balloon day with mom

One man wrote his loves and losses and released it to the sea,
Another placed his hopes and dreams inside a red balloon.

Spooning Etiquette

Spooning- lay on ground- assume a semi fetal position - next person mimic same position as the frist person- move close together. love.

Rules of Spooning

1. Group Spooning is always better because spooning can lead to sporking.

2. Order does not matter- boy-girl. boy-boy- girl-girl. spooning is about sharing the love and we must be comfortable to love on all.

3. It is important to put your arm around the person ahead of you.

4. It is okay to touch the person ahead of them. Back tickles are prime action in this lovely game of spoon town.

5. Remember to Rotate: this can be done by a random group memeber yelling "rotate." The entire group will immiediatly switch sides.

6. The ends of the spooning group should be occasionally cycled in unless they are okay with the outside. It can be personal perference.

7. During times of cold and striff- it is easier to put the little ones in the middle for more warmth.

8. This is no longer strictly for survival, it brings the masses together and there is not better way to bond with those around you.

9. Group Spooning often begins to pair off- to avoid this- please continually switch the order upon occasion. Some people will find there nitch and rather enjoy the sweet embrace of certain people, this is also just how the game is played.

10. You must allow all to play. We do not shun outsiders or people who think we are crazy. Always be open to others.

11. Remember who you are and know what happens during spoon time can just remain in spoon time. Unless your "group" is comfortable enough to speak of spooning sessions. .

Spooning is a beautiful thing, but it is important to remember spoon code and pointers for ultimate spooning. please let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns.

the end. spoon on. jo.

the day i became my room

I am not sure who started the rumor; however, the new heater never seemed at home in my room. I often think it was his murmerings that set the events in motion when it happened last thursday. There was an uprising and I was ceased upon. My heart jumped right out of my chest only to be caught by my hanging chandelier. The nerve of it, refusing to give it back. I thought to myself, "have i lost my mind?" Not much longer after I had asked this question, i looked up to see my own brain craddled in the curtains. I needed to blink but I soon realized my head was cushioned between the decor of pillows on my bed. My eyes had failed to notice this due to its rigorous search for my brain. My hand was fidgeting with something and I suddenly realized it was my cold, metal doorknob. Through the chaos I still had yet to find my legs, they were nowhere to be found; although, my hope chest was bumbling around an awful lot. I am not sure what caused the uproar but I do know my door will open and close when it wants to and my curtains will be a tad more sarcastic.

Silent Plea

note: this is a true story and was very difficult to write. I know in my heart of hearts it needed to be said in more ways than one. please do not start this story if you do not have the time to read it. it means a lot to me.



Silent Plea



There was uneasiness in my stomach; the kind of feeling you get when you know something bad has happened. I considered saying something, but it was not the right time. I pushed it to the far corners of my thoughts, and sleep overcame my mind.

I awoke; my body could always seem to tell when home was near. One dip, then another, two bumps meant we were truly home, but oddly we were not pulling into the garage. An unfamiliar dodge had pulled up beside us, and my cousin Kelly was already getting out of her car as my mother did the same. This was it, I could see it on her face and a million things flooded my head. My sister had already exited the passenger door and I struggled to reach the lever ahead of me, I tried so hard to get out, to hear what was being said. My mother stood for a short while until she seemed to regain consciousness and realized I could not get out; she released the seat and gently guided me through the door. I was trying to ask what happened, but stumbled over the words. She closed her eyes for a moment, and said, "Your uncle has taken his life." I believe in this moment she realized what she had just heard and found herself having to tell me. I stood there, trying to find something to say, something to console my mother and my sister, but nothing came. Moments later, we found ourselves frozen around our island bar, a common place for happy chatter; it had never experienced such silence.

