Sometimes life doesn't go as planned. For me, that has been true for the last three years. If you had asked me as a freshman how I saw myself as a soon-to-be-graduating-senior, I would have described a high GPA, getting into the college of my dreams, being inseparable from my current friends, having a boyfriend (or at least dating), getting along with all my classmates, and being overall a happy person, ready for the world. In reality, I don't think any of this came to be. My GPA has been shot, there's no way I"ll get into BYU, I've lost countless friends whom I considered to be some of my best, I haven't been in a relationship in over two years, I'm pretty judgmental of my peers, and I'm not super happy all the time. To be fair, though, perhaps all of this would have occurred if we lived in a perfect world, but our world is far from perfect. At the same time, everyone else seems to be getting along just fine, so why can't I? For a while I had recognized the fact that I am not "normal." Which is fine, I wouldn't want to be normal; but to the extent of how messed up I really am can be very frustrating and hopeless at times. It wasn't until recently that not only had I recognized this reality of my abnormality, but I had accepted that this is how it is, and it's something that I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life. Along with this revelation came a sense of a weight being lifted off my shoulders, since it wasn't a question I had to pondered endlessly anymore; it is the way it is. Though, beyond that, I can't say it makes anything easier. What I have gotten out of the past few years of my life, however, is preparation. I know that I would not be prepared to go out in the world after high school and live, or even survive, had I not experienced all my struggles and trials. And for that, I am grateful for my trials and pain, because I know Heavenly Father doesn't make us experience suffering without reason.
Alma 38: 5 [And now my daughter, Taylor,] I would that ye should remember, that as much as ye shall put your atrust in God even so much ye shall be bdelivered out of your trials, and your ctroubles, and your afflictions, and ye shall be lifted up at the last day. heart, taylor
Today was the second day of school, but the first day that I had to be ready and in class by 7:35. Ugh. I hate mornings. And having Weight Training first thing isn't exactly a motivation to get out of bed. Although, having the class with my best friend helps a little :) Second period was Pre-Calc. Not much to say other than that we're just reviewing right now. And I'm pretty much the slowest person in the class at getting through assignments. But that's really nothing new. You know those few kids left at the end of the period who are still finishing their test? Yeah, that's me. Things actually got interesting in English, though. And not all in a good way... We have a huge class full of a mix of interesting people. It will be an interesting year, I think everyone can tell that. My teacher, Mr. McNeal, is pretty great so far. My ex once told me that he was one of his favorite teachers. He seems nice, and entertaining. I think it will be a good year for english (unlike the last two encounters I had in high school). For the majority of the 90 minutes in class, Mr. McNeal introduced to us and had us brainstorm/discuss in small groups our college essays. He gave us the sheet of prompts and said to start thinking. I suppose that in that moment the reality of college and applications became inescapable. This was is. This is my last year of high school. 9 more months and I'll be done. But before that happened, I was going to have to write multiple essays that different college admissions would later read, that could end up being the deciding factor as to if I was accepted or not. The chance to set myself apart from all the other high school seniors in the country, in the world. One of the major events in my life that instantly came to mind to write about was sophomore year when I was admitted into the hospital for anorexia. Truthfully, I've been thinking about my hospital stay and my whole recovery process a lot lately. I don't necessarily feel too great about my body most times. Sometimes I just wish I was skinny again. And it doesn't help your self-esteem/body image when you're back in class, surrounded by these tall, skinny, beautiful girls who are all about a thousand times prettier than you. So in other words, I've had a heightened level of insecurity lately. And after we had narrowed down our options of topics to write about, we were asked to share a little about one of them in our small groups. I sat with my friend Beth and another kid in our grade, Jason. Beth talked first about swim team and how it has impacted her life, then it was my turn. "Well, I have one thing I want to write about, but it's a little raw, so I think I'll just talk about something else..." Beth knew to what I was referring, "Can you just try?" she said in the sweetest way possible. "Uhhh... I guess..." I began to describe