Imagine That I'm Singing

     I can't write today, guys. Nothing I try to say comes out right. Ever had one of those days? One of the days when you try to type a period, and out comes a question mark? You had to push Shift to make that mistake, sweetheart.
     I hate this kind of days. Though I must say, today isn't so bad... it's just not particularly good. You understand, yes? I mean, lots of good things have happened. Butter got asked to Homecoming. She deserved that. I went to Choir without my shoes, which was refreshing. Don't ask me why.
     Ah! An epiphany.
     Today is a thinking day. Upon entering my first hour classroom this morning, the overall feeling I had about myself was that I was not fulfilling my potential. That there was so much more to me than I was actively being. That I need to kick in it gear and get myself moving. This morning, I was told to cool down and quit being so hard on myself, because I'm wonderful and I add so much to discussions, and besides, how boring would it be if I was already perfect, and there was nothing else to learn?
     So I left feeling that I was being too hard on myself, and I needed to relax. But that got me to thinking: if I don't think about what I can fix, how will I ever fix anything?
     Oh good heck, I told myself,  I am over thinking this, and if anyone were to come along and read my mind, it would be a very tedious read; full of philosophy, I'll give me that, but very tedious. My mind is so preoccupied with the doom that awaits should failure happen that it doesn't have an opportunity to think of the joy available to those who are truly trying. 
     Oh be quiet. I'm annoying me.
     Yeah, well, I'm annoying me too. I worry too much! I take the time to stop and smell the roses, but I don't register whether or not they actually smell good, because I'm too worried about whether or not I'm stopping to smell them! I sing all along my way, but I'm so wrapped up in whether I'm singing right that I forget to enjoy it. I let myself get so frustrated with this world that doesn't understand the beauty in it that I forget to really, truly see the beauty. I bounce around, full of contagious energy, but it hides inside, cowers behind the wisdom it wants, because someone else has contagious energy too, and I can't be as good as them. I laugh loudly, but I forget to turn up the volume inside loud enough that my heart can hear it. And I spend all my time analyzing myself to see what I could be better. 
     I need to find the medium. 
     Where's the medium? 
     As the war raged inside my head, I remembered a statement a teacher had made that had, I realized, been haunting me. I was walking in to a tryout for a choir that I wanted so, so badly to be in. I was shivering clear to the marrow of my bones, but on the outside, I walked upright and confident across the room towards the piano, with the choir teacher sitting behind it, smiling and encouraging. There were two other girls in the room, they asked me if they could listen in on my audition, just out of curiosity. I complied.
     "Aren't you scared?" one of them asked.
     The teacher grinned at them and said, "Jenica's not afraid of anything."
     The thought that entered my head then was unvoiced, unnoticed, for years. If put in words, the thought went like this: Don't compliment me. Then I have to live up to it.
     That statement became one of the themes of my life. The first theme was this: Do it well. Do it perfect! People must know you are good, because you have to make a difference in the world. The second highly contradicted it: Don't compliment me. Then I have to live up to it.
     All these years, I've dedicated myself to becoming fearless to live up to what that Choir teacher thought of me. Today I decided this: I'm not fearless. I simply have courage.

     Today I adopt an attitude of bravery. Today I adopt an attitude of abundance. And today I adopt an attitude of pure laughter, because life was made for joy.

The Jenica World Dictionary: 

A dictionary of my personal opinions and views. Not to be quoted as politically correct. 

Abundance- Trusting that God will take care of my needs. 

Courage- Taking action joyfully in the face of fear.

Joy- Broader than excitement, deeper than happiness, grander than ecstasy, purer than pleasure. Of all the happy words in the dictionary, this is the most full and complete. Joy is not a feeling. It is a way of life.

This post is for M. Avocado. You should know who you are.

Well... I found my Blog! I don't know what's up with your internet, but this is working fine. Hopefully you can find this!

