Monday, November 7, 2011

16/100: Brazilian girl



The third portrait. This one is by far my favorite. My professor told me not to glaze this one, and I'm so glad! I referred to a picture I had taken of a little girl at my nephew 2nd birthday party. Since my sister-in-law is Brazilian, many of the guests were Brazilian as well. I thought this girl was so lovely, and got a great photograph, and I'm super happy with the end result. Buuuut....I'm embarrassed I don't know her name...Barbara--do you know??

15/100: Sarah

The second of the the three portraits. I was more content with this one. The glazing was a technique I'd never done before signing up for this class, and it gives the pieces a nice look. However, this one also turned out kinda "dark." But I feel like this is a pretty good rendering of my roomate "Sarita."

14/16: Joyce

This is a portrait of my aunt that I made in my figure painting class. We had to do 3 portraits, and this is the first one I did. I feel like this made a good "practice" piece. We had to wash the painting over with a dark tinted glaze, so it gives this piece a darker feeling that I didn't intend. Especially because my aunt Joyce is one of the sweetest ladies on the planet. But I was able to learn how to get a handle with oil paints by doing this piece, which is a definite plus.

Monday, October 24, 2011

13/100: Eugene


That's right--it's Eugene-- aka Flynn Rider from one of my favorite movies, Tangled. I made this for my niece, Ella's, 4th birthday, for a game of "pin the frying pan on Flynn." I drew the face free-hand with a drawing pencil, and then just used a sharpie over it. My sister added the "WANTED" to make it more official. :) I think as far as cartooning goes, I am much better at just copying existing cartoons than making my own.

Monday, October 17, 2011

12/100: Amanda


This was inspired from my newest favorite site: pinterest.com. This is my roomy and mission buddy Amanda, who I love dearly! I'm really happy with how this one turned out. I find that I draw people I know personally much better than people I don't know at all. 

I realize I'm falling a little behind in my goal of one piece a week, but I am working on  a few pieces in my figure painting class that are almost done.

Hugs!

Sunday, October 2, 2011

11/100: President Thomas S Monson



In celebration of this Conference Weekend that we just had, I thought it would be appropriate to do a portrait of Prophet Monson.You always see those sketches of him, and I always knew I could do it and just maybe wanted to prove it to myself. The style is a little boring for me, so maybe one day I'll do another portrait of him and try to add my own little artistic flares to it. 

But I also want to just add that I LOVE this man so much. I absolutely know that he is a prophet of God who receives revelation from God to guide and direct us now. I know that he is a witness of Christ and that as we follow his words we will be guided to our Heavenly Father. It is one of my dreams to one day shake the hand of a prophet. President Monson is just awesome. :) Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoyed Conference weekend!

Monday, September 26, 2011

10/100: Spencer

This is one of my dear friends Spencer, who I met freshman year when we became "parents" of our FHE group. I painted this acrylic piece from a mission picture of his. He was seriously one of my most loyal friends at that time of my life, even while on his mission, and after his while I was on mine. I owe much of my sanity and strength I received  at that time to him for sure! Love ya Spenc!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

9/100: Nicole



Guess the medium on this one----butter! I thought it would be fun to do a butter portrait and a girl in my ward was more than willing to be the subject. She is my 1st counselor in the RS presidency and she is AWESOME. I used an x-acto blade, and had to keep putting the butter in the freezer because it kept melting...but it was a fun and unique medium to work with. I'm thinking I'll do some more food portraits in the future! :D

Monday, September 12, 2011

8/100: Lindsay


This is one of my most awesome friends Lindsay, that I met freshman year. I wanted to loosen up with my painting, and I am finally exploring oils. I had a lot of fun with this one. I wanted to really capture the essence of her awesome crazy hair. I really messed up on the exactness of her eyes...but they are close-ish....emphasis on the ish... Love you Lindsay!!!

Monday, September 5, 2011

7/100: Blasida, Hna Remache, & Hna Young


This is a tribute to my mission. Blasida was a less active that we taught. I ended up in a trio the last week of my mission, and I knew I had to seize the opportunity for a photo op to make an art piece. I used watercolor pencils, another medium I do not work much in, but am growing to love. I worked hard to make a balanced composition, which was a little challenging, as I changed some things from the photo. Overall, I'm pretty happy with how this one turned out.

Monday, August 29, 2011

6/100: Katie (...her alter ego)


Okay, there's some background to this one. So, my roommate Katie is very quiet as first. But then as you get to know her, you realize she has this really "spicy" side to her. One day, out of the blue, she asked us, "So, do any of you have an alter ego?" To which most of us replied with awkward blank stares.
"Nooo.....do you Katie...?"
"Yes!" She then described her imaginary alter ego as this wild jungle woman with a leopard mini skirt and top, complete with a garter around her thigh holding a foot-long dagger.
We got a good chuckle out of it. But later I thought it would be fun to create a visual depiction of such a woman while trying my hand at cartooning. I used ink pens and watercolor. Lesson learned...I'm not meant for cartooning. I think I could get better at it....but I think I'll stick with more realistic imagery. But I won't lie, this one was sure fun to do! 

Sunday, August 21, 2011

5/100: Beatris

This is a painting of a girl I taught in my mission. She was a less-active member, but not because of lack of desire, but because of an abusive and controlling parent. We grew to love her and grow really close to her. She is such a strong spirit! Love her!!

4/100: Andrew


In honor of my Lake Powell trip, and my little brother, I decided to do this simple depiction. I wanted to attempt to do a simplified poster-esque kind  of piece, as I'm trying to experiment with different styles, and this style seemed to fit the subject. 

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Okay, so here's the dealio...I'm going to Lake Powell this weekend...with no computer access...so there won't be a portrait this week, but I will post TWO for next week after I get back.

Hugs.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

3/100 Nathan


Okay, this week I had to cheat and use a portrait I've already done. This one is of a guy who I served with on my mission--Elder Anderson. Way cool kid. I was looking for a picture of a guy that was looking at the camera, but had a more serious expression, and he had the perfect one. I based the style off of a previous self-portrait I had done--I applied an ink background (with India ink) and then did the portrait with charcoal and conte crayon, mostly conte crayon.

Sorry I had to cheat, but it's been a CRAZY week (...I just got called to be the R.S. president...I think you'll understand that my weekend has been busier than usual). I promise a real one for the next one.

Hugs!

