Friday proved to be rather uneventful. A friend and I were supposed to get together, but she didn't feel well, so I did what all people with too many hobbies do in that situation. I randomly selected a few projects and did some work on them. I somehow find these events relaxing. I also got make plans for time with very important people. This always brightens my day.

Saturday dawned with the promise of less project completion. The goal was to love on my car and then go bunny-hopping from friend to friend in the great state of Pennsylvania. I woke up early and drove my car over to Meineke (gratuitous advertising) to get an oil change. The only excuse I have for being lax on my oil changes is that I am a woman. I use that same excuse for why I lacked motivation to make sure the air in my tires was at an acceptable pressure. I am pretty sure it isn't, so I may have to find a man who wants to check my tires...

But yesterday was about my girls. My candy girl let me lounge around her house. Her daughter wasn't as okay with the lounging. She kept grabbing my hand and trying to drag me off to play. It is absolutely adorable when small children want to be my friend. I need to learn from their innocence and charm.

To get to my second stop, I had to explore one of my many talents. This talent is the one where I get lost on my way from point A to point B. Luckily, I get a lot of joy out of exploring strange places. I also enjoyed driving around one of my first circular intersections. I didn't hit anything, so I assume it was correctly executed.

My second stop involved lots of game playing and sweet treats. I rocked out on rock band. Okay, so I didn't do so well. I need to practice my mad skills. I did, however, distract people with my sexy mini-skirt. Ah, the days. I also traveled safely home through the outskirts of Pittsburgh. Yes, that was probably me not exceeding the speed limit enough for you, speed racer. I apologize. Anyway, it has been another long day and tomorrow looks promising, so sweet dreams.

So I have been noting lately that I have a serious problem. I have been trying to put my finger on it. At first, I wanted to just believe that I was imagining there was a problem. After all, pride makes us want to think we are perfect in every way, right? Pride is not my problem.

Compassion, charity, love, if you will, is my problem. Have you read 1 Corinthians 13? Do you understand it? I wouldn't pray to understand it unless you have a very strong heart. So how is this a problem?

If you know me, you may have noted how I seem to be a fount of knowledge. I don't claim great wisdom. In fact, I blame love. I love learning. I love figuring out how things work. I love being able to accomplish just about anything I put my mind to. I love being able to reach out to other people and let then know that someone cares.

This is the problem with me. I don't realize that even a small hint of my compassion or affection is more than most people give to those they love dearly. So when I stop giving it away so freely? I get told that I hate people because I have been trying to protect them from whatever ails me (the flu, my bad attitude, whatever).

But the problem really starts when I give it. I have noted on numerous occasions that I end up with people surrounding me at activities. It is not because I am dancing on the table. It is certainly not because I am sharing great wisdom or, on most occasions, saying something particularly uplifting. It is because somehow I can convey in one word or one look that a person is wanted here on earth and more specifically right where they are.

This doesn't tend to be a problem until I begin to respect and appreciate someone as an individual. Now, some I tell over and over that I do respect them and could, perhaps, care for them more deeply. Others I just like spending time with because we have similar interests. Others I basically avoid (as best as I can without hurting their feelings too badly). In all such instances, it seems, I still give off more than I intend. I tire of it. I think I may have to close my social calendar and become a shut-in. No one has time to deal with what I deal with on a regular basis as well as unfounded accusations.

"Let us then continue on in this important work of recording the things we do, the things we say, the things we think, to be in accordance with the instructions of the Lord. For those of you who may not have already started your books of remembrance and your records, we would suggest that this very day you begin to write your records quite fully and completely. We hope that you will do this, our brothers and sisters, for this is what the Lord has commanded." ~Spencer W. Kimball

Wisdom born of the soul isn't something the world respects any more. We are more interested in the notches on the bedpost or the stains on the soul than the possibility that one can just know--through faith. It is silly to have faith that Heavenly Father is still watching over us. It is foolish to believe that he would rather speak to a humble boy of fourteen than a wise man of more mature age. It is ridiculous to look at all the progress that the world has made in its intellectual and immoral pursuits since 1830 and think that is is anything more than mere coincidence.

