The other day a friend and I were having a conversation about how the daily act of scripture reading and saying your prayers is not necessarily for the benefit of yourself. The Lord regularly prompts people who are spiritually prepared and attune, to answer each others prayers, acting as His angels on earth. I sometimes struggle, as many people do, with keeping those habits up. However, if I can see it instead as making myself open to receive promptings then maybe my motivation will increase. And..it has. I've really been working on reading everyday and keeping the Lord in my mind more often. I've actually stopped listening to as much rap hah, the bad kind of rap. I still love it and there's totally uplifting types of rap...just throwing that in there. But I think it's made a difference. Avett Brothers here I am! Mixed with a little Jay-Z? Yeah, it's cool. Off topic.

Anyways, I've in general been praying to be more in tune with the spirit. And know what, the Lord answered my prayer! This cutie pie, return sister missionary, from my hometown posted on facebook that she needed a place to live. I got outta my contract because of graduation, minus the deposit but I was just going to let that go. Trying to sell your contract is terrible. I've just had the worst experiences with that. So I hadn't even thought of trying to sell it. But here she comes along posting about how she needs a place to live in Provo. I thought, well i'll just email her anyways. I did and she's now buying my contract! What. When we were conversing..digitally she said a couple of times, "Oh, you are just an answer to my prayer!" And she came and looked at the house for like two seconds and then asked me who to contact to buy. When I acted surprised that she'd come to a conclusion that fast she just said, "I already prayed about it and feel good." Love those sweet sister missionaries haha.

Anywhoo, I realized that she was right. We had both been an answer to each others prayers. I was praying to be attune to help someone and she was praying for a place. Bam. Good job God. Two prayers at once. You're awesome. Plus I get my deposit back, win.

It blew my mind how young sexualized, misogynistic, demeaning images of women are seeped into the minds of young kinds. Yes, I watched Space Jam on Monday and two days later it's still driving me crazy.

"Firstly, there’s only one female in the whole movie that isn’t a wife, mother, child or housekeeper, and even those roles are very minor ones, appearing onscreen for less than five minutes in total. You can rest assured that Lola is objectified as the sexy, albeit sporty, “don’t-call-me-Doll” rabbit who wears short shorts and a midriff top, while everyone else wears actual basketball attire."

Yep. She can't just be one of the best players on the team, she has to be dripping with sexual appeal in order to qualify her value. And what's with that stupid scene where the monster is going to fall on her, Bugs pushes her out of the way, and she's instantly like, "my hero" and rewards him with a kiss. She can be an independent woman, but only as long as it's shown that she still needs a man to save her. She's the ultimate trophy girlfriend.

The most damaging is the one who "purports to be a Modern Woman – smart and powerful, but ultimately she relies on the men in her life to boost her esteem and supply her opinion."

I totally find truth with this too. "It’s a fact: most all of the coolest cartoon characters are men. The boys are allowed to have complex motivations and badass fight scenes. They typically get the best jokes and tend to be the main characters. The women’s motivations tend to be “SHE IS A LADY. THAT IS WHAT LADIES DO,” and their jokes are limited to nagging and histrionics."

And don't even get me started on Disney Princesses.

I was helping a male customer buy a ROC pass today over the phone. His password was hula dance. Thus, my conversation, "So you want to put in your student number, then 'hula dance' to get in." Then a mental image of what I just said floated to my mind. A grown-a white man in a grass skirt awkwardly hula dancing around. I had to stop and take a calming breath.

This one time my friend Liz was helping a customer at the Fine Arts center. She was confirming her contact information to verify it was the right account. Liz, in her serious-professional-i'm working-voice goes, "So the email we have down is Iheartwolvz. Is that correct?"

The girl goes bright red and mutters out a, "Yes."

Continuing in her no nonsense way, Liz says, "And that is wolvz spelled with a Z?"

The girl is visibly cringing and only manages a nod.

Sometimes my job is really funny.

Please, for your own sake, pick normal passwords and email addresses. As there is a high chance that that quirky phrase you picked in the solace of your home office, will be read back to you by a customer service employee trying desperately not to snicker.

