tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25812834800832751932024-03-13T23:24:57.307-07:00The Me MomentsDanicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-660209705296942392013-09-16T20:33:00.000-07:002013-09-16T20:39:35.170-07:00YOU Can Do Hard Things!<div style="text-align: center;">
Not long ago, I spent 2 weeks in Canada on a Brigham Young University-Idaho Performance Tour. As part of our itinerary we were invited to 2 evening firesides and 1 morning devotional for the youth. The director of my dance team, on the drive to the location where we were holding the morning devotional told me he felt inspired to ask me to share my testimony about doing hard things. I didn't write it down but I remember key points and that is what I want to share with you.</div>
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I began by asking the youth, by raise of hand, who had hiked a mountain. I then asked who thought that they had hiked the highest mountain out of the group. They called out the heights of various mountains they had hiked and then I proceeded to tell them about my hike up Mt. Elbert in Colorado.</div>
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I explained to them that as a dancer and an athlete I felt physically prepared, and I was determined to finish. I also told them that I had several friends with me and I made those friends promise me that they wouldn't let me give up: <b>I would summit.</b> </div>
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I described the hike. </div>
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We started out with about 15 in our company. Halfway up the mountain several stopped and decided they had had enough; we didn't get much farther up the mountain when more decided they were through. </div>
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Then there were 5 of us.</div>
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I told the youth how I would take a few steps and be out of breath, I told them I felt that I was physically limited because of my asthma, but that I had support. </div>
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I had friends, loved ones, helping me each step of the way.</div>
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I expressed my frustration because I couldn't breathe and a friend was singing Miley Cyrus "It's the Climb"! </div>
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And then I said, "I made it to the summit that day" and paused. </div>
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We all felt the spirit. </div>
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Continuing, (and this is where I want you to pay attention), I shared with them something a dear friend told me. He said, "'I think I can" becomes "I knew I could" as we work hard and never give up.Adversity is unavoidable, but the way that we face our adversity determines the outcome of our experiences." </div>
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I shared my experiences of deciding to go to college with the youth and testified that I knew the reason I was supposed to attend BYU-I was because those youth needed me, <b>at that moment</b> to remind them that they can do hard things, just as I am reminding you that <i>you can do hard things</i>. </div>
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As I began to conclude I shared this quote, "Learning to endure times of disappointment, suffering, and sorrow is part of our on-the-job training. These experiences, while often difficult to bear at the time, are precisely the kinds of experiences that stretch our understanding, build our character, and increase our compassion for others. Because Jesus Christ suffered greatly, He understands our suffering. He understands our grief. We experience hard things so that we too may have increase compassion and understanding for others. (Joseph B. Wirthlin, Come What May, and Love It). </div>
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I tied everything together with Christ. Just like my friends on the mountain, Jesus Christ is my friend in every other need. He strengthens me, and He sends others to strengthen me. I concluded with the thought from Philippians 4:13 "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." and suggested that this scripture could be read in two ways "I can do all things which strengthen me, through the aid of Christ" and "I can do all things because Christ is who strengthens me." I personally think that both are correct.</div>
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To those of you who may be struggling. Do not get discouraged. You have your family, me, your friends, and the Hosts of Heaven on your team. </div>
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One of my favorite quotes comes from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints April 2013 Session of General Conference. It reads, "Trials may come, and we may not understand everything that happens to us or around us. But if we humbly, quietly trust in the Lord, He will give us strength and guidance in every challenge we face. When our only desire is to please Him, we will be blessed with a deep inner peace."</div>
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--Bruce D. Porter</div>
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You got this!</div>
Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-18517308749803961372013-09-04T13:02:00.000-07:002013-09-04T13:02:42.248-07:00The Day I Decided to Serve<div style="text-align: center;">
February 8th, 2009. That was the day I <i>decided</i> to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. </div>
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I was 15 years old. </div>
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Anytime I told someone I was planning on a mission I was answered with as many variations of "Oh, you won't make it on a mission, you're too pretty, surely you'll get married first," as you can think of. </div>
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I stopped telling people. </div>
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I accepted that those people were right. </div>
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And then I started to believe lies.</div>
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I started to believe that maybe <i>I was</i> too pretty.</div>
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I started to believe that I would get married.</div>
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I started to believe that the Lord didn't need me. </div>
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And then I saw my friends getting married.</div>
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And then I saw every relationship I tried to be in fall apart.</div>
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And then I watched as the guys I dated turned around and married the next girl they met.</div>
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I started to believe that if I wasn't married before it was time to serve a mission, I wasn't pretty.</div>
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I started to believe that if I wasn't married before it was time to serve a mission, I wasn't smart.</div>
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I started to believe that if I wasn't married before it was time to serve a mission, I wasn't good enough.</div>
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Lie after lie.</div>
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Lies corrupting my self-worth, and I believed them all. </div>
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Then they stopped.</div>
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I remember it like it was yesterday. October 2nd, 2012. It was Tuesday. At the time I was 19, I was a junior at Brigham Young University-Idaho and there was a guy I really wanted to date. He was non-committal. </div>
