Icy Tumble.

Happy Valentine's Day and President's Day! :D I have some stories for you!

Valentine's Day morning I woke up mightily early to get in line to buy a new contract for next year. I decided that although I despise moving with a passion -- I'm going to move out of dear little 366. I wasn't sure at first why I should move out. It came as a shock; Sunday night, out of the blue, I had the strong impression that I should not live here next year. I was quite confused. I'm happy here. I love Hillary and Rachel, who have resolved not to move out of 366 at all. Possibly not ever. I like my ward, I'm close to campus, etc.

At dinner group though, I mentioned that I wanted to move into a different apartment, and my neighbor Josie (who I don't actually know very well) mentioned that she too wanted to move out. We got to talking, and we soon realized that we'd be good roommates, and thus we resolved to room together next year. It was strange, but I felt really calm and peaceful about it, although neither of us had any clue where we'd end up living. I had a roommate, but no room.

I worked up my bravery several times during the week and visited a bajillion women's apartments in the ward, because although I felt like I shouldn't live in 366, I had the peculiar feeling that I'd be moving somewhere close by -- somewhere else in Monticello, specifically. However, after exhausting myself by acting outside of my comfort zone, I came home feeling uneasy about everywhere I had looked.

I woke up the morning of contract signings still unsure as to where I should live, which was a little scary. However, now was the time to act. Apartments at Monticello go fast. Like... crazy fast. I went out into the outside world, where snow was coming down fast. I felt a little strange. I don't know how to explain it. I had to sign a contract NOW and I didn't know which apartment I was going to live in yet. But I just felt like Josie would know exactly what to do, even though I didn't.

Indeed, I found the line already extending past the laundry room (eek!) but I found Josie standing near the front of the line. She grabbed me and, with a gleam in her eye, said, "What do you think about white brick?"

I stood there in shock. I hadn't even considered white brick. Pretty much, those are the only Monticello women's apartments that aren't in my ward, and I hadn't even remembered them. I've never seen the inside of them. And the peace inside of me told me that that is where I should live next year. "Yes," I said. "I think that's a good idea." I paused. "What are they like?"

Josie had never seen them either. But Melanie, also in line, had. She described them to us -- bigger bedrooms, LOTS of closet space, slightly bigger living room, two bathroom sinks, and the toilet and shower in their own little room next to the sinks. That would be splendid. Josie and I signed contracts for spring, summer, fall, and winter. I went home feeling wonderful.

In the evening, nearly all my roommates either went home for the weekend or left on dates. Alone in the kitchen, I felt a craving for Ramen, and decided it was a good idea to take advantage of such a cheap craving. I did scramble an egg and drizzled it in the pot egg-drop soup style though, to add to the nutritional value. Tasty. Valentine's Day Ramen. Mmmm. Just as I started to eat, my phone rang.

What? My phone? No one ever calls me! It was Hillary. That's strange, she just left on a date. She asked Anthony to go see Divine Comedy with her. He is, in my opinion, among the cutest guys in our ward.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jenna! Do you want to go on a blind date? And see Divine Comedy?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, one of Anthony's friends is here with an extra ticket and no date."

"What time do I need to be there?"

"Seven!" It was six-fifteen.

"Okay!... What is my date's name?"

"John."

"Okay, bye!"

Excited, I hung up, finished my Ramen concoction, and ran out the door. I had to stop running though, because the roads and sidewalks were ridiculously icy. I got to the Stairs of Death by the duck pond, and warily eyed the stairs. I could see my reflection in some of them. I gripped the handrail tightly and made my way up the stairs. I nearly slipped and died several times on the way to the Wilk, but managed to stay on my feet somehow.

Once at the Wilk, I found Anthony, Hillary, and John near the middle-front of the line. I talked to John a bit, and it was pretty much only the basic questions. We got into the show (which was AMAZING). We sat near Kerstin, Cherish, Liz, and Claire, which I thought was fortunate, because although I visited them, Cherish had been home. So I got a hug from her.