You see, he suffered from migraines, migraines lasting for days on end, and during the brief breaks, he was haunted by dull headaches. There were times he would bang his head against the wall to feel a different pain. He received treatment, and medication, and gradually he became dependent on his medication. The night it happened, he was supposed to be on his way up to Salt Lake seeking help for his addiction. He had carefully tucked a note away for someone to see, "I am not worth anything." In his frustration, he picked up the keys to his new black pick up truck and closed the door behind him. He listened to Credence Clearwater Revival as the town with all his memories disappeared behind him. He took a familiar right turn onto a dirt road, a road taken many times, every Easter Sunday to roll eggs down the sand dunes. He made one last phone call to the local mine rescue team, a team he was apart of himself, "There has been a shooting." The receiving end inquired who it was and he replied, "You will find out when you get here."

Somehow, we made it to my grandmother's, only to find her silently rocking in her chair as usual. She starred blankly, not even realizing we had entered the house. My sister and I found a place on the couch and mom embraced grandma. My grandfather had not yet returned from the ranch, he still needed to be told. I could hear his diesel truck blare down the street, the sound ensuring grandpa was coming, and this typically meant it was time to run outside for a big hug, but not this time. The engine roar echoed in the garage and shut off. I heard the door slam and his tired footsteps climb the stairs. Holding my breath, the door handle slowly turned; the door creaked open and grandpa entered. He finally saw us sitting with vacant expressions, and I wondered how grandma was going to tell him. She lifted her head, and said bluntly, "He committed suicide." The directness shocked us all, and it was so hard to hear again aloud, it is still hard to say today. Maybe she said it so quickly so she did not have to explain, or leave any room for question. It is not something you can beautifully phrase because in the end, it is what it is.

I watched as my grandfather's countenance melted; all color seemed to leave, though no motion was made. He remained there, hunched over in his flannel shirt, green coat, and dirty jeans. His arms were stiff at his sides; yet, his hands appeared lifeless. I have never forgotten his eyes, normally a vibrant blue and so full of life, now cold and empty, something had changed inside him and I felt it change within me as well. A layer of tears reflected in the dim light; his eyes closed quickly hiding his emotion, he needed to be strong for grandma.

This changed my life as I knew it, in three words, in one second, it was all different. Life became real, it was no longer bubbles and butterfly kisses. This was a trial, a real trial, and for some reason I had to watch my family experience it. So many prayers brushed my lips as I watched my family suffer. This is not a memory you want to relive; eight years have passed, and our family still hurts, still feels a void, and still is given trials in relation to this event. I guess this is a silent plea for all who feel as he did; to all the people who feel like they can no longer take it, or feel they are not worth anything. This is for those who think it is a way out, or think they will get back at someone. This is for those who think no one cares. I have been touched by suicide in my life and I assure you, there is ALWAYS someone who cares, always someone who is thinking of you, always someone who will cry for years after you leave. We all have self worth and a Heavenly Father who cares for us dearly. I watched my family unite at such a tragedy, and eventually tare apart as people blamed each other and eventually themselves. I had hoped it would be easier, but the hurt never stops and perhaps it is not supposed to because then we would forget. This is not something to just forget and hope nobody else will feel the way he did again. It was a selfish act, no one seems to think about those they leave behind and all the lives they change. My words are what I remember, even after all this time. I hope my words show you the difference, and help you realize the people left behind do love you and there are brighter tomorrows. Do not let this happen to people you love or do this to people you love, because someone ALWAYS LOVES YOU.

Making Whitness Visisble- seeing a real world.

The American dream told us everyone could live in a two-story house with red shutters and a white picket fence just tall enough to keep a small dog from bothering the joggers as they pass by on a sunny afternoon. This fence was never meant to be higher than a six-foot mans waist because it was meant to be more inviting than uninviting to the neighbors. The American dream, held accountable by the 57 revolutionists as they signed there devotion to this country, holding “these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” I always had a sense of satisfaction knowing among these great men, my ancestor, Samuel Huntington of Connecticut, signed his name and beliefs on the line of such a life-changing document. Unfortunately, I find myself coming to realization these men did not have an understanding of what “these truths” actually were in their entirety. When they said “all men” they meant all white males who own property. I believe they failed in saying among our rights are, “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” This requires our nation to have faith in the system, a belief in meritocracy, a level playing field were if one works hard they can achieve their dreams. This “pull myself up by my bootstraps” ideology is embedded in our nation, a nation that sets a people up for failure when yielding to this idea.