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I felt frustrated, lost, confused, unsure.</div>
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I didn't know what was happening to me. I just wanted to know if things would get better. I wanted to know what I could do to make things better.</div>
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I prayed.</div>
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I asked a question.</div>
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I knew sisters couldn't serve until age 21 but I felt like I needed to ask.</div>
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I asked if I was supposed to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I found my answer in The Book of Mormon.</div>
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And now, O my son[daughter], ye are called of God to preach the word unto this people. And now, my son [daughter], go thy way, declare the word with truth and soberness, that thou mayest bring souls unto repentance, that the great plan of mercy may have claim upon them. And may God grant unto you even according to my words. Amen." (Alma 42: 31)</div>
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2 years? I knew that I could do it. I would graduate with my Bachelors degree 2 weeks before my 21st birthday. I could wait that long to serve. I knew I could and I knew I would because <b>I knew</b> that I was supposed to serve. </div>
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It was 4 days later when Thomas S. Monson, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, announced that the age requirements for young men and young women, desiring and worthy to serve was now 18 for men and 19 for women. The feeling was overwhelming. Again, I could not deny that I was supposed to serve. </div>
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I began the process of preparing my papers. I finished my portion in less than 2 days. And then it was time for me to call the doctor's office for a physical, and the dentist's office for an exam. Because I was at school, I looked up the doctor and dentist I usually visit when I am away from home but I could not call them. I tried. I would pick up the phone and dial the number. I could not physically make myself press send. The hesitation concerned me because I had been <i>so sure</i> about my answer. </div>
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So, I prayed.</div>
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I asked a question. I asked if I was supposed to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. </div>
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I didn't get an answer. There was no "yes," there was no "no," just silence. </div>
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So, I prayed. </div>
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I asked the question again. Over and over. </div>
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Finally, almost exactly 4 years after I decided to serve, on February 24th, 2013, I received an answer. In my journal it reads, "I have been rescued, it is time to find someone to rescue... Don't question what the Lord has told you." That was the day I <i>acted</i> to serve. </div>
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In 21 days, I will leave my family for 18 months. </div>
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In 21 days, I will serve my mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Mesa, Arizona. </div>
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I will serve knowing that I am beautiful.</div>
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I will serve knowing that the Lord needs me.</div>
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I will serve knowing that one day <i>I will</i> get married, and my husband will adore me.</div>
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I will serve knowing that I am smart.</div>
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I will serve knowing that I am good enough.</div>
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I will serve knowing that I have family and friends who support me.</div>
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I will serve knowing that I have self-worth. </div>
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I will serve knowing that I have, and believe in, truth.</div>
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I will serve so that others can find the joy that I have. The joy which only comes through relying on our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.</div>
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Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-41941953878762032612013-08-17T23:52:00.001-07:002013-08-17T23:52:34.272-07:00Life. 6,000 Miles At Time <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My life starting July 24<sup>th</sup>:</div>
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<b>Eureka, Montana</b><br />
-Spontaneous Lake Swimming<br />
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[Canada]</div>
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<b>Raymond, Alberta</b><br />
-First Night Sleeping in a Different Country<br />
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-The Beginning of "Five more minutes?", "How 'bout ten?"</div>
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<b>Medicine Hat, Alberta</b></div>
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-Largest Tepee in the World<br />
-Amazing Pizza<br />
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-Hot Tub<br />
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<b>Calgary, Alberta</b></div>
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-Mental/Emotional/Exhaustion Breakdown<br />
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-Procurement of Canada Cash<br />
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<b>Banff, Alberta</b></div>
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-Most Beautiful Place on the Planet<br />
-Most Beautiful Place on the Planet<br />
-Oh, and did I mention it's the Most Beautiful Place on the Planet?<br />
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<b>Regina, Saskatchewan</b></div>
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-The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Regina Temple<br />
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<b>Saskatoon, Saskatchewan</b></div>
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-Dancing with St. Mary's Haskayak Dancers (AMAZING)<br />
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<b>Prince Albert, Saskatchewan</b></div>
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-Saw Elder Turner (my friend's brother)<br />
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<b>Winnipeg, Manitoba</b></div>
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-Tourist Day!<br />
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<b>[America]</b></div>
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<b>Fargo, North Dakota</b></div>
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-Evening Devotional with Youth<br />
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<b>Billings, Montana</b></div>
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- Morning Devotional with Youth<br />
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<b>Rexburg, Idaho</b></div>
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<b>Provo, Utah</b></div>
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-The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Mount Timpanogos Temple<br />
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<b>Las Vegas, Nevada</b></div>
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-First Time in Sin City (.. and probably the last)<br />
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<b>St. George, Utah</b></div>