After the show, the Anthony, Hillary, John, and I walked home. We tread very carefully, and John put spikes on the bottom of his shoes to be safe. When we got to the stairs, and the four of us gripped the handrail as tightly as we could, and tread carefully. However, halfway down, I stepped -- and instead of supporting me, my foot slid up into the air -- my hands were wrenched from the hand rail --

I must have had some torque going on because, in the air, I spun ever so slightly -- and I landed heavily on the left side of my thigh on the stairs -- and then onto my stomach --

But it did not stop there -- there was no friction between me and the stairs -- I slid down them, and I could not stop --

My face met the icy stairs, albeit rather gently in comparison to the violent impact my leg had made earlier --

Sliding down, I saw three horrified faces as I slid down -- ka-dunk, ka-dunk, ka-dunk -- until, finally, the median handrail stopped me.

"JENNA! Are you okay?" screamed Hillary.

"Yeah," I said shakily.

John helped me up, and escorted me by the arm the remainder of the way home. I was winded, and my throat was tight with fear, so when I spoke I sounded like I was crying although I was not. I probably should have been though -- I was in a lot of pain. We went to Cold Stone and got some ice cream. (It was cold enough that the ice cream warmed us up.) I got a strawberry shake, John got a banana split. We got to talking while Anthony and Hillary were waiting for their treats.

"Did you doze off during the show?" asked John.

I was surprised by this question; it had been amazing. "No, I did not."

"Oh. I thought I saw you jerk a couple of times during the show."

I laughed. Oh, I see. "I have a tic disorder of some sort," I explained.

"Ah, I understand then. I also have a neurological disorder. I've got a tremor. See, my hands always tremble a little, in case you hadn't noticed." I had. It was ever so slight, but it was just barely noticable.

And then I had a nerd moment. I couldn't help it; it just came out. It just happened. "That's a lower motor neuron problem!" I commented.

He kind of laughed to himself. "It is indeed. My dad's a neuropsychologist."

After ice cream, we headed back to my apartment, and we played Apples-to-Apples until midnight. John and I tied with eight green apple cards -- pretty much owning everyone else. The guys left and went home. And I went to bed.

Last night there was a triward fireside, during which I spied a very good-looking boy. I decided I would go talk to him afterward. After the closing prayer, I made my way over to the refreshments where he was (of course) gravitating. However, I looked down at my coat and realized with mild horror that my fairly-new coat was missing a button. Oh dear. I had it when I said amen at end of the closing prayer, so it had to be here somewhere. The coat came with extra buttons, so it wouldn't have been the end of the world if I couldn't find it, but I set to work looking all over the floor for it anyway, the cute blond boy forgotten.

A guy from the 171st ward stopped me. "Excuse me, you seem to looking for something. Are you looking for me?"

I laughed. Very clever. "Well, no, actually. I've lost my button. Have you seen it?"

Instantly, about twenty good-looking men in suits and ties were scouring the floor for one measly little button. They made it seem like an intense game with heated competition. Soon enough, one jumped up. "Is this it?"

It was indeed, and all the guys cheered. "It was meant to be!" I heard repeatedly. "Now you have to exchange numbers!" "GIVE 'IM A HUG!" "Twoo wuv!!!" Well, the guy looked mighty pleased with himself (his name was Matt), and I thought it was funny. I did indeed give him a hug to express my thanks, but I didn't bother asking for his number. Even if I had the number and I wanted to take him on a date, I knew I wouldn't have called it. (Stupid phone phobia.) I would have given him mine, but he didn't ask for it; I don't think he particularly wanted it.

Another guy in the crowd did continue to flirt (the one who originally asked if I was looking for him... now that I think about it, I should have gotten his number... dang...). Bryce (in my ward) leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I dare you to go hold his hand. He totally wants you to."

I glared over at him. "No, I'm not going to do that." Even if he is cute. I believe I've mentioned Bryce before, but let me refresh your memory. This is the guy who knocked on our door one night and explained that he needed a girl to cuddle with -- any girl. We, of course, refused him. On a separate occasion, I was visiting another guy at his house, when he just came over and began to cuddle. I demanded that he get off me. He did.

Bryce shook his head at me. "You should. He would like it." Yes, probably, he might, but I'm not going to. I continued to glare. Bryce changed the subject. "I've got some hats you need to look at. I'm going home right now, or I'll be there right at nine to take stuff out of the oven." He was of course referring to my tradition of wearing a cool hat to every ward prayer, and he did indeed have some cool hats.

"Okay," I said.