Since I'm talking to you, I might as well tell you how much I admire you. How could I put anything as perfectly as you do? You have so much faith and you're so positive... I don't know how you do it. I'd like to learn how, too.
Everything you say seems to be saying what I wanted to say last time I tried to write a post.You make the difference to me that I've always wanted to make for somebody else. Thank you!
You probably feel like this praise is undeserved... you might think you're really not this good, or if only I could see things from your point of view, I wouldn't think so highly of you. I feel that way a lot. But you know what? That just makes you so much BETTER! Thank you for being so willing to be your best. Thank you for who you are.

love,
     Jenica

This is scary...

I get to ask a guy out on a date soon! Wahoo! >:(
Okay I like guys. Don't get me wrong. I like guys a lot. But all the times I've been on dates before, they've been with someone I knew... someone I was friends with already. Sometimes even someone who helped me plan the date.
SOMEONE WHO WASN'T SO SCARY!!
He's scary.
If any guys read this Blog, any guys at all, I would like to tell you something.
You scare us too.

My brother came to me today and said, "Nica, do girls get tongue-twisted around guys like guys get tongue-twisted around girls?"
I gaped at him. For HEAVEN'S sake. OF COURSE we get tongue-twisted. After we talk to particularly scary guys, we talk to each other about talking to guys and we torture ourselves over what we might have said wrong and whether or not they even want to be our friends.
I told him this. He then asked, "How am I supposed to tell if they're tongue-twisted or just don't want to talk to me?"
I had to think on that one. I laughed inside, then silently, then out loud. Ha ha ha how DO they tell? Sometimes we shun the guys we WANT attention from... for some reason. I don't know why.
Why do we do that?
Sometimes we even go talk to another guy just to get their attention. Or to see if they notice. I can't be the only one out there who does that. Can I?
Well. There's more than that in my brain, but I'm a bit lazy at the moment. So farewell, and enjoy my terrible grammar.

Yeah.

I had a friend once who woke up in the middle of the night and saw his reflection and punched the mirror. He shattered it. He laughed a lot about that.
He's also the kid who broke his toe sweeping the kitchen floor.
I have a friend who yelled at his computer.
And one who attacked his.
I have a three dollar library fine.
My hair is wet...
I feel kind of... dead. Who killed me? Oh, nobody. I died of natural causes. Like lack of sleep and EXTREME lack of something to do. Or at least, something constructive to do. That I actually WANT to do. What am I here for? I mean, of course I know the Sunday School answer to that: to learn, to grow, to be tested. But what's my mission? I don't think God sent me here to sit on my butt wondering what I'm here for. I think He sent me here to complete some sort of action. To achieve something. To make a difference.
But what does it mean to make a difference?
Whenever I think about making a difference, I imagine big famous people like Oprah Winfrey and Bill Gates. I imagine becoming famous for some big kindness I do for the world. For writing a book and giving the proceeds to a homeless shelter. You know? I imagine people hearing my name and everyone around knowing it. That's what I imagine when I think about making a difference.
The thing is I don't WANT to be famous! I would really much rather live in my own little house with my own little family and my own not little husband. Maybe I could be the Relief Society President. Or the Bishop's wife. I don't know. But I want to make a difference...
I read a poem once. It went like this:

"Father, where shall I work today?"

And my love flowed warm and free.

Then He pointed me out a tiny spot, 

And said "Tend that for me."

I answered quickly, "Oh no, not that! 

Why, no one would ever see. 

No matter how well my work was done. 

Not that little place for me!" 

And the word He spoke, it was not stern, 

He answered me tenderly, 

"Ah, little one, search that heart of thine, 

Art thou working for them or me?

Nazareth was a little place, 

and so was Galilee."

Disappointment

You know those days when everything falls apart in your face? Yeah. This is one of those days. And then you find out that person did that for a really stupid reason and you just want to cry and scream and punch something.

*Sigh

I love adversity.

Sigh...

     Sad moment. I'm a bit down.
     This is something my dad says: Anger makes you do things you don't know you're gonna do until you've done them. 
     You know those times when someone says something that just infuriates you, and you lash back, and immediately regret it, but you said it, and you can't take it back? See, that's me right now.
Here's a thought: Anger is a secondary emotion. It always blooms from something else; hurt, grief, embarrassment. So what does my anger bloom from? Right now: pride. I would tell myself I'm simply upset about things people have said about my loves and my beliefs, but truly, I want to be noticed and seen for someone strong in her knowledge of God and His goodness; someone who helps people there. I do love God. I do love people. But my motives need to change.
     I need to look at this kind of situation and think: How am I meant to respond? Does Heavenly Father want me to retaliate, and if so, how? What does He want me to say?
     Easier said than done... but in all my cheesiness: I'll do it. I can do hard things.