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<b>-</b>The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Saint GeorgeTemple</div>
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<b>Idaho Falls, Idaho</b></div>
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-The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Idaho Falls Temple<br />
-Teaching Ballet<br />
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<b>Provo, Utah</b></div>
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<b>-</b>The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Salt Lake City Temple<br />
-Lost keys at Bridal Veil </div>
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<b>Vernal, Utah</b><br />
-Dinner with Grandpa and Ruth<br />
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…… </div>
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And finally, August 17<span style="font-size: x-small;">th, and </span>over <span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">6, 159 miles</span> later, I am HOME!</div>
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In case you need a visual... </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lnaLF9S0T70/UgxrjIaD7sI/AAAAAAAAADY/tFN2EoLj5b8/s1600/Traveling.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lnaLF9S0T70/UgxrjIaD7sI/AAAAAAAAADY/tFN2EoLj5b8/s640/Traveling.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Thank you Google Maps for reminding me that I never want to travel by car (or bus) again.<br />
EVER!<br />
Let's get real. At this point, I'm not really sure that there is a difference between being car-sick and sick of cars. I seriously get just as nauseous <i>thinking</i> about getting in a car as I did being on a bus for 2 weeks.<br />
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On a more positive note: The map matches my color scheme... What a ray of sunshine that is!</div>
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Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-15688451140520771972013-07-19T22:40:00.000-07:002013-07-19T22:40:30.305-07:00Cocoa-Coated Truffles<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Beginning: </b>Back in January, I received a prize: cocoa-coated truffles. A whole box! (The chocolate, not the mushroom). I got this prize because I was able to correctly identify by name 40 people after about an hour to mingle. It was a wonderful prize. </div>
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<b>The End: </b>At last it comes. The one week a semester where college students develop super powers. Somehow, without sleep, without food, and without taking a break from studying, we students can still manage to construct a sentence. 'Tis a miracle if you ask me.</div>
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Other students are stressing and studying for their finals and I am listing them in my head.</div>
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<u>Epidemiology</u></div>
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<u>Healthcare Strategy</u></div>
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<u>Managing Technologies in Provider Organizations</u></div>
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Three final exams. </div>
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But I have more finals than that... conclusions of this chapter of my life.</div>
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<u>I have lived in the same apartment for two years; I'm moving out.</u></div>
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<u>I have been a student at Brigham Young University-Idaho for 3 years; I'm deferring for 18 months.</u></div>
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<u>I've had the same roommates since freshman year; one is getting married, the other is transferring.</u></div>
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<u>I have been on Dance Alliance for another 7 months; it will be my last time.</u></div>
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These are just a few of the finals I have to endure this next week. It is such a bittersweet emotion... A bit like cocoa-coated truffles. When you pop 'em in your mouth you just want to spit it out it's so bitter, but then, it gets sweet, and starts to melt and it's amazing... </div>
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However delicious as truffles may be, I am trying to avoid my "finals" by filling my time online shopping for mission clothing (the frugality part is painful); thinking of clever things to blog about and then forgetting them right as I sit down to type it all out; and finding creative uses for food items that I have in excess, (I ought to just donate to a soup kitchen).</div>
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On the flip side of endings are beginnings. I will be starting a new adventure in Mesa. I will be serving my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ... and getting a gnarly farmer's tan while I'm at it. I will meet new people, make new friends, and share the greatest gift I have to offer: my testimony. </div>
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The end is just the beginning and I am so excited!</div>
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To cocoa-coated truffles...</div>
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Happy finals week everyone! </div>
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<br />Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-91670342319948094612013-07-15T21:08:00.000-07:002013-07-15T21:08:26.445-07:00Addiction<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><b>Addict: </b>to devote or surrender (oneself) to something habitually or </span>obsessively</div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">M</span><span style="background-color: white;">y dear friends, I am an addict. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">So</span><span style="background-color: white;">me people are addicted to coffee. Not me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people are addicted to energy drinks. Not me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people are addicted to alcohol. Definitely, not me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people are addicted to methamphetamine. Again, <i>definitely</i>, not me. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people are addicted to television. Not me (Insert quote: "Ain't nobody got time for that!")</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people are addicted to video games. Again, "ain't nobody got time for that."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some people struggle to admit addiction. Not me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>I am addicted to Subway cookies. </b></span></div>
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In some ways, I'm your typical addict. I make you try it and get you "hooked" too. I have a "dealer." And I go borderline crazy without my "substance". </div>
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In other ways, I'm not your typical addict. I am totally aware of my addiction. Yes, it may control me, but it doesn't make me do stupid things... Unless, of course, you consider driving around to find the proper quantity stupid. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">You would think that a sandwich shop that has used a man named Jared, who lost 245 lbs by eating their sandwiches, as their main marketing tool for years wouldn't sell cookies. Well, let me tell you: </span><i>Subway sells cookies</i><span style="background-color: white;">. And they are D-E-licious. I'm talking, buy them by the dozen good. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">There are four, yes, </span><b>4</b><span style="background-color: white;">,</span><b> </b><span style="background-color: white;">Subways within the city limits of Rexburg. And </span><span style="background-color: white;">I have absolutely no problem walking into one, checking to see if they have a dozen cookies, and if they don't I drive a mile or two to the next location. I then proceed to purchase my cookies. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I may or may not eat my dozen cookies within in 24-48 hours. Never more, never less. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I recommend the double chocolate chip cookies. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">They are my guilty pleasure and I suggest they become yours as well. </span></div>