my first day in the hospital, how at dinner that night I sat in my room with one of the nurses, Melanie, eating my meal of chicken and tortillas (along with a few other items that I can't recall at the moment) while she made small, discreet glances at me and my tray to make sure I was eating. That first dinner at the hospital seemed like such a simple task, but for me it was huge. I was barely holding it all together by this point. But as I started to tell of how later that night a sweet, old nurse stopped and came to the entry of my room to say, "I just wanted to tell you that you're very pretty," I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. My voice got embarrassingly high as I fought back the tsunami tide behind my eyelids. I felt weak. Vulnerable. Beth tried to comfort me by saying, "Look how far are you are now, though." I attempted to smile as I joked, "Look what you made me do, Beth." Although I don't think that it came out quite as humorous as I had hoped, it was more on the sympathetic side. And I am not one to search for sympathy. Either way, I tried my hardest to mask my face and eyes from any of the surrounding tables filled with students. I'm not sure how well I covered it up, but once I got myself together to a certain degree, I quickly, quietly walked out of class and to the bathroom to fix any mascara + eyeliner that had made its way from my eyes and onto my face. I cried in class. On the first day of english. I'm not embarrassed for telling my story or having gone through what I have, but embarrassed that my classmates may have seen me crying and didn't know why. I didn't want to be labeled as anything like 'cry baby' or 'melodramatic' on my first day of class. Hopefully people didn't notice, or better yet they will forget come monday. Its been said that 'Crying isn't a sign of weakness; It's a sign of having tried too hard to be strong for too long.' I hope this is true in my case... heart, taylor :]
Life has been crazy busy. I don't remember the last time in all this summer haze that I've been so busy. I started a new job last week, which had/has me working from 2 - 10:30 PM everyday. Well, okay, everyday isn't completely true. Last week it started off as 8:30, but that changed after the first or second day. Plus I was let off early once or twice. But at least that's what it's supposed to be, 10:30.
This week I work monday/tuesday 'til 10:30, day off on wednesday, and 8:30 on thursday/friday. What is it that I do, you may be asking. I am a Keelber elf. Sort of. I make gingerbread houses all day long.
Not too fond of my new job, to be honest. Working in a 80 degree+ bakery for about 8 hours every (week) day is exactly what it sounds like: hot, sweaty, and gingerbread-y. While my new co-workers and friends get to "slave" in the room next door, assembly. They have the grueling job of folding/taping boxes, putting kits together and in the boxes, shrink-wrapping, and playing with, I mean, cutting bubble wrap. Thankfully, however, that will soon be my job. Let me explain.
Friday night the batches of dough we (me and my new friend/co-worker Katie) were making wasn't satisfactory. But you see, Katie has been working over at Gingerbread Traditions for quite some time now, at least since last summer. So, apparently I was the problem in this little equation. The day before I was told that I wasn't mixing correctly, which affected the dough, so then I switched back to measuring out the ingredients, but still, it just wasn't working out. My boss told me, in the nicest way possible, of course, that I basically suck at my job. That was pretty awkward. And a bit surprising too, I thought I was doing pretty well considering the lack of training I had received! But oh well. Now I get to work in the heavily air-conditioned and much more fun room!
Although I feel really bad for Kendall, whom I switched positions with. At the same time, she's only committed to working for two weeks, and the first week is already over. So it's her last week, but still, it wasn't really a voluntary thing, and I feel kind of terrible that she has to endure through the crappy room.
Either way, I'm hoping that this will be my last week as well. I have neither confirmed nor denied whether or not I'll be working during the school year officially to my boss, but as of now I'm leaning towards a 'no.' Except I can't say anything until I find another job. Luckily, I've already found two other ones to apply for as replacement. Thank you, Craigslist!
Overall, work has been consuming my life. At least I get paid, though! Even with all the stupid taxes. My gosh, I hate the government right now for taking my hard earned flippin' cash! And I mean, I've already spent my paycheck (in my mind) on the following things: a new iPod Touch (which I need desperately, not exaggerating at all), Photoshop Elements, concert tickets, and maybe a new camera.
That's all up in the air right now, though, so we'll see what happens.
As for now, I'll continue my sweatshop of a job and avoiding the reality that is senior year. Ugh.