It is interesting how often threads of life coincide together and form twine that twists it's way into a rope that leads up to another ledge of learning. Today I was talking to my roommates about the sex trade and how someone can take the humanity away from another person. How does a person get to that point where they can choose to take the purest form of our Godliness away from another person. A person has a right to use that as they will. I do believe that their are moral absolutes as to when that should be used that apply to everyone, whether they believe in it or not. But the point is that they should still have a choice. Then I went and saw divergent today. Cheesy but it made me think. It made me think hard. There is a simulator in the film that generates a field of your worst fears. Trish's last fear, the worst fear that lies deepest in your heart, was of her boyfriend raping her. What was specifically different about this fear compared to the rest, is that this threat is not physically endangering to your body per say; rather it is a danger to your identity as a human. That fear goes so far beyond all the other fears as it signifies losing your agency so far that you lose the right of one of the most significant choices we as human beings are given in this life. A choice that qualifies our basic humanity while being indicative of our divine nature of godliness. You strip away this choice, this characteristic, this right as a human and spirit child of God then you have truly ripped away at the soul.

Another point they touched on was agency. A leader of one of the groups was acting on a conviction that the nature of man was the enemy, so for anyone to have their agency it would lead to disruption of the peace. Okay, it's true that "The natural man is an enemy of God, and will be forever and ever." But, luckily for us we are not made up of just the natural man. We are children of God and have been blessed with attributes of Him. The mixture of these good and bad characteristics are what make us so beautiful as human beings. We have the choice to choose good over evil, which hopefully we do every time. But it's beautiful that sometimes we don't and that things can get screwed up. That sounds like a contradiction of what I said in the previous paragraph, but something can be beautiful and terrible at the same time. Don't get me wrong, I prefer that the choices we make that that screw things up, are small menial things that don't have a terrible impact on a large scale. But there still is beauty in the right of a human to make that choice for themselves. I think I understand more fully the plan that the Father proposed in the premortal existence.

I walked away basking in the beauty of humanity, glorying in the blessing of agency. My heart was open to feeling every emotion that came with my humanity. I left feeling fearless of heartbreak, doubt, love, pain and confusion. I may never have felt as open to embrace life and all of it's experiences that come with humanity as I was at that moment. I may never have felt so blessed with my ability to make choices as I did at that moment. Honestly, at this point in my life what I desire and fear most is a relationship. I left feeling fearless of that, even if it failed. That experience is a part of humanity, thus it is beautiful. My heart was open, my desire pure. I left that theater feeling passion for life. Something that we as humans often turn off to protect ourselves against the pain and heartbreak that passion can lead to. We lead shallow, calculating lives. There is something beautiful in a person that leaves the passion on and the heart open to embrace all that this life on earth has to offer.

Lately, I've had such a desire to feel spiritual things. The world can get so overwhelming, demanding and demeaning. I'll be on the internet and a strong desire to get away from all media, to enjoy the silence completely overwhelms me. I yearn for the comforting words and feelings that bring solace to my soul. I am loved. I am of value. I am not just what the world wants of me. I feel such an immense pressure to be gorgeous, shapely and flawless. Especially as a Exercise Science major. I am getting more in shape and I feel great. But it so so difficult to balance that healthiness with the need to be sexy and fit as the world expects. I see how women in the media are displayed as sexual objects and feel the pressure put on me to be one of them. I feel anger, disgust, frustration and the demoralization of my own worth. The media tells us that is what men expect, that is what other women expect, that is what I should expect. It tells us to view other women as competition. When I meet another woman I immediately start comparing myself to her. We are not competition. We are sisters. I struggle remembering that there are good men. Good men that I can trust that don't just want to use my body and the pleasures it offers to them. I find my mistrust of them, leads me to mistrust myself. Because as a woman, I want to be desired by men. It's natural. But I want to be beautiful to them, not to be lusted after. I want be seen as so much more. Because I am SO MUCH MORE. I forget that I am. I sometimes find that appearance occupies my thoughts, consumes my day. I forget that I am a girl that likes to camp, loves to read, fish, paint, and million things before what my appearance tells me. I have to consciously turn away, turn it off and believe in my value as a woman of God. Turn off the consumerism, turn off the commercialism, turn off the comparison. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it OFF.