Monday, August 1, 2011

2/100: Ella


This is my sweet 3-year old niece! I love her to pieces and when I saw a photo of her, I knew I just had to do her portrait next. Since children are so bright, I thought it only appropriate to add lots of splashes of color to represent childhood. Oh, and it was so cute--when I was still only in the drawing stage of this piece, my sister and her family came over. I showed her (my sister) the picture I was working on, and she excitedly exclaimed, "My baby!" She showed Ella, and asked, "Ella, look! Do you know who this is?" Ella exclaimed, "That's ME!!!!" Then, throughout the whole night, she kept picking up the picture so she could look at it. It was adorable. 
For the piece itself, I used my most familiar medium (besides graphite)--acrylic. I then outlined most of it in ink. 

Things learned: depicting children is hard! Like, really hard! Also learned: keep paint bottles away from the piece...because one might just be covered with a lot of paint all over it and fall on the painting you've just painstakingly worked on... at least it came off pretty easily.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Dear Blog Followers

In case anyone happens to read this...

I have my piece all ready, and it is AWESOME.

However.

The lighting is NOT awesome. And taking a picture of this portrait has proved a failure.

Therefore, I will post the picture tomorrow, when I can take a photo of my painting in the daylight. I will try to finish my portraits a little sooner to prevent this from happening...but I can't make any promises as my life is about to get a LOT busier.

Hugs!

Sunday, July 24, 2011

1/100 Grandpa

For my first one, I wanted to depict someone who is really special to me, so I decided on doing a portrait of my Grandpa, my mom's dad. He is a huge part of why I am an artist--he took me to my first art museum as a little girl, the Norton Simon in Los Angeles. I fell in love immediately. He is also one of the most Christ-like individuals I have ever met. If their was ever a child trapped in an elderly body, it is definitely my Grandpa. :)

As for the piece, for the first one I decided to do something simple but I used a medium I have used only once for an actual piece--marker. I used just 2 tones--black and gray. More than capturing exactness in his features, I wanted to capture his "likeness," or personality. The hardest part about the piece, was the only smiling photograph I could find of him, he was wearing sunglasses! So I had to use other pictures to get the eyes and kind of guess as to how they would look when smiles.

Things learned--marker is tricky, since if you mess up, too bad for you. I used pencil first and then went over it in marker to minimize errors, but still wish I hadn't gone so dark on his left eye. Also learned--a photograph of the art piece doesn't usually show what the piece really looks like. This one looks way better in real life. Maybe I'll try scanning and see if that helps.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Announcement!

Before any rumors fly, NO I am not engaged (or close.) And that's fine. But I wanted to announce the new project I am starting on: The 100/100 Concept. Inspired by the movie Julie & Julia, I have decided that I am going to artistically create one portrait each week for the next one hundred weeks. That is almost two years. Each Sunday night I will post a picture of the portrait created that week in this blog. I will still occasionally write about an embarrassing moment, but as I am almost out of those stories (or at least the best ones), I regret to say that those will occur less frequently.




Now, for the 100/100 Concept, I will for the most part depict only people that I know personally. Now here's where it gets interesting for you--I will occasionally have "Drawing Drawings"--raffles in which you can submit your name and hope have your name drawn to get your face drawn for the next week's portrait. These raffles will be announced mostly via my blog. I will be using different mediums and styles...basically this is a creative exploration. And it will be awesome. :D

So peeps, get excited. Because the first one begins THIS Sunday. :D :D :D :D :D (Can you tell I'm excited? We'll see how excited I am in a year! ha!)

Anyway, I know it's not as exciting as getting married or having a baby, but since those things won't be happening any time soon, I want to make the most out of the things I've been given, and this seemed like a pretty good way to do it. :) And I'm open to ideas if you've got them! Love ya all!

Thursday, July 14, 2011

#33: Printers--another reason why technology and I don't get along

So, currently I am working as a secretary on-campus in the HR department. The printer we use is connected with 6 computers located within the office, so the sound of printing has practically become white noise to me. It makes it exciting when you're trying to print

Well, I needed to print something off of the database, which contains a lot of confidential information about the people that come to us. I just needed to print off this one page, so I went to menu-->print--->print, like anyone would do. Well, when I hit "print" the little hourglass icon popped up along with a box that said: printing: 1..2..3..10...25...50... pages. I realized that the printer wasn't going to just print the one page, but the WHOLE database, and with every half-second the number kept getting higher... 100....156....189....256...310...."Stop! Stop! STOOOPPP!!!! AAaAAaaAAAaAaAAAHHH!!!!"

I freaked out and by the time we cancelled it and I exited out of the database the number had reach 500-something. Fortunately no pages had actually printed. Phew.

Then, a few minutes later, someone inside their office started printing a document, or so it seemed. I continued working and by second nature ignored the sound of the printing. I hardly even noticed that several minutes later the printer was still spewing out pages. Then my co-worker went by, looked at it and realized,"It's the database!!!!!"

She canceled it, and sure enough, there was a huge stack of freshly printed pages directly from my computer. I sighed, knowing that it's destination would be straight to one of the huge paper shredders we had. I felt terrible that I had just wasted so much paper, and had probably annihilated the equivalent of a small tree, and then my other co-worker suggested that maybe it would end up as some gerbil's bedding.

Sigh. I'm glad I could contribute to the Bedless Gerbil Cause. Stupid printer.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

#32: FD: At a Football Game

Although I am not a huge sports fan, my freshman year of college I faithfully went to every BYU football game. Did I understand the game? Nooooo. But it was fun to hang out with friends/family if anything.

One game, I went with some friends. They were sitting up in the middle of the bleachers, and for some reason I was on the bottom...I think I had dropped something and had to go down several rows to get it. Or maybe I was coming back from the bathroom. I don't remember. But anyway, I got this bright idea of running back up the bleachers.

I forgot that my shoes had exactly ZERO traction.

I think when I got to the third bleacher my legs completely swiveled out from under me and I SMASHED to the bench. In front of everyone. I looked up from my pathetic position and made eye contact with my friend Julie B and we both started laughing hysterically. I'm sure the people I had landed by thought I was suffering from cranial damage. I gathered myself together and made it back to my seat, with a sore leg and smaller ego.

The next day, I had the biggest bruise I have EVER obtained on the side of my right knee. Oh man what a pretty purple it was. It was so impressive, especially as it began to to make swirly yellowish colors that my sister took a picture of it on her phone and sent it to her husband. Unfortunately, that photo is gone, otherwise I'd post it here.