Born and raised in the United States, I received a standard education in South Dakota, an education that led me to believe our nation had learned from our repulsive history in mistreatment of people due to cultural backgrounds. I was taught in such a way, I believed racism was a thing of the past, a mountain to a molehill. Regrettably, South Dakota is not blessed with significant diversity; therefore, I hardly knew anyone with a rich background extremely different from my own. Once I graduated I had the opportunity to leave South Dakota and attend college at BYU-Idaho were I was finally exposed to a world of greater diversity.

I was able to meet Kendrick Som (Satola), who showed me a reality I never knew before. We became inseparable, and I was able to see how people treated my American-Cambodian friend. Kendrick was beautiful, and embraced his family history with confidence, explaining his family history to me, sharing his culture and beliefs freely. I found myself jealous of his rich heritage as I realized my ancestors traveled from Switzerland and Germany, assimilating quickly, sacrificing what they once knew to be accepted by the new world around them. My ignorance blocked my curiosity of my own history because I never felt connected to it. As my friendship with Kendrick developed I began to take interest in my own heritage, and discovered the differences between our families, my family benefited due to white privilege and his did not. I have always appreciated our differences and found them beautiful, but not everyone has this understanding.

I found myself constantly irritated with others as they met Kendrick, and immediately upon introduction they would look at him and say, “What are you?” This question still makes me cringe because it is completely distasteful, rude, and ignorant. Kendrick dealt with this question better than I could as he would politely reply “American.” This was always followed by a smirking response and a “Really though, what are you?” Years have passed and Kendrick and I are both in different places now, but I have frequently reflected on this experience, and feel the root of this question is found in ignorance.

The video, “Making Whiteness Visible” I found a challenge directed at me, a person with white privilege; it inquired what I was going to do with this privilege? The concept of white privilege never felt threatening; I never felt distain or the need to shout back that I was not privileged, denying the existence of this idea. It made sense, I had experienced it first hand as people accepted me for who I was and questioned Kendrick. I noticed it as a friend of mine relayed a story and made a specific reference to the man crossing the street as a “black man” crossing the street. There was no need for this specification; yet, it made me realize people I felt were rational non-biased thinkers make mistakes and have ingrained tendencies toward racism, pointing out differences without even being aware of it. It makes it feel hopeless sometimes, because racism, sexism, ageism, etc.etc. is rooted so deeply, not only consciously, but subconsciously as well.

I cannot change my whiteness, but I have a responsibility to create awareness in others, an awareness that racism does exist, even in those who do not believe they have a problem. I have to help those ignorant people understand they may still have racist tendencies. It is a constant battle for everyone, black, white, green, or blue. We have to understand one another, listen carefully to each other’s concerns, face a past and present together. We cannot deny people from their mistrust, and right to be angry because the injustices forced upon them as a people and individuals. We have to set a standard to live by as a united people, and get through the anger and confront our relevant problem, accepting its existence, and smacking it back to a thought only to be remembered and understood, to never let happen again.

One woman in the video confided she woke up every morning and told herself she was a black woman. I have never woke up and thought to myself, I am a white woman because my surroundings have never made me think twice about it. This could be our problem; maybe I should wake up and say, I am a white woman with a responsibility to help build a better world of true equality. The 57 revolutionists wrote a preface to a dream, a dream where “little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” I believe we can have this day.

better better better

This is how it works, it feels a little worse, laughing up a storm. I have no idea how many times i have had to say, "wait, start over, i was distracted." Then you breathe a sigh of relief and start again, only this time with a little smile in your voice because my honestly was appreciated. Sometimes, I am probably to honest, but you are too. Sometimes I just do not want to know what you are thinking, I wish i did. I mean, your thoughts should be your own anyway right? No, they are much better said, it just hurts sometimes. The truth tends to hurt, the full honest truth. How do you tell someone what you are thinking when you can't get the voices in your head to agree on something to say? They meet around their round table and discuss what my brain's next move should be, but as most political agendas, it took to long so my heart already said it, and with to much honesty again. Can't these guys just get a hold of my heart and give it a nice slab on the wrist. My heart would probably still love them, and invite them for tea. That is not right, my heart does not like tea, this makes things very interesting.