After spinning class today I was in the girls locker room changing into normal clothes, jamming to Beyonce. You know, the ushe. I put on my leggings and flannel button up, lumberjack style today, and walked over to the mirror. I looked in it, then did a double take. A handprint, in bright red paint, had somehow found it's way onto my booty!

I wore those leggings to a paint dance party a month or so ago, and apparently someone got a little touchy on my tushy. I have absolutely no recollection of when that could have happened. Creepy, mysterious groper, creepy. And somehow, out of all the paint I was covered in, that hand print was the lone survivor of the wash cycle?? Really?!

So, don't worry, I walked around BYU campus for a good four hours with a bright red handprint on my bum. Luckily, my shirt was long. 

I had a conversation with someone who said it took her twenty three years to really understand that the woman pictured in magazines are not raw images. That that standard women are held to these days isn't realistic. That she is beautiful how she is, and doesn't have to strive towards impossible standards to be acceptable. That she doesn't have to be a size 2, wearing perfect makeup, and complacent about everything to feel good about herself and have a man to like her.

Yes, I specifically said "a man". A real man respects a woman as his equal partner and see beauty as something that lays largely below the surface. Boys see beauty just on the surface. I was at a grocery store with a bunch of my guy friends the other day. Me and another guy went off to find something and we came back to a story. A girl had come up to one of the boys in the group and gave him her number on a napkin. When my friend asked if she was cute, he simply replied, "No." Really? I find that hard to believe. If a girl is bold enough to give her number to a boy she finds attractive, she has to have some confidence going in the looks category. Doesn't she even get some bravery points in his book? Her confidence in and of itself should at least make him a little gracious towards her. He didn't even give her that. It was like, why are YOU giving your number to ME. Needless to say, my opinion of this boy sunk a bit. Some boys can just be so darn picky about looks. Straight up shallow. I walk around campus and I'd say 99% of the girls are pretty. The guys here just seem to treat them like they're nothing. If they don't meet their beauty standards they don't even give them a chance.

Okay, so the viewpoint at BYU isn't as bad as it could be. What worries me, is that this type of attitude is a gateway that leads to a much worse one. Did you know that 1 in 5 women have been a victim of sexual assault or rape? Truth. Horrible truth. India's Central Bureau of Investigation said if rape can't be prevented it should be enjoyed. Say what?? Oh, but that's India, right. It's better here. We don't support violence and objectification of women. Hmmmn.

Here are some ads that may change your mind.

Real published ads. (except the last one, which is a meme going around facebook)

We need to band together as a people and FIGHT IT. Especially as women! If we don't respect ourselves and each other, it just gives males license to do the same. It also gives males license to judge our worth based on looks. When I was in Alaska, a news story came up on CNN. I was taking a break at Safeway with two male coworkers. We were watching the news strory, when the female newscaster said something one of my coworkers didn't agree with. Immediately he started making fun of how she looked. By making a joke of her, he was trying to invalidate what she was saying because according to him, her makeup looked clown-like. When called him out on it, saying he wouldn't have mentioned looks if it was a man, he went off about me being a crazy feminist. But it was true. That is what he was doing. I knew it and he knew it. This type of behavior, belittling what women have to say by making mention of their looks, is unacceptably common.

"Remember when Rep. Jim Sensenbrenner used the words 'large posterior' and 'big butt' to describe Michelle Obama's behind? Although he apologized afterwards, it hasn't stopped many other prominent Republicans from commenting on women's bodies. Whether it's the size of Nancy Pelosi's head or Hillary Clinton's 'cankles,' it's time that conservative men (and Democrats too) finally butt out (pun intended) of the business of women's looks.

Why does this sexism in politics matter? Because it can cost a candidate her race. A study conducted in 2010 found that when a female candidate was attacked with chauvinistic language, she lost twice as much support as an attack without sexist undertones, even when the language was largely toned down.