Moral: 1) Don't run up bleachers. 2) traction on shoes is a good thing. 3) save all pictures :)

Friday, June 17, 2011

#31: Beware of suspicious things

So, a couple of days ago, I was sitting on the living room couch, when I noticed that one of my mugs was lying upside down smackdab in the middle of the living room floor. I thought that was extremely odd. I then remembered I had left my mug sitting by the couch a couple of days earlier, but I definitely had not moved it to its current spot.

One of my roommates was in the kitchen right next to me, and I had just let a guy in the apartment who was waiting for my other roommate upstairs. Since it appeared that no one else was going to remove the mug and I was kind of embarrassed about it just sitting there, I decided to at least put it in the sink where it could be washed later.

I picked up the mug. And then eight scary black legs tried to jump at my face.                      

"WOOOOOAHMYGOSHTHERESASPIDER!!!!"


The mug was quickly replaced to its previous position and the creature that had almost attacked me was trapped where it had been before. My roommate began to laugh hysterically.

"Oh...we didn't tell you about that...?"

The other roommate came from upstairs, and the previous informed her that I had just tried to pick up the spider mug. My roommate's date then walked over, carefully picked up the mug, and took it outside where he flung the spider out to a more appropriate roaming ground. I was so embarrassed. Especially because I have removed far worse and bigger vermin without a problem, but because this one was so unexpected, some guy I hardly knew had to take care of it for me. 

Thank you roommates, for just leaving it there. *grumble*.


Saturday, June 4, 2011

#30: Old Spice is not for females

So, back in the day when I cashiered at the Creamery, it was emphasized that we stay busy. So if no customers were around, we were to stock milk, and if that was done, then we required to pull items to the front of their shelves if they were too far back to be seen by customers in order to make the store look nicer.

I found myself at this very task one day, in the aisle where we kept bathroom items, paper goods, cleaning supplies and all of that good stuff. I was pulling some men's cologne to the front of the shelf, when I accidentally bumped a little glass bottle of blue manly spray off the shelf, where it crashed to the floor, shattering into millions of shards and splashing blue scented liquid all over. All over me to be specific. I embarrassedly and quickly cleaned up the mess I had created.

When I came back to my register, I told my co-worker Rachel what happened. She commented, "I wondered what that smell was..." I then realized that I smelled rather strongly of cologne. And I still had another couple of hours to go before my shift ended.

And so, I smelled like a man.

However, I am grateful that I smelled like a nice-smelling man, rather than a stinky man. Gratefully, if any of the customers noticed (which I'm sure they did--you can't miss the scent of a 1/4 bottle of cologne) no one made any kind of comment (at least to my face). Nonetheless, despite trying to wash off what I could, I carried my new aroma with me for the entirety of my shift.

So ladies, look at your man....now look at this blog...back to you man...now back to the blog...I am the woman your man could smell like.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

#29: Uuuuh...need some help finding that bud?

This isn't embarrassing about me, but about someone else.

So, I was driving with a friend, and somehow we ended up talking about how we always see people picking their noses while in the car. For some reason, being surrounded by six windows in a confined space leads people to believe that they are invisible to the outside world. Hate to break it to you world, but if those windows ain't tinted, then your franatic dancing, talking to yourselves, or personal grooming habits is visible to everyone. Not that there's anything wrong with doing any of those things. Let's get real--who doesn't pick their nose? Those little boogers are downright obnoxious. However, like going to the bathroom or popping your zits, it's something that is best left out of the view of surrounding persons.

Not two minutes later, we stopped at a traffic light. We happened to look to our left, and the neighboring driver, a young-adult male, seemed like his nostril was completely devouring his index finger. He was seriously digging for something special, and had some unique facial expressions to go with it.

We could not stop laughing for the next five minutes. The timing had been perfect. You know what, though, I hope he found what he was looking for.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

#28: Another FD (Fall Documentation): Italy

So, a few years ago I had the opportunity to go on a study abroad to my dream place: Italy. I was the 2nd youngest in the group, and it only took a few days for everyone to notice that I was not exactly the most graceful of persons. I was soon dubbed "Lil' Ang."

Towards the end of our trip we ended up touring the beautiful coastal towns known as Cinque Terre, which is basically the Celestial Kingdom on earth. Well, no, but I have yet to come across any place more beautiful. The group of girls I was with decided that we should try sunbathing on these nice flat rocks that were peeking out of the water along the shore. The postcard-like scene was too alluring.

The girls I was with successfully maneuvered the flat rocks and staked out their individual sunbathing spots. Then in comes Lil' Ang. I made it about 2 or 3 rocks in, when my 0-traction shoe hit some moss just right...and I was down before you could say "ciao bella." But, I have learned to just laugh at myself, and the girls I was with had learned to laugh at me--er...with me...--too. Unfortunately, I was wearing these white and blue-striped shorts, and the rock I had landed on was clothed in a nice thin green layer of Mediterranean moss, which all too easily transferred to my large kabooty.

After a hearty laugh, I stood up and attempted to hop to the next rock. Apparently this rock felt like the first one hadn't done its job right, because before I knew it, I found myself back into a horizontal position, and this time with some painful souvenirs on my legs in the form of scrapes and bruises. This time, the girls laughed so hard that one of them almost peed her pants. And the layer of green on the seat of my shorts received an additional tint.

At that point, no one trusted me to walk by myself and I was helped to a wonderful, moss-free bathing stone where I was able to enjoy myself with everyone else. Unfortunately, I was never really able to wash the St. Patrickness out of my pants...and from then on not only was a dubbed Lil' Ang, but also "Scum Bum."

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

#27: Why I will never look at FHE the same way again

So, once upon a time I used to work at the magical place known as the Creamery on Ninth as a cashier. It wasn't the most ideal job, but I had a great time and worked with awesome people that became my Creamery "family."

One day, one of my recently married co-workers, Zach the produce stocker, was making a purchase through my register at the end of his work shift. He was purchasing items for sushi, and casually mentioned that they were for FHE (Family Home Evening--a night when the family gets together, and usually consists of having some kind of lesson, usually a spiritual one, and an activity).

The following short conversation ensued:


me: "So...since you're married, do you guys do FHE with other married couples in a group, or do you just have it between you two?"


Zach: "Oh, we just do it by ourselves. Which is great, because some nights for FHE we'll look at each other and say, 'Want to have sex? OKAY!!' "


 I think my face went from peach to cherry red in under 2 seconds. When he left, I couldn't stop laughing.

The next time Zach and I had coordinating shifts, he approached me and profusely apologized for having made such an awkward situation. I just told him to not worry about it, that I thought it was hilarious.

I still think it is. And I guess I have a new FHE activity to stow away for the records after I'm married.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

#26: South America....don't drink the water.