"All right," he said. "I'll see you then." He proceeded to caress my shoulder and back.

I again glared at him, as coldly as I could. "Don't do that. Please."

He laughed and replied, "I love you because you're a nerd and you're awkward. And you're fun to tease."

I was not at all happy with that comment, but managed to pull off a calm face. "...You love me because I'm a nerd and I'm awkward?"

"Yeah, and you're fun to tease. You have an abnormal personality. You mean you haven't noticed?"

Hillary, who was standing nearby, heard all this and interrupted. "Bryce! That's mean!"

He stopped for a moment and considered. "Oh. I guess that could have been taken as an insult, huh?" No, Bryce, you think?

"Yes!" answered Hillary. "That was mean!"

"Well, I meant it as a compliment, honestly," Bryce retorted. Hillary glared. "Er... a back-handed compliment?"

I shook my head and left, with Hillary and Rachel in tow. Rachel immediately began her complaints. "Jenna, how do you do that? I turn my back on you for five seconds, and you're surrounded by twenty men!" Oh yeah, the button incident. I shrugged. I don't know, I wasn't really doing anything. Just looking for a button. And it doesn't even really do me any good, because my flirting skills are nonexistent. Whatever.

To be honest, Bryce's comment kind of bothered me, especially because it came from him. I'm awkward? I just have to wonder if it had ever occurred to him that knocking around asking for a girl to cuddle with -- any girl -- was actually VERY awkward. And that the general consensus in the female population is that such behavior is, indeed, awkward. No, probably not. He probably thinks that is a most clever thing to do.

But the reason such the comment really bothered me is because it kind of renewed my concern that my actions (or lack thereof) are being misinterpreted by the guys in my ward. I probably confuse them. And that's depressing. I don't regard physical affection as something you do casually with just anybody, or to be funny, or to use in flirting with a stranger, etc.

Someone explain this to me. How is this confusing?

I hug my friends, or people I'd like to be friends with. I don't cuddle with, or hold hands with, or let guys put their arm around me unless I am in a romantic relationship with them or I'm interested in establishing one. Really. I want to know. How is that confusing?

Because, see, I would have thought what a surprising amount of other people at BYU do would be much more confusing -- just holding hands and cuddling with any old person whether or not they're interested because it might be funny or because they just happen to think it'd be more comfortable that way (which it would be).

It's not that I think cuddling or holding hands in and of itself is awkward -- definitely not. I've always wanted to do so. Never have done so, but I want to. Really bad, actually. I mean, that's one of the ways in which I feel close to people, and therefore, it only makes sense that I be careful with it. I bond primarily through physical affection... the people who don't let me hug them are most often the ones I feel most distant from. The ones I get good hugs from are the ones I feel closest to.

I do, however, think it's awkward when the amount of physical affection people show towards each other does not accurately reflect the actual status of their relationship. So, no, Bryce. Don't put your arm around me. Don't caress me, don't cuddle me, don't. It's rather obvious you're not interesting in dating me (leastwise you shouldn't be; you've got a girlfriend) and I'm not interested in dating you. Stop pretending like we are dating.

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now.

Have a good week and such,
Jenna Griffin

A New Place For Adventure, Perchance?

I moved into Monticello, my new residence for spring term! I will also be coming back to the same place for fall/winter next year. So far I have three roommates.

The one with whom I am sharing a room is Jackie -- dearest Jackie Corbitt! Except I have a minor fear that one of us might kill the other. Jackie and I are very similar. Except for a few things which often results in sparks flying. Dear Jackie is very... how shall I say... empirical? Well, of course. She's a physics major, and incredibly smart. She has a very linear mind -- very rational. Thus, she has systems.

I've got systems! But... hey, our systems happen to not coincide. And both of us are very resistant to changing these time-tested systems.

For example, take the instance of the peanut butter knife.

Jackie sure does love her peanut butter. She eats it... and almost nothing else. She'll take her knife, get a huge hunk of the stuff, and then she'll put it on a cracker and leave it. But Jackie has this irrational discomfort of eating in front of people. She doesn't do it. She binges in secret. Not really binging, though. She snacks and nibbles... grazes! She'll eat a bite or two. Leave. Come back two minutes, later, and do it again. By the time a few hours have passed, she'll have eaten tons, but none of it will be good for her.