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<br />Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-34867907055516171352013-06-14T21:15:00.000-07:002013-06-15T17:16:28.553-07:00I'm Moving!<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">It's official. I'm moving!!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">The last time I moved, it was from home to college. Not sure that counts, but whatever.</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">This has been a huge decision in the making. It's something I've wanted to do since I was 15, and something I decided to make a reality last October. I spent 17 years living in Kansas. I have spent 3 years living in Idaho. And it is now time to announce where I will spend the next year and a half of my life.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Dear Sister Gille: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Arizona Mesa</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> Mission. You should report to the MTC on Wednesday, September 25, 2013. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the English language.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">That's right! I'm moving to Mesa, Arizona! </span></div>
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<b style="font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">I'm going to be a missionary! </b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">When I opened the mailbox, and saw the lovely white envelop I could barely breathe... </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">And then a burst of adrenaline came and I ran to my apartment where I proceeded to ask a roommate to hide it from me because I wanted to open it so badly.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Here are some pictures:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk4WX9MNSLA/Ubvo31dyYcI/AAAAAAAAAC0/4QSINBQn0u0/s1600/IMG_1710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vk4WX9MNSLA/Ubvo31dyYcI/AAAAAAAAAC0/4QSINBQn0u0/s320/IMG_1710.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Before I opened it!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zFPC85Sy1PM/UbvpzqlPwHI/AAAAAAAAADI/1qvqGbifq1I/s1600/DSCN0106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zFPC85Sy1PM/UbvpzqlPwHI/AAAAAAAAADI/1qvqGbifq1I/s320/DSCN0106.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">My area:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwPPAUrqOCA/Ubvo9Rc8yjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/nnUfUdNCnUQ/s1600/IMG_1712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwPPAUrqOCA/Ubvo9Rc8yjI/AAAAAAAAAC8/nnUfUdNCnUQ/s320/IMG_1712.JPG" width="239" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">I am so grateful for the love and support of all of my friends and family!<br />Love,<br />Danica</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #37404e; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-59053958610570862922013-06-12T20:00:00.000-07:002013-06-12T20:00:30.271-07:00I Am Human<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Christmas 2010 I received a very thoughtful, very long,
hand-written letter from my best friend. At 9 pages front and back, and given
to me about a week before I left for college, she gave me an amazing piece of
advice, “you are not Superwoman, don’t try to be.” </div>
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Two and a half years later, I am learning the significance
of her admonition. I have now been enrolled in 8 consecutive semesters,
maintaining a minimum of 16 credit hours for 7 of them, and being employed,
(both paid and unpaid positions), for 5 of those terms. During this time, I
have also been on 51 first dates, been in 3 serious relationships, and made the
best friends I’ve ever had. Sounds busy, huh? There’s more.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am a dance minor,
and have participated in 3, invitation only works of choreography, which I
don’t get credit for and don’t get paid to be in. They take a minimum of 2
hours of rehearsal a week. For credit, I’ve been on a team called Dance
Alliance for 4 semesters, which rehearses between 6-8 hours a week regularly,
though sometimes we can rehearse in upwards of 20 hours a week. We also travel, sometimes during the school
week. Just like your favorite infomercial I can say, “But wait, there’s more!”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Just over a year ago my parents began the divorce process. As
if trying to work through and understand my thoughts and feelings about it wasn’t
challenging enough, I broke my foot about a month later. I was taking 20 credit
hours at the time and working 10-15 hours a week. </div>
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I pushed through it. Just like I push through everything
else.</div>
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I tried to be Superwoman.</div>
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I don’t claim to be wise. I don’t claim to know all of the
answers. But one thing that I’ve realized is that the key to happiness is
recognizing that you are human. </div>
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That’s right.</div>
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<b>I am human. </b></div>
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And I struggle with human emotions and human problems. </div>
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I get frustrated. I get hurt. I get angry. I cry. I get
jealous. I make stupid mistakes. I. Am. Human</div>
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It’s okay to feel frustrated. It’s okay to be hurt. Making
mistakes is part of life, an area that I am particularly proficient at. It’s by
reminding myself that I’m not perfect, and that I won’t be overnight, that I have
been able to not only accept myself, but also accept others. I am realizing
that I can’t measure someone by a standard which I myself cannot, or have not,
achieved. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Don’t tell my dad, but I think it’s okay, healthy even, to
skip a homework assignment every once and a while. I dropped a class for the
first time in my life. <b>Most liberating
feeling, ever</b>. Sometimes you have to take a moment for yourself. The “me”
moments. Sometimes it’s being silly. Sometimes it’s crying. Sometimes it’s
treating yourself to a mani/pedi. (Which I want like crazy right now). Sometimes it’s giving into those moments when
you just don’t want to do anything.</div>
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The fact of the matter is. I don’t want to do homework. Which is why I wrote this blog. </div>
Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-92072964479504352882012-12-12T21:46:00.001-08:002013-06-12T19:52:17.530-07:00I Think I Can Kind of Christmas<br />
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Christmas. It’s my favorite. I love everything about Christmas.
I love the lights. I love the smells, (particularly cinnamon). I love the
kindness. I <i>love</i> the music. And this year... I love the garbage truck with Christmas lights on it that plays Christmas music so loud I can hear it in my bedroom.</div>
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This year I was ready for Christmas early. Generally I have
a strict “No Christmas before Thanksgiving” rule. But this year was different.