A New Post

I had a nice, sweet, profound post all planned out in my head last night as I tried and failed to fall asleep. I lay in bed, on top of my blankets, pouring sweat. My sister was next to me, kicking me and snoring. I felt sick. My other sister's phone went off in her bedroom next door, and kept bleeping every five minutes that she had a message. Since she was downstairs, I went into her bedroom and turned the phone on silent so I could get to sleep.
Five minutes later, it vibrated against the desk, making a loud and highly annoying rattling sound. I sighed in exasperation.
Finally, my sister came upstairs and looked at her message. I quietly got out of bed, picked up my quilt, and tiptoed down the squeaky stairs to the Sitting Room, where I stretched out on the couch and tried once again, in the downstairs coolness, to get to sleep. My stomach growled a pained growl, not of hunger, but of something coming. I groaned quietly and rolled off the couch onto the floor, into fetal position. There I awoke this morning, on the floor, my quilt piled about me, feeling ready to get up and do things... just so long as you didn't bug me, or ask me to eat.

I'll eat you. 

Chopping Wood

Do you remember all those posts ago when I chopped up a log? Well here I am finally remembering to put up the pictures.

This one shows the big block of wood that I disintegrated.

This one is to show how very not far I made it into the wood.

This one's just cool.

Wood shards.

This is what came out the next day: after only ten minutes!

Why is it...

... That the longer you go without saying anything, the less you have to say?

I've been thinking a lot lately... not a totally new development, but good anyhow. I've spent my whole life waiting and waiting to do things because I felt I couldn't do them until I had them down pat. Solo tryouts. Auditions for musicals. Performances. Most of the things I could have done are sitting in my mind, in my past; opportunities missed because I thought I 'wasn't ready.' 'Once I'm ready,' I say to myself. 'I'll just wait till tomorrow when I feel ready...'
I never feel ready. It gets to the point where people say 'You're going to miss it,' and still I feel unready. many times, I miss it. It's over, and I feel safe... but not happy. Disappointed. In myself.
That is not a good way to feel.
I would mess up tryouts because I didn't want to go 'too far.' Because I 'wasn't ready'. I ended up looking as stiff and scared as I felt.
Today I decided to bring upon myself a new mindset.
Excitement.
I looked in my mirror yesterday morning and said to myself, 'I have a tryout today. Aren't I excited?'
I expected to feel like I was lying to myself. Go to school with that same dread I always have. Shake so hard during my tryout that I felt like an old lady who'd lost control of her poor wrinkly limbs. Be petrified in my socks. (And the rest of my clothes, for that matter.)
But I made a decision.
I decided to feel the excitement I wanted. When I got to class, I turned to T* and said, "I am so excited." She laughed. We both knew I was scared. But she believed in me and we both knew that, too.
When the choir teacher spoke the words, 'Mother Knows Best,' I expected to feel fear and dread. Instead, I felt a little flutter. Of nervousness. And excitement.
No one volunteered for the first segment. I felt my hand raise and heard myself say, "I haven't practiced this part, but I'll go for it." By the end of the statement I'd brought myself into it; I was no longer hearing myself say it but was saying it.
I sang. The class cheered me on. The teacher had me sing the second segment too, the one I'd actually practiced. The bell rang while I was still singing. The class kept listening.
I didn't finish the second segment. I had to go to class. I got verbal pats on the back all the way. Then, right before I left the room, my beautiful choir teacher called, "Jenica?"
I turned. "Yes?"
She smiled. "Woof," she said.
T turned to me and grinned. Giggled a little.
"Thank you," I said, smiling all over, of course.
When I left the classroom, I was cheering inside.
And someone was in my head, saying, 'I did it. I was excited. I let it go and it went.'
I said a prayer. All I could think of to say was, "Heavenly Father, Thank you."
Thank you.
Thank you...