When going to a foreign mission, the last day or two of the MTC is spent mentally traumatizing the outgoing missionaries with stories of those who had gone before them that had fallen deathly ill or been grotesquely injured due to not following strict rules of hygiene, maintenance, and common sense. We were strictly told to not drink the water, and if we did, to either boil it or bleach it. Determined to be the ever-perfect missionary, I landed in Paraguay believing that I would not be one of those "stupid missionaries" who ignored the oh-so-wise council given in the MTC, and had ended up looking like one of the following (maybe the middle face is blind...?):



What I soon learned, was that oh-so-wise council was definitely not given by recently returned missionaries who actually had to live in 3rd or 2nd World conditions. I still bleached my water whenever I could, attempting to cover up the pool-like flavor with cheap juice powders or sacred Crystal Light packets sent from home, but I had to be super conscientious about it. Boiling water took forever...and tasted like liquified pasta, so that was out of the question.

However, one hot, sweaty day, my comp and I found ourselves without water, and far from any despensa that could sell us any. We decided to rely upon the mercies of a nearby member. We unintentionally woke her from a nap, and in her groggy state, she kindly gave us some water from her thermos, a typical Paraguayan necessity. However, in Paraguay, most people will just pour the beverage in one glass, and when the one companion has finished it, they pour in another serving for the second comp, who drinks from the same glass.

This time was no different. My comp got her turn first, and then I was poured my share. As I desperately gulped down the life-saving H2O, I looked to the bottom of the glass, something I habitually did to check for straying herbs or unwanted dirt. That's when I saw it. Something small. And black.

...it was swimming.

That's right, not floating...but swimming. There, in the bottom of my glass, was a tiny black fish. It seemed to desire to get out of its new glass home, but was unaware of how dangerous its plight really was. My eyes widened but I knew if I said anything, even in English, my companion could react in a way that would be suspicious or possibly offensive to the kind member who we had awoken. So I said nothing. I drank carefully--you bet I was thirsty enough to still drink the fish water--but I left just barely enough water at the bottom of the glass for the little creature to continue to make freestyle laps around as it pleased.

I handed the glass back to the member and thanked her.

...she poured more water into the glass.


...then gave it to my companion.


...who, unawares, quickly drank...the...whole...thing.


I stood by, saying nothing, silently pleading that she would look into the glass and see for herself that she was swallowing a miniscule living animal...but look she did not, and gulp away she did. I knew I should have probably warned her...but I didn't want to make any kind of scene, especially as there weren't very many members in the branch and we wanted to definitely stay on good terms with this one.

My companion completely emptied the glass.

Looking back, I'm not sure who I feel more sorry for...the fish, or my companion. Fortunately for both of us (she about killed me when I 'fessed up about what happened), my companera did not get sick. Phew.

The fish, I'm sure, was not so lucky.

Monday, April 4, 2011

New Blog!!

I have created another blog! thywallsarecontinuallybeforeme.blogspot.com

It's purpose is to help those with depression, and to provide understanding to those who don't. I'd love some followers! :) And if you know someone with depression, spread the word!! ~hugs~

Shout out!

Hey blog followers! First off, thank you for reading my blog--it makes me so happy to know that these posts make most (hopefully all) of you laugh, or at least smile. That is the purpose of this blog--to provide a little humor and to help see the humorous side of things when they don't exactly go ideally. Now, what I  would like to know is:

1) what has been your favorite blog post? Or top 3 if you don't want to narrow it down.

2) Suggestions?

3) Has there been any funny event that I have still neglected to post about that you know of?

If you read my blog, but aren't an official follower, or simply don't want to post here, you may facebook me your responses, or e-mail me at: cali_angel777@yahoo.com

I love you all, and I am hoping that you are all finding joy amidst the struggles of life.

P.S. I am strongly considering starting a separate blog--one not related to humor, but the opposite: depression and how to cope with it. Keep an eye out for it! :) Hugs!!!

PPS--some favorites of other viewers: "Bernarda, My Experience With a Retired Prostitute," "The Cake Crossing," and "ACT stands for Acute Corporal Trauma" if you don't want to go through every post. :)

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

#25: Burning Flesh=REALLY REALLY BAD

A few years ago on one fine October day I was in a sculpture class. I am less familiar with 3-D art, and even less familiar with the tools used to create them. I will never forget the first day of class...it consisted of the professor showing us all of the scary power tools and all the gruesome ways we could mutilate our bodies if we weren't careful: "Don't put your fingers too close or they'll get chopped off....It wouldn't be a good idea to put your tongue on this....Watch out for sparks when welding, one time a student caught her pants on fire..." You can imagine the horrific possibilities going through the minds of us visual learners.

Fast-forward a month or two. I was working on a metal sculpture, which consisted of welding pieces together, as well as cutting them. To cut thick metal, you can't exactly take a household pair of scissors and make cute metal snowflakes...you have to use what is called a "cutting torch." The name is what it implies--it is a torch with a flame so hot, it cuts the metal. That's pretty hot. Like, thousands of degrees fahrenheit hot. As such, as with most other equipment, we were required to wear heavy fire-proof jackets and gloves.



Anyway, I was cutting my metal, or at least attempting to, because the metal kept melting to itself where I had cut. I was almost done, so I took off my mask and gloves. The part I was trying to come off had only been partway sliced, with a couple of segments still barely attached to the remaining metal. I then had the bright idea: oh, well, I'll just grab the metal piece and break it off with my hands." Somehow, the neurotransmitters in my brain forgot to transfer the oh most important information that because I had just used a TORCH the metal would still be as if recently pulled out from the flaming bowels of Mordor...as well as the info that I had just taken off my protective gloves.

I grabbed the metal with both hands.

It took about 2.5 seconds for my peripheral nervous system to relay the following excruciatingly painful message to my brain:
                                                          "YOU ARE AN IDIOT."


My index fingers, thumbs, and palms screamed in fiery agony as I wildly looked for any sort of relief. I dove my hands into a bucket of water meant to cool of hot metal while the words "idiot idiot idiot" rang through my mind. I then went to the sink on the other side of the room and ran my incinerating flesh under the cold sink water, which did little to relieve the pain that was unlike anything I'd ever felt, or have felt since.However, I was hyperfocused on my project and felt pressured to get it done. So, trying desperately and futilely to ignore the scalding fingers, I put my gloves back on and went back to my project.

