The Size of My Pants

I guess I can't play the "I never date" card or the "Opportunities never present themselves" card. I do have a fair amount of opportunities, but I really haven't had anyone I'd consider my boyfriend in over three years. There was one dude last April, but he turned out not to be so nice and even after a month of seeing each other almost everyday, I still did not give him the title of boyfriend - a very wise and empowering decision in retrospect since he turned out to be such a douchebag.

Last semester, there was one foray into dating and ended as badly as any could. It's taken me months to internalize and process one comment he said to me in October, so two nights ago, I think I was dealing with all the crap I haven't cried for.

This boy was actually a dear friend and one of my closest here in Flagstaff. We had awesome conversations about life and the Church, films, comic books, and Dexter. I could be myself with him. I trusted him. I thought he saw through the same social constructs I did, especially when it came to social Mormon ideologies. I thought, If this is not the man I'm meant to be with, I'm glad I know one can exist in the Church. So, most of all, he gave me an exponential amount of hope that if one day I do get married, I will not have to give up my creativity or my educational pursuits, that balancing motherhood, wifehood, and self would be a real possibility.

When I returned to Flag in August, we spent a lot of time together. I soon realized that the friend I had no feelings for and had always wanted to like.... well, I was beginning to deeply like him. After two months of trying to read between the lines, I was straight-up and honest - something he said he completely respected me for. He said he needed time to think.

After about a week, he came back and we had a lengthy conversation. There were many complications that I do not wish to discuss, but when it came to me, he said he had very much been entertaining the thought of being with me because he recognized the value or our type of friendship being the basis for a relationship. However, and I'm going to directly quote as far as my memory is reliable, he looked me in the eye and said, "You know, whenever I think about dating someone, she's a supermodel. And well, you're not a Size 2."

He said he ultimately didn't think he could date me for a few other reasons, but, I have dated someone who was emotionally abusive, and I think this may be one of the most hurtful things anybody has ever said to me. Ever.

Right then and there, I knew I had no more feelings for him, and upon further reflection, I no longer want to be friends with him. Because you know what buddy? Damn straight I'm not a size 2 (paradoxically, neither is he... surprising, I know). I will NEVER be a size 2 and how dare you place the value of my love and abilities to be an amazing partner in a relationship on the size of my pants.

That process took milliseconds to work out in my head - thankfully. But what I have struggled to regain is my faith. This person that I thought more highly of than many others, trusted, confided in, and appreciated for a year in one sentence undid everything I did have faith in. (This probably explains my recent foray into dating/being interested in only non-members.)

I lost my faith because, while yes, perhaps I should have not been so trusting or put all of my faith eggs in one big, unworthy basket, in my ways, I feel like I've lost the opportunity to find someone who will do for me the things I know I am deserving of. If it takes a whole year to find out the true heart of a person, specifically a person I'm interested in, then how can I have faith?

And that... that is something I am still working on reconciling.

Lucy Belle La Rue

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's."

- Mark Twain

Last night, on our way out the door, we noticed one of our family dogs was struggling for life. Lucy, my dad's hunting dog, has been in congestive heart failure for a couple of weeks, and we were hoping she would last a few more, but she took a sudden turn for the worse. Really sudden. Yesterday afternoon, she still had a little bounce in her step and was wagging her tail. By six o'clock last night, she could not move and her respiratory rate was through the roof. As we heard her lungs fill with fluid and watched her suffer for a hour and a half, we decided to do the only thing we could for her.

It's been a tough few months in the La Rue house, so I think what broke my heart the most was seeing how vulnerable my dad was. He didn't lose my mom a few months ago, but he lost another companion. Lucy was his first dog ever. He trained her and cared for her. While she was a family dog, she was really his dog. I've only seen my dad cry twice before last night.

Losing Lucy, though, puts into stark contrast how important family is, because in our family, a dog is a fur-person, a valued member of our little clan. My brother and I were able to be home by coincidence, and as we stood in a group hug, I thanked God that we were. I thanked God that we have a strong family whose members are always there for each other, even if they can only lick our faces when we feel bad.

I'm much more than a dog-person; now that I have my own little Sassafrass, I feel, in some small way, like a parent. I literally have anxiety when I'm gone from her sometimes, worrying about if she'll get into something that will harm her or if she is outside, if the other dog will hurt her. I hope she's happy with me as her person.

And I think that this is why losing Lucy is so hard. She wasn't my dog, but she was important to me. We've had her since we moved to Utah. She grew up with my brother and me. My dad had very specific rules for her and that my brother and I liked to break. I always snuck her into my bedroom to sleep on the bed, even though my dad hated that. When we went places in my car, she got to sit on the front seat and not the floorboards. I'll miss her little carefree expressions. She was always excited about something and seemed to say, "Hey! Why isn't everyone as happy as me?!" She was very loyal and snuggly and good.

