sister again for 18 months.

18 months. A year and a half. You might think it's no big deal. You're wrong. You have to realize that we've been best friends since I was born. In fact, I was her three-year-old birthday present. The longest we've EVER been apart is about seven weeks.
Seven weeks... versus 18 months? Sure, sisters fight, but we always moved past that within a day. I didn't have friends when i was little because I didn't need any, I had her.

Couldn't call my support network (beautiful boyfriend) because I'm out of minutes - i was talkin' to my sis for the last time and used them all.

lost my wallet. My entire life on paper, GONE. My identity, COMPROMISED. great.

and it's snowing again.

*sighs*

So in retaliation i've been gorging myself on leftover easter chocolate, coke (my fave anger drink) and watching mystery movies in my unlighted dorm room on my roommie's laptop.

i do now have a laptop... it's just at home. twas my sister's.

i'll miss you, carolyn.

Glassy. Just Glassy.

I went home this weekend. Therefore, I was not at my apartment for two days.

Within this time, some idiot dropped a bottle of Martinelli's Sparkling Cider directly in front of my door. It shattered, like dropped glass often does, and he just left it. (I say "he" not because of the propensity for men to be clumsy slobs, but because most of the people on my floor are guys) By the time I saw it all the liquid had evaporated, an impressive feat given that our current temp is 21 degrees. Anyway. There was just a buttload of thick, green, shattered glass sitting in front my door the entire weekend. And no one bothered to clean it up.

Until I did.

I picked up the big pieces AND recycled them, and then I went to talk to my R.A. about a dustpan and broom. He told me not to worry about it, he'd get the officials to clean it up.


Yesterday morning someone was out there sweeping... it must have been an official's job cuz there's still green glass out there, glued to the cement with sticky apple cider residue. Another official job well done. Yeesh. Disclaimer: DO NOT GO BAREFOOT IN MY BEDROOM. GLASS SHARDS IN YOUR FEET PROBABLE.

Anyway. That's not my only glass incident. Last night I was closing my window, when the adjacent window (broken, not by me) attacked me! All I did was lean up against it when its naked frame bit me! I was left with what I thought was a little gash... I watched the blood flow slowly down my wrist... the blood wasn't warm. You know how everybody talks about warm, sticky blood flowing out of their wound? I've decided that that proverbial wound must be huge to keep the blood warm enough. But I digress.

I thought it was a gash. But as I started playing with it (because I'm masochistic and macabre and morbid (and alliterative)) I realized that there was something inside it. I squeezed it (like popping a pimple) and a shard of glass half emerged from my thumb.

My poor roommate. I made her grab her tweezers and pull it out -- after which the blood really started to flow, but I couldn't tell whether or not it was warm, she'd turned on the cold water and made me wash it.

Turns out that water+blood+wrist shaking=cool designs and patterns in the sink.

My RA was studying with my other roommate the entire time and stupidly asked me while I was bleeding through my second bandaid, "Oh by the way, did they ever fix your window?"

Uh, NO. They didn't. Thanks for caring.

But now I'm worried about tetanus, because that window frame was both rusty and had flaking lead paint.

I'm so glad I pay so much to live in substandard housing.
If I get sick can I sue the school and get them to pay for housing for the next three years? Maybe I won't go get a tetanus booster, because that'd be great!

let's not assume the worst, shall we?

It's funny how not-so-interesting experiences can really make one think. It was a pretty mundane, common-place thing that happened to me the other day and I don't know why it stuck with me, but it did.

I was walking into the public library and passed a teenage couple walking out. They'd have caught anyone's eye, as they were both covered in fairly typical goth-wear. You know, the chains, the make up, the secondhand almost-stylin' fedoras, the bondage pants, whatever. He had a tattoo of a skull superimposed on angel wings, and her eyeliner was smeared down her cheek to her jaw.

Who doesn't stare when they see people dressed like this?
And who wouldn't glare back at them as if the starers had intruded?
I can't blame them. I've been guilty of the same act. Yes, I have walked around in a sleepy mormon college town wearing getup similar to theirs. I got plenty of nasty looks. And the nasty comments I got were from my sister.

But I wasn't staring at them to disapprove, No. I was admiring their art. The art of looking different, the art of being different, the art of trying, the art of maintaining that edge. The only time I dress like that is when I'm making a statement. Those statements are reserved for "I can do this, watch me," and my annual boycott of Valentine's day.

I think this momentary passing stuck with me because I did feel mildly affronted. I wasn't looking at them out of deprecation, but out of admiration.

But then I turned that around: How many people's glances have I misinterpreted? Is there any way of knowing whether or not I am misinterpreting those fleeting looks? Had I been dressed in my own goth outfit (and not the mildly hippy looking one I had been wearing) and passed the same couple under the same circumstances, would they still have had the same reaction?