December 17, 2013

It's December.

It's December.

Thank goodness.

This was perhaps one of the busiest semesters in my entire college career thus far. And to be honest, I've burnt out. Perhaps going to school spring and summer was not a good idea because everything has been rather bland to me. School, work, people, music--they all were routine. And it wasn't until these last couple weeks of this semester that I started feeling like myself again.

We were planning on going to Colorado two weekends ago to see Trevor Hall and Nahko and Medicine for the People and I thought that that would lift my mood. But the snow put an end to our plan very quick, and I was a bit bummed, but somewhat relieved because I had too much to do.

That same Saturday we were going to see Trevor and Nahko, I went to see Isaac Russell at the Velour. I think he is a brilliant artist and although it wasn't the best concert I've been too, "Heaven" had me feeling again. That, and Isaac's guitarist who looks like a bearded Ben Wyatt/Adam Scott. And I love Ben.

(This was from the same concert I attended. Thank you to n8hankins for recording this.)

November 28, 2013


"What does that mean--'tame'?"
"It is an act too often neglected," said the fox. "It means to establish ties."
"'To establish ties'?"
"Just that," said the fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..."
"I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower...I think that she has tamed me..."

--Antoine de Saint-Exupery, "The Little Prince"

The Little Prince

I hate saying goodbye. Sometimes my fear of saying goodbye is so overpowering, it prevents me from getting to know people. Because once I get to know someone, we would create that bond and we would be unique in all the world to one another in some way. But the only thing constant in the world is change and with change comes goodbyes, both temporary and not.

Last Friday afternoon, I said goodbye to my boss who is leaving to work with the homeless in Salt Lake. In mid-December, I will commemorate the beautiful lives America said goodbye to in Newtown. In the new year, I will say goodbye to friends graduating. Years (hopefully lots of them) down the road, people will say goodbye to me, and not after saying goodbye to friends along the way.

Goodbyes make life daunting.

Someone told me they believe that in heaven, every person we ever tamed in our lives, who tamed us as well, will reunite with us and it would be as if we never said goodbye at all.

I choose to believe that as well.

Why did I post this on Thanksgiving day? Good question. I'm not sure. (Also, fyi, I'm writing this at two in the morning so if none of this is making sense...that is why.) I guess I wanted to thank you for your friendship to me through my 21 years. Wherever you are (and I am sure we know each other if you are reading my personal blog ha), I hope you are well. I am sorry if our goodbye came abruptly and I ask for forgiveness if I am to blame for that.

But I am glad that our bond did happen and for how I've grown through it. I am thankful for the kinships I have right now and for the love and support they give me. Most of all, I am ever grateful for the relationship I have with my Savior Jesus Christ and for all that He has done for me. He lives.

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends. I truly love you all.

October 9, 2013


When I was younger, I played a lot of hide-and-seek. I would hear the joyous reunions of the hiders and the seeker from my own hiding spot, and my heart pounded each time I thought they would find me. But I was never found. I was ok with it then. It made me feel like I was a good hider.

Now I am older and sometimes I make sure no one can find me. But I am afraid of those times because I can hide for a long time and I am more afraid that no one would ever seek me, or that no one would ever realize I am gone. I am the most afraid that I will disappear and that when I am asleep, no one will be there to hear my staggered breathing, heavy and withdrawn, no one will be there to touch my fingertips wandering in the dark to let me know they know I am here, and they found me.

September 22, 2013

To my Illia.

My dear Illia,

Congratulations on your mission call to Denver North!

First, let me just say, I love you so so so much. Second, woohoo! Denver! And third, you know that I sometimes have a hard time expressing myself when so much passion fuels my words. So I am writing this. (Also, I am more eloquent writing than when I stutter.)

Illia, I am so incredibly proud of you and your decision to serve a mission. I just want to let you know that I love this Gospel so much. We've never really sat down a lot to talk about it, (at least, I don't remember telling you) but I want to tell you about a spiritual experience I had this past winter/spring.

Back before Easter, I experienced the horrid unfeelingness, yet perpetual sadness, of depression. After some pivotal news, I was pushed from being relatively normal to depressed, I forced an emotional barrier to surround myself. Nothing was getting through and I was not going to let petty emotions get to me. And it worked for a little bit. But when it came crumbling down, and it broke a couple times, several people witnessed many emotions at once from me. What they got mainly, though, was my sadness and a subtle anger. I hated everything and I disliked everyone.

One Sunday, my Relief Society president came up to me and asked me how I was doing. I hate public crying, but I did it. I burst into tears in front of several people, one who literally took a step back and said, "Whoa." My RS president took me to the bathroom and held me as I cried and as I told her everything. In the midst of it, she asked me if I had faith. I said that I thought I did. She told me that I needed to have faith that Heavenly Father had a plan. I scoffed internally. I wanted things fixed now. I didn't want to go through this.

But I was feeling crummy, so I took her advice and I asked for a Priesthood blessing from my home teachers. And it was...nice. (This is in no way a reflection of my home teachers at that time, but I think more of a push for more faith on my part because I am a lazy person.) But I didn't feel "fixed" and so I continued to feel the darkness of depression.

Then, a good friend came in town. That was the most beautiful Easter ever, Illia. He offered me a priesthood blessing. And at first, I said no. I thought that I already got a blessing. It just needed the time to settle in, or whatever. But the more I thought about it, the more something inside nagged at me to ask for one. I needed to exercise my faith and ask for another blessing.

August 30, 2013

Last weeks of summer.

As the summer is coming to a close, I've been more and more exhausted. So this post will be more photo-heavy than usual for my blog. In fact, more peculiar for my blog.

Anyway it's been a while since I've posted. Over a month, to be, um, exact...ish.

In that time, I've traveled to San Francisco and got lost in a sea of Asian tourists.
Crooked/Lombard Street.

And Sacramento, which was way boring. With the exception of this Nile River-esque, pyramid scene.

I was stranded in Elko, Nevada due to a flat tire on a Sunday.
Photo cred: Michelle

I finished the summer term.

[Insert photo here.]

July 24, 2013

Food bloggin'.

Guess what. I guest blogged. On a restaurant review blog. And it was awesome because I finally had an excuse to go out to eat. You can read it here and check out other reviews.

And I'm reposting it here too. Just because. Also, don't judge my reviewing skills. This was my first time review a restaurant. And I just usually like all foods. (The real pro at reviewing is our very own guest blogger Sam. How I wish Yelp could show all your wonderful reviews.)


Readers of this blog. Hello. I am Eden Wen. I was asked to contribute and I thought to myself, “Yes. A perfect excuse to eat out this week.” And I knew the perfect place to go to.