*T is a dear friend in my choir class. One of the best in the world.

Hmm hmm la di da di da lalalalala!

I am very exceedingly bored. Oh, you could tell? Duh. I expected that. Guess what else. I need a job. I realized that the other day. I got a phone. My mom bought me minutes. Four hundred, to be precise. And when they run out... it's my turn. I buy the minutes. And I'm beginning to realize that everything is starting to be my turn now. I'll be saving for college. I'll be buying myself a car. I'll be paying for my insurance. And in a few years... I'll be paying for my own apartment. And food. And I'll be cleaning my own house. And... man, I'm going to be an adult. Taking care of myself.  Two years isn't a long time.

Sweet Sixteen

     My day began with my mother's voice, as it does every year... "Sixteen years ago today, there was no little Jenica... and then there was a 'waaa, waaa!' and there she was." Mommy stroked my face and pushed my hair out of my sleepy eyes. Then she said, "Time for devotional, sweetie," just like every other morning I wake up late.
     When I got to school, a few people pounced on me and dragged me into Concert Choir, where all the men gathered around me and sang 'The Birthday Song.' The British Kid rubbed his face against my arm while he held my hand and sang. I was then kissed upon the cheek by approximately eight men. One of them kissed me half on my ear and half in my hair... for those of you familiar with Anne Frank.
     I stayed in Concert, sang to my long lost twin, (her birthday was today too,) sightread a song with them, and then closed my eyes and listened. Overall, it was a very pleasant time. Strangely enough, my favorite part was when the bell rang in the middle of the song and they continued to sing it all the way down the hall. They were together, too!
     I went to lunch, talked a little, and did the hair of a sweet friend of mine, and then I sat and listened to the conversation around me. I was in front of the Seminary building before fifth hour when I saw a friend drive by in his brand-new Audi. I smiled. I waved. He loves his cars.
     I went to Arioso (the girls' tryout choir, for those who don't know.) There were a couple of boys in there practicing for State. They stopped and sang to my twin and me. One of them stroked my arm while he sang. I couldn't look at him, it was just so funny.
     Then Seminary, where I laughed and loved and learned. And now home. My mom is making a dessert, my siblings are wrapping presents. But what I really want to do is snuggle up on the couch and watch Faith Like Potatoes, or something along those lines, and then go to bed... and attend EFY in the morning.

Yeah, I know I said I would.

Last time I posted I promised you a comparison picture. Well, here it is- a little later than promised, but here.

The first one is Zachary at about one. The second is him when I came home from Germany- You can imagine the shock of coming home to that. He got so huge! This comparison is a little more drastic than the one I faced. But I am a very exaggeration-prone person.

These pictures have absolutely nothing to do with anything. This just made my day when I saw it.
So...
I gave my baby sister my 'My Little Ponies', expecting that since she loved them so much she'd take pretty good care of them.
Yeah.

I feel the love here.

Home

I never thought I'd be in awe at my house. But here I am! I am in awe of everything and everyone around me, and everything and everyone around me is in awe of me. Because I'm so cool. Right? Yeah...
Seeing all this stuff is weird. It's all so familiar, and it's all so foreign. It's NOT like deja vu. It's more like 'Wow. This stuff actually exists in more than my mind?' But it's also a feeling of 'For some strange reason it feels like it's been awhile.'
I think the strangest thing, though, is my baby brother Z. I posted a couple of pictures of him a while back; you might remember them if you've been really following me. (That's all Blogs are. Stalking made easy.) He had light blonde, curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he was this little guy I could pick up with one hand without any form of trouble.

Well, his hair darkened. It lost its curl. He's big enough that to pick him up with one hand is getting awkward. And the worst part? His voice got deeper. My baby brother's voice got deeper! That's not supposed to happen until puberty! Except I know it does. Tear. He has a little boy voice now, instead of a baby voice. And it makes me very, very sad. And he says 'water' instead of 'wager'.
In my next post I'll do comparison pictures. Tear tear...

GOOD HEAVENS IT WAS OVER TOO SOON!