So sexism doesn't just hurt our feelings, it can harm our electoral potential too. And it's discrimination. This kind of below-the-belt attacks should never be tolerated in a modern society that treats everyone equally. Keep it classy. Attack us on our ideas, not our gender."  (Quote found on this article)

Case in point. I recommend this article and extend the title of "Republican Men" to "Every Person" as this language is present from both genders of all political parties. Key moments from the article also include when Greg Abbott referred to Wendy Davis as a "retarded barbie" or Todd Akin's comment about "legitimate rape".

LETS STOP IT PEOPLE. 

Stop with the negative comments! Lets even stop a second and think before we give women compliments about their looks. I get sick of hearing about how skinny I've gotten. I love my curves! It's like people are trying to condition a "good behavior" of weight loss by rewarding me with vocal praise. First off, step off. Second, I am so much more that my looks! If all we do is praise women about their looks soon that's all the value they will see in themselves. This video is an incredible slam poem about "shrinking women"

I love so many things about this video. 

Can't we all just stop saying sorry before we offer up our opinion or a question!?

Instead of all these negative stereotypes, labels, names and standards being constantly forced on women:

• Let us be remember that a group of female senators including Elizabeth Warren were key to the final deal that ended the government shutdown. 

• Let us reject the idea that every girl is a princess and say instead that every girl is an inventor! This is the most spectacular ad. If I had a daughter. I would totally buy her this. (My view on princesses, gender stereotypes and compliments about looks that flood young girls is a whole other blog post I won't go into) 

• Let us encourage men to be like John Legend who declared himself a feminist then said, "All men should be feminists. If men care about women's rights the world will be a better place [...] We are better off when women are empowered — it leads to a better society." He then followed saying that he admires and doesn't fear strong women. Which I really cheered at because I have been told several times that I "intimidate guys because you are strong and that is why you don't get asked out on dates, honey." Thankss for that..

• Let us remember this video and give it the cheers it deserves for opening up a conversation:

Included in this, let us also remember that though Miley Cyrus behaved in an explicit way, so did Robin Thicke, especially as a married man, twice her age.

• And because I'm a Beyonce enthusiast (I held her hand, story to come later), lets remember that Queen Bey said this, "I guess I am a modern-day feminist. I do believe in equality. Why do you have to choose what type of woman you are? Why do you have to label yourself anything? I'm just a woman and I love being a woman."

I picked and chose from this article.

Here are some more things I've been reading and watching lately:

Ellen's comments on Abercrombie and Fitch

Pantene's commercial about labels

Classic beauties in art get photoshopped

This Off-Duty Cop Proves What Young Women Know About Who's Really to Blame For Rape

Steubenville Trial: Why Does CNN Think Watching Rapists Get Convicted is "Difficult to Watch"?

Educate Coaches About Sexual Assault

Tell LEGO to stop selling out girls! #LiberateLEGO

Victoria's Seceret War on Woman, Nothing Sexy about it

More than a body? PROVE it

The Guys' Guide to Seeing Woman, Not Objects

Physically Photoshopping Ourselves Out of Reality

You'll notice that a fair amount of these links are from Beauty Redefined. I love this blog. They have so many good insights and articles.

I had to write a gratitude paper for my Mind/Body class. We had to list one hundred things we were grateful for and write a paragraph about each. Mine was mostly food related and outdoors related. There were even a couple of good food and outdoor interactions listed. 

Glad to know where my mind is focused.

So remember how I'm extremely creepy and named a boy "Awkward Eye Contact boy" my freshman year?

Read about it : here

Well, I MET HIM TONIGHT. For real. 

We had an recruitment event at Brick Oven (free pizza, heck yes) last night and he was there. He friggin went to Skagway last year. Oh why didn't I go to Skagway instead of Juneau, geez. He's friends with Tressa, who I went to Alaska with, so we had a real introduction and everything. I now know his name and what he's studying without even creepin'. WORD. I'm so grown up now.

kbai.