How do we stone the prophets in an age where such things are archaic? We stone them with our words. We stone them with our actions. We stone them with our disbelief. How can someone know anything without having written a master's thesis or a dissertation on the subject, backed up an verified by a million scholars before? How can someone know something that we can't google for or look up in a book published by some renowned university?

So it seems that a lie is a great protector from what just might hurt. I've seen it before. It also keeps us from attaining what we think is beyond our reach. And, in some instances, it keeps us from accepting the fact that we have come across something worth moving toward. The question is what lies do I tell myself that hurt me? I can see other people's lies. Can I see my own? I can. I have mentioned them before, but if I sing them, it makes the lies a truth.

"Invite them to read more slowly and more carefully and with more questions in mind. Help them to ponder, to examine every word, every scriptural gem. Teach them to hold it up to the light and turn it, look and see what's reflected there. For some student, on a given day with a given need, such an examination may unearth a treasure hidden in a field, or a pearl of great price, a pearl beyond price." ~Jeffrey R. Holland: CES Video Conference, 20 June 1982.

"His love is greater than the love of any other, for His love encompasses all of His children, and it is His work and His glory to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of His sons and daughters of all generations (see Moses 1:39)." ~Gordon B. Hinkley on Heavenly Father's love

It occurred to me today as I was flipping through my recently marked scriptures that I have been building up to this for a while. I once had some home teachers challenge me to more thoroughly study the scriptures as I read. I then took an Institute class on advanced scripture study (how to more effectively study the scriptures as opposed to just reading the words out of duty). From the looks of my scriptures, it has finally sunk in.

So a couple of people had promised to call me today. Recent events have reminded me that the world comes up and my phone does not ring. Thus I have spent the day busily working on some of those infamous projects of mine. I haven't finished any, but I am satisfied with my progress. Those aspirations to become a shut-in are looking more serious. Just imagine what I could accomplish if I really did lock myself away in a solitary little place. *hmm* Anyway, I don't have any great insights or exciting stories, so back to work for me...

In watching television, I fear I go too deep into my analysation of the world and how it relates to me. You can find a bit of yourself everywhere you look. For instance, last week, I decided to become a little more like Tempest Brennan from the television show "Bones". She "compartmentalizes". I need to do more of that. It would definitely make this website easier to navigate. Some of you may have noticed I have been tinkering with the code a bit lately, trying to make it more refined and user friendly.

In other news, I have been having some of my creepy association problems again. My life travels in circles. I have mentioned this. The characters change on the stage, but they keep acting out the same old story. Maybe it will stop when I figure out how to make the present better by changing what went wrong in the past. The problem lies in the nuances of difference. It also has the added bonus of me feeling I did the right thing the last time I met up with the concept of the "mysterious stranger". As always, my readers should not assume that means anything they could understand.

"Yes, the Lord Jesus Christ liberated man from the world by the pure gospel of love. He demonstrated that man, through the love of God and through kindness and charity to his fellows, could achieve his highest potential. He lived the plain and sure doctrine of service, of doing good to all men, friends and enemies alike. His charge to return good for evil is still the greatest challenge to the mind of man. At the same time it is man's greatest weapon." ~Ezra Taft Benson

I've been reflecting a lot. All divas do love reflective surfaces from store windows to still water to those mirrors all over the bedroom. My reflections have led me to review similar words from dissimilar people. Today it centers around a strange look I received last night when I announced the age of my sweet girlfriend Deese. She has been with me over seven years and still takes all the affection she can get. It also centers around comments about my frugality and how I seem to be trying too hard.

So I was pondering how I "try to hard" and I realize that I get told that by people even when I don't think I am putting forth much effort at all. Maybe other people just try hard enough? I got told years ago that I was working too hard. I know an entry in this very journal talks about. I was amazed to be told that since I had been basically goofing off most of that day.