Tomorrow is my last day in Germany. I can't believe it! It went by too fast for anyone's good, except maybe my mother. She misses me. :)
Oh, but I can't wait to be home! It's been way too long since I set foot in that place. Saw those people. Hugged that baby... slept in that bed! Ahhh to steal it back from my sister... who, I might add, is one of the people I need to see...
I guess I'm kind of loopy with excitement. I spent most of this trip ignoring the naggingness of my family in  the back of my mind. Now I'm ignoring the fact that many of these people are people I will never see again. At least not in this life. So many of the people I love now are so unreachable... part of me wonders, why did I come? Why should I create pain for myself, by finding these people, knowing I will love them, knowing I will miss them, knowing all of this... and I did it anyway. Part of me wonders. But as my personality demands, the other part, the bigger part, the part that is so hard to keep alive, says to me, 'It was worth it. Everything was worth it. Every word, every action, every experience made me stronger, wiser, and more knowledgeable about how powerless I really am. How little wisdom I really have.'
Ahhh, but I'm so much better for it! I learned so much, and so little. Which recognition is, in and of itself, a wonderful thing to know. I could be the wisest being on earth and still know so little. Still have so much to learn. So many ways to grow and expand. I don't think I'll ever get to the point of knowing everything there is to know. I think I will always have something else to learn, some other place to explore. THAT is the definition of Eternity...

If you could hie to Kolob, 

in the twinkling of an eye, 

and then continue onward 

with that same speed to fly, 

do you think that you could ever

through all eternity

find out the generation 

where Gods began to be?

Or see the grand beginning 

where Space does not extend?

Or view the last creation

where worlds and matter end? 

Methinks the Spirit whispers 

'No man has found pure space,

nor seen the outside curtains 

where nothing has a place.'

I thought I ought.

I don't really have much to say. I just wanted to say something. The thing that's been on my mind lately is the fact that, like it or not, I'm leaving here in two weeks. I'm going home.
     I remember home. I know every nook and cranny of the house. I'll still be able to make my way around with my eyes closed. But it won't be the same. Why, you ask? The house won't change. The people will all be the same people. The routine will hardly budge. But sometimes, even having been here for two and a half months already, I catch myself and realize, 'hey. I'm here.' I find myself thinking things like, 'I haven't seen my mom for two and a half months. I've never been away from home this long. I'm starting to forget what it's like to play my own piano.' And it doesn't seem all that abnormal, either. This... Germany...  it's life now, I guess. It's normal. I miss my old life more and more... and less and less as I go on here. I think about going home and wonder, 'Will that be enough for me now?' And the truth is, I don't know. Maybe it won't. Maybe I'll need more adventures...

     And just for kicks; I wrote this poem in my journal, right after waking up from a very, very strange dream:...

                   Wierdness. Yeah, I know. 

It kinda freaked me out, though. 

The things my mind comes up with

Are more than I can cope with.

Dead babies in ceilings

Their zombies on floors, 

I once went throughout the whole house to lock doors

in my sleep. 

Dreams that are creepy, 

Dreams just plain wierd; 

I believe I once dreamed of a man with a beard

which wasn't so wierd. 

I like to write poems, sing songs, and read books;

quite often you'll find me in my little nooks.

But the things I come up with 

in those dreams of mine

make the books look like nothing; 

(and this doesn't rhyme.)

But then I awaken 

the visions are taken 

and put in a little corner; 

the glamor fades. 

I open the shades, 

to greet the morning's mourner. 

( I like the last part because no one ever makes sense of it.)

Ow. My hand hurts.