Life is actually really great right now. Actually, though. I think I'm in a really good place. It's strange what one day can do, how so much can change in your demeanor and mentality. It's not as though yesterday was this cathartic day or anything, realistically it was just a normal monday. But at the same time it wasn't. I had a job interview in the morning, although I think it was more of a formality, because the job I wanted was really just replacing my friend who will be going off to school in a week. So I don't think that they were actually looking for people, seriously looking, but I mean, I still had to come in just for them to make sure I wasn't crazy or anything, haha :) Anyways, I got the job, and I'm pretty excited! I'm now a 'Keebler Elf' as my friend, Katia (the one I spoke of above), coined. I get to make gingerbread houses/men all day! And starting this monday I'll be working from 2-8:30 PM for two weeks. You know what that means? Money! Which means shopping! It's gonna be weird having money. I've already picked out a thousand things I don't need that I want to buy because, well, I can! I am very excited by the idea of not being broke all the time :) What else happened yesterday? Hmm. Well I started working out again. Finally. I've been meaning to since the beginning of summer, and that never happened, so I'm glad that I actually got my big butt (actually, I do have a rather large butt, haha) off the couch and up to the rec center by my house. It felt great. And soreness is the only type of pain that comes with satisfaction, in my opinion, and I'm feelin' it a bit today. I'm committed to keeping up this working out, this time. No excuses. I guess the only other pivotal part of my day yesterday actually occured in the early hours last night. You see, I'm turing 18 in less than 90 days.. which is so so so weird. And I have a lot to get done before then, so I starting making lists. Lists of things I need to do today, this week, and one more long-term goal. Except I actually feel like I can accomplish all of it, which is a pretty rare feeling in the sluggish summer. Basically, life is really really good :) I think if I continue of this path, senior year will be fantastic. This morning I was thinking about how I felt at the beginning of junior year, and it's the complete opposite to how I feel right now. I specifically remember going and talking with one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Kumprey, who taught me advanced algebra my sophomore year. I can't write the exact words I said to him, I don't really remember how I phrased it, but I remember how I told him that I felt as though the rest of the year would feel like the first day of being a junior: like I didn't know what was going on, and I was kind of just there. I remember how he remarked that that didn't sound too good, and I shrugged and told him it was the truth. And that's exactly how that year felt. It was terrible. It's crazy how much things can change in just a year. Although, change is the only constant; it was bound to happen. heart, taylor :]
This morning I naturally woke up at 6:30, and since that almost never happens (especially during the school year), I decided not to fight it. After killing about a half an our of my time with reading the sunday comics, I decided to make some pancakes. But not just some regular, mix pancakes, no, no, no. The ever-so-yummy buttermilk pancakes from scratch. I know, I'm an awesome daughter/sister. It's true. So I have this fantasy, though. This strange desire to make these pancakes for a group of teenage guys, my (nonexistent) boyfriend included. I don't really know why. I suppose because first of all, no one makes stuff from scratch these days, so I would impress them with my cooking skills (in reality I'm not much of a cook, but I can follow a recipe). Then my "boyfriend" would be all proud that his girl makes awesome food :) yeah, that'd be pretty great. And last reason would probably be the satisfaction of watching the guys enjoy the food you prepared for them, and for them to tell you that it takes really good. I don't know, is that stupid? Actually, I don't even care if it is, it's a fantasy of mine. I like the idea of taking care of my man, if I had one, that is. Like a 50s housewife. She stays home, takes care of the children, cooks all the meals, and happily makes her husband a cocktail when he gets home from a long, grueling day at work. Yeah, it's a little archaic, and probably not in line with feminism. Not to say I'm a feminist, but I'm all for female empowerment. But either way, it just seems so... nice. I can't explain it really. Anyways, here is the recipe, if anyone out there reading this is interested. They turned out really really good :) Waayyy better than pancakes from a mix:
In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In a separate bowl, beat together buttermilk, milk, eggs and melted butter. Keep the two mixtures separate until you are ready to cook.
Heat a lightly oiled griddle or frying pan over medium high heat. You can flick water across the surface and if it beads up and sizzles, it's ready!
Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture, using a wooden spoon or fork to blend. Stir until it's just blended together. Do not over stir! Pour or scoop the batter onto the griddle, using approximately 1/2 cup for each pancake. Brown on both sides and serve hot.
Hello there friend, my name is Taylor. First of all, I love anything vintage and lace.
I have recently been inspired to start a new blog, and I want to make this one count. And with that, let the adventures begin...