I had a lot of time to let my mind wander over all of this as I moved microfilm from one drawer to another. I didn't have nearly as much time as I would have expected, however. I tend to complete tasks faster than anticipated once I settle down and to do them. One of my co-workers seemed as amazed as I was by my progress. I sometimes consider the ultimate joys of being an efficiency expert (Lucy Liu from "Charlie's Angels" style). Then I realize that strutting my stuff in skin-tight leather could lead to a job I shouldn't have.

So twice yesterday, I came face to face with the reality that I just seem to know things. I read an incredibly long talk by Spencer W. Kimball that detailed every thing I feel about marriage. He's a smart man. I think everyone should listen to him (and not just because he has an uncanny resemblance to Yoda). I guess the truth does sometimes just sneak into us when we leave our hearts and minds open to it.

The other involved no-bake cookies. I have never been the biggest fan of them. I think it is because they are usually too sweet (depends on the ingredients you use and I am a semi-sweet girl). Anyway, I thought the recipe was wrong but since it came from a reliable source, I figured I would just obey the directions. The recipe was wrong. I still got a tasty treat but it isn't in the shape of a delicious cookie (unless you think more along the lines of a cookie bar).

Today has had a weary feel to it. This could be because my troubled attempt at sleep last night didn't help me recuperate from thinking too much. It could also be because my phone rang at 5am to tell me a credit card that none living under my roof has (unless Lil' Guy is keeping secrets) has been canceled. Needless to say, I wasn't too concerned about all of that.

The rest of the day has been spent being productive. I have processed some CD-ROMs and sent them off to be appreciated by someone else, shifted more microfilm, fixed some microfiche records, checked some names, worked on a quilt, worked on some bookmarks that I need, and even added to this journal. Even with all of that, I have found time to eat too many no-bake non-cookies and worry relentlessly about people who like to pretend I do not exist. Why would anyone pretend a diva doesn't exist? A) Because it is easier than dealing with the fact that she'll never be yours. B) Because if you recognize that she exists, you have to recognize that she may have something you want quite desperately and that would cause some envy. C) Because she is running around with a cloak of invisibility over her head (you thought 'Arry Potter was the only one to have one, did ye?) Anyway, I still have a little more time to fill before bed. I have a little footwork to practice and a guitar to stroke lovingly. To a better tomorrow...

"You will have all manner of evil spoken against you, and all I ask of you and all that God or angels will ask of you is that not one word spoken against you shall be true; and I want you for my sake and for your own sake and for the sake of Christ and the Kingdom of God to live so that the wicked shall have no cause to speak evil against you" ~Brigham Young

"Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole." ~Derek Walcott

So I am kind of trapped in a euphoria created by my deep desire to cook things. In other words, I have been taste-testing my own treats this evening. Sadly, not much else seems to be going on, but if I keep it up, maybe people will see more of me.

If I had merely a dime for every time I was accused of something simply because I didn't do it, I would be a very rich girl indeed. If I had a dime for every time someone lied to me and I looked at them incredulously but didn't believe them, I'd be richer still. If I had a dime for every time I walked, swam, biked, drove, or otherwise traveled through filth to get to an equally filthy destination, I'd be able to buy and sell Bill Gates.

We live in a dirty world. I drove through a cloud of smoke on my way to work this morning. A small town girl from a state known for its dirty coal doesn't find this to be odd at all. We are used to it. We are used to our streams tinged with orange. In fact, I can hear voices from the past echoing how good all the sulfur in that water was for wounds. It had to be good for something. It certainly wasn't good for fish.

Threats of rain remained only threats. This means that none of the festivities of the day got canceled.. In the library, we sometimes party in small ways. After a week of shuffling, sorting, sending, and sniffling (well, maybe not), we cooled down with a little ice cream. I opted for a peach shake. I felt peachy after that.