     I've been told I punch pretty hard. I've been told I act like a toughie. I've been bold enough to ask guys to dance on the very first dance if they're being lame and not asking. But let me assure you, I am not tough. I am not strong. My biceps are minuscule. And I've never been in 'good shape.' (I do have a shape, to be sure. I'm just a little out of it.) But when we got cold and there was only one log left that was too big to fit in the oven, I thought, 'What the heck. Hack at it with the axe for a few minutes until it's cut in half.'
     Yeah.
     I found the axe in the garage and carried it into the backyard, where I found the gigundus chunk of wood. I proceeded to carry them both back to the front of the house, where there was a much larger chunk of wood the perfect height to use as a chopping block. You can imagine the result of this. My first thought upon getting to the backyard was, 'why the heck did I bring this stupid honking axe back here?' My second was, 'Well bless my soul, I am such an idiot. Who would've known?'
     I made another stupid mistake. I tried to carry the wood and the axe up the stairs to the front of the house, while also fending off curious children whose toes I would much like to keep on their feet. My toes obviously don't care much whether they're attached or not, since they failed to warn my hands not to try to carry that up the steps. But their toes were going to stay on their feet if I had anything to do with it, so I ended up yelling at them quite loudly to GO AWAY and then staggered my way up the stairs to drop the chunk of wood unceremoniously on the ground. Thankfully, it missed my toes.
     I picked up the axe. This was gonna be easy. I aimed for the crack I had made with the saw earlier and thud! I missed by an inch. And it barely made an indent. I aimed better. Whacked harder. Thump! The axe embedded itself into the wood exactly where I was aiming. I was proud. Besides the fact that the wood looked no different.
     I kept up a steady pace. Swing, hit. Swing, hit. Swing, hit. Stuck. Pull. Swing, hit... I got about a third of the way into the block of wood before flipping it over to see if the other side would be any better. It wasn't. I flipped it back over. It still looked no different. I hit it harder, and the wood disintegrated...
     The wood underneath the wood I was chopping, that is. It's rotting entrails poured all over the driveway, along with a gross looking white worm.
     I scooted my log back in disgust and chopped some more.
     Then I decided to try something new. It would be much easier to chop the log in half if it was skinnier, right? So I flipped it up on it's top and proceeded to try to split it.
     Key words being 'try to'.
     I failed.
     Partway throughout the attempted splitting of the evil log, I noticed I was singing to myself, so I stopped to listen to see if I could figure out what I was singing. It was a song from the now well-known Thomas the Tank Engine series...

Don't give up,

Show determination.

Don't give up, 

You'll be a big sensation!

     The song repeats. During the said repeat of the song, I noticed the words were different...

Don't give up, 

Show determination,

This stupid log is disintegrating 

and it's really dumb.

     'Now, that is really lame,' I thought to myself. 'It doesn't even rhyme.' But I shrugged and continued on my way, singing merrily and expecting to totally miss the log any second and lose my leg. It was fun.

     Then the exciting happened. I totally, completely missed what I was aiming for and barely shaved the edge off the poor log. I watched the log shard shoot clear out into the middle of the driveway and at the same moment heard a rather loud sound coming from the opposite direction. 

     The big piece of the log and shot directly backwards into the neighbor's yard. And landed right on top of one of his newly planted plants. 

     Now, I wasn't about to say 'what the heck, we'll just leave the big honking log in the middle of the neighbor's garden on top of his plant.' So I had to go around, walk through the garden, pick up the log, and, of course, drop it on another little plant on my way out. Accidentally.

     To finish the story, I will just let you know that I have accepted my lot in life. I am not a wuss. I am not a sissy. And I'll still try to do things I probably won't be able to do when I try them. But I still scream when I see spiders, and I still haven't chopped that blasted piece of wood in half. 

     I will have to try again tomorrow. 

Don't give up, 

show determination... 

    

This will take me a moment...

     You know how it is. Something happens. The perfect story to write a Blog post about. Something cute and funny and inspiring. You go the whole day excited to write about it and when you finally sit down to write it-- wha? Where'd it go? This is so not fair! And all those typical teenage Utah Mormon excpaimations. It was cute- it was! It was funny- I promise! And it could definitely be turned into something inspiring. But... insert teenage Utah Mormon exclaimations here.
     I must say, however, that I do love my life. Many typical conversations begin with the question, 'So how's life?' Though I am in Germany, living with an unfamiliar family, having experiences totally alien to me, all I can think of to say is, 'Good.'
     Ya. Life is good. Uhhh... nothin's goin' on. I'm just... living. I eat food and I sleep in a bed and I drink liquid. I like garbanzo beans. (That has nothing to do with anything, by the way. In case anyone was wondering.) But do you know what I mean? No one finds any excitement in anything! Life is made up of little things- a kiss from a child, a hello from a friend. One of the things I was excited about today was the most adorable picture of M-- I am so excited to draw it. Just the delicacy of her little eyelashes and the way her blond hair sits on her perfect little forehead... 