It took me to this point of being an Exercise and Wellness Major to realize that people staring at themselves in gyms are not looking at how pretty they are. Rather they are checking to see if they're doing the movement correctly. Unless they're bro's, which consequently are probably doing a little of both.

It took me imagining training someone to do a movement correctly. Then thinking "I'll be a personal trainer, but will I have a personal trainer? How will I know if I'm doing it correctly?" Then I was was like "Oh, I'll stand in front of a mirror. But I assess from the front and the side, how will that work? Oh, I'll put a mirror on the side as well." Then I was like, "OHHH!"

Don't worry guys, I geddit. The mirrors have a purpose. HA.

Also, don't worry, every time I read assess I see it as asses. Classy.

Oh my gosh guyzz! My best friend comes home from her mission on Tuesday! It just hit me, WOOHOO!

 I miss her so much right now! I just wanna have a Harry Potter marathon while eating popcorn and pickles.

The only time I have ever been good at bowling was when I was seventeen and trying to win a bet. It was the week after EFY. My COW had invited me and a friend to go Midnight Bowling at nine o'clock on a Thursday evening. For those who don't know COW is a clever acronym Mormon teens made up to disguise their "Crush of the Week" at the Especially For Youth Camp. It's a Mormon stare-athon. Anyway, this guy was blonde, super tall and played football on the South Weber High School team. A knee melter, if there ever was one. Is that a thing? Knee melter?

So, over we go to meet them at this ghetto bowling alley. I say ghetto but I feel like every bowling that has ever been built is extremely ghetto. Even new ones. I'm not sure if that's in the Bowling Alley Union contract or something. "Make sure your brand new bowling alley has musty carpet, food that'll give anybody over thirty heartburn, and smells like stinky feet. We wouldn't want to make our customers feel like they don't need to take a shower after visiting our business now would we!" The most ghetto bowling alley I've ever been to was in Juneau, Alaska. That one was king of the Bowlers Union contract clause. However Juneau being Juneau, we actually had to make reservations and wait an hour before we could get our own lane. But, back to my story, getting a lane was not a problem at the Weber Bowling Alley. On this dry August evening, you guessed it, we were the only ones there. At first the Midnight lights weren't on. But after a quick request to the desk, our wildest dreams of neon came true. The eighties truly came alive again, says this nineties baby.

We start bowling. As per usual, I'm terrible. If I'm lucky, I'll get an eighty. No joke. I know in small towns it's either go bowling or get pregnant for entertainment. But luckily, KTown isn't that small. My Mom however, champion bowler. So I'm going along, doing some not so smooth teenage-dream bantering with knee melter. Alas, the banter isn't getting me very far as soon he's ten...twenty..thirty points ahead. At this point he's feeling like he owns this hepatitis infused bowling alley and he's unabashedly rubbing it in my face. "Well, you can have your STD Haven! I'll go find my own!" I wanted to shout. The COW facade was slipping away to reveal a COD, Child of Darkness. Instead, keeping my cool, I suggested a wager.
"Alright sir," I said, "An Oreo blaster to the winner."

Heheh. Bringing out the big guns. Since he was about 40 points ahead that that point. He gawfed like a typical jock would (never heard a jock gawf before? I invite you to hang out at the RB with me) and agreed. The battle begins. I go first. I get all the pins but one.  A surprise to all! Including myself. Though I never would have admitted it at the time, as the fire of competition raged inside me. He bowls and does well I presume. Now, I don't remember him actually bowling as the before mentioned fire of competition was devouring metaphorical forests in my mind. So I was a little distracted. But basically he bowls and something happens! Then I bowl and get a strike. He bowls and something happens! Then it's the last bowl. For those novice bowlers, on the last frame (I had to google what the official name for turns were) if you get a strike or a spare you get three chances to bowl. And what do you know..I got a strike. Three times. Final score:

Him: something
Me: something, +1

Yes. I won. By one point. One point for hate-fire. The sweet, crystalline, heart attack that is the Oreo blaster never will be as sweet, as crystalline as that one bought by my ravaged, ex-knee melter COW. High five seventeen year old self.

The professor's power point for one of my classes today said:

"Too error is human."