However, on my way to review my favorite Mexican restaurant, Emmanuel’s (if Ian lets me do another review, I’ll do it on that piece of heaven on earth), I bumped into two friends who told me that I must go to Stan’s instead. And conveniently, it was across the street from Emmanuel’s on 9th East, so I obliged.

On the outside, it looks like any other burger joint. But, I have to say, I was very confused walking in. I was bombarded with several menus and the interior was not the most comfortable. And not only was Stan not there, unless one of the three East Indian women was Stan, he is apparently an Indian man with a love for greasy American foods.

July 22, 2013


Wednesday night came around and Eden was ready to laser tag it up with friends. Lively chatter filled the car on their way to the Trafalga Fun Center in Lehi and in any lull in conversation, you could hear Eden quietly shooting finger lasers at each passenger.

"Pew. Pew pew pew," she pewed.

Renae turned into the fun center's parking garage. Suddenly, all happiness and laughter ceased as uneasiness and fear settled into the hearts of the seven friends. They entered the Azkaban of all parking garages. While Renae turned a corner, looking for an empty space, Eden clutched Ariel and Eric's kneecaps, positive that at any moment, dementors would swoop in to steal her soul. No light fixtures were lit and after close examination, it appeared there weren't even light fixtures at all. The glow of the setting sun shone sparingly through the windows, if that's what you call the slits in the walls.

"At least there aren't any dead bodies, right?" Randi said. The friends all chuckled nervously as they left the car.

Randi spoke too soon. As they emerged from the dark shadows to a less shadowy area of the garage, Eden saw a body on the floor. Her heart stopped, then started again, beating five times faster than a regular day's worth of cardio.

The body moved.

A zombie? Eden's seen "World War Z." A bitten human can change in 12 seconds. She hated running, but this was a moment when her flight or fight instinct kicked in hardcore.

My flight or fight face.

Just as Eden was about take off, the body looked up and she realized what they were looking at. It was just one of those emo kids that exists in every junior high. She (or was always hard to tell) was just being emo and introspective whilst another emo child was looking on. The Trafalga Fun Center parking garage seemed a proper setting for the youths of the night.

July 17, 2013

Right now.

Right now, I am sitting in the House of Representatives Chamber in Salt Lake City. The special session of the legislature was supposed to start at noon thirty, but apparently that was just a suggested time. It's a whole fracken hour later. I may seem calm and cool and collected, but this is how I really feel.

It's a shame these cushiony chairs are bolted to the floor.

Anyway, I charged my laptop, but there's always a fear that I'll run out of battery. Also, I fear that my car won't be where it I parked it. But that's always a weird fear of mine.

The major press is sitting to my left and across the way from me. And I'm sitting in these cushiony seats just waiting. And blogging. And waiting. With my press pass.

I'm trying out different smiles. Do you like this one?

And I'm nervous. I've never really gotten into politics, so I'm not sure if I can cover this effectively. We'll see. My editor's got my back.

The important people are slowly coming in. Slowly. C'mon people, I have class to attend later tonight. And laser tagging. If you have a Pass of All Passes, feel free to join. Even if you don't, come play.

Here's a song.

I'm learning to play this. And Tyler and I will perform it. For ourselves, mainly. 

Okay, I gotta go now. Gotta preserve my battery. It may be another hour before it actually begins.

Also, I realize that I might have gotten your hopes up about how cool this post actually was with my teaser line on Facebook and Twitter, so I apologize. I was just bored and wanted to write something. So here it is.

Okay, gotta go.

Update 7/18/2013: My article on the special session.

July 12, 2013

Happy Weekend.

Finally. The weekend is here. After my sick (pertaining to health) first half of the week to my sick (pertaining to awesomeness) jackpot of sources for my next article for The Universe, I'm exhausted.

But in the midst of it all, I have successfully executed an elevator pitch to the woman who could land me my dream job, won one of the biggest prizes in a raffle during a dinner with famous Utah bloggers, AND managed to stay awake in class. All while I felt like I could have thrown up at any second. (TMI? Sorry.)

Just some of the things I won. Courtesy of Breck's Vintage. Looks like there's a road trip or picnic on the horizon.

I've also made a goal with Ariel to make it to Seven Peaks at least once a week starting now through the rest of summer.


Because it's summer. Also, because I have ombre tan lines on my arms and legs. (Is that how you would describe those?) I need to even this out.

Feel free to join us.

Here's a summery, weekendy kind of song for you.

Have a good one, my friends.

July 1, 2013

Short post. Sexy post.

It was my mom's birthday the other day and my younger sister and I made videos for her. While I would love to put the videos up, Crystal gave me the idea to create gifs out of them.

So here they are, in all its sexy, gif-y glory.

Speaking of sexy, here's a compilation of the sexiest raps for you today. Thanks to Michelle and Sarah for sharing this with me.

I've never wanted a smartphone more in my life. Vine and SnapChat, prepare to be abused . . . in August. 

June 23, 2013


Written 6 months after the tragedy:

I remember sitting in the back of the cold room. It was always cold in that church building. Children's chatter filled the air as I sat there, glancing at each Primary teacher to make sure they didn't need my help.

This was my church calling when I was home summer of 2012. Primary helper. I aided the children's Sunday School teachers if their kids were ever rowdy or if they just needed an extra pair of hands. And so I sat in the back, looking out for the panic in teachers' eyes and for children wiggling about. That was my cue to assist them.

At the front, the Primary president was giving an object lesson. I don't remember what it was, but she asked for a couple volunteers. A sea of small, eager hands waved frantically, each one hoping they would be picked. A small, blonde six-year-old's hand rocketed into the air ahead of everyone else's and she was chosen. As she was walking out of her row, I thought to myself, she must be a Parker, that blonde hair and high voice. I was in Nursery just the Sunday before helping her youngest sister slide down the slide and in Sunbeams the week before that taking another sister and her classmates to get a drink. The way each of them chirped filled my ears and quickly became a part of each of my summery Sundays. Blonde, beautiful and beaming, all three Parker children.

As she was heading towards the front, another child bumped into her. She turned and said something sassy.

Her mother, who was also a Primary teacher and who I knew only as Sister Parker, chuckled to herself. Brother Parker walked in then to drop off something with her and she relayed the story of their sassy daughter. They laughed.

"Oh Emilie."

It was that moment that I had a sudden urge to be married with children and to be able to sit back with my husband and watch our kids learn and grow to be people like us.