I don't have a particularly huge beef with this. What I do have a beef with is the knife. It'll be covered in peanut butter. And she'll leave it. On my counter. Eew! And she gets upset if we clean it up, because in her mind, it only makes sense to leave it, because inevitably she'll come back and use it again. And thus cleaning it is a futile act, a waste of energy. What she doesn't see is the obvious mess, the blemish on my kitchen. It is quite frankly impossible to keep a kitchen clean when you live with Jackie. I've decided I can handle that, as long as I think of it in similitude of the impossibility of keeping a kitchen clean with children. (Except I do hope my children learn to keep tidy by the time they move out...)

Unfortunately, Jackie doesn't trust my judgment in the slightest, either. She won't listen to me or any advice I may give her. For instance... there is this one guy, Neil, whom I severely dislike and distrust. I tell Jackie exactly what I think about him. But... she keeps going on dates and doing things with him. What she says is that I don't understand, because he's a different person when he's only around her, and when there's a group of people around. I'm not saying I don't believe her. But... I don't. I don't. Jackie doesn't understand people. Well, at one point she told me that she keeps feeling that she needs to stop hanging out with him. I emphatically agree. And then she'll decide, once and for all... no more Neil.

But then! Neil will text, or call, or show up at our door... "Hey Jackie, let's go do something!" And Jackie responds with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" And off she goes. And then she'll disappear for hours and hours, and no one will know where she is. And then she'll come back late at night. Finally, Jackie told Neil she wouldn't date him any more. At all. Maybe Neil is really a good guy, but from what I can tell, he's pulling her strings... "Oh, Jackie, we don't have to date... I respect you... but in the time I've known you, I've become such a better person, and I really just like spending time with you..." etc. I really have no right to have decided this guy is not a good person. I really don't. There is no such empirical evidence to say such a thing. So... Jackie doesn't trust me. Maybe she shouldn't. Maybe I'm just a nutcase.

Maybe I am a nutcase. Last night, Jackie went away around 9 and then didn't come until after 2am... I kept wondering where she was... and finally, Rachelle said, "Oh. Jackie told me not to tell you, but she's with Neil." My heart dropped all the way down to my feet. Now he knows where we live again. And now...

I think the whole point of saying all that was to establish... that now Jackie and I have a big wall between us. I don't confide anything in Jackie. Every time I do, she gives me... a rather condescending look. A sweet, I-care-about-you look, but condescending nonetheless. And what frustrates me is that I'll say something, and she'll completely misinterpret it, and get extremely insulted. And she won't tell me. And so, I can tell she's offended, but she won't tell me what's wrong. Gaah. And she won't confide in me.

This is not a rant about Jackie. I love her dearly. If I wanted to rant, this would be pages and pages and pages long. But I feel I need to establish what the relationship between us is. All I'm saying is that there's a very tall wall between us, that we dance around and pretend is not there. But it is.

That is one roommate. Dearest Jackie Corbitt.

My other roommate, Rachelle Jackson, was in my ward for the last two semesters. She lived in 128, which I believe should have been collectively translated or something. I'm sure the only reason they're all still on Earth is so that the rest of us mere mortals can learn from their examples.

Rachelle and I get along much easier. We are both a tad OCD about cleanth. We are both competent cooks, and we almost immediately discovered that we functioned together nicely while cooking. We like to flip through cookbooks and theorize about cooking some of the goodness we see therein. And we could and would have if we had the ingredients. And when we are cooking together... it is like well-oiled machinery. Immediately when we get to a part in the cooking where only one of us can do the job, one of us unhesitatingly moves to put away used ingredients and clean up messes and dishes we've left behind. And the whole time we'll be talking and talking and talking. I do believe I am quite comfortable with her.

I know Rachelle, but nearly well enough, because I haven't lived with her that long. But... I do believe that I could confide in her. As long as I don't mind the information spreading to a few other people. Which I think is okay with things that I want to tell to everyone, but am comfortable in doing so. Things that I actually need as secrets that no one else will hear though... I still don't know who I'll confide in then. I suppose I could call or email Hillary. But if the situation got bad enough I couldn't ever tell something important over the phone or through an email. Gaah. Oh well. But I can tell Rachelle things, I think. And she tells me things.