About a week before Thanksgiving, I pulled out my iPod and pressed play. As my
favorite Christmas album filled the air I was flooded with memories of boxes
and boxes of Christmas decorations. Hours of singing and dancing around the
house as we filled it with holiday cheer. I decided that day to decorate my
bedroom. I bought lights and glitter-covered snowflakes and got to work. </div>
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For weeks I have listened to Josh Groban, Michael Buble, Amy
Grant, Celtic Women, 98 degrees, and my personal favorite: Point of Grace. For
weeks the sight and sound of Christmas has filled my heart with excitement and
joy. Until last week. </div>
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The week before finals is always stressful. But this year
was especially hard. On Saturday afternoon, I spent all afternoon in my
bedroom. (I do not recommend this). From the time I woke up, to the time I went
to bed, I was in my bedroom with the exception of 1 trip to the kitchen for
food, and a few trips to the restroom. It was an emotional day. After spending nearly 12 straight hours on homework,
I made a to-do list. </div>
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Please note: I am taking 19 credit hours this semester. I
work 13-15 hours a week. And I have tried to maintain <i>some</i> semblance of a social life. </div>
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I counted 9 exams that I needed to take. And then I counted
4 papers I needed to write. At the bottom of my list it said “Pack.” </div>
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I burst into tears. For the fourth time that day. </div>
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This time it wasn’t out of frustration, stress, or
exhaustion. This time it was because of Christmas. </div>
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My parents are in the middle of a divorce. I love them both
very much, and I know that they love me. But I don’t feel like I have a home. I
realized in that moment, it would be my first Christmas without a family. I
sobbed. I sobbed until the tears wouldn’t come. I sobbed until I couldn’t
breathe. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I don’t know what it will be like. Quite frankly, I’m scared
to find out. But I learned something special this year:</div>
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<b><span style="background: white; color: #333333; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">"I think I can" becomes "I knew I could"
as we work hard and never give up. Adversity is unavoidable but the way that we
face our adversity determines the outcome of our experiences.</span>”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #333333; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><b><u>This Christmas, I think I can.</u></b></span></div>
Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-41499543034484820132012-10-25T10:59:00.001-07:002012-10-25T11:12:52.212-07:00How to Survive a Rexburg Winter<br />
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Today marks the beginning of my third winter in Idaho. I am pretty much a pro at survival. As
our first snow of the season approaches the 1 foot mark, I decided that I
should share a few tips for Rexburg winters. Trust me. It is a winter like no where else. These solutions will not work for everyone, but I’m still alive and
going strong!</div>
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What I wish I would have known as a freshman...</div>
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</div>
<ul>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">There is no such thing as a snow day. – </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Snow
is on the ground almost every day from now until late April. Sometimes later if we’re lucky.Almost like the ocean reaching the sky, the snow line does the same thing. If you’re like me and hate snow. Congratulations, you live in a snow globe. Figure it out. You’re
going to have to trudge in it every day for the next six months.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">We Rexburgers have a term for when you slip
on the snow/ice. It’s called “The Rexburg.” </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">–I do not care who you are.
Before you graduate or transfer, (whichever comes first), you WILL “do the Rexburg.”
Embrace the embarrassment. And save your tailbone, don’t walk with your phone
in your hand.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Robert Frost was a man of incredible wisdom</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">.
– “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and
that has made all the difference.” When possible, do NOT take the commonly use
route. People walking in the snow equates to snow melting or getting packed
down. Melted and/or packed snow equates to ice. Ice means Rexburging. If you
can, walk in the powder… If not… Make the best of falling.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">NEVER say “It’s cold out</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">.” – Saying it’s
cold is like egging the universe on. Right now it’s a balmy 30 degrees. It ALWAYS
(can and will) get colder.</span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Invest in long
johns and/or footie pajamas.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Winter is not a fashion show</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. – Some people
are totally cute in their scarves and pea coats… but really, they’re freezing. My
recommendation, buy a few pairs of CHEAP winter jeans. Walmart actually has
some cute ones. Buy them at least a size too big. Then you have plenty of space
for layering! (I know, I’m brilliant.) Also, cute boots are just that</span><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">. </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Cute. In my experience, cute boots
have no traction. Please refer to tip 2 to see the result of no traction.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Tuck your jeans in your boots. –<i> </i></b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I really recommend boots. I really
recommend tucking your jeans. Most places use salt to clear the road. Rexburg
uses red sand. Washing machines aren’t that great in college. So tuck.
Otherwise, you’ll have red clay caked to the cuff or your jeans until April.
GROSS.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Hair. – </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Men don’t really have a problem
with this. Or makeup for that matter. However, girls, we have issues. My suggestions
either put it up, or style it the way it is naturally. We always want what we
don’t have but trust me. Curly hair if straightened will just go curly.