December 14th, I was in the Salt Lake Airport when the tragedy at Newtown hit the media. I landed in Hong Kong when plastered all over the televisions were videos of Newtown, the place where I spent some of my weekends, where some of my very good friends lived, where I went to church every week for many years. Anchors commented in Cantonese on the other side of the world. Pictures of Emilie and her classmates were surrounded by Chinese in newspapers. Brother Parker was on TV. And I cried in the little Hong Kong apartment, filled with sorrow, filled with grief for the young lives that ended too soon, too brutally.

I am home for the first time in almost a year, and six months after the tragedy, I am in Newtown, sitting in the back of the cold room, remembering.

This really isn't a post, but after, in a sort of way, paying homage to the place I met the Parkers, this is my way of saying, rest in peace, Emilie, and God comfort the Parker family and the families of the children.

December 14, 2013, one year after the tragedy:

June 18, 2013

Happy birthday Camille.

Dearest Camille,

Today is your birthday. I have an opened bottle of Martinelli's in hand and am toasting to you an exciting 21st year. I wish you a glorious day in Malawi as I celebrate here in America with people who love you.

Speaking of glorious, Wes and I made you a video.

I hope your birthday is the best and that the beginning of your 21st year is full of happiness and glory. Also, we must resume the Critiques when you come back. And perhaps we shall incorporate Wes' German Cupcake Critique. This week's, if you can't see it, is "Better than S" cupcake.

Happy birthday bud.

With much love,

June 14, 2013

Not too bad.

After this post, I had myself and some of you worried about me living alone this summer. And I guess it didn't help that I haven't posted on my blog in a while. But, as the title suggests, living by myself is not too bad. In fact, I love it. Don't get me wrong. I love people and I cannot wait till my darling roommates come back from Africa. But I have a feeling that when I think back on the summer of 2013, I will remember it as the summer of greatness and of growing up.

School and work have kept and still keeps me busy in the mornings and afternoons. But I have to admit, I didn't know what to do with myself those first, quiet May nights. So I cleaned. A lot. And it wasn't because the apartment needed cleaning, but because I had nothing better to do. I remember making a midnight run to Smiths solely for the purpose of purchasing Lime-A-Way. But hey, the water fixtures have never been shinier.

And on the especially quiet days/afternoons/nights, I decided to not only fill it with music, but with loud music. My sincerest apologies, neighbors.

Suddenly, I realized the greatest thing about living alone.

Those of you who know me in such a setting know how much I love to dance. But dancing in an empty apartment? That's a whole new realm of awesomeness. There's just something absolutely freeing about dancing off of everything--couches, chairs, stools, counters--in anything I want and without the fear of being stomped on or accidentally touching the bare, sweaty arms and exposed pectorals of grunting bros in tank tops (ugh, *shudder*). And when I'm too lazy to go to the gym? What an entertaining form of cardio.

May 31, 2013

Happy birthday Nicolle.

Dearest Nicolle,

Today is your birthday. I have yellow tulips in hand and have lit some candles for you. I wish you a beautiful day in Malawi as I celebrate here in America with people who love you.

I also made you a video. But first, here is the blooper take. And yes, that is a cardboard cutout of a horse. You said I couldn't have cats in the apartment while I am living here, so some friends brought over a horse for company. Perhaps I should name her Grace or Majesty...or Debbie.

But I digress. Onto the blooper take.

And here is the actual video.

I hope your birthday is great and that the beginning of your 21st year starts with much excitement and happiness. 

With much love,
Mystery (who was sadly taken away by said friends)

May 30, 2013

Life is Art, You are the Artist

Oh hey there! I'm Sarah Swan, today's lucky guest blogger. Here's my deal. I'm from Seattle. I like puppies, cars, movies, music, and camping among other things. I usually make dumb faces when people take pictures of me. I always dance like nobody's watching, because they usually aren't.

And here's the deal with this post. I graduated from BYU in Film in December 2012, but walked early at the graduation ceremony in August. Then I was asked by the Film Department to speak at the graduation ceremony in April, which December graduates usually attend. So, I had two fake graduations. My first one was fake because I still had a semester to finish. My second graduation was fake because I'd already graduated and attended a ceremony. It was a big surprise and a huge honor to be chosen by the people I respect the most, my professors and advisers, to represent the department at the ceremony.

This is what I said at my second fake graduation.

Life is Art, You are the Artist 

Good afternoon everyone! My name is Sarah Swan. I’m from the Seattle area. And I’m honored to be speaking to you today as an official graduate of Media Arts Studies or, in other words, Film.

Like many of the graduates here today, I finished my course work in December. So, I’ve been out in the professional world making a living in film art direction. Art Direction or film design is the process of creating the sets where the story is filmed. Most of the people I work with have not gone to college. One of my co-workers has been pretty vocal that he feels it would be a waste of time to get a film degree. Perhaps some of the graduates have had similar discussions with some members of the audience. In my discussions at work, I kept quiet until I felt it would be appropriate for me to speak up. I think I surprised everyone when I said, “I wouldn’t trade my education for anything.”

It may be true that you don’t need a degree to furnish a film set. But it’s also true that my BYU education has been much more than just learning how to create and interpret films.

Professors and classes expanded my mind in ways I could not have done on my own. In history classes I was challenged with abstract films whose visuals read like poetry or international documentaries that made it clear there are usually more than two sides to every story. In theory classes I worked hard to wrap my mind around the metaphysical side to film interpretation and creation. The art that professors had us view, read, listen to, and discuss brought new insights that I’m glad to say have stretched and reorganized the way I see the world. I would be a very different person if I had skipped all of this and gone straight to working for a living.

May 29, 2013

Guest #5.

This is Sarah.

We're new friends, but I love her a lot. Before we kindled our friendship, I admired her from afar and thought she was the funniest when she conducted Sunday School. I don't remember what she said, but you can bet it was funny. We were, and still are, in the same Family Home Evening group. FHE has never been greater.

Sarah has one of those senses of humor that puts you at ease, making her super approachable. She graduated in Film, which is something that I also want to do in my life. At some point. She also drives a big truck, which is something that I also want to drive in my life. At some point. She makes killer enchiladas. Basically, she's super cool.

She hasn't witnessed my awkwardness yet. Maybe I'm getting less awkward. But I highly doubt that. In due time, though, Sarah. It'll come. And you'll laugh it off with me.

We rented a puppy named Miles once.

Sarah's great and I love her.


Update 5/30/13: Sarah's post

May 25, 2013

The Great Gatsby.

Before I begin my review, I had a panic attack in the theatre during this trailer

Talk about every person's worst nightmare.

Onto my review. My delayed review. And it's a short one too. Ehh, sorry!

First things first, Baz Luhrmann is incredible. He really is. And I loved many things about the film and his vision for the whole thing. The cinematography, the music, the characters--everything was so beautiful. And in the end, I give the film two thumbs up. It does the Fitzgerald classic proud. 