I haven't lived with her long enough to be able to give you paragraphs and paragraphs about her. Just that I like her and that she will make the next two months a lot easier for me.

The last roommate I know about is Ingrid. I have had about five minutes interaction with her. But... this is what I know.

She's absolutely gorgeous, like an angel. She has perfect poise, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect style. And her eyes are beautiful. I remember eyes about people... they can tell you a lot about people. You can look in someone's eyes and see how they're feeling. And sometimes, if you're really lucky, you can see what they're thinking. Ingrid was a little aloof and distanced when I met her, but I think she was just a little nervous because she didn't know any of us. Mostly though, she's confident in herself and she has a very friendly demeanor. She kind of glows with happiness and peace, and I get the impression that she has a deep testimony, so I think that maybe she has the potential to become a confidant of mine. I also think that as long as she has her personal space she'll be able to keep her happy, sweet demeanor for the most part. She also has a wonderful laugh.

She's from Park City, so she just drops by about once a day with stuff, and then goes back home. Some time today she'll drop by... permanently.

We may have one more roomie, but we may not. It may just be the four of us.

I've decided that I really like my apartment.

When we moved in at first, my initial project was to set the kitchen in order... of course. I couldn't have any one organizing my domain. The kitchen is Jenna's territory. And oh. I am so pleased with the cupboard space. Cupboards. Everywhere. Which definitely makes it easier to have designated places for things. So Rissa (Rachelle's sister) and I set off to put things away. Except I found nasty surprises in nearly every cupboard. The last tenants obviously didn't know how to clean or organize, or throw away trash. I found cupboard after cupboard full of crud and grime and things that obviously should have made it to the trash. I found a plethora of gross, grimy dishes that I didn't even want to touch. It was even more disgusting than any disgusting pile of dishes I had ever found in 116's excuse of a kitchen. I threw most of them away, only keeping the ones I found left in the dishwasher, which appeared sanitary for the most part. I didn't trust my cleaning skills enough to clean that crud off of the rest of those things. There was the most disgusting dish rack I had ever encountered. There was a pool of stagnant water in the bottom of it, which smelled horrid and seemed to have turned pale yellow with months of bacterial growth or something.

Well, to say the least... I was rather upset. I had no outlet to vent my frustration except to clean and organize, which I was doing frantically. At some point in this process... the doorbell rang. ("We have a doorbell? No way!") I eventually found the landlord outside my kitchen door. He greeted me, explained who he was, and then explained what he was here for. "My wife said that the last tenant left this place filthy. So... if you like we can hire someone to come clean it up for you." Nuh-uh. This is Jenna's kitchen now.

"No. I'll clean it. I've already started anyway."

The landlord looked pensive. Then, "Well, just keep track of how much time you spend cleaning it, so that we can pay you for cleaning it up." With that, he left. And miraculously, my mood changed from just-barely-bridled anger to contentment. I didn't at all mind the idea of being paid to clean up someone else's filthy mess. So I went back to cleaning my kitchen happily. I got all our dishes put away into our cupboards... we now have a medicine cabinet above the oven, and a cookbook and recipe cabinet next to that. We have a spice cupboard, a plate cupboard. A cup cupboard. A bowl cupboard. A shelf devoted to Pyrex items. A shelf devoted to tupperware. A shelf just for mixing bowls. A shelf for Tupperware. A shelf for flower vases (we're girls... we get flowers... the flowers die, and we are left with an assortment of flower vases... I definitely the next guy to bring one of us flowers should forgo the vase and just bring us flowers...). A drawer for utensils and cutlery. A drawer for serving spoons. A drawer for all other utensils. A drawer for rags. A drawer for hot pads and oven mitts. A drawer for rolls of kitcheny things like Saran wrap, aluminum foil, and wax paper. And four humongous cupboards that could be turned into a pantry fit for a queen.

Oh, I could have danced right then. And I did. Only to look down and notice the horrid state my new kitchen floor was in. So... after I swept, I found the oldest mop I'd ever seen and set off to clean that. And then I discovered that my kitchen sink had one of those hose things that you can pull out and spray water anywhere with. I was rather pleased. ("Ooh! I can even rinse off behind the tap when I clean the sink now!") I used that to fill one of our trash cans and I used that as a mop bucket. I mopped happily. Then I cleared the table, cleaned it. Then I scrubbed the counters, since I didn't have any faith that they were actually clean. I scrubbed the happy little windowsill.