Straight hair if curled will just look awful. On that note… Make sure it’s
COMPLETELY dry before you leave the house… it can, and does freeze. Popsicle
hair, though totally fashion forward, breaks. Seriously.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Bring tissues.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – The fact of the matter
is. It’s cold. It will only get colder. Fun fact about cold weather: nose hairs
freeze. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling. It’s even worse when you walk in a
building and immediately Niagara falls relocated to your face. Either give
yourself even time to go to the restroom before class, or bring tissues. No one
likes hearing you sniffle.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Beware of traffic. – </b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Pedestrians. Bicycles.
Unicycles (if you haven’t seen her, she does exist). Cars. You name it. Snow
makes people do crazy things. If you Rexburg into someone else… Well, that’ll
hurt and I might laugh.</span></li>
<li><b style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Leave your windshield wipers up.</b><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> – In the
cold. In the snow… Rubber freezes to glass. Pretty much everything freezes
actually. If you have a car, and you don’t want to replace your windshield wipers
every week. Stick ‘em up. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>For the beach babes. </b> - Your skin is probably turning a color you've never seen before. There are three tanning salons in Rexburg. If you want to look like an alien, sign up now. The rest of us are just going to stay pale... It's not worth the drive or walk. </span></li>
<li><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><b>Be positive. </b>-- The last and most important tip to survive Rexburg is to stay positive. There is always something to complain about. Always. Anyone can complain, but it takes a true Rexburg Champion to make the best of this cold, white, and dreary situation.</span></li>
</ul>
<div style="text-indent: -24px;">
You got this!! </div>
<ul>
<li style="text-indent: -24px;"><br /></li>
</ul>
<!--[if !supportLists]--><br />Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-31938726373075939892012-10-07T12:46:00.002-07:002013-06-12T20:07:48.860-07:00A Very Special Announcement<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday, I announced on Facebook the following:<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: white;">On
Tuesday afternoon I read this scripture, "And now, O my son(daughter), ye
are called of God to preach the word unto this people. And now, my son
(daughter), go thy way, declare the word with truth and soberness, that thou
mayest bring souls unto repentance, that the great plan of mercy may have claim
upon them. And may God grant unto you even according to my words. Amen."
(Alma 42: 31)</span></i></div>
<i></i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><i><span style="background-color: white;">This af</span>ternoon in the 182nd Semi-Annual
General Conference, President Thomas S. Monson announced that young women can
now serve a full-time mission at the age of 19.</i></i></div>
<i>
</i>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><i>My dear friends and family,</i></i></div>
<i>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I am pleased, and excited, to announce that I have chosen to serve a mission
for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I feel as though the Lord
has prepared me for this decision and for the wonderful experiences that will
come from it. I will begin preparing my papers within the week. Much love!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Danica</i></div>
</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There has been an influx of love and support from the
members of my family, and of the communities which I have lived in. However, I
have also seen many people who have made their less supportive comments in
other, indirect ways. I wish to take this opportunity to address those
concerns. I agree because this is a life changing decision, it is not one that
should be made lightly, nor should it be made because others are making it. This
is personal. It is between the individual and God. I want to share with you some
of the experiences leading to this decision; I pray that in doing so those who
are more skeptical will see that this is not a rash or rushed decision. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some three and a half years ago, I received my patriarchal
blessing. (For those not familiar with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints, this is a special blessing received which is given to provide guidance
and direction throughout our mortal lives). Within this blessing, there was
quite a bit of detail concerning the opportunity that I would have, if I desired
it, to serve a full-time, proselyting mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints. From that time forward, I have always considered serving if
I made it to the age of 21, (the age at which young women used to be able to
serve), without getting married. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not too long after that, I had the opportunity to
participate in a youth activity called the mini- MTC (Missionary Training
Center). Myself, along with a hundred, or so, other youth spent a weekend as if
we were on our missions. We learned the gospel discussions which are taught,
and we were even allowed to try our hand at preaching the gospel from door to
door. It was a very challenging weekend, but it affirmed my desire to serve. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the years, I have had the desire to serve, but have
been told by many that there is no way that I would make it to the required age
without a shiny diamond ring on my finger. These comments have been difficult
to hear, and often disheartening, but I never gave up my desire. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the past year, I have encountered many difficulties. I
have felt heart ache and heart break like never imaginable, but I have been positive
because of my love for, and trust in Christ. Just over a month ago, I made the
decision to be more consistent in my daily scripture study and prayer. I also
determined I would attend the temple, (a sacred place of worship), on a weekly
basis. As I have done so, I have felt more strongly that I should serve a
mission. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel that I have been preparing for, and working towards
this decision for many years. I feel that it is right for me to go now. In addressing the church this morning
President Thomas S. Monson firmly stated that we should not hesitate to answer
a prompting. I am not, and will not, hesitate. I am a member of the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I believe it. I know it. And I live it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again, I am grateful for the love and support which I have
felt. I pray that the Lord will be with me in my endeavors, and that each of
you reading will feel of His love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Danica </div>
Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-74760871822551172362012-06-08T21:18:00.000-07:002012-06-08T21:18:37.898-07:00Being Broken<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