However, I felt two things, or rather characters, were underdeveloped. 

Baz could have done so much more with Daisy. 

Daisy, the center of Gatsby's obsession, the reason why he did all he did, why he tried so hard to break out of poverty in order to provide the extravagant lifestyle that Daisy always dreamt of.

To me, it seemed that the film simply just grazed the fact that Daisy didn't wait for Gatsby because he was penniless. I felt Baz could have inserted little comments here and there to further enhance Daisy's superficiality. He could have also had her seem more unsettled with her life because she hasn't yet realized that what she thought would make her happy didn't make her happy.

Jordan Baker. I don't know who that actress was, but she looked like a stretched, length-wise, version of Emily Blunt. And was a lot taller than Nick. Now, I haven't read the book in a while (so I guess that undermines my review), but from what I remember, Nick admired her because he thought that she was different than the people that surrounded them. Then he was incredibly let down when it turned out that she was just like everyone else.

I also am not the greatest fan of pointing out the symbolism so when Nick was all like, "the eyes of God were watching us" as the camera panned across the eyes of TJ Eckleburg.

Moving on.

May 13, 2013

Conversations with strangers.

Over the last year, I have been stopped multiple times on campus by random people as I am walking. Everytime, without fail, these bold people ask, "Where do you come from?" Honestly? I'm rushing to class. This isn't the time nor place to be asking me about my ethnicity. Years of answering this question has allowed me to quickly, and clearly, state. "Imfromconnecticut, myfamilysfromhongkong."

"Oh, I just got back from a trip/mission to China/Korea/Japan," is usually their reply.

Blah blah blah. Don't get me wrong, I like talking about my heritage, but in a three minute conversation while I am trying not to be trampled by students, nothing profound can come from it.

The weirdest experience was when I was speed walking--because running makes you look like a fool--to work at the SWKT when I hear steps behind me quicken, each step sounding closer and closer. Suddenly, out of my peripheral, I noticed this guy matching my pace and stride. As I sped up, he sped up with me. I slowed down, he did the same. I finally looked at him and acknowledged him. I heard him ask, "Are you from Chinese?" and thinking he meant Chinese class, I said yes.

In retrospect, I think he either asked, "Are you Chinese?" or "Are you from China?"

"Well neat. Did you serve Chinese speaking?" expecting him to be yet another return missionary.
"Nope, I went to Peru."
"I work at Chinatown."
There it was. "Neat."
He then attempted to speak Chinese.
"Sorry, excuse me?"
"Oh, ni shi mei guo ren," I said, correcting his tones.
"That's what I said, woshimiegoren."
"You should come by Chinatown sometime."
"Bye." Then he turned around and walked back the direction we were walking away from.
And there we go. We're probably going to be best friends forever.

April 25, 2013

The zipper.

I felt good. I felt really good. My job interviewing skills were getting better and better and I think I got this job. This is a dream--PR and secretarial work. No one likes organizing calendars and working with social media more than this girl.
The original shorteralls (overall shorts).
So I went back to my apartment, happy as clam, or mussel, or some short of shellfish (how did this idiom come about?). I shared my excitement with my friends and went on for a couple minutes about the company. I turned around and started heading back to my apartment to change. 

"Eden," Nicolle hesitated. "Has your zipper been down this whole time?"

I thought for a second. Did this skirt have a zipper? No...right?

Nicolle walked up behind me and ziiiiiiiip.

Oh crap. My mind started racing. Where have I been? Who had seen me? How did I miss the zipper? The room was rising in temperature. I remember rushing home from my final to grab Camille's car keys and changing very quickly. I remember fastening the clasps...but I couldn't recall zipping the zipper. My interviewers might have seen. "Eden?" I became unresponsive to my friends. I'm clawing at the recesses of my mind to find a place to hide. I kept thinking. The man was at least a billion feet tall, so maybe not him. The woman seemed exhausted from interviewing all day long. She was seated. She could have witnessed my plaid blue underwear (thank goodness it was appropriate). The man in the back booth of Kneaders. For sure, he saw. All those cars that passed me when I went to Illia's to say goodbye. All five of those cars, abundant with people.

And now my friends. (Oh, how I will miss them.)

As my flashbacks began to dim, I became more conscious of my physical surroundings. Laughter filled my ears, the room was hot and it was hard to breathe. I was so confident in my interview, and one simple mistake, one sign of weakness tore me down.

April 23, 2013


There is a crazy cat infestation around my complex. Sometimes the meowing in the night keeps me up. It definitely is becoming a problem. And it doesn't help that the old mattress in the parking garage is housing a billion of those cats.

Over a month ago, there was a grey cat lying very soggy and very dead on the storm drain in front of my apartment, the same entrance to hell that the raccoon around here sulks into each morning.
Don't worry, I called animal control.
Nicolle wrote a nice eulogy for Banjo the cat.

Sometime last week, I was walking to grab a soda and fries for a night in with Camille. I strolled by some bushes next to my apartment complex when suddenly, the bushes rustled and started growling. I stood still for a half a second, stiffened when the snarling intensified and I heard the sound of flesh tearing. I quickened my pace and thought, "What the heck am I going to do if this animal pounced on me?" Two more steps and I was out of the devil's sight but not before hearing a rough bark--not of a dog--and gnashing of teeth. It must have been rabid as the sounds rising from the stirring bushes concocted images into my mind of a creature with froth and blood dripping from its open, hungry mouth.
To the victim of the vicious circle of life, although you didn't go in such a way, I hope you rest in peace.

Anyway, I hope finals are going well. Here's a clip from Bob's of my newfound television favorites.
It's a special brand of humor. It took me three or four episodes to get into it. And now I love it.

In other news this morning, the Associated Press' twitter was hacked. It tweeted falsely that there was an explosion at the White House and Obama was injured. The AP stock fell drastically then came back up. And now my primary source of news (AP tweets to my phone) has been suspended.

Have a good day, my friends.

April 19, 2013

The silence.

My best friends are the best out of those I have made in my life. They understand my quietness not (solely) as introverted awkwardness (because let's admit it, I am sometimes awkward when I converse), but as just thinking time for me, as time for me to just soak in what is going on around me and to just be with whoever I am with. Other people, even you, may misunderstand this quietness as a barrier between myself and the world, as extreme introverted-ness, or an unwillingness to get to know you. One of my high school Spanish teachers once described me as "nice, but not friendly." I am sorry if I come across to you that way. I promise, I am friendly once you get to know me (and that was high school...wasn't that a weird time for everyone?). And I can't really explain why I am so quiet. I did take a personality test for my class this semester and it said I am an ISFJ, which, I guess, kind of provides an answer to the why. Upon reading more about what psychology had to say about my personality, I came across a segment in the Wikipedia article saying that my "reluctance to open up to strangers can lead others to misread them [ISFJs] as standoffish." I apologize if I ever come off as standoffish. This is not me. So, as my remedy to any misconceptions you may have of me, I decided to periodically post about my thoughts and emotions as a way for you to get to know me without me having to really talk about my thoughts and emotions.