We'll miss you, Lucy Belle.

Dirty Laundry

Okay. I try not to air out too much dirty laundry in the way of my romantic relationships in the public arena. While there are many reasons for this, I feel that my reasoning for this is two-fold. One. If things are going well, I'm afraid I'll eventually have to eat my gloaty-shorts when things go the way of the proverbial creek. Two. If things are non-euphoric, I don't want to be passive aggressive or tacky by complaining about every little thing. (Out of many personality traits, the passive aggressive trait has the ability to annoy me like Billy Mays - RIP -, large crowds of loud, trashy people and unattended, whaling children at the Wal-Mart, and the emission of strange odors.) Anyways, since life has been pretty slow as of late and I'm seriously at a loss about what the mature and grown-up thing is to do, I'm airing out some unmentionables tonight.

About a month ago I ended a relationship because we wanted very different things from a relationship and from life. It was headed down the tube either way, but I tapped out first. (Admittedly, it was empowering to do so ;).) The end wasn't messy; very simple in fact - only a few awkward and WTF? parts.

Most of the ties have been cut. I'm no longer friends with his sisters on Facebook and he unfriended me on Netflix (Dear Techonology, Thanks for making breaking up more complicated. Love, Slarue). There's just this matter of a book (my favorite kid's book) and an iPod adapter that I lent him and whose possession my possessions are still in. About a week ago, he e-mailed me and asked me how I would like the items returned to me. I asked him to mail them to my house in Utah. He said, well... I think I'd rather give them to any of your friends in Flag.

I didn't immediately return a response. A. I was in Cali (thanks, Rae. I had such an awesome time!). B. I got a new puppy who's wearing the ever-living out of me. C. My extended family is up for the 4th and we've been doing nothing but running around and playing. D. I didn't want to have to re-hash the feelings and thoughts that brought me to the decision to end the relationship in the first place since this is a perfect example of our dynamic. I.E. He thinks I'm needy because I need him to mail the books to me and I think he's selfish for not going to the post office and sending a package media mail. (This would make much more sense if I'd done more blogging in the past.)

Anyways, yes, I should have responded, but alas, I took the easy way out and ignored the problem and simultaneously huffed that the Post Office isn't that far out of the way.

Then another e-mail today (direct quote): "Hope you were not to attached to the things you lent to me =) LOL."

And here is where my problem is. I neither gave permission for my things to be kept, for them to be thrown away, nor did I say they could be given back to me via any other route. Really, I'm not TOO attached because they are just things and I can get them again, but, they are mine. It doesn't really matter if they're given to a friend in Flag other than they become somebody else's responsibility when those things are his responsibility. But, he asked how I wanted them returned to me and I gave a very reasonable option about how I would like and want them returned. It's not like I'm asking for a mailed copy of Bhutan: A Visual Odyssey Across the Last Himalayan Kingdom or for a courier service to deliver a briefcase. It's media mail. Seriously. Two dollars.

And here is where I would like your input, dear reader. What would your response be? Is asking for mail unreasonable when I have friends the book could be given to? Perhaps I should stop letting someone else determine my moods and move onto more productive thoughts like how to train Sassafrass or losing that extra fluff or finding a job after I graduate. Hmmmmm...

This may be the most mundane post ever, but really, it's the culmination of frustration that I'm trying to get past... and really, have done so. It's just reminding me that it was there in the first place. Bleh.

Who's Long Tim?

Well, I've been gone for a while; it's true, check the dates. The past month or so, I haven't been able to articulate my thoughts on my experiences well enough to merit a post, but I'm feelin' some clarity tonight. First, the Top Ten Things I Did Whilst in Europe:

10. Met Alan Moore

9. Rode the Tube around London

8. Saw Avenue Q - quite literally the funniest musical EVER!

7. Stumbled upon my first Da Vinci painting

6. Got my very own hotel room in Paris three blocks from Notre Dame

5. Tried every new food I possibly could

4. Found out about standardized health care

3. Learned that taking days for myself and sightseeing without anyone else is a great thing to do

2. Went to Evensong at Westminster Abbey

1. I freaking went to Europe, and that is awesome!

Second. I live in Flagstaff now. Crazy, right? Oh, nay nay. Crazy, my friend, is having keys to my office and having a weekly schedule that includes teaching English 1050 Monday through Thursday at 10:20 in Room 216. Crazy is paying $600 dollars a semester for my Master's degree.

The point is, I love being here. I'm totally out of my comfort zone, but I have found my people who do not take the place of my other people, but help me to deal with living in a new state. I'm in the right spot in my life - geographically, chronologically, emotionally, intellectually, and academically - but that's not saying I won't continue to try to improve.

The one thing, dear analytical reader, that is missing from my list is spirituality. This past year has been a difficult for my membership in the church, but I haven't ever doubted that my membership is right and a good thing; I've just had questions, and frankly, I've gotten lazy.