After a little downtime with my couch, I ventured out again to meet up with a small group of hardcore partiers. We traveled to a formerly unknown location, hidden in the woods. Our goal was to have a bonfire. Despite having three men in our group, only one admitted to having been a Boy Scout. All his training had lapsed, however, and we found ourselves without a way to make fire. Being the adventurous sort, I ventured to a neighboring campsite where a wonderful couple was willing to give up a cute little lighter for our needs.

And the highlight of the evening? Whipping by at ninety...

The times of the rhetorical have come upon us again. We have all been approached with those age-old questions about our summer and how the year has gone thus far. We know most people don't really want to know. In point of fact, sometimes, even we don't want to know how our summer went. We are not quite ready for the summer to be over. We still want to linger in the sun. We still want to reach out toward the streams and the oceans and the pools and let their waves wash over us. Yet here we are, making time for rhetorical questions and ignoring what is more important--the people who really care.

Reading that title, many of my friends would grin and think this is going to be another little tale about my cat or some other crazy male in my life. No. It is a commentary on accomplishing some of my bizarre personal goals. A long time ago, I began this unhealthy habit of letting e-mails from certain listserves pile up in my inbox until I could deal with them. Lately, I have found all of my inboxes with more than 100 messages of this nature in them rather vexing. So I have been slowly and persistently, reading them, taking out the important bits of information or quotes and assigning them to their proper location. My inboxes are suddenly seeming more clean and hobbit friendly. I could dance with joy. I may later, actually, though the task is far from done--just like my piles of fabric.

All that I have to say, thus far, actually happened yesterday. It is 8am, and after years of training, I am awake despite the fact that most of me still wants to be curled up in bed.

So yesterday, I began a roadtrip. To begin one, you must first decide which of the many parties to attend. As my readers well know, I am a bit of a social butterfly. It is a major percentage of any diva's job description. I received invitations to four birthday parties, a cookout, a housewarming party, and a cook-out (okay, so I was extending invitations to that one). My first invitation for this weekend was to a baby shower, however. A while back, I resolved I would go to the first thing I was invited to, so here I am.

Where is here? Let's start from the beginning. I woke up yesterday and packed a bag full of potential essentials. Among these items, I did not think to include a contact lens case or extra pairs of socks (I blame that on my need to run around barefoot.) I got my online groove on, noted that my Tetris score has been trounced but didn't have time to resolve that, got some loving from the cats, and packed a whole bunch of stuff into my car. Then I headed out to the highway and began driving east. Why? I like the east, I guess. There is an ocean here.

Not many people have been in my car for long trips, so I should briefly discuss how this goes. First, I am kind of like a machine. I start going and I hate to stop. I will tell the other drivers how bad their driving is, comparing them to my own substandard skills. I will also critique their speed and ponder their existence if I am that bored. I saw three people with Utah plates. They were all driving erratically. I think we Mormons have a lot of faith to allow ourselves to drive on the road. I actually followed one of them for a while because he looked a little like a friend of mine when he breezed past. He wasn't anyone I knew, so that lost interest. I was also plagued by a guy in a Chevy Silverado who was driving too slow in the fast lane and keeping me from passing two Mac trucks that were racing and riding abreast of each other the whole way. I was not amused. When I finally got past him, he found his gas pedal just to pass me. The next thing I knew, he was in front of me again, driving too slow. I fear he and I can not be friends.

Commentary on other drivers aside, I must now quickly mock myself. As happens to people on long trips, I found myself in desperate need of the facilities, so I hopped off the interstate. So guess where I found to use the bathroom. Go ahead, guess.A rest stop? That would be too easy. A gas station? Surely not. That would be normal. A fast food place? Of course not. Once more, that would be expected. A grocery store? No, one would think of that. Give up? Oh yes, I found a place that specializes in caring for Volkswagons. No hippie vans were in sight, but that bathroom wanted cleaned something fierce.