I have always preferred writing to talking about my emotions.

So right now, I am feeling very anxious. The same best friends are leaving for their home, for their internships abroad or for their mission. I am very happy for them, don't get me wrong, and I am excited for this summer. But I am also scared of change. And although I have done many things by myself--I love the quiet of my room, of my apartment, of my world--there are moments when I am alone where I feel troubled and suffocated by the silence. And I am going to be alone soon.

But this will be good for me. And it'll only be for a little while in the grand scheme of things. That's what I keep saying to myself. That's what everyone keeps saying. I just need to stay focused on the good that will come from this and not let my mind go to a dark place. I have a new calling in church, I have neat classes that will keep me busy, I (may) have a job, I have more time to read books and take up new hobbies. I have you. I have future me. I have God.

Dear friends and readers, my closest of friends are leaving so please be patient with me if I seem even more overwhelmingly quiet in a couple weeks.  But I will come out to play soon.

April 17, 2013

An email from the future.

Monday evening, Eden sat at the table with her books scattered about. She was leaning heavily on her left arm, her hand clutching at the roots of her hair as her other hand restlessly shook her pen against her textbook. Too many characters to memorize before Saturday. 她要會去睡覺。

"This final will be the death of me," she muttered under her breath.

Amidst the mumbling and grumbling, Eden's phone started buzzing, startling her as it disrupted the silence. Apparently, AIM was still alive and well and now allowed texting. It simply stated that she "received a txt from an AOL/AIM user." 

The message?

"Check your junk and spam mail...your first task is waiting." 

Eden started freaking out. What the heck was going on. How did this person get her number and her email? Privacy is dead and pretty soon, she was going to die. That's how it was in the movies, right? Some form of privacy is breached and then the victim dies. She was going to die.

This didn't stop her though. No, not Eden. She delved into her spam folder and found an email from an Eden Wen. Same username, just different service...

April 16, 2013


Hear my plea
Help me not to fail my finals please
And to not pollute my grades with C's
Help me to survive this week...

Oh goodness. Ohhhhh goodness. Finals are nigh and my motivation to study is nonexistent. Each time I open a textbook, I end up shutting it within five minutes, tears pooling in my eyes, overwhelmed with the amount of concepts and characters and craziness I have to store back into my brain.

I just can't wait to be done with finals. I am ready to to celebrate the end of this semester. I am ready to shed the woes of this past semester and start anew. And although I am quite wary of change, I am ready for spring and summer and for the new adventures that it'll bring.

April 12, 2013

One of those days.

Sometimes I think too much about my future, my past, my friends, my family and I get uneasy about everything that is happening all around me.

Today is one of those days.

In these times, I like to surround myself with people to keep myself from feeling alone. And I just listen and listen and listen. If I am alone, I like to surround myself with music to keep my mind in check. And I just listen and listen and listen.

And although today is one of those days, I've surrounded myself with good friends and good music and I'm feeling that in the end, everything's going to be just fine.

I hope you have a good day and enjoy the rooster.

April 9, 2013

Neverland isn't as special.

Dear Friends,

Today I would like to just let my thoughts wander and chat a little about growing up. This month I am turning 25 (which just so happens to also be my golden birthday), an age that I have forever thought of as the turning point from young adult to adult’s adult. Like responsible adult. Get your own phone plan adult. Be independent adult. I no longer need to talk to my parents every week kind of adult. Well, I think you get the idea. And as I am getting closer to this age, day by day I realize that I am by no means ready to be an adult’s adult. And I think that it’s okay… to a point…to still be contingent on your own childlike tendency’s to depend on your parent’s love.

Last month my Grandpa was admitted to the hospital for a handful of different reasons. Now let me tell you a bit about my Grandpa. He is just so special to me. His birthday is just 3 days before mine and out of the 24 (going on 25) years I have lived on this Earth, we have celebrated our birthdays together 23 times. It is a tradition that I hold dear to my heart as we age together, though separate.

This year he turns 81. And as of right now it looks like he is going to make it to yet another birthday. But while he was in the hospital our family experienced an emotional awakening, something that we have not experienced before. The possible loss of a person we all love so sincerely. Now I am sure that most of you have experiences death in your own families, and yes I have too, but this was a little different, this was the first familiarity of death in regards to someone who has truly changed my life. Through many prayers from myself and others and through the expertise of the doctors who worked with him, he is home resting. But none the less, this was close, and it was a very real emotional drain on my heart.

A little while after he was released to go home, I went to go visit my dad at his house about 40 minutes from where I live. As we were sitting on the couch silently watching some t.v. he says to me, “I know that he is only getting older, and that we have been expecting this for a while, but it still is a strange feeling to know that the man who raised me is going to be leaving soon.”

April 6, 2013

General Conference, 4/2013.

(Watch here -->) | #ldsconf |

"Because Heavenly Father loves His children, He has not left them to walk through this mortal life without direction and guidance" (President Dieter F. Uchtdorf). The Prophet, Thomas S. Monson, provides that direction and guidance.

I would like to personally invite you to come listen to living prophets. I always look forward to the opportunities I have to hear counsel from God's servants and to be spiritually enriched. I know that our prophet today, Thomas Monson, communes with God and reveals His will for us.

I love this Church and I love my Savior Jesus Christ. I know that He lives. I have a testimony of His beloved gospel. It has brought me happiness and peace, it teaches what I know so passionately in my mind and my heart to be truths. These truths will be spoken of today and tomorrow during General Conference. Come listen.

April 3, 2013


This topic has been a long time coming.

Korean Pop. I never understood the appeal, then Gangnam Style came out, garnering almost 1.5 billion views on YouTube and I was like, this is so ridiculous, it's good. And I participated in a spoof myself (I come into focus at 3:06).

It didn't last for me, though. I just wanted to know what they were saying so bad, and I wasn't committed enough to look up everything they were saying. They threw English words and phrases in the midst of their Asian that really didn't make sense...or maybe it does, I don't know. All you non-Korean K-pop lovers, do you really know what they're saying? Or are you just diggin' the beat? Their music videos, yes, are very cute with their coy smiles, their adorable winks, the strategic tracing every so often of their flawless faces, the tilting of their dainty heads...