And then I looked around at my kitchen. It... was homey now. It was welcoming. It was old-style too. In fact, I might have been glowing right then. My new kitchen definitely had a touch of, "Ooh, look a bunch of girls live here!" That, of course, was okay, since we are all girls. It would even have been all right if it was a manly sort of place. It's okay for a girl to live somewhere that seems masculine. However, it is not okay for a guy to live somewhere girly. Oh, it is good to be a girl.Well, after that I moved on to my new living room. I... have not had a living room for a while. It made me happy. Well, the furniture was all in disarray. And there were boxes and boxes and boxes of Jackie's, Rachelle's, and my stuff all over the place. I sighed. And got to work. I got the feeling that my kitchen-OCD-ness will carry on into the living room.

Then I called Hillary and wished her happy birthday and such. I was quite proud of myself to working up the courage to call someone besides my family. Initiating phone conversations scares me like none other. I know, an irrational fear. But it's so much harder to tell what the other person is saying, and it's even harder to tell what is going on in their heads.

Then our doorbell rang again. Jackie and I answered it to find two men out there. They kind of looked at each other nervously, then proceeded to introduce themselves and ask if we wanted to go see a movie with their big group of people. I considered... I told them I might. Jackie went with them. I... didn't. I don't know what it is about having my home all in disarray, but my self-confidence goes down and my comfort level plummets. I couldn't leave. My house was dirty. And Jenna doesn't do well in big groups of people anyway. Rachelle also left some time later, but with a big group of her high school friends, since one of them was about to leave on his mission.

Now I was alone with the mess. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. At some point, Ryan called me and I talked to him for a while, finding things I could do to clean with one hand. (I suck at holding a phone with my shoulder and neck. I suspect such cursed inflexibility was a result of that blasted surgery. Gaah.) After he hung up, perhaps to call Hillary and wish her happy birthday, I continued my more efficient two-handed cleaning. Then, I went and stood where I could see the whole room. It was a mess, but I needed to know where things were going to end up.

Here I used my imagination. I painted a picture in my mind of the finished room. Hm. The long couch can stay where it is. But I will not have the television on the coffee table. Ooh, there's a desk over there. I shall leave the desk there. And and I'll put the television there. That would be better. And then I can put a printer next to it. Oh, but then you wouldn't be able to see the television from the little couch. Never mind. The little couch looks better where the coffee table currently is. And the little side table will go between the long and little couches, so that it forms a V. Then I can put the keyboard where the little couch is now.

Then I noticed where the electrical outlets were and distressed a little about that... but in the end, I decided my initial plan was better. I moved and moved things until it resembled a real living room. At this point, I was quite exhausted. I should have gone to bed right then. But I didn't. Bad idea. I started thinking about the people I missed. That got the tears going. And then I started thinking about my family, and I lost it. I was up for a few hours after that. I didn't do anything productive. I just thought and thought and thought viciously. It wasn't a good thing to be doing though, because the more I thought, the sadder I got. I finally slept around 2am.

Sunday came, and I woke up to see a beautiful view. I had commandeered the top bunk. And there was a window up there. I had left the blinds open, so I could see everything that was going on as I fell asleep. I like watching people as they go about their lives and they think no one is there to watch them. And so I just laid awake for awhile watching people walk by. I pulled my computer out from under my pillow and turned it on, as I do every morning when I wake up. I didn't have a desk, so I had made my top bunk the place for it. When I'm not sleeping it'll be my desk. When I am, the computer goes under the pillow, and I sleep.

I got up and got ready for church. I didn't feel like prettying myself up. But I did anyway with the encouragement of my roommates, who patiently reminded me that this is the first time the guys in the ward would ever see me. I didn't tell them, but I thought that maybe that meant it was a better idea not to dress up. I have a hard time when guys only talk to you because you're cute.

We marched up to church... which was in the testing center. It was rather bizarre having sacrament meetings in those cursed desks where so many people's lives and grades had been decided.

