contradiction

i wrote this for a class:

Mormon Feminist – 2 words that describe me, and yet feels disproportionate on my tongue. How can I, after all, support Betty Friedan and Joseph Smith? Somehow I think it’s possible. I find my soul is big enough to accommodate contradiction. On my book shelf, for example, the Feminist Mystique sits squarely next to my Book of Mormon and other standard works – each book embodying belief, faith, and truth while admittedly incongruent in tradition. Yet, it’s within the areas of grey – the overlap of opposing ideals – that I find potential for possible expansion. It’s as though my sense of self is enlarged when I discover my personality can be a mixture of contradiction. I can choose what I will believe and find a place for it in my sense of self. In other words, the more I have studied the gospel and feminism I have found completeness in opposition. The yin is not whole without the yang, so too Mormonism is not complete without feminism. The gospel of Jesus Christ is based on equality. All covenants and ordinances are entered into individually. Salvation is obtained only through an equal dependence of man and women to each other. Betty Friedan’s conclusion of Feminist Mystique calls for all women to educate themselves before moving on to marriage and family. She asserts that women must choose for themselves to be stay-at-home moms instead of society (religious society too) pressuring them into such careers. I hold these ideals to be true with all my heart. I spout similar ideology to friends and family. I will teach my daughters the same principles. In short, Betty’s words have seared my heart and become a large part of who I am. To some, this may be a contradiction to Mormonism – you tell me reader, is it?

in short, this piece is meant to prove that we are all walking contradictions. what are YOUR contradictions reader? hate violence, but never back down from a fight? love nature, but never go outside? love your friends, but never talk to them? if you feel up to it, tell me about your own divergent parts of self. or at the very least, admit them to yourself - and then smile, because only in the parts are you truly whole.

post script

p.s.

i almost forgot about you...

dear 2011,

you and i have clearly gotten off on the wrong foot. let's start again shall we? in case you somehow missed the clearly written goals in my planner, let me remind you: 2 hook -ups in just as many weeks was NOT on the list. instead, "get into at least one mature and rational relationship that lasts longer than 1 week or 1 month" WAS a part of the plan. so please, if you wouldn't mind, comply with my prerecorded goals. otherwise, help me avoid all other douchebags in provo, and the surrounding areas.

also, help me figure out what to do with my life.

thank you.
-A

a letter of sorts

dear customer who told me i look good for my age: i am NOT old enough for that compliment

dear winter semester: you're my last, and therefore i refuse to succumb to you. every other semester has dominated my life. not you too.

dear brick oven: i walk past you every monday, wednesday, and friday at noon. you make my forthcoming lunch seem so unappetizing. will you stop filling the air with the delicious aroma of pizza? thank you.

dear room: i finally have you to myself. i love the freedom entitled in allowing you to be messy. i'm sorry for your fate, but i fear you will continue to stand as a monument to "free space" as books mingle with shoes upon the floor.

dear friends: please remember me. remember me as i am, as i was, and as i want to become.

dear winter: you make have taken the sun, but you have not taken my smile.

sincerely,
A

New Year, Last Semester

This is it reader. The final semester of my undergraduate degree. I started...uh, I'd rather not admit when...I started a long time ago (cough...2004).

Maybe it's all the hype about the New Year and looking back (or for some, refusing to look back) that I feel the need to review and then impart a few truths about me and my relationship to BYU.

When I first came to Provo I was an idiot. Seriously. An idiot. If I could see my 18-19 year old self again I would punch her in the face. That's the age when you think you know everything, but ironically you know nothing.


This is me at the end of my freshman year. BRIGHT blond. GROSS!


You see, I was a small town girl. I had small town ideas. As the Lord put people in my life, my world and consequently my place within it began to expand. I am so grateful that I finally caught the vision that I, ME, I could do it - I could do anything:

Travel to Europe. Be a Research Assistant. Make straight As. Get 2 dates on the same day. Fall in love. Hurt someone so deeply they moved away. Make friends I will have for the rest of my life. Cry so hard it hurt. Laugh so hard I cried. Stay up all night playing. Stay up all night writing papers. See my success. Feel my failure. Change what I didn't like about myself. See examples of what I wanted to become. Find people who believe in me. Find my MANY PASSIONS in life. Begin to love and accept who I am. Learn what I need from others, and to walk away if it's not given.

And somewhere along the way I sorta grew up.

Thank you Provo. You held my hand while I stumbled, tripped, and sometimes fell along this journey called college...or life really.

College is full of waste too. Wasted dreams. Wasted food. Wasted money. Wasted talent. For me, I wasted too many hours and too many late nights to stupid boys that didn't even matter. I wasted time thinking something was wrong with ME rather than assuming something was wrong with THEM.

I wasted time chasing other people's dreams. I came to college and I refused to be an English major. I tried out 6 different majors. They were all horrible. But everyone kept telling me that I shouldn't do English. Yet, switching my major to English was one of the best things I ever did.

I wasted time not being myself. I tried to fit my life, or my personality, to other people's molds and ideals. I was scared to face who I was. Sometimes reader, I am still scared to admit to myself who I am. But I'm getting better. I am learning to love all of me. Even my weaknesses and flabby stomach.

Alas, I am sitting at the end of the first day of my last semester and I can't help but think back to the first day of my first semester. I don't even recognize that young freshman girl. Yet I know she's inside of me still...somewhere. She has melted away into parts, into segments of my self. I look back and I am amazed. College has NEVER been what I expected, but it's been everything I needed.

The truth is, I'm scared to leave. But I am ready to try out my wings. I feel as though they have grown a little stronger. I am ready to face the cold winds of change.

Also, laptops (not desktops) are necessary; The honor code IS a good idea; Talking to the professor, while scary, is your best means for success; be the favorite roommate and clean your dishes; and never miss an opportunity to talk to someone new. You never know where that will lead you....