As can be imagined, I got lost. I ended up driving through the bad part of Baltimore for a while. That wa pretty exciting. Being the brave young lady that I am, I even got out of the car to get some gas. Some little kid kept circling me on his bike and trying to sell me DVDs. I also overheard two guys talking. One of them said, "That's a mighty attractive woman." As I was the only woman in sight, I became slightly disturbed. I am pretty sure was both distressed and grouchy looking since I was lost and driving through a city I never wanted to drive in and still don't.

I did finally find my way to my destination. After a brief stop where I called half the people who signed up to bring food for the cook-out, I piled into a car with three other gorgeous ladies for leg two of our journey. During our car trip, I napped and made commentary on my distaste for McDonald's. This was because we stopped at McDonald's where I almost caved, but was saved because the Happy Meal toy was neither Yoda or that adorable ewok. We also stopped at a grocery store, where I solved my contact case problem, and a 7 Eleven where I got my post midnight slurpee. It has been so long. I was so happy. Of course, when I am half asleep, I tend to get giddy about everything, including informing my traveling companions that if they get drunk in front of me, I will mock them. They didn't seem concerned about this. We'll see.

Anyway, it is early, the sun is up, I am basking in its glow only miles from the beaches of North Carolina, so I suppose I should face the day. Love me, envy me, but keep smiling anyway.

One of my fellow party-goers was an adorable twelve year old girl. She sat down on the bed in my room and picked up the book on the bedside table. She looked at it, looked at me, looked at it again and then informed me that no one reads the Bible anymore. I smiled and pointed out that I do. She looked at me like she didn't believe me. I was amused.

~~~

I got to feel like Janet Jackson while I was at the beach. My bathing suit has a zipper on the front. The waves could not resist the zipper. They pulled it down along with the shoulder straps. Thus I found myself rather exposed to the world. At least one man on the beach was happy about my misfortune. I know because he kept watching me for a while. I did not allow the experience to be repeated.

~~~

My friend Stephanie is one hot pregnant woman. She had been told she was going to the beach, so she was wearing a bikini under her sun dress. She was kind enough to model for us. This was after much crying due to her absolute surprise and happiness.

Being me, I forget that other people share some of my problems. I forget that they may worry about me. I have spent the last couple of days assuring people that I have returned safe from my travels. I believe the word should have gotten around by now. At least, I am hopeful that I haven't missed anyone. I don't enjoy thinking that I am worrying other people.

Other than that, the day has been rather unexciting. I have been watching too much television and pondering my millions of goals. I have also been pondering how much more I could accomplish if some miracle gave me more time. It has been quite a mental journey, but I don't have time to take my readers there. See how cruel we journalers can be????

"In all of living have much fun and laughter. Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured." ~Gordon B. Hinkley

I have so many friends who love me. They watch me smiling. They sometimes almost know I am crying. They offer me advice. They tell me how I shouldn't put up with the way some people treat me. It always amazes me how none of us can see that we all have instances where we do the exact same things to each other and expect forgiveness.

I don't know how much more forgiveness I have in me. You can't buy back an ounce of my blood with a single word. You can't unbreak my heart with a rose. (In fact, according to the spell check, you can't unbreak anything.) Yet I have come across so many who believe they should be the exception to the rule. They believe their inconsideration is permissible, but someone else has no excuse. Is it more of that strange jealousy that pervades our world?

"A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you." ~C.S. Lewis

Much earlier than I should ever be allowed to feel righteous anger, I had someone remind me of what a good friend is not. A good friend is not someone who tries to tell you that you are a moron, particularly when they know better. A good friend does not try continuously to break you. No matter how valid or sweet they may think the reason to do so is, a real friend does not do these things. Real friends try to help you focus on the positive. They give you advice, granted, but they do not tell you to do things that are against your nature. (And if they do, they apologize and take that glass of wine away from your plate at the table.)

So the library has a certain aroma around one side. Aside from the fact that a small forest has been sprouting up while the workmen worked on Clark Hall, they have now begun to put down fertilizer to renew the soil. It smells rather like someone unleashed a herd of cows, but it will all be worth it when we have green grass again.