I decided recently that I am a beautiful, empowered woman, with so much to offer this world. I may have my grace period at this time, but one day i will love somebody fully, and take that one foot stationed on the ground and lift it high as i float away. I hear so much in this head of mine and it breaks my heart that I should not be able to have what I want most. I suppose one day we would understand though. Just kiss me sweetly and softly. It will all get better soon.

he pushed it away

I was driving down the road on a not so special day, a day where nothing was important enough for me to even recall what I was doing driving at that time on that particular street. I had come to a slow stop at a melancholy intersection, when I saw what I saw. Out of the corner of my eye I saw this man, this well dressed man, throw his shopping cart to the ground. It is beneficial to understand this mans frustrated gesture, as you learn we are nowhere near a market, the market where this particular cart came from. This man threw his cart with so much conviction and disgust, it was as if he was telling the cart he was no longer subject to its trap, no longer in need of it to hold his most valued items. This man had a light about him, a light that said he was done with whatever he had, and was ready for the better, whatever the better was going to be. I saw it in his eyes and his countenance. It was a beautiful thing, and I learned a lot that day. I can still see it all so clearly, throwing the cart to the ground and walking about, briefly glancing over his shoulder, perhaps to see if he had just done what he has wanted to do for so long. It felt good for him, it felt good for those around to watch him. He will be a better man. I will be a better person. We all can be I suppose.

a mile high with my lovelys

My sister recently moved to Denver, Colorado to do her clinicals for her nuclear medicine program and the lovely ladies in my family decided it was time to make the trek to the notorious mile high city. Unfortunately, we were minus one due to my beautiful aunt Lorie's unexpected hip surgery. We have missed her dearly and kept her in our pocket, right next to our hearts the entire trip. The trip has consisted of sunny skies and much laughter, and I felt I should give everyone a taste of our splendid expedition.

Upon our arrival, we were all feeling famished and felt P.F. Changs would fill the void. While at P.F. Changs we encountered an exceedingly long noodle my sister dominated (pictured above). The meal was delicious and we were able to catch up in person.

Our fortunes were as follows:

Susan mother: you discover treasure where others see nothing unusual
Norma grandmother: others take notice of your radiance
Amanda big sis: you are admired for you impeccable tastes
Jordan me: everything will now come your way



The following day we took to the streets, not just any streets, the streets of commercial establishment. We gave our money willingly, sorry dad. After a rigorous search for the infamous Johnny Rocket, and failure in finding it, we ate giant, juicy hamburgers at the Baker Street Pub. please note: grandma had a BLT.



There were plenty of abandoned walls to practice our jumping skills. I taught my mother the art of capturing people in flight and between vibrating penguin like movements to stay warm, she definitely got the hang of it. It was sooooo good to be jumping with my sister, I miss her.



The highlight of the trip was the Colorado aquarium where we were greeted by a friendly shark and purple octopus (not pictured). If this was what it was like on the outside, you can only image what was on the inside...the colors.



The moment we stepped through the doors, there was a land of photo opportunities in every direction. My grandmother gave my mother blue eyes, and my mother so graciously passed them along. It was a very blue day today.



The fish were swimming in every direction, uptown, downtown, and they came in all shapes and sizes. One fish was so large it had to swim vertically instead of horizontally. If there was a chip n' dale gone fish style, this particular fish would have been "fat cat." I hope this helps with the imagination because I am not supplying a photograph of him/her.



Amidst all the fish, there was a very active tiger roaming his territory. I like to believe he was following me because he wanted his photograph taken. He reminded me of Alex the Lion (only in tiger form) in Madagascar. He was gorgeous as you can see.



The lion fish was there to say good bye as we finished our journey through the underwater world and my camera peacefully fell asleep or died or something. We ate at the aquarium restaurant, enjoying the fish and sharks as we ate our shrimp cocktails. I must say, we do love our shrimp, and grandma at least pretended she did as well.



After juicy hamburgers and filling seafood it was time for a fruit blend and time to convert my family to Jamba Juice. We got a little bored so we had a little photo fun while we drank our jambas. Please refer to a few blogs down for the outcome of our sweet crave.