And of course, when I was Hong Kong over the Christmas break, it turned out that my cousin's son was in love with Girls' Generation. And then, my younger sister revealed that she also loved Girls' Generation. There are nine of them. NINE. I mean, I can't even work with more than four people on a class project without the fear of losing my voice, imagine fighting eight other people to literally have your voice heard.
This reminds me of kittens. A room full of the most adorable kittens in the entire world. Also, Duffy, anyone?

And about trying to get equal face time. I counted nine, then eleven, then ten. I don't know. So many elements to this song too. Goodness, I can't tell what they want me to think.

April 1, 2013

Guest #4.

This next guest and I met freshman year and we've been friends since. And yes, he posted before his proper introduction, but I really liked what he said on his own blog that I had him repost it here before I could send out an intro.

This is Wes.

I love him so much. He is a great reader and writer and probably will compose the Great American Novel one day. Last semester, we spent practically every day together as we took the same English and Doctrine and Covenants classes. It was the best when we made pretentious grammar jokes or doodled in our religion notebooks.

Although Wes and I don't see each other as often as last semester, I can easily call him up at any time of the day and we will take quick trips to Wendy's and grab chicken nuggets or sit in the Wilk and go over his changed life plans. His laugh is very, very infectious and you really can't help yourself but laugh with him.

Wes has witnessed my awkwardness on many occasions but has always met it with his own awkwardness, jokes and words of wisdom.

We skyped each other while watching The Legend of Korra once.

Wes' a delight and I love him.


Update 3/31/13: Wes' post.

March 31, 2013


They say Christ died for us in that garden and suffered for our sins and that the weight of it all squeezed the blood out of him like an olive press does to an olive. And I believe them, even though I wonder how much weight it takes to crush Jesus Christ. They say too that while he was in the garden he felt all the sadness we felt, and that because of that he can judge us perfectly. And I believe them there too. But even if you don't, I think you can still wonder about all the sadness that crushed Jesus Christ, who conquered even death. All the heartaches, the disappointments the siblings he watched die of cancer, how many tons of grain and rice and cotton he harvested until his thumbs bled, how much frostbite and all the hunger the goodbyes the miles walked away from home the cuts scrapes scars the abandonment left crying alone in your closet crawling from Tennessee to Oklahoma on your bare knees smelling the odor of your loved one's ashes of gunshots and shipping off to foreign shores and the smoke on the thirtieth floor stinging your eyes or down in that mine choking your breath and loss loss loss. It's all loss and that weight you feel in your heart that you can hardly bear. Our hearts are fragile. That weight doesn't have to be much. I don't care how you divide it, seven billion times anything is a lot, and that doesn't include all the people way back when. What would the world's sorrow weigh? I wonder sometimes if with all the sorrows trials and tribulations, if he felt all the joys too. And if he did, whether he divided it up so that he had all the trials and then could look forward to all the joys, or else if they were all mixed together like how we have it. And then I wonder if he felt the joys that came from bad things, like getting away with stealing, and if it was on the tribulation side or the joy side. And if the joys were so much that they hurt him too. The earth weighs 59,721,900,000 kg (131,664,251,759.7 lbs). It's such a big number it doesn't even matter that we are on it, the mass is still the same. They estimate 107,602,707,791 people have lived on the earth so far. And let's assume that during their whole life everyone accumulates just one pound of sorrow, then sorrow alone would be almost the weight of the world. And that's not counting all the babies waiting to be born and that's not counting all of the sins, and all the people who carry a lot more sorrow in their hearts. All the sins are just ways of keeping sorrow in your heart anyway. I'm not trying to evangelize here, I'm just saying that's a whole lot of sorrow, and a whole lot of world. But let me tell you, all the sorrow and all the pain and trial and tribulation would be a lot less heavy if we started helping each other out and lifting each other's loads. And if we stopped forgetting what each other was. Choosing sides is important, we all need to do what we think is right. But not if it makes us forget that He suffered just as much for them as he did for us. Even if you don't believe in Him don't forget that. Don't forget that everyone has a mother somewhere. Don't forget that judging someone doesn't make you any better than them, but more importantly that telling someone to stop judging you doesn't make you any better than them. Because we're all heavy, and all our hearts are creeping down our rib cage and they're going to keep creeping until we stop the dichotomies. It just makes the world heavier. It just makes us forget that it is a heavy world around us, that we got to stick together else the world's sure to cave in on itself.

Reposted from

March 27, 2013


The fluorescent lights flickered above me as I laid sprawled on the floor. My chest was rising, falling, gasping for air as I thought to myself, My innards are about to rip...I can't go on.

I shut my eyes for a second and I felt my breathing slowly return to normal. An odd rendition of that one "Harlem Shake" song was playing in the background. I was feeling lightheaded and the music began to fade. Was it the end of the song? Or am I losing consciousness?

Suddenly, a voice.

"Alright, if it hurts to go on, go to your happy place."

My happy place? My mind immediately began to trace an image of...of...of the most delicious chocolate cake I have ever seen. I began to taste the gooeyness of the chocolate chip cookies, fresh out the oven. Betty Crocker appeared in my kitchen and handed me a spatula and a bowl of brownie mix. Her eyes twinkled and spoke to me, saying, "Here, eat."

I closed my eyes...the corners of my mouth twitched into a smile. The chocolate was numbing my pain.

"Eden! Did you really just fall asleep?" My eyes flipped open, I lifted my head and looked to the left. My sister, legs propped up on an exercise ball and in a shaky V-position, was staring in disbelief.

"Hold for one more set, ladies!" The voice at the front of the room enveloped the "Harlem Shake."

"3, 2, 1 and alright! You're done!" Sighs of relief filled the room and finally, the Wednesday morning abs class was over. I closed my eyes again.

Betty Crocker reappeared.

Let's give a round of applause for my first three guest bloggers, Nicolle, Sam and Michelle. Absolutely brilliant. They made this past month incredible with their words. (More guests coming in the near future!)

And now the reason for this blog: my life. I thought school was my biggest obstacle in this past month with the most time-consuming midterm project of my life (honestly...we ended it with an all-nighter that taught me Red Bull causes me to stutter...).

March 22, 2013

25 Facts you Might Have Already Known about Michelle

Dear Friends,

This is my first experience being a “guest blogger” for someone and I am so stoked for the opportunity. So I thought I would take this time to introduce myself to all of you.

