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."