About a month ago, I broke my foot
dancing. I landed a jump wrong and felt the fracture ripple through my body. It
was a very unique experience; I actually felt as though <i>I</i> was the bone that was breaking. It was a deep and unusual
sensation. I have sprained, I have strained, and I have torn, I have felt those
pains, and now, I have felt the pain of a break. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Anyone who knows me knows that I am
an avid dancer; I was born to be on stage. When I broke myself I was rehearsing
for a performance with Brigham Young University- Idaho’s Dance Alliance. The team
works together for 8 months and puts on two shows on campus, then travels for
two weeks to cap off the experience. So, being a member of the team with a
broken foot has been my personal hell. Almost everyone I have encountered has
expressed how impressed they are by my positive attitude and cheerful demeanor
throughout the healing process. However, no one has seen the terrible
heartbreak that I feel every day. No one has recognized that beyond my smile,
beyond my words, there is a sorrow deeper than they could imagine. No one has
witnessed my insecurity, my vulnerability, the feeling as if part of me had died;
no one has witnessed that, until now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I have felt more pain in this past
month than I ever could have imagined. I have faced more challenges and
difficulties in this past year than I would ever wish on anyone, not even my
most despised enemy. My body, mind, and spirit have been broken, both literally
and metaphorically, and tonight, I cried. I have shed more tears in the last
eight months than I think I have in my entire life. Not one of these tears was
as cleansing as those I cried tonight. With each tear I addressed my feelings;
my hopes, my dreams, my successes, my failures. I let myself open up, and I mended
what was broken.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
To those who feel broken, lonely,
and like there is no end. I promise, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Gordon B. Hinckley, former
President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints once said, <b>“Love is more than a paper heart. Love is
of the very essence of life. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Yet it is more than the end of the rainbow. Love is at the beginning also, and
from it springs the beauty that arches across the sky on a stormy day” </b>(<i>And the Greatest of These Is Love,</i> Mar.
1984). As long as there is one person around to love you, you can make it
through, and there is always at least one: Jesus Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can do it!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="" name="28"><b><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #486fae; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;"> </span></b></a><b><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0in; padding: 0in;">Matthew 11:28-30 </span>Come unto me, all ye that
labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="" name="29"><b> </b></a><b>29 Take my yoke upon you,
and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart:
and ye shall find rest unto your souls.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="" name="30"><b> </b></a><b>30 For my yoke is easy, and
my burden is light.<o:p></o:p></b></div>Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-8746192437457423772011-09-18T22:14:00.000-07:002011-09-18T22:14:49.163-07:00I-SABS<div class="MsoNormal">
****** WARNING! THERE IS NOT READER'S DIGEST VERSION OF THIS STORY*****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I have a friend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653498032677822994" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dBXZVks58BM/TnVCgdghohI/AAAAAAAAABk/LYNrxg3Y70M/s320/284176_2021590694051_1072442545_2216580_1506173_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 320px; width: 240px;" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, just one. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is 75% Awesome, and 25% nerd; it makes for the perfect combination of awesome nerdiness. The first time I saw him, we had a stare down. I was sitting on a garden bench, and he was walking directly towards me, (with stellar confidence I might add). I thought for sure that he was coming to talk to me. But he did not, and we exchanged a polite smile as he passed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, mind you, I was freaking out on the inside: “Oh my gosh, he’s kind of cute. Crap, is he coming over here? No, no, no, no, no… Seriously?!..... Phew, he passed me!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, the sprinklers went off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Please note: I’m not really the kind of person to sit around in a garden… I was there for a photo shoot, and the last thing I needed to be was wet from the sprinklers. So, squealing like a little girl as I popped up from my bench and jogged to where I would be meeting up with my photographer was perfectly in character, and not in the least bit embarrassing... Well, okay, maybe a little. Anyways, Ms. Pic gets a phone call while I’m chatting with her, she tells the pseron where we're at, and around the corner comes model number two, the one and only Mr. Confidence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a simultaneous and scrambled “that was... I was…uh hi!” we quickly burst into laughter and introduced ourselves, began our never ending conversation about burritos, and got to business.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We took some pictures together. Like this one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653498772313018546" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--axCEKFWMQE/TnVDLg3TELI/AAAAAAAAABs/6VSZc-iXrS8/s320/283464_2021591334067_1072442545_2216583_7022443_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 214px; width: 320px;" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And this one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5653498020515257490" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YjbdSzCkq7I/TnVCfwMvnJI/AAAAAAAAABU/Ps1ctFrWEOo/s320/261250_2021586173938_1072442545_2216559_4459902_n.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; height: 214px; width: 320px;" /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Pictures courtesy of Ms. Pic)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We exchanged funny pick up lines, and eventually digits. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next came our date. (A few days later of course). We went to a standup comedy show, out for Chinese food, then back to his apartment to play Rock Band, and this, is where we found out that if we were any nerdier, more nerdy?, the Chess club would call us. In his apartment was only the coolest thing ever: a dry erase board. Mr. Confidence and I proceeded to spend the rest of our date talking about action potentials, afferent and efferent nerves, and muscle reflexes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyways, the whole point of this is a text message I received a day or two ago that said: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"So, I can understand the whole get to know you thing <i>on campus</i>. But doing it online just seems like stalker paradise to me."