     I mean, life is just so good! So great! So wonderful! How come some people can't see that?
Like yesterday. S was going on about whatever he was going on about, and then, all of a sudden, he came out with, 'Mommy, where does Heavenly Father live?' Mom answered: 'He lives in Heaven.'
     'Mommy... can we go to heaven and see Him?'
     Things like that make my life complete.

     When did I start thinking of this as another home? When did it stop being foreign and become familiar? When did I stop waiting to go home and start to wonder when I can come back?

Fun fun

I get to go to a youth dance tonight. Fun? I think yes- besides the fact that over half these people can barely understand me and I don't even know if any of them can dance. I guess I'll just have to make sure it's fun- although I feel a lot more comfortable asking the guys to dance when I'm in my own Stake... and when they speak my language. I suppose I should throw myself at it with vigor and make it the best experience it can be.

Oh, and mom? I love you! I want the world to know I love you and I'm not ashamed of it! Hey everybody- I love my mom! I forgot what else I was going to say but she is AMAZING! Equaled in my world by no one! And though I may call another woman 'mom', no one else will ever be my 'Mutti.'

Yay! I finally did it!

Hoorah! Pictures are on the computer! Aaaand off we go...

They wanted me to take pictures of them. They're utterly sweet kids...

 This is S- Wearing my hat. Cute hat on a cute kid. :)

From left to right- M, S. They're standing in front of a pile of cheese- yes, that is cheese. It was so amazing to me I wanted a small person to stand in front of it to show how big it is.

Well, I have a lot more, but they're loading slower than bajeepers and I don't have that much time. So farwewll- until next time!

I Love These Kids.

Here I will post a list of insanely adorable quotes by these insanely adorable kids:

M:
"Jenica, you need to go to da hospital and get a baby in your tummy."
"I want a hippopotamus for Christmas... ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, ribBIT!"


S:
"Drinking Apple Juice is dangerous. I don't want Mommy to have any. I'll drink hers."
"Hello baby! Hello in there! Do you need anything else, or are you just fine? Okay, I love you, bye!"
"I waaant to plaaay the pliaaaano!"
"Mommy, I want a baby. Yeah, I want a baby sister."
"Mommy, you're broken. Can I fix you?"
"...Mommy...? Stop poking me."

Both:
"Slickapoot the rosies, slickapoot the rosies, slickapoot the rosies, ding ling ling ling ling!"

There are more. I'll tell some to you as I go.

Jenica World sure looks a lot like Germany.

I have now been here for about a month and a half. Just recently I realized that the sights aren't strange anymore. The house is familiar, and I can make my way around the town all by myself. Just this morning while AJ was still asleep, M, S and I walked A to the train... and I pushed the stroller home all by myself. And it wasn't even a problem! In fact, I made it home without difficulty... besides pushing the kids up the hill, that is. I know my way around. I'm relaxing. I'm being myself. And something tells me that Jenica World, in all it's beauty, in all its mystery, in all that it is... will never, ever be the same again. Those who traverse it will always find a little town full of fog and cobblestones... and two little children who will never, ever, ever grow up.  

Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

Good heavens.
     A. challenged me yesterday to consciously practice every day, whether it be solfej, drawing, piano, or just reading a book that will enlarge my views. So today, I was going to write. I needed to write a story, however bland or over dramatic it turned out.  I just needed to write.
     You already know I'm in Germany. At least, you should if you've read even last post I wrote. What you may not know is that my home computer is a... I forget. But this home computer is a Mac. The other thing you need to understand is that I don't know how to use this Mac. You put the mouse in the corner and everything you're doing goes somewhere else and it takes four tries to figure out which corner you need to put your mouse in to bring it back.
     In other words, I can't even cover the basics.
     It took two minutes to figure out which icon stood for Word.
     I never figured out how to use it.
    