At this point, my teacher came in. I was so embarrassed at my stupidity and not eager to become another one of his horror stories told to his future student that I did not tell him what I had done. After about a minute, he stopped and asked, "Do you smell that? It smells like burning hair..." I replied in the negative. He looked at me and gave me the up-down while I tried to look as normal as possibly...hiding the fact that I was clenching my gloved thumbs like a stress ball to try to squeeze out the excruciating pain. After an awkward moment, he concluded, "Well, you look alright. You must have burned your glove or something." And he went back to helping me with my project for the next ten minutes or so.
After he left, I rushed back to a sink, soaked my hands in water that couldn't get cold enough, then wrapped my smoldering hands in wet paper towels. Then I headed off to my next class to get some homework done during devotional time.


On my way to my class, I ran into a friend, who cordially asked me how I was doing. Instead of responding with the usual, "I'm great! How are you!" I cried, "I'm in a lot of pain!" I showed her my hands, which amazingly had turned to a sickening yellow and green. She made an expression as if she had just seen an innocent animal get run over and told me to go at least get some aloe vera or something. She went with me to the Bookstore to get some. But of course...it was closed for devotional. I thanked her anyway, and then hurried off to the Creamery, where I worked, to buy some aloe there. I found one of the supervisors there, explained my predicament, and was told sensibly to go to the doctor. I finally had to admit that I needed some serious medical help and quickly made the ten minute walk to the Health Center, my fingers and hands still screaming at me as my flesh continued to incinerate.

In record speed I was admitted, where nurses instructed me to keep my hands in water that was so freezing, that the water hurt almost as badly as my burn. By the time I left, my hands had been slathered in some goopy cream and covered with bandages that made me look something similar to Mickey Mouse.





The next couple of days involved me wearing plastic bags on my hands to shower and getting strange stares from my classmates who were under the impression that I was trying to make a fashion statement. Fortunately, the burns healed miraculously fast. Amazingly, I also had no thumbprints for about 2 weeks. I was told I'd have made a perfect criminal...too bad criminals need more than their thumbs...otherwise I would have had a promising new career. :)

Two days after the burn incident, my car was totaled (not my fault for the record). And a couple weeks later my then bf and I broke up.

Hence, why I do not like the month of October.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Come Thou Fount REDO

Okay, same song, but with 4 part harmony. It is amazing what one can do with a mac. :D Once again I am singing all four parts and playing the piano. Some of the overlapping parts are kind of off...I'm not a pro...but I think it still turned out pretty alright.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Creating: Come Thou Fount


Disclaimer: I'm no pop star. At all. I do not pretend to be. But when I made this song, I just had to include the lyrics, because to me that's what makes this song SO powerful. This song has a lot of special meaning to me, and just including the piano part wouldn't cut it for me. However, I also was able to figure out how to harmonize with myself, so the soprano AND alto parts (and the piano!) are all me. :D I feel so tech savvy. :D So don't feel obligated to listen, but I figured there was no point in creating something if it wasn't shared.

Come Thou Fount

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

#24: Computers. A necessary evil.

Computers. They're fascinating really. And they are quite necessary as a student. However, computers also cause a lot of stress. My freshman year of college, I found it necessary to obtain one. However, we didn't see the need of getting me a laptop that would only be outdated in a few months, so I decided that renting a computer would be a good choice for me that year. The awesome thing was, the place to rent them happened to be located just across the street from my dorm. So I figured, hey, I'll just walk across, have them box me my rental computer up, and I can carry it home no problem.


Mistake #1: Never assume anything.


I went across the street on a convenient day and walked in the building that indicated its rental services. I found myself in dark empty halls, and wondered where the heck I was. Following signs I went down some stairs, down another sketchy hall, at the very end of which was my destination: a little room filled with computers and a couple of employees.
    I informed them of my need, paid for it, and then the one guy asked, "Do you have a car?"
    "Nooo....."
    "Hmmm...."
They then pulled out a beige library cart looking thing and proceeded to pile unidentifiable tangles of wires and various Dell computer parts onto it. I guess a box would have just made too much sense. As collateral to get the cart back, I had to give them my BYU ID card, and they sent me on my way out the back door so that I wouldn't have to trudge up the stairs with my new cargo.


Mistake #2: It is a good idea to call a friend/relative who owns a car when large objects are involved. (A year later I apparently hadn't learned this lesson...see Chronicle #3: The Cake Crossing.)


     I barely made it down some makeshift wooden ramp out the door, pushing my load along. I began to cross the parking lot when I reached a rather large obstacle. Apparently someone thought it would be a great idea to stretch an enormous black pipe the circumference of monster truck tires across the parking lot. There was no way in heck I'd be able to lift the cart over it without disaster.
     I was about to turn around and take the long way, when one of the workers came out to rescue me. He had me hold the monitor while he lifted the cart over the pipe. Unfortunately, when he lifted the cart over, one of the wheels of the cart completely fell off. Fantastic. Now, instead of saying, "Oh, that might be a problem--let's get you a new cart", the guy just wiggled the wheel loosely back into its spot, and sent me on my merry way to finish my journey to my dorm.
     I finished crossing the parking lot and reached the street corner, where I waited to cross, trying to ignore the many cars that were passing by. When the red hand switched to the white walking man signal, I began to push my cart down where the sidewalk levels with the street. That is when that sneaky little wheel decided to make another escape for it, and completely popped off again. Only this time, there was no one to help me, and I was neither tall enough nor strong enough to balance my now three-wheeled cart overflowing with computer parts and simultaneously put the wheel back into its place. So, I set the wheel next the monitor, and began to proceed with a gimpy library cart across the street.
     I jiggled my way to other side, and proceeded down the sidewalk that led to my resident hall, all the while trying to balance this 3-wheeled monster, and catching pieces of my comp that kept falling off. Somewhere on that stretch I believe my mousepad made a successful getaway, as that was the last time I saw it. I vividly remember the lawnmower man passing me in his riding lawnmower and me feeling extremely ridiculous.
  I finally made it to my dorm. Fortunately, I lived in the last room on the back of the building, where a door was placed. I dug through my pockets to get my ID card to swipe myself into the building. Then I remembered. My ID card was with the computer guys so that I would return their ghetto cart. I heaved a long sigh, and pushed my way to the front entrance, which did not require ID access. I prayed that no one would be in the front lobby to watch my circus act, and fortunately no one was. I arrived at my hall, and with some difficulty managed to prop the heavy door open and get my crippled cart through it. I'm still not sure how I managed that one.
  I made it down the hall successfully and arrived at my room, did another balancing act of opening the door and getting my computer through it, and like a student that just finished a 10-page paper, breathed a victory sigh. My face was red from a mix of embarrassment and physical exertion, and I leaned against my risen bed to catch a breath. Then, the cart, with no one to keep it steady, in slow motion, fell onto its wheelless side... and the computer and monitor began to slide off to an imminent death. With cheetah-like reflexes I grabbed the cart and in the nick of time, prevented my rental from completely crashing to the floor. I immediately placed everything onto my desk, where they could not make any more escape or suicide attempts.
    Now completely cherry-faced, I resorted to my quickest therapy--bubbles. I pulled out my bubble bottle and blew them until I felt like I could return the stupid satanic cart back to its owners. When I got the cart back (after carrying it down the stairs and through the creepy halls), I made the cart/card exchange and informed them that their cart was busted.
    In badly timed humor, they cried, "You broke our cart????"
    I wanted to kill them.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

