Lots of meetings at work. Meetings, meetings, meetings. All about different stuff. Transparency in the government, the political cycle, and more. So interesting, so much German, so much stuff, waaaah!
On Day 31 I have no journal entries and no pictures. Grr! I can’t remember what happened!
I do remember going home and thinking, “Hm, maybe I’ll check my mailbox today.” And I was like, why would I check my mailbox? The only person who has my address is Spence–the chances of getting a letter from anyone else are quite slim.
But I couldn’t stand walking past the mailbox and not looking. So I opened it.
Three pieces of mail. Svenja, Svenja, Oooo! And moi. From Katie, my sister-in-law.
I hopped up the stairs and probably re-read her letter five times.
Then I went to institute which was a bummer because no one was excited about the movie night! NO ONE. Buncha lamos. Oh well. It turned out great. I made a movie about it, so you should already know my feelings on the matter.
Do I have anything else to say about this day? I even went into my internet history to see what I did.
I read up on Syria. I looked at Sara’s Facebook. I looked at Sarah’s Facebook. I googled “Ursula little mermaid” and will not tell you why. I got on Katie’s Facebook and wrote her a message. I read the “FYI (If You’re a Teenage Girl) #2” where she changed the pictures and I still thought… Ugh.
Aren’t you guys all tired of this subject? (…here I go)
When our family first moved to Daybreak, I was thirteen years old. One day we were going out to a church picnic activity. I had on jeans (because I was always self conscious about my long legs), converse, and a lime green tank top with thick straps. I was ready to go when I thought about who was going to be there… I asked my mom if I looked modest. She said of course. I thought about the ladies in my church who would be there and I ran upstairs and grabbed a jacket. I remember it was so, so hot and it was so, so uncomfortable but I was NOT going to take off my jacket because I worried someone would not approve of my lime green tank top.
I know I’m anxious and the possibilities of one of these ladies confronting me is low, but I had conversations ALL THE TIME with my friends who felt uncomfortable being themselves with ladies in the ward, stake, their church, etc. Women need to first LOVE those beehives, miamaids, and laurels before anything else. Those girls are trying so hard to fit in, to do what’s best, and should never feel judged when they go to church.
And the last thing they need to hear at church is they need to be modest so that their sons don’t get boners.
Sigh. I thought we were all tired of this topic. Oops.
P.S. I loved all of my young women leaders.
Can I tell you HOW MUCH I LOVE MY HUSBAND? He has to listen to this stuff 24/7. He has to hear my frustrations about a freaking blog post–about someone who does not have anything to do with my life. I go off on blogpost rants and women in the workforce and gender equality, and he listens and agrees and is so darn fun to talk to. He rocks. He is the best person for me.
Sheesh. Okay. There was my Wednesday.