I've come to the realization, once again, that life is totally about balance and I've let certain aspects of my life get out balance, most of which has been my connection with God and spirituality. I was trying to distance myself from the things I don't like about going to church or interacting with members of the church, and I began to turn my back on God.

But, my relationship with God, Jesus Christ, and the Spirit, and my membership in the church has nothing to do with nuisances of church culture or other members. I've learned, through many sources, that I must be Sarah La Rue and that my religious affiliations are through The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, that my intellectual pursuits help me understand the world and humanity better and more compassionately, that I am an English teacher who loves comic books, Batman, and graphic novels, that I am, always have been, and always been an intellectual and a feminist, and that how I must live is through a balanced existence of all that I am.

Vindicated

Slip inside the eye of your mind
Don't you know you might find
A better place to play

You said that you've never been
But all the things that you've seen
They slowly fade away

So I'll start a revolution from my bed
cause you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside, summertime's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
Take that look from off your face
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out

Please don't put your life in the hands
Of a rock and roll band
You'll throw it all away

I'm gonna start a revolution from my bed
cause you said the brains I had went to my head
Step outside, cause summertime's in bloom
Stand up beside the fireplace
Take that look from off your face
cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out

And so, Sally can wait
She knows its too late as she's walking on by
My soul slides away
But don't look back in anger
I heard you say

At least not today.

Thank you - for vindicating me. Or validating me. To myself and to everyone.

For clearing me of guilt and suspect and flaw and responsibility, for letting me be honest. You might think me angry since you rendered me so isolated after I asked you to let me slip away. But, I watch as hope dangles from a string like slow-spinning redemption and I pray for you because you'll never burn my heart out. There is hope and love, even though they are not always visible from the way we choose to see. Step outside, cause summertime's in bloom; stand up beside the fireplace and take that look from off your face. Slight hope may dangle from a string, but hope is there.

I'll love you always, my friend.

Thank you. I now know that I don't have to look back in anger, at least not today.

La Vida Buena Está Aquí

I had previously thought that I'd try to blog about my days in Mexico at the end of everyday in Mexico. So much for promises to myself that I never intended to keep.

I find that even though I left three and a half days ago that I'm still having a hard time crystallizing my thoughts about my experience there. I love it in Mexico; it is forever a part of me now and I know that I will go back. Maybe more than the country is the experience. Our group had shirts that read, "Solamenete una vida que se vive para otros es una vida que vale la pena." Only a life lived for others is a life worth living.

I didn't agree with that statement upon first glance, but upon further introspection, I just didn't understand it. I didn't know what it could be like to worry and work for others. To not worry about how I would get my food, but how another family would get theirs became my focal point. To not worry about my toys or my sidewalks or my playtime or my enjoyment, but somebody else's... I never lived that 24 hours a day. I want it back.

Christmas is a little less magical for me right now. I'm a little more observant, pensive, and grateful. And at the same time, I worry about how much money was spent on me when such money could be spent on the people and orphans in Mexico. Every dollar to me is ten pesos that could have gone to them.

There are so many things in my heart that I cannot write, and should not because they've become sacred. But I will share this.

On our last day in Mexico, we went to the market and the beach. I was bitching from the beginning of the day. There were still things to be done and kits to be handed out. I hated the market. I hated buying things for myself and my family, and I hated the souvenirs. I left as soon as I'd dropped sixty bucks. A friend and I wandered the streets for the remaining two hours, trying to desperately capture the last minutes we had in this different culture.

When we went to the beach later that day, I thought about the day before, when we'd gone shopping for a lady that lived in a 10 by 8 foot shack with walls of cardboard and tin and a leaky tin roof. All of her possessions had been stolen and she and her husband and 4 children lived in this "home." The only food they had were about 8 oranges. Everyone in our van donated at least 20 dollars and we spent almost 200 at the store buying food, blankets, diapers, clothes, and cots, because they'd been sleeping on box springs. Shopping that day was just.... better.

As I stood in the surf and watched the sun go down, I knew that I had been so annoyed earlier at the market because I was buying things for people who didn't really need them. I spent money on myself, instead of those who truly needed it.

When I related this experience to my dad, I cried - a lot. I didn't cry at all in Guaymas, but coming home reminded me of what I missed there. He told me about a time when he was in San Carlos, a town not far from Guaymas. He met an old fisherman and my dad asked if he'd ever dreampt about going to the U.S. for something more. The old man smiled and shook his head. He said that he'd been here, and he'd met our people. And then he said, "La vida buena está aquí." The good life is here.

I was blessed in Mexico with a glimpse - a glimpse at what life should really be like. I don't know how I'll go back to everything in Cedar that awaits me. I don't want to.