The trip was wonderful and we plan to do it again, only this time with our very missed Lorie. It is a treat to finally be together and just for the record both dad and grandpa are still alive and well, and apparently well fed by the neighbors. I wanted to add an additional video of our dance party because after all, it is not a party without dancing... enjoy.

metallic flow

Metal flows through these veins,
Seeping through the tips of my fingers.
This substance does the thinking for me now.
I grow heavier moment-by-moment,
Slowly filling the chambers of my heart.
Meandering hands guide the silver presence to every pore.
My spirit seeks refuge from the metallic mayhem,
Slithering out my eyeballs.
A lifeless luster remains,
To not feel.
To not taste.
To not see.
Once subjective. now subjected.
An oblique object to do the bidding.
A maladroit mass of metal leaps to its pretending.

Note: written awhile ago. thank you.

the small significant life of jo

I am very sensitive to people and find myself hearing the life stories of strangers, acquaintances, and close friends almost daily and will gladly be late for class to hear what they have to say. I find meaning in almost every interaction I have with someone. I love reading and rarely read and generally have three books "in progress." I love going to the cinema and purchasing the overpriced whoopers and coke... although I have recently given up coke. I was doing it for others, but am finally doing it for me and it feels much better. I trying to become empowered and find everyday has its challenges. I love umbrellas and do not own a single one unfortunately. I have no idea what my first one will look like, there are so many to choose from it can be overwhelming sometimes. Green is my favorite color and no matter the hue it seems to always be pleasing to me. I am very excited for watermelon season because I can never get enough of it...but it has to be just right...you can feel it when you are eating it. something about the sound of a guitar is soothing to me and I can listen to someone play for hours and I am not exaggerating. I love going out to eat, I think it provides an atmosphere for good conversation. I can talk your ear off on almost any subject, but sometimes I do not feel like talking at all... go figure...I must be human or something. My eyes do NOT change according to my mood, they change because I change the color of my clothing which enhances my eyes. I rarely fill out the about me section because if someone wants to know things about me then they should get to know me. I started writing in my journal for the first time, well I have never had a good journal writing habit but I am going to try this time. Anyway, I do not like making corrections in my writing, if i misuse a word...I figure out how to use it if I wrote it in pen. I feel like I need to do a lot of growing up right now and I am not exactly sure how to go about it, one day at a time I guess. I do not have this overwhelming feeling like I am not doing something with my life, it is just peaceful, you can be better type feeling. I have brief moments where I struggle but come to an understanding of things relatively quickly. My mother once described my temperment perfectly saying, " you get mad and have to let it go through your system, and within 15-20 minutes you are rational to talk to again." I calm down quickly on the rare occasion I actually get frustrated, but things are tending to get harder as I get older. I have had to remind myself just who I am and what I stand for and to be strong as I clarify it for others. I decided writing is very therapeutic for me and I hope to continue with my journal. One flaw I have found within myself is I tend to concentrate on the negative side of things to often, I have to allow myself to remember all the good things that have come from a particular situation as well. I am working to improve on this. You know...one evening a group of friends and I decided to to play "you ask a question and you have to answer" game, which eventually progressed into name five things you do not like about yourself and then we will get to five things we enjoy about ourselves and about others participating. I did not have much to say on the flawed part because I was at a point were I was happy with myself, although when I was younger I never liked my nose. Now, I honestly love it, one time someone told me I was a classic beauty and I believe my "flaw" made that comment true. I was at a wonderful point at that time and have realized to be at that same place I have to work very hard to achieve it. Someone great once said, "if you are not going up hill, you are not progressing." So there we have it, the most difficult, scary, trying times in our life, can often times bring us the most reward. "What to do when adversity strikes? There is only one thing to do. Stand steady and see it through. Stay steadfast, constant, and true. The real tragedy in the whirlwinds of life comes only when we allow them to blow us off our true course." David S. Baxter - Oct. Gen. Conf 2006 So there you have it. I have to work to be better and that is what I am going to do. I must be inspired to inspire to be inspired.