My full name is Michelle Erin Sutterfield. But my family calls me Michy (pronounced Mishy) or Mich Fish. I actually prefer being called Michy because it is what I am called by those who truly love me. I am 24 years old, 25 next month, but I feel like a teenager still with the imagination of a 5 year old. I paint, and draw, and take photos on occasion. And if I am feeling a tad more creative than usual, I make Haikus. I have spent a lot of my adult years trying to figure out where I belong, which is one of the main reasons I am 24 years old and still trying to get a college education. I love to laugh, and I also love to cry. I sometimes wonder if I just feel emotions more than normal people do… like… 100 x more. It can be hard sometimes, and even purely unbelievable, but I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything in the world.

I am the daughter of Juliana and David, though not married anymore, they are great parents. We have had our ups and downs as any family would, but ultimately, they are my everything.

Every once in a while a friend of mine would ask me how I took my parent’s divorce. And to be completely honest, I could not remember most of it. I was so young when it happened (about 4 I think) and do not even remember them being together. But I do remember using my parent’s divorce to get one parent to do something the other would not. I was a very vindictive child. Luckily I grew out of this (I hope) and have moved on to doing better things with my time… like writing Haikus. But I will say that over these 20 something years of having two separate, but equal families, I have learned a few things that I would like to remember when starting one of my own.

Maybe at some point I will share those few bits of insight with you, but to stay on topic… and by topic I mean the topic of ME let me share with you 25 things you might not have known about me:

March 21, 2013

Guest #3.

This is Michelle.

I love her so much. Michelle was the first person I met this new school year. Her flaming red hair, her deep blue dress and her infectious laugh was what lured me to her and I knew that I wanted to be her friend. Being around her is always the best. She makes you feel funny and clever and just good about yourself.

Michelle has the wonderful gift of making friends. Her personality is one that meshes well with everyone and when you see her, you are drawn to her, you want to know her. She is always up to doing fun things and I see her at every event that I go to. You know it's going to be awesome if Michelle is there.

When I get awkward or say something odd (i.e. knickers) and I start feeling flushed, Michelle's laugh always puts me at ease and I feel better about what just happened.

We went crazy in a photo booth once.

Michelle's wonderful and I love her.


Update 3/22/13: Michelle's post.
Update 4/9/13: Michelle's second post.

March 13, 2013

Up and over the mountain

I don't know most of you that will be reading this. Well at least I hope you read it. But I do know Eden and I love her and who she is. She brings joy into whatever room she is currently in. I like that in a person. I am happy she invited me to write on anything I desired. I have thought and thought about different experiences that I have lived through and one seems to pop out from my memory that I wish to share...

First some background of me, well there is only one thing you need to know. I hate hiking. I could rant about it for hours. I don't have that much time so I will just say it is horrible and you are constantly scared that you will die from exhaustion. Then you get miles up the trail and you are scared that you won't die. Either way, scoutmasters get you up on the mountains and you are just kicking yourself thinking that you agreed to go.

This death march occurred in the high Uinta Mountains. (Here is a link if you are unfamiliar: High Mountains )

The whole time driving to this location the road we traveled by was flat. This got my hopes up, surely the road was a good indicator. But no, like a bat out of hell, the biggest mountains my young 17-year-old eyes could see popped out of nothing. Jagged jaws of cliff reaching outward 13,528 feet made my little heart drop into my ankles instantly making them swollen with fear. Yes, that description is accurate.

So there I was, walking on a dirt path that blended and crawled up a mountain. I was with friends, my father was there, my pack wasn't that heavy, and yet I was mad. Mad that there was a man that decided to climb these battered punch marks spread across the world and call it fun. So fun that millions caught on and developed large backpacks to carry canteens and powdered food packets up and down these exhausting trails. I was bitter as you can tell. 

The path continued, we were so high that the trees themselves didn't dare to climb with us. I am not sure you readers have been above treeline before but it is high enough that trees cannot tolerate inappropriate environmental conditions (usually cold temperatures or lack of moisture). Why any human would want to be up where plants can't grow is beyond me, but there we climbed. 

It was day 4 of this march and I was sick from food packets and filtered water. I had just woken up to what seemed like 33 minutes of sleeping and 7 hours of trying to sleep when I hear "pack up and lets get moving!" What more do you people want to see! There is nothing up there that would be different from down here. What good is this trip, everyone just wants to go home. I wanted to scream at my leaders but only did so in my head. Sometimes that is the safest place to yell. 

March 12, 2013

Guest #2.

The following guest is a new friend of mine. Our friendship is budding. In fact, I think there's even a petal peaking out of the bud.

This is Sam.

I love him so much. (Too soon?) Practically every week, Nicolle, Camille and I partake in SWiS: Sundays with Sam. At these gatherings, we talk about everything, from our childhoods, to funerals, from Justin Bieber and his new heroin addiction to our recent happinesses or sadnesses in life.

Sam does not do things half-heartedly. Even if he would rather be somewhere else, he puts his all in whatever activity we are engaging in. He graced us with a reading of the Declaration of Independence on Presidents' Day and I eagerly await the day I play murder-in-the-dark with him.

He has yet to really see the awkward side of me, but I feel he is one to meet my awkwardness with understanding and kindness.

We played running charades once.

Sam's the greatest and I love him.


Update 3/13/13: Sam's post.

March 8, 2013

love, nicolle

Dear Followers of Eden,

This is a love letter. This is odd because I do not know you nor will I likely ever meet you in real life. How bold! I am going for it and I have committed. So look out, you rascals, one of us is gonna end up a little attached.....

Here it goes:

Only Eden knows what it means to me to be beyond category.  Duke Ellington once explained that the greatest compliment paid him was when he was described as beyond category.  I think that's lovely.  As we know from the documentaries on netflix and the evening discussions with my dad, Frank, Duke Ellington was named the Duke due to his eloquence and classy dress from a young age.  Contrary to the common Depression-era racial stereotype, Duke Ellington defied category and christened himself nobility. He played for audiences of all status and color and played music that only he could write. No one could ever replicate him.

It was my junior year of high school. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I remember being so confused because I couldn't tell if I was beautiful or ugly.  My nose lost all meaning for me. The relative-ness of beauty had been festering inside me for a while but it all just hit me that morning.  I remember putting on clothes and staring at every part of me. I no longer knew where I fit.  Even my clothes were indifferent to the expectations of the world around me. I was no longer "hot" or "unfortunate looking."  I became Nicolle.  My face was very "Nicolle" and the way I talked immediately became very "Nicolle."  I stopped being a category created by my strange friends and acquaintances.  I became me.

I think too often we allow ourselves to categorize ourselves and each other.  We like to simplify the world in order to understand it better.  Sadly, I think it just cheapens the human experience.  Duke Ellington paid no mind to category and revolutionized the way the world thought about talent and skin color.  I am no revolutionary...if I were, though, I would revolutionize the way we looked at each other. I would have us all look at each other with our names in mind instead of the type of shirt we are wearing. I would have us look at ourselves as the beautiful and unique faces we are instead of the comparable trends we are matching.