I see whatcha did there...

People keep asking me if I lost weight. They say I look skinny. Nahh, pretty sure I'm the same. Maybe even put on a bit of a Winter coat while I was in AK. What I really think is going down, is that I've started wearing clothing from the women's section again. Who knew gender appropriate clothing was so gender appropriately flattering.

Never fear Savers, a part of my heart will always belong to men's flannel.

I'm working with two pregnant ladies right now. The first thing they both did when they got here was go to the bathroom. I guess there's truth to that pregnancy stereotype. Haha

I'm going to work in Alaska this summer! I heard about it and applied Tuesday night then got hired today, Thursday! Crazy fast. I leave on the 5th. I'm so excited but super nervy too. It's sure going to be an adventure!

Though I should be studying for a test, I wanted to share an experience I had over the summer that I've been thinking about recently.
I was driving back up to the Ranch one Sunday night after a weekend in Provo. It was a cloudy day around dusk and the sunset was absolutely gorgeous as I passed through Provo canyon, that dam (whaterr it is), and Heber City. About thirty minutes outside of Heber it began to rain. Thinking it not a big deal, I went to switch on my windshield wipers that had previously been broken but had gotten fixed the past week. But the handle snapped. They were useless. A panicked feeling started growing in my stomach as the darkness sank in and the rain fell heavier. I quickly rolled down my windows and pulled off to the side of the road as my visibility diminished. Calling my Dad in one of the last places I was going to have cell service in the next few hours, I counselled with him on what I should do. I was approximately half way between the Ranch and Provo maybe a little closer to Provo. We came up with a choice between three bad options. Keep going as best I could praying the rain would stop, hoping that I wouldn't spin out and be alone without cell service. Turn around drive all the way back to Provo, again blind but I would at least have cell service, and start again tomorrow. Or third wait out the rain and sleep in my car if worst comes to worse, just hoping no one would try to break in during the night. Maybe foolishly, I chose to go with option one. The rain seemed to have lessened a little and I didn't want to back track my steps. I told my parents I would call them immediately when I got to Fruitland, the next place (and last place) I would have secure cell service before the ranch.

What followed was one of the scariest couple hours of my life. After letting up for a half hour the rain got worse. As it was dark now, I could only faintly see the white dotted line dividing the two lanes of traffic through my rain coated windshield. I tried rolling down my window to better see but I found my face pelted with frigid sheets of rain and chilled by wind intent on howling past. It almost impossible to keep my streaming eyes open, let alone guide my path along the winding mountain terrain. I was blind and completely alone. I prayed like I had never prayed. Then, in the distance I saw some tail lights faintly glowing. A car seemingly appeared before me. The owner parading slowly and safely, picking their path through the storm. I felt literal weakness from the feeling of relief that washed over me. I pulled up behind their car and used the tail lights as a guide. They never altered, never wavered and probably never knew that they were an answer to a desperate prayer, leading me blindly along a safe path. After an hour or so like this, the storm let up and my wind shield dried. The sky cleared and a full moon came out, illuminating the summit of the mountain as I passed by reservoirs and fields. Beauty surrounded me. I saw a moon rainbow. Guys, I didn't even know those existed! What!? It confirmed the feeling already in my heart that God was there. That he was looking out for me by placing that driver in my path when I was in the most desperate need of relief. I stayed close to this car all the way to Fruitland. So, if by chance another storm came I would have my guide nearby.

I feel like we all have these desperate times in our lives whether physically or emotionally when alone, we are completely blind. All we need do is ask God with a sincere pray for help and He will provide a path for us. He does this because we are His children and He loves us. These storms are placed in our lives so we will abandon our pride and ask for help, which He earnestly gives. There are ministering angels around us. All we need to do is look.

First, I pinned an exercise routine to get six pack abs.

Then I pinned a recipe for Oreo muddy buddies.

Somehow, I don't think lack of a workout plan is the reason I ain't got no Ciara abs.

This is me with medical anatomy:

 Woohoo! Darn class is almost ovah.

This is a lovely quote:
"I've got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls." - J.K. Rowling