Yes, yes, It's been awhile...

Holy Cow!
     I know you're expecting the whole spiel on how wonderful it is to be in Germany, how much I'm learning, how well I can speak German. I'll tell ya what you'll get: a partial spiel on how wonderful Germany is, a full spiel abut how cute these kids are, and a humble confession of how little I've learned compared to what I expected.
     When I came to Germany, I came with the expectation of jumping in and learning everything. Speaking in German, studying it, seeing the sights. Playing the piano, doing all my sight reading and getting so good Mads would be a breeze.
      Huh.
      One thing I have learned, though, is that it takes much more effort to do all that than we give it credit for. You see all these big successful people and you think, 'Wow, I'm going to be like them someday. It must have taken a lot of work!' What we don't seem to get is that if you want to get there in the small amount of time allotted to you, you can't say, 'I'm too scared today. I'll do it tomorrow.'  
     Tomorrows go fast.
     Of course, there's a list. You can't leave the continent and not learn things. I have learned! The only thing I haven't done is... well... learned. Let's just say I need to get a grip and get going. I'm afraid to be wrong. Make your mistakes now before you have to speak German in the real world! I'm afraid of learning too much and not being helpful enough around the house. Well set up a schedule, lazy one! It's been over three weeks already and you still spend your day sitting on the couch trying to think of something to do and not doing anything! (And chasing kids and cleaning, of course.)
     I guess my point is this: Get out and do it before there's no time left to do anything. You say, 'Well duh, Jenica. You can't accomplish anything without doing anything.' It's obvious. It's a given. Right?
     A lesson is not learned until applied. Used. Built upon. Enlarged. So speak it! Learn the language, make the schedule! Follow the schedule and work hard!
      Uhhhg... I'm tired.
      I'll do it tomorrow.
     And as for my spiels... Nah. I'll do those tomorrow too.

Blogging

Very boring title for a Blog post. Right? I know. But honestly, that is what I'm thinking about at the moment. Every time I get on to post something, my head full of thoughts of all the crazy things happening around here, and then I start typing and it either leaves my mind or I suddenly become too lazy to describe it all. Well, dinnertime, more later. Buh-bye!

Hello, America

Here I am in Germany. I've been here for almost two weeks now, which is amazing to me. I no longer have to try twelve times to get the punctuation right on the German keyboard. The kids are getting used to me. The parents are getting used to me. I'm getting used to them. And I'm finally blogging.
As soon as I get pictures on the computer, I'll post some. But first I\ve got to get them there. I have stories upon stories. I'm tired. It's 9:57 in the morning here. It's 1:57 in the morning in Brigham City, Utah. I stayed up until midnight last night- 0:00. Which is cool.
These kids are crazy- and crazy smart. They know English and German- and speak them both, amazingly. I've spoken to them in both languages, but sadly enough their knowledge of the German language far exceeds mine. I can say 'Was ist das?' And they end up teaching me.
It's amazing. They speak German as easily as English, and it astounds me every time I hear them speak it. I catch a few words. I try to figure out the meaning of the sentences. The paragraphs are lost to me.
It's and interesting concept. If you learn two languages when you're young, you know both of them better than you would if you learned them each alone, and you exceed farther in new languages than you would if you didn't know two already. The more you know, the more you have the ability to learn. How amazing is that?
The applies in all of life. I was always a musical person. My life is made up of a combination between the Arts and all the other Arts.
I remember when I was small, I would listen to my older sister play the piano and I would play the songs by listening to her play them. That was my gift, I suppose. I excel at learning and playing music by ear.
I didn't start sight reading until recently. But as I began to sight read, my learning by ear increased in measures formerly impossible in my mind. My vocal skills shot forward and things difficult became easy. Things easy became second nature. I continue to learn my music, which black dot belongs on which black line, and my writing ability increases, my math ability increases... and I learn more German.
I have the oppurtunity to excel further than I ever expected of myself here.  I have the chance to exceed all expectations. To broaden my mind and my horizons. To become what God intended. And will I do it? Once recognized, I think it would be sinful not to.