#23: And now the epitome of every Sunday

I think it's only appropriate to post this along with the "epitome of every baptism" post (see #22). This video could represent almost every Sunday morning on the mission...those stressful hours before church as we picked up (or attempted to) our investigators and get them to church. This was my last Sunday in the mission and was in a trio with two amazing sisters, an American and a Columbian. There is one little part where I had problems with the subtitles and they overlap a bit...but it's only for a second. And I hope you enjoy the Paraguayan Polka background music. :)

#22: The epitome of every baptism we had in Paraguay

So, I believe in God, and because I also believe in an opposition in all things, I also believe in Satan. Going on a mission will reinforce that concept, because every every EVERY time we had a baptism, something would go wrong. And not something little, like the water was too cold...I mean like the locks were changed to the baptismal font without even the Bishop's knowledge, so we'd have to do the baptism in a chapel 45 minutes away. Stuff like that. We got a little video of one certain experience, when we had 2 kids that were getting baptized, Jose and Rocio.





Here's a pic of Jose and his enormous baptismal clothes....we had nothing else.


Tuesday, March 15, 2011

#21: Selective hearing? Try selective eyesight.

You know how every once in awhile you do something dumb that your friends or family make sure you never forget? This is one of those stories. It's not very long, but my family still gets a kick out of it.

One night, I'm not sure how old I was, 14-16 maybe? we decided to order pizza for dinner. I'm not sure from where, but whichever place it was, at the time it was going for a new funds booster by selling NEW TWISTED CRUST PIZZA!!! And to be sure that we all knew about it, printed on the top of each pizza box in big bold letters were the words: NEW TWISTED CRUST!

One of my siblings read it aloud semi-jokingly, "Oh look, twisted crust!"

Me: "Where?"

Family: "Right there. On the box."

I looked at the box. Then looked at the sides of the box.

Me: "Where? I don't see it."

Family: "Angela, it's right there on the box!"

I looked again. Still couldn't see it. I think I even lifted up the box and looked under it. I honestly had no clue where they were looking. My family members were now having mixed reactions of laughing or shaking their heads at my utter stupidity. I never saw it. We ate all that pizza and I still never saw the stupid "Twisted Crust." How long do you spend eating pizza? Twenty minutes? Yeah, twenty minutes of that dang label staring me in the face...and to this day, I still don't know where exactly those words were written. Yep. That moment right there could represent so many hundreds of similar moments that happened to me from birth to age 21. I must have reverse tunnel vision.

Every now and then, when we order pizza, a family member who thinks they're just oh-so-funny will exclaim, "Oh, hey, look! This pizza has twisted crust!" Thanks for the reminder.

5K for Benjie!!

You guys--I did something I have never done before, and something that is really hard for me: a 5K! It was the Rex Lee Run for cancer research. You had the option of sponsoring the name of a cancer fighter, so of course I had to do it for Benjie Dobson, who was the inspiration of this blog and its title (see my very first post for details.) We put "BD" (her initials) on our cheeks along with hearts, put pink streaks in our hair (for Benjie of course!) and on our sleeves wrote the names of every person we knew personally that had fought cancer. Pink for those we lost, and green (life) for those who conquered it. Kathryn and Daniel did it with me and our goal was just to beat the two guys that had dressed up in huge sumo wrestler costumes...which we did. :) However, the winner of the 10K (which started 15 minutes later) totally beat us. Haha. That's ok. I didn't do it to race. I did it for myself, to prove to myself that I could do hard things, and for Benjie.


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

#20: Bernarda...my experience with a retired prostitute

    So, about a year ago, I was on my mission with dear Hermana Welch as my companion in the po-dunk town of Villa Hayes. One late night, we were just one "new investigator" short of reaching our goals for the day, and that week we were extra determined to do anything--so we called our Zone Leaders and got permission to stay out late. It was past 9:30 and we were close to our house...clapping (you clap your hands instead of knocking) a house at that hour would have been unreasonable, and so we desperately wandered the dark, vacant streets, hoping against hope that someone would be sitting outside.
   About two blocks from our house, we saw some hope--two elderly women were sitting outside of a despensa (a little neighborhood store that sells bread rolls, soda, etc.) and we eagerly approached them. One quick look told us that these ladies were VERY Catholic (I have NOTHING against Catholic people--a lot of my best friends are Catholic, but as a Mormon missionary, Catholics weren't usually receptive to us). They let us sit down and managed to teach them a quick principle--I think on Sabbath-day observance...but I don't really remember because the one lady wouldn't stop talking talking talking and we could hardly get in a word edgewise. And then when my companion started praying, the other lady, a very short and stout woman named Bernarda, began to mumble her own invented prayer every time my companion said something. It took every ounce of energy I had to keep a straight face but we made it through, and Bernarda agreed to have us come over again.
    And come again we did. Honestly, I did not expect our spiritual relationship with Bernarda to progress, as most elderly people that we taught were very comfortable in their ways and not about to be swayed by a couple of "misioneras mormonas." But to our great surprise, Bernarda accepted the commitments we gave her, and even came to church with us (one time she got the times mixed up and got there at 6 in the morning....fortunately our branch had seminary with the youth at that time and she participated right along!)
   We began to learn some very interesting things about Bernarda. The first was that her "despensa" pretty much only sold beer, cigarettes, and old gaseosas (soda)--her store was covered from ceiling to floor in beer advertisements. She also had these really creepy paintings of women bathing in streams adorning her shop.
   We also learned very quickly that Bernarda always had good intentions, but, to put it lightly, was not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. We grew to love her, but it was very much like teaching a small child trapped in a 70-year old body.
   Then, upon trying to contact her neighbors, we heard rumors that our sweet Bernarda had in fact, once upon a time, been one of the local hookers. We brushed it off as just another silly neighborhood fable, the kind which we often heard while tracting extensively in the same neighborhoods. But when we brought our mission leader to meet her, when we clapped the house, he said quietly, "Well...I guess everyone can repent...." With some probing, he confirmed the rumors we had heard--Bernarda had been infamous back in her day from sleeping around with other local men for money. Fantastic.