Followers of Eden! You are all so free and complicated (to the point of undefinable). You do not fit small categories like "hipster" or "poser." You are too large in soul and personality to be shrunk to that standard.  I know that if I knew you, if I really knew you, I would be infatuated by your mind and unique ideas.  You are beyond category.

Duke Ellington (and his orchestra): 



March 4, 2013

Guest #1.

I think people are defined the most by those they surround themselves with. I have spent practically every day with great friends since school started in August and I think it appropriate that they share a bit of this blog with me. How can I blog about my life without having you meet the people that are a constant presence in it? So, pretty soon, you're going to see something new here.

That's right, I'm going to have guest bloggers. Or rather, guest blogger. Only one person has accepted my request thus far. (Mckeelicalmont, find the email and accept my request to guest blog. But no pressure.) And maybe they'll only write once. Maybe they'll be a frequent guest. It's up to them.

Anyway, before my first guest posts, I'd like to write a short blip as her introduction. And I'll do the same with future guest bloggers as well.

Here we go.

This is Nicolle.

I love her so much. She is one of my best friends and a great music enthusiast. The greatest gift you can give her is just a really great CD mix. Her blog is the soundtrack to her life. Each post has a song that is dedicated to a moment of her life and you really get a sliver of a glimpse into her soul.

Nicolle is passionate, and she's not pretentious about those passions. Granted, some of them don't merit pretentiousness, i.e. charades, The Terminator, chocolate twizzlers (which aren't too bad after the eighth time trying them). But other passions--the Gospel, music, making people feel loved--it's incredible what she sacrifices for these in her life.

She is rather tolerant of me when I get awkward or intensely quiet and when I grab her arm or hand for comfort in moments when I don't know what to with myself.

We took a bubble bath together once. (Don't worry, mom. With swimsuits.)

Nicolle's beyond category and I love her.


Update 3/8/13: Nicolle's post.

March 3, 2013

Mountains to Climb.

"If we have faith in Jesus Christ, the hardest as well as the easiest of times in life can be a blessing...We never need feel alone or unloved in the Lord's service because we never are. We can feel the Love of God."

February 8, 2013

Ed Sheeran.

The rhythm of my heart was altered a couple nights ago.

No, no, not in a sappy, lovey-dovey way, though I do love Ed Sheeran (and I am forever indebted to Nicolle for introducing me to him last summer).

But literally.

The rhythm of my heart was altered.

There was a good five or ten or 30 minutes--all concept of time was lost on me--of his SLC concert where Ed just went crazy on his amplified bass drum (I don't know even if it really was a bass drum or if he was hitting his guitar). And although I was in the very back, behind the sound engineer, trying to see over the crying girl and the bizarre middle school couple who kept on swaying in and out of mine, Camille and Nicolle's lines of sight, I felt every beat that he stomped out as the rumbling booms infiltrated my body in powerful gusts of sound. I started having heart palpitations. My heart didn't know if it should continue its normal pumping, or give into the outside pressure of music, passion and its bass.

In the end, Ed Sheeran won. And my heart will never be the same.

(And props to his openers for preparing my heart for greatness: Rizzle Kicks and Foy Vance)

February 3, 2013

My testimony.

Today someone said, "I feel if I don't share my testimony, I'll start to lose it." I want to share mine to the whole world because I do know that Jesus Christ is my Savior and I don't want to lose that knowledge. But, I am not an eloquent speaker. Whenever fast and testimony meeting comes around each month, I start panicking because although I love this gospel so much, when I start talking in front of a group, I tend to stutter and sweat. I'm much better in one-on-one settings, and I realized today that blogging is also a way of sharing my testimony to the world while not having to get up in front of people.

This gospel is one of truth and light. Quite honestly, knowing myself and my tendencies and weaknesses, I am positive that I would be in a bad place right now were I not a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I get into ruts in the daily routine of my life and I get bummed out easily in those ruts. But I know that when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me. I take comfort in knowing that He is there and that He listens. He is patient with me when I am being foolish and prideful and loves me even when I am stubborn. He rejoices in my achievements. He provides me with daily miracles. He has blessed me with a loving family and precious friends who are all incredible examples to me.

I love the scriptures. I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and is a companion to the Bible, and another testament of Jesus Christ. I find truth and the love of God within its pages. I know that Joseph Smith, under the direction of God, translated this book of scripture. Joseph Smith was the first prophet of the restoration and Thomas S. Monson is our prophet today.

I love my Savior and am extremely grateful for His atonement. With it, I can turn to Him when in need of solace and of repentance. I feel His love and tender mercy with every breath I take.

Christ lives.

January 24, 2013


Eden left her house early Thursday morning. To her great dismay, ice rain from the ninth circle of Hell poured from the skies and transformed the whole town into a grand ice rink. Muttering under her breath, Eden cautiously walked down the steps and joined students in the trek up to campus. Within five feet, books and scarves and phones soared up high as their owners plunged and slid. Eden stood her ground as she watched dozens of her nameless neighbors fall onto their backs. Wide-eyed, the small Asian girl clutched onto her umbrella and stared very intently at the sidewalk.

I will not fall, she chanted to herself. I will not fall.

She reached the foot of the hill, but not before witnessing the tailbone-cracking slips of dozens of students.

"Walk on the snow!" someone atop the hill shouted down.

Some did not listen and tried to hike the incline. One after the other, the fools slipped and fell on top of each other. Even the ones attempting to get to the snow biffed it on the small stretch of sidewalk they had to cross to get to their starchy snow salvation. Eden made it to the top, and, like a boss, she texted the whole time. She had to warn her friends of the treacherous trip they would face when they leave the apartment.

Hoping that campus would have at least salted parts of the sidewalk, Eden almost proceeded with greater confidence in her step. However, after scouting out the area, there were five bodies sprawled within a couple feet of the hill's peak. Eden thought about her best route. Should she risk yet another stretch of sidewalk just to get to the snow? She decided against walking on the ice and that the fools would have to do. They already broke down.

So she did it. Eden leapt into the air and landed on one of the fallen. She skipped upon each of the bodies, like the ninjas do in those Chinese films, and landed on all fours into the snow. She was going to make it class, no matter what.

But it was already past 9 o'clock.

Eden swiftly grabbed her Stats book from her bag and decided this would be the fastest mode of transportation.

Eden broke through the wintery air as she iceboarded on her textbook all the way to the Brimhall. She dismounted, did a triple back flip and landed on the doormat.

Victory was hers and she laughed at the fallen fools as she entered the building.