I met lots of people in a short amount of time. But a few stood out and stayed with the three of us... his name was Michael Smith. RM, like all the other guys in our ward... he'd been back from Albania for six months. He is also kinda good looking... I remember his eyes were blue and friendly and happy, but just a little uncomfortable. Well, this is my impression of Michael. He is rather eager to make friends. I think he can't stand not having anybody. And so now his life is in limbo. So he smiles an awful lot, and throws compliments out like pretzels, hoping lots of people will like him and thus become his friend. He speaks rather loudly too. But... I think he could be a good friend. He'll ask questions, but not because it's the polite thing to do. He seems genuinely interested, and he listens. And he talks fluently and easily, so it is easy to carry a conversation with him, because he'll throw out good questions that you can give real answers to. My guess is that he'll either make lots of friends quickly, or people will think he's obnoxious. I haven't figured out which case it'll be though. But that is my first impression.

Another RM, Kristen, has been back for a month. She went to China. She's quite friendly, and she also, like so many of the people I've met, sort of glows with happiness and peace. She is also quite confident in life and herself. She'll remember your name if you spell it... at least that's my guess since she always asks how you spell your name before she'll remember it. And then, as far as I've been able to tell, once someone has spelled out their name to her, she doesn't forget. I'm Jenna, J-E-N-N-A. Jenna. She knows my name. And Rachelle's, R-A-chelle. And Jackie, with an I-E. I think I could get closer to her if I wanted to. She lives right next door.

After church we all napped like crazy.

Ward prayer was at 9pm in the parking garage underneath one of the neighboring apartment complexes, the Granary. We went down there and I sang alto with Kristen, which earned another compliment from Michael... "Oh, go alto!" And then we went around and introduced ourselves. Then we sang another hymn, with one guy conducting it with his opened pocketknife. Michael says, "Oh man, you're soooo good!" I haven't quite figured out how to respond to Michael's abundance of compliments yet. So I just smiled. They went through announcements. Then we sang happy birthday to someone named Clay. Kristen and I harmonized exactly the same way. We looked at each other and smiled... but Michael didn't seem to notice that Kristen had been harmonizing too, but enthusiastically complimented my harmonizing skills. I smiled again, not sure what to make of the concentrations of compliments on me...

After ward prayer, everyone collectively went to one of the guys' houses. It was an actual house. Big. Nice. And importantly, clean. Rachelle and I found a corner and stayed there, not quite sure what we were doing here. We were going to leave... but then we were noticed. Nearly every guy came and introduced himself to us, and talked to us for about five minutes each. Not a single female soul came and talked to us. Suspicious.

One thing I absolutely hated though, was that when they would find out that Rachelle and I were both pre-med and that I was a neuroscience major... somehow we weren't human girls anymore. Superhuman or something. But not real people. It was worse when one conversation turned into how Jason hated math. And when they found out I loved math... I was even less human. Gah.

I appreciated that Michael still thought that Rachelle and I were still human beings. He even invited us to go watch a movie with him at his place, but then Rachelle doesn't watch anything except for church movies on Sunday, so we declined. Michael was sad, but we said that we wouldn't mind watch the Testaments or something churchy with him next Sunday. He liked that, and then Rachelle and I went home.

We were going to make rolls, but then Rachelle remembered that she had promised Ryan to call him today. She did that. I wandered around aimlessly as she did that, waiting to make rolls. When she was done, we set to making them and talking and talking and talking. We stayed up till about 2am doing such. We also attempted to decide which pie we'd make in May. But they all looked so good. I wanted to make the key lime pie in May and then the chocolate creme pie in June, but Rachelle begged that we do the chocolate first. So that's what we'll do. The grasshopper pie looked tempting too... But we decided on chocolate creme and that's that. Thursday is May, so we have until then to decide.

Well, sorry, that was long, but after all, I am in a new environment. There is so much to describe.

Much love and pancakes,
Jenna!

P.S.
Oh, what joy! I got the B- I was hoping for in physics! Yay! You don't even know how HAPPY I am about that. It was the hardest class BYU has to offer. Most often failed. And... I didn't fail. I got a B-. Yay! And the best thing, I think my poor ego is still all right. I've decided that I don't really need beautiful GPA... it's about learning and not the grades. I learned a lot. And that's all that matters. Okay okay. I'm still mourning the drop in my GPA. And ego is quite bruised. But no tears. I'm okay. I promise. Haha.