Sunday, January 23, 2011


In the book of Third Nephi, chapter 23 verses 6-13, it reads...

6. And now it came to pass that when Jesus had said these words he said unto them again, after he had expounded all the scriptures unto them which they had received, he said unto them: Behold, other scriptures I would that ye should write, that ye have not.
7. And it came to pass that he said unto aNephi: Bring forth the record which ye have kept.
8. And when Nephi had brought forth the records, and laid them before him, he cast his eyes upon them and said:
9. Verily I say unto you, I commanded my servant aSamuel, the Lamanite, that he should testify unto this people, that at the day that the Father should glorify his name in me that there were bmany csaints who should darise from the dead, and should appear unto many, and should minister unto them. And he said unto them: Was it not so?
10. And his disciples answered him and said: Yea, Lord, Samuel did prophesy according to thy words, and they were all fulfilled.
11. And Jesus said unto them: How be it that ye have not awritten this thing, that many bsaints did arise and appear unto many and did minister unto them?
12. And it came to pass that Nephi remembered that this thing had not been written.
13. And it came to pass that Jesus commanded that it should be awritten; therefore it was written according as he commanded.

How would it feel to be talking with the Savior about our trials and blessings, and to have him ask, "Why didn't you write that down? Didn't I send that to you? Wasn't it important?" Our Lord sends us blessings every day. We are administered to by angels, whether they be in spirit, our best friends. We are so blessed, and I know I need to do a better job of writing it down. People will need my testimony of Jesus Christ's love, whether they be my future family, or people I don't even know. We all have something great to write about, and the day is coming where our words and testimonies will be needed more than ever. I have a lot to catch up on, but I know we, and our posterity, will be blessed for remembering. Let us stand strong, and keep records.

I'm Crazy. I know, no surprise, right?

Here is my schedule for the next month and a half or so.

I WOULD  over-schedule myself.
If you didn't look at the paper, it just has my weekly schedule of classes...
Cultural Anthropology,
Survey of Jazz,
Chamber Choir,
and Training for a Triathlon...

I'm still on Student Senate and Institute Council..

And I'm in a Play! It's called Ten Little Indians, and it's based off of Agatha Christie's murder mystery novel, And Then There Were None. It's a good one! I'm the Bible shaking, stick in the mud, 'everyone else is a sinner and I'm going to tell them', Emily Caroline Brent. The play starts with ten guests at Indian Island, who are the only ones on the island, and they all drop dead one by one following this poem:

    Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
    One choked his little self and then there were

    Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;
    One overslept himself and then there were

    Eight little Indian boys travelling in Devon;
    One said he'd stay there and then there were

    Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;
    One chopped himself in half and then there were

    Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;
    A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.

    Five little Indian boys going in for law;
    One got in Chancery and then there were four.

    Four little Indian boys going out to sea;
    A red herring swallowed one and then there were

    Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo;
    A big bear hugged one and then there were two.

    Two Little Indian boys sitting in the sun;
    One got frizzled up and then there was one.

    One little Indian boy left all alone;
    He went out and hanged himself and then there
    were none.

If you're wondering: I die with the bee sting. It'll be nice. I'm pretty excited! :]
Ah! I'm crazy doing so much. I can do it, right? Right. 

Monday, January 10, 2011

Ode to Britni...

Britni with your hair so dark, I think the color is semi-sweet. Those random memories, and joyous times, oh! How I'll never forget. Barging into your bungalow with Miss Kristine awaiting. We kidnapped you and drove around, singing singing singing. "I wanna kiss a boy! Wanna hold him tight!" Laughing all throughout the moonlight. And when Megan joined us three, we couldn't be stopped. Camping as crazy ladies. Cowboy came, and really thought Kristine was a different ethnicity. We like good music, and love to laugh. We even made plans to play. They fell through and I was sad, then I remembered the time we checked an important box off our bucket list.

We laughed, I think we cried, we shared some wonderful times.

Britni, oh Britni! This is an Ode to YOU! I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I do! It doesn't flow well, but I still miss coming to you at the Gazebo for ice cream with those cute blond kids.

No really, You're pretty wonderful, I miss you.
..and Britni, Oh Britni!
You forever will be one of my favorite friends.


Friday, January 7, 2011

to Write is to Live.

December 21, 2010.

    As I write, My pen does all the thinking. I'm fortunate enough to be disconnected from 'it all'. All I do is write, and scribble, and sketch, and draw different words. The thinking doesn't even have to happen until I re-read what's been created. Then, is when I find the secrets that have been hiding in my heart.

    I occasionally restrain myself, it's true. But that's only because I'm afraid if I write too much, I won't ;alsdkjfasd;klajsdfl;j (See? I started thinking again.) If I write too much, I won't be pleased with my results. What I've been hiding in my heart, even from myself, will either be something too gruesome to behold, or too remarkable to live up to.

    Sometimes, I don't write, or I restrain myself and my pen,
       I'm afraid.

Becca, Just let go.