   The story gets better.

   One day, when we went to visit Bernarda, she told us how on our last visit we had mentioned that we would help her put some cream on her back to help her sore muscles. I honestly could not recall such a conversation taking place and determined either my Spanish skills must not have been that great, or Bernarda was simply imagining things (I still lean towards the second one...) We told her we could help her out today, and dear old Welchy added, "My companion would LOVE to help you with that." I shot her a death look. I didn't really mind giving service. Even this kind of service. But I did mind having my agency abused in making that decision for myself.
   Once our lesson that day ended, I was hoping that Bernarda had forgotten about our little promise, but Hermana Welch most kindly reminded her that I would offer my cream-application services.
   Bernarda disappeared to get her cream. I prayed that her back wouldn't have some nasty unheard-of disease or leprous condition, and could only imagine what kind of horrific home-made herbal concoction my hands were about to touch. And since we taught Bernarda in her shop, which was open, we could be seen by any passerby within a block. I hoped against hope that she wouldn't take off her little slip-on dress in front of everyone. I braced myself for the worst.
   Bernarda returned with a little white container, and placed herself before me with her back towards me, eagerly awaiting her back treatment. I opened the container, and, to my surprise, instead of finding some primordial herbal recipe, was faced with bright orange goop that smelled not unlike Bengay. As the pungent minty smell penetrated my innocent nostrils, I glanced up and noticed Bernarda had not taken her clothes off, and I silently sighed, grateful I would only have to touch the exposed upper triangle of her back and neck. And then, as I began scooping the unnatural tangerine-colored substance onto my fingers, Bernarda suddenly wiggled her jiggly arms out of her little sleeves, and let the top half of her dress fall limply to her waist. My fears were confirmed. And, like most days, she was not wearing a bra.
   At this point a shot laser death glares at my companion, who somehow was managing to hysterically laugh without making any sound. While her body silently shook with uncontrollable laughter, I began to rub the orange minty nastiness on Bernarda's now fully exposed back...which mercifully appeared to not have any kind of condition I needed to worry about. I tried to keep a constant death stare on my companion, who showed no mercy, while simultaneously looking outside to make sure none of the neighbors had wandered outside to get an unsuspecting boob show.
   Bernarda then started saying, "Mas fuerte! Mas FUERTE!!" ("Harder! HARDER!!") So, not only was I expected to lather this icky crap on her back that was made of who-knows-what, she wanted a deep tissue massage as well. So, I pressed harder. More death stares. More noiseless laughter. I just tried to avoid catching any undesired glimpses of our investigator's large, sagged and wrinkly bosoms, which were swinging around in their new-found freedom and kept trying to play peek-a-boo with me.
  
   "Mas fuerte!"
   
    Sigh. 
  
    Eventually, she felt that she'd had enough and to the gratitude of the neighborhood children's mothers, she put her dress back into its place and concealed her girls. I put the lid back on the white container and went to the back of the store to wash my hands clean. But, the goop. would. not. come. off. A dirty dishtowel was offered to me to dry my hands, which thankfully got most of the stuff off, but I could still feel the ever-present feeling of the cream within the crevices of my hands.
  
   When I got back, Hermana Welch asked, "So, does that cream help your back a lot?"
   To which Bernarda responded, "Not really."
    I almost died.

Monday, March 7, 2011

#19: High school....I look back and still cringe.

   So, one of my friends had a pretty embarrassing moment today, which reminded me of a somewhat similar experience from high school that my memory had repressed. I won't share his in a public space without his permission, so I'll just go straight into mine.

   So, FLASHBACK about 5 years to my junior year of high school (wow, has it been THAT long??). Every now and then, my asthma reaches rather unfortunate levels and one day this inconveniently happened while I was at school. My school was also rather inconveniently placed on a hill, and my chemistry class was located at the top. I huffed and wheezed my way up there and managed to get to class. I made my way to my seat that was almost in the back, grateful I had made it. However, as class progressed, despite the fact that I was not exerting my body in any way, my lungs became deplorably worse. For those of you lucky ones who don't have asthma, try strangling yourself. That's about what it feels like. It got to the point where I didn't even think I'd be able to walk to the nurse's office--I was getting no oxygen. I struggled my way to the front of the class to inform the teacher in so many breathless and wheezed words that my lungs were denying almost all oxygen access. She asked if I could make it to the office, to which I shook my head. She said she'd call the office to come get me, and so I went back to my seat.
   Now, at this point I was envisioning some office personnel driving up to the classroom door in one of those cool golf carts that they zip around the school in, have me inconspicuously leave the class, and have me sit next to them, after which they would speedily zoom-zoom me down to the office, which was on the other end of campus.
  
      However, about five minutes later, I heard a thu-THUNK...THUNK...KA-THUNK. 
  
     I, along with the other 35 kids in class, turned our heads in the direction of the door at the back of the class, where two teenage office aids were struggling to push a brown, uncomfortable-looking wheelchair over the metal threshold of the doorway. Sweet merciful heavens, they are coming for ME. I think the only way they could have made the situation any more conspicuous would have been to announce their entrance with a megaphone. After overcoming their noisy obstacle, they "zoom-zoomed" or rather, squeeky-squeekied my new set of wheels over to my desk, into which I sat my kabooty. I kept my head shamefully lowered so as not to look at any of my peers, who were excitedly whispering to each other and wondering what the heck was going on. I was then wheeled out of the class, with at least 36 pairs of eyes following me out the door. At least we made it back over the threshold without too much problem. Actually...I don't even remember because I was too preoccupied with the fact that I still couldn't breathe and that the whole class had just seen me be emergency-wheeled out of the class. I guess it could have been worse though....it could have been a stretcher....or I could have fallen out of the wheelchair on the way out the door. Thankfully I was spared a little dignity.
   I was soon whisked away to the nurse's office, or rather, nurse's portable building, where I received what little medical attention they could give me. Unfortunately, there are lots of classrooms to pass before reaching the nurse, and many teachers leave the doors open due to lack of an air conditioning system. Awesome. Fortunately, though, my younger sister had been sitting in one of those classrooms and saw me being wheelchaired (yes I just verbed a noun) away to the medical room. She got permission to leave class to see what was up and make sure I wasn't dying. Blessed supportive sister. I was soon picked up and missed the rest of school, instead using that time to spend quality time with my loyal nebulizer machine forcing gaseous medicines down my chest.
   Oh asthma, as if the inhalers didn't already make me look nerdy enough. Thank you for keeping me humble.
 