To my utter disappointment, it looks like the empty lot outside my window will not become a green space. It is sporting a nice coat of gravel that leads me to believe the Physical Plant trucks will be parked there. That could put a damper on me watching for incredibly sexy sports cars to drive by.

None of this will affect me exploring new music as my days go by. Some songs I heard by Feist and KT Tunstall today reminded me of what makes life worth living. It is one of those little understood concepts of not looking at work as work. You have to love what you do, appreciate its value, and realize it is yet another way to serve those around you (well, in my case). Two quick thoughts on that related to my work (from today, even--I'm so thoughtful).

First, I was sitting on the floor in front of an open microfiche drawer. I had fiche scattered about my legs. I was successfully ignoring the gentleman who kept leaning back and subtly glancing over his shoulder to look at me. Okay, so I wasn't so successful. I always know when I am being watched. It's that creepy feeling. You know the one. Anyway, my boss wandered past and pointed out that I looked like I was having fun. He may have been being facetious, but how could shuffling fiche not be fun? After all, it could be the stepping stone to dealing Blackjack in Vegas...

Second, one of the students stopped me in the hall because she was afraid of overfilling some book trucks. I gave her my advise. It was based on many occasions when I caught some irate gentlemen slamming books from one truck to another because the trucks were too full. I don't think I got my point across that destroying the books was not improving anything. I never will understand why people feel they must destroy things that obviously have some value (even if they have no value to that individual). But, I shall not digress and discuss how wasteful society has become...

"There can be no genuine happiness separate and apart from the home, and every effort made to sanctify and present its influence is uplifting to those who toil and sacrifice for its establishment." ~Joseph F. Smith

The problem with any attempt to clean my room is that I inevitably open my closet. In my closet, I store clothes and costumes. Anyone who knows me should be aware that I wear these interchangeably...

"In faith, we plant the seed, and soon we see the miracle of the blossoming. Men have often misunderstood and have reversed the process. They would have the harvest before the planting." ~Spencer W. Kimball

So people constantly want us to find a few moments just for them. They want us to listen. They want us to respond. They want us to drop everything and rush to their side. Other people express that far better than I ever will. I don't want the world. I don't want someone's soul. I just want them to trust me and themselves enough to neither try to control me or push me away. It depends on the person. It depends on the circumstance.

People also can not quite see how their actions speak volumes. They can complain that they see other people misusing the gift of my friendship yet not see that they do the same. Don't misread this. I have wonderful friends. I can list off the many times when some of them have simply been there for me (without expecting something for themselves), but every now and again, I just want them to listen when I unburden my heart and not tell me to do things that I can not do. Why? Because, in most cases, if I do what they ask me to do, I will do it to them as well. None of us is completely innocent.

Where is all of this going? Well, I find I need more moments in my day. Despite multi-tasking and efficiency, I can never live up to my own expectations. Even still, I am told how much I accomplish. Why can't I see it? Probably because whenever I finish something, I find another pile that wants my attention. I think I could lessen this if I could keep myself out of the fabric section, but I just can't help myself. Some people like playing poker, I like picking up adorable fabric and bringing it home.

I have been trying to figure out the thrill of football as I work on my quilt. I do find the fact that we are winning (40 to 7 at the moment--just had a touchdown) rather exhilerating, but I am not sure who or what to watch. It is kind of like the shell game. You see the ball fly out from the quarterback's hand and then you kind of hold your breath and wait for someone to catch it. I believe someone caught it with his knees earlier (he is totally my hero and he should play soccer).

I also am not so sure I would want to be tackled. Well, maybe if I was tackled gently, but that is another story, so don't tell my cats. I don't enjoy them pile driving my ankles with their claws out to try to bring me down. Back again and the Mountaineers took down the Wildcats 48 to 21. Now we can go set the town on fire. I think I'll continue hiding in my pad in the suburbs...

It is the last day of a long, busy month. I spent the day in the company of some of the world's most interesting people--the Mormons and my family. Need I say more?