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After confessing that that statement had made my day I got this:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I like it when I can. They're like: tell them your name, age, major, home address, phone number, color of underwear you're wearing, if you like grilled cheese or not, and <i>especially</i> if you're married or not."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Something you must know about this friendship is that "are you hitting on me?" is an everyday question. Well, not really a question, just a pointing out of the obvious in an innocent way. <i>That</i> is where the title I-SABS comes in...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a stress magnet. I also seem to attract drama really well. At any rate, one particularly stressful, dramatic, and don't forget emotional night, I received a text from Mr. Confidence. I don't remember what the text message was about, but I know it made me laugh. It was the first time I felt an honest laugh come out in a few days... It felt amazing!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whatever it was about, it turned into obvious flirtation, and then came the magic question followed by a "yeah, I'm not very subtle". Of course, I couldn't have him feeling embarrassed so I introduced I-SABS.. An imaginary club that values our membership even more than the Chess Club. I-SABS stands for "I Suck at Being Subtle".</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Moral of the story. Who cares if you're bad at being subtle? Confidence can make your day!!</div>
Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-37150525751668216882011-09-07T21:24:00.000-07:002011-09-07T21:34:47.640-07:00Two Dumbs Make a Smart<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">“Ugh! My parents are SO DUMB!”</div></div><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">We’ve all heard it and most of us have said it. So, if your parents are really as dumb as you say they are, why are you standing right in front of me? Personally, I think my parents are pretty dang smart! After all, they made me <span style="font-family: Wingdings; "><span>J</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Wingdings; "><span>
</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Not too long ago I had a conversation with my best friend that went <i>something</i> like this:</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Me: It would suck if I didn’t have you to mentally articulate the ridiculous mess that comes out of my mouth in the form of words.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Best-ee: Seriously. What would you do without me?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me: I’d feel really, really, dumb.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Best-ee: Well, you shouldn’t. Because if you’re really, really, dumb, then I’m REALLY, REALLY, REAAAAAALLLY dumb.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me: Hahah that is why we are only semi-dumb together… or maybe we’re extra dumb, I’m not sure</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Best-ee: No. Two dumbs make a smart. It’s like multiplication… Or maybe it’s like addition?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Me: Haha!! I totally have to write a blog about this. </p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">(For reference as to why this conversation even happened… Here’s a picture)</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"> <img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ie58HozVnvM/TmhFejYQTgI/AAAAAAAAABM/cGDAhe0enXs/s320/0723111326-01.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Now, this little “two dumbs makes a smart” talk had absolutely nothing to do with parenting and everything to do with our future vacations together, but that’s beside the point. In reality, she’s right! Maybe not about multiplication, but riddle me this:</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If my parents are two dumbs, that made a smart (me), would it not stand to reason that their parents were two dumbs that made a smart? And my grandparent’s parents were two dumbs that made a few smarts? Et cetera, et cetera…Making me a dumb who will eventually find another dumb, and make a smart! And if all of that is the case, I sure am glad that my parents are dumb!!</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Basically, two dumbs make a smart, which just makes more dumbs.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It all makes sense now!</p>Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2581283480083275193.post-75456987989692896922011-08-09T21:25:00.000-07:002011-08-11T19:36:04.983-07:00Busy and Beauty<p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Fact: Life is busy.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Fact: Busy does not have to detract from beauty.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I really enjoy driving. Usually, when I am in the car it is one of the few times I am actually alone during the day, and I can do whatever I want… well, kind of. I can listen to music, or silence, I can talk to myself, or just think. Sometimes, I really like to just think. Lately in the car I've been in a Michael Jackson sort of mood. Fortunately, since I always seem to forget my Ipod, I stole… well, borrowed… the Michael Jackson Greatest Hits C.D. from my parent’s C.D. collection (thanks mom and dad!). SO, I’m sitting there jammin’ to MJ. I'm of course singing at the top of my lungs, but really only catching every other word making it sounded a something like, "<i>blah blah blah OF, blah blah blah blah blah LOVE"</i>... and BAM! I had a moment.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">(Cue music!....Or just sing along)</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">I’m starting with the man in the mirror/ I’m asking him to change his ways/ No message could have been any clearer/ If you want to make the world a better place/ Take a look at yourself and make the/ Change/ Got to get it right/ While you've got the time/<b> ‘Cause when you close your heart/ You close your mind </b>– Michael Jackson.</p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">
</p> <p class="MsoNormal">(Fact: I get really annoyed by the sound of the fan attempting to cool off my laptop… especially when it’s already cool).</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Have you ever really noticed that when you get really stressed out, and everything seems to be going crazy in your life, it feels like you're spinning out of control, and you are pretty much dysfunctional? Yeah, I have... A lot. I realized, that when those times happen I've closed my heart, which closes my mind, and if upstairs is shut down... Houston, we have a problem!</p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Moral of the story: open up your heart because when you do, you can appreciate the good which comes from the bad. Everyone hits the wall, how you let that wall affect you, whether you go around, climb over, or push through it, <i>that</i> is determined by your heart.</p>Danicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06156507623935354695noreply@blogger.com0