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Birthday Resloutions

I feel the need to blog about something normal, like my current life. I also made some goals and feel that by posting them in a public place, I will be more apt to keep them.

So, this month I turn 23. According to singlemormongirl.wordpress.com I will officially be "spinster" age in the Mormon culture. Screw that. I'll get married at the right time to the right guy. In the words of Michael Buble, "I just haven't met [him] yet." And you know what, that's okay. It doesn't mean I don't know how  to date just because I didn't get married at the age of 19 like all the other girls in my family. God just has a different plan for me. I've been able to do a lot of other wonderful things, like a study abroad and a mission, through which I learned TONS of things that I personally could not have learned any other way. BUT this post is not about my dating life. So, anyways....

Without going into too much detail, these last few months have been a really huge struggle for me, especially in the health department, which has in turn affected the other areas of my life such as school, spiritual with-it-ness, self perceptions, etc. But in the process of it all, Heavenly Father blessed me with an amazing person in my life named Becky. I've never met her in person, but we e-mail often and have become rather fond pen-pals. She's had some of the same struggles that I've had, and has imparted to me a lot of wisdom. One of the things she mentioned was running. 

Now, exercise for me has always been a tricky thing for me. I've been overweight (until recently losing a bunch of weight from being sick), last time I did a sport was when I was 10, have asthma, and have another lung problem that I won't go into. Basically, exercise for me is HARD. But I do feel great after running. But also feel SUPER self-conscience running in view of the public eye where all can see my enormous bosoms flopping around all over the place without any shame. 

BUT I have learned in the last year that I am a FIGHTER. And so, I decided that despite all of my obstacles, in order to help myself out, I have began running. I run at night when I am less visible, and I don't run fast or far and definitely walk more than I run. But it feels AWESOME afterwards and I feel like I am so much more in touch with my body and spirit. I go to the temple and back and while at the temple I stop there and stretch for 15-20 minutes and just think about things. 

So today I was beginning to feel crummy and knew I needed to run. So I did. And while I did, I thought about giving myself a birthday present: Health. Healthy body, spirit, mind, and social life. So I decided to make "Birthday Resolutions." I am so excited about these. And I need to remember that if I mess up, it doesn't mean I failed. These are GOALS, not where I need to be every moment. No one is perfect. They are pretty simple, but here they are:

My Birthday Gift to Myself: Birthday Resolutions
·      A Healthy Body
o   Running; 4 times a week, but can be replaced with muscle workout
o   Swimming once a week with Kathryn
o   Eat healthy
·      A Healthy Mind
o   Continue Therapy
o   Avoid stress by staying on-campus to do homework
o   Create feeling of independence by getting a good job
·      A Healthy Spirit
o   Go to the temple once a week
o   Read scriptures in the morning
·      Healthy Social Life
o   Join a club?
o   Try to keep Saturdays open

Long Term Goals
·      Marathon! Goal: in one year: March 2012
·      Graduate: December 2012
·      Have a good job  

Sp

SS

Friday, March 4, 2011

#18: One of those things that's okay when you're 20 months old...not 20 years old...

Warning: 1) This is kinda gross.
                2) Don't judge me. Or it will happen to YOU too. :)

      Ok, so once upon a time, I was getting ready to go on my mission. I'd already had the Bishop's interview and had scheduled the interview with my Stake President to get my papers rollin.' The night of the interview, my friends and I decided to go to Macaroni Grill for dinner. I can't remember what the occasion was...Lindsay's birthday maybe...? Anyway, I love Macaroni Grill because they give you crayons and you can draw on the tablecloth, and I just have a hay day every time covering the area with doodles and faces and whatnot. However, I do not like Macaroni Grill because whenever I get some sort of buttery pasta dish, it makes me feel sick. Like, REALLY sick.
    This day was no different. We enjoyed our meals, but by the time I paid my bill, my intestines were sending out some major S.O.S. signals. I also had my interview to get to, and still needed to go home and change into church clothes. As I left the restaurant, my innards were having a raging dance party and I knew not only did I need to get home, I needed to get home FAST.
  The distance between Macaroni Grill and my then-apartment is probably about 15-20 minutes, which would make it about 15-20 minutes too long. I hated speeding, but went a little fast in worries that I might not make it. I knew it would be a close call, but trusted on the tender mercies of the Lord. However, the closer I approached home, the closer my large intestine was to becoming more infamous than Mount Vesuvius. The clock ticked ever so slowly....soon I was on the verge of perspiring from a mix of anxiety and corporal agony. My thoughts became increasingly more panicked as I drove: "...getting closer....sweet heavens help me make it...(I really started praying....)...oh my gosh I'm going to be late for my mission appointment....oh my gosh...oh my gosh...please make it...please make iiiiitttttt....... HOME!!!!!" 
   I parked as quickly as possible. However, those last torturous 15-20 minutes had been sufficient for my body to convert every last solid particle in my belly into a liquified concoction of unadulterated hell. I began walking quickly...then broke into a sprint...then very quickly realized that running was NOT a good idea...but I was desperate. I half-ran, have sped walked. It was a race. A race between me and my  intestines. Every other system in my body was ready for the ultimate showdown. I was SO close. SOOO close. And then, 25 steps before I reached my apartment door...I exploded.
   I want you to think for a moment what your first thought would be if you suddenly crapped your pants without having any self-control at all. I would imagine it would be similar to mine: "Oh my gosh. I crapped my pants." Yes, profound, I know. I'm sure you can already imagine the subsequent thoughts of embarrassment and feelings of idiocy.
    I quickly burst through my apartment door and was in the bathroom in 2 seconds, where I remained for the next 20 minutes. By the time I got out, my roommates had sensed that something was very wrong and asked if I was okay. I told them, "No...I am SO sick," grabbed new clothes, and went back to the bathroom.
   Now, I don't want you to think that God was totally merciless. Sometime during the whole ordeal, I got a call from the Stake Secretary asking if it would be okay to make my appointment a little later, as the Stake President was running behind. Tender mercies. And fortunately, after all of that, I was okay. I survived, had a successful interview, and three months later received my call to lovely Paraguay...where, like almost everyone else, had intestinal problems at least once a week for the duration of my time there.