I found a new fulfillment in Mexico. I may have even found God again in Mexico. Mexico is the best Christmas present I've ever been given, and I hope that I change because of it.

Finalmente!

I'm done. I done? I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I am done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done!I'm done! I AM DONE.

I am the official holder of a Bachelor of Arts degree in English. I have worked for four and a half years. I turned in my last undergrad paper today (on why Wonder Woman should NOT be a feminist icon) and I am done. Graduated. Finished. Accomplished. Done.

I even bought myself a graduation ice cream cone from Grandee's - double scoop.

I'm done. Now I'm going to Mexico for eight days. I'll be sure to chronicle my adventures.

I'm done.

A Death in the Family

"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness." - Maya Angelou

Buster died this morning.

Buster is my iPod. My 80 Gig iPod that only had 4 Gigs left.

Perhaps it is because I anthropomorphize so many things in my life, but I feel like I've lost a friend. No, I don't have strange and salacious feelings for inanimate objects; I just think I'm lonely in general and not having Buster to keep me company on my walks to class or to listen to in the car reminds me that I am, in fact, lonely and alone.

This semester hasn't been anti-climactic or anything. There was nothing climactic about about returning to Cedar, about taking more undergraduate classes, about feeling like I'm stuck. People that I love have moved away and are doing different things - and I'm here. "X" moved. "Y" left. Our Dear Girl is off having adventures. My family isn't here. The few that are left I rarely get to see, or we go through the motions of a facade, for the sake of a pretense of a relationship.

I'm disappointed about so many things too. I had a crappy weekend preceded by a frustrating and sleepless week. I'm disappointed that I haven't connected with another person, or even God, in a long time. I'm disappointed in myself that I can't find balance and that for all my ranting about not needing a man that I still very much want one - and I'm disappointed that opportunity let me down too. I feel like I'm drowning in my classes. Every time I walk into the English building, no less than two people immediately ask me for something or where something is.

If I said that I was mourning for Buster, I'd be lying - Buster is the simulacrum of my loneliness and at the same time, a shield from it.

I'm tired. I want a good cry, but I'm blogging at work and they already think I'm weird. I want someone to crawl in bed with me and hug me til I fall asleep, because sometimes waking up by one's self is a lonely feeling, but I'll go home and sleep by myself tonight - Buster-less.

Today, perhaps, is just a bad day spawned by a bad week.

This weekend will be better. I'll turn 22. And even though I don't like even numbers, I know that it'll still be a good day. I know that I'll keep on until I too can cast off the chains I feel by being here, but still, today is a bad day.

Clean

*These lyrics belong to Incubus and Incubus will forever be a part of this experience.

To whom it may concern:

You know this concerns you. Today, everything was fine / Until roundabout, quarter to nine / I suddenly found myself in a bind / Was it something I said? / Something I read and manifested that's getting you down? I'd been thinking all day; thinking of how to let you know that I love you, but that I'm concerned about your life. That's the position of a best friend, right? To not always agree, to sometimes challenge, but always to love and never to judge, right? I thought that's what I did. I know that's what I did.

I watched your face watching mine. You told me the news. You'd thought I'd be happy; you should have known that I would have been logical. I tried to lessen the blunt of my concerns. I thought that I had. Your eyes never faltered and never became angry as I spoke. I thought you understood that all I wanted to do was show you love my friend. Don't you dare come to bed with that ambiguous look in your eye / I'd sooner sleep by an open fire and wake up fried.

Say what you will, say what you mean / You could never offend, your dirty words come out clean. I know that you don't agree with my spirituality. I knew that was a fact when you said that'd I stop at nothing to get what I wanted, which is a Ph.D., even if not stopping meant ignoring Heavenly Father's Plan for me. Instead of telling me you were worried about the choices I was making, you made me feel guilty as you snapped your quick retort down like a clamp on my dreams. I shouldn't have let you do that. I should have communicated with you, but I was hurt - hurt because you don't really know me at all if you would say that.

After I spoke to you, for what looks like, ultimately, the last time, you said you'd call tomorrow so we could watch a flick. Little did I know that you wouldn't call. Tomorrow, what price will I pay?/ Could I make it all up to you by serving coffee for two in bed?/ Would you then give me the time of day? No, I could never make you coffee to be in your good graces. You hate the fact that I work at Starbucks. Starbucks isn't for Mormons, but I work there anyway on Sunday mornings and race home to teach Sunday School anyway.

I need a map of your head
Translated into English so I can learn to not make you frown
You'd feel better if you'd vent
Put your frustrations into four letter words and let them out on mine
The most weathered ears in town

If this is it, if this has to be goodbye, then know that I wish you well. I want so much happiness for you, and that, in truth, is why I voiced my concerns. I never wanted you as anything more than a friend. I did want you to stay longer than you have though. All I ask is that you Say what you will, say what you mean / No, You could never offend, your dirty words come out clean.