Seizures and Love Letters

Guess what, everyone! I leave on Saturday morning, and I am sooo excited. You all really have no idea. (Perhaps you do, but I will always insist that you don't.) My flight to Salt Lake leaves at 9:40am, so if any of you want to see me, you'll probably have to do it by Friday night, because after that, I'm outta here!

So, as always, you can contact me via email (jennamarie.griffin@gmail.com) or Facebook... or, if you love me extra special, you can call me up (602)577-2899 or perhaps send me snail mail: 366 E. 800 N., Provo, UT 84606. I'll be back for a little longer than a week and a half for Christmas break... not too long though. I'm flying in the evening of December 23rd, and then flying back the morning of January 3rd. And after that? I won't be back until the following Christmas. I don't that'll be too much of a problem, since I think I'm pretty good at keeping in touch. :)

Well, still no good stories. But hey, I can tell you a secret. Or, perhaps it isn't really a secret.

I have an involuntary shivering problem.

I'll be minding my own business, and then, like a Frisbee from the middle of nowhere -- it hits me. I shudder, sometimes violently.

Okay, okay, you say. That happens to everybody. But I say, no! It doesn't! Truthfully, most people shiver only when they have a good reason to... like say, it's freezing. Or maybe something creepy just happened. Or maybe someone sneaked up behind you and blew cold breath on your neck. (Oh, if you don't shudder at the thought, something is sooo wrong with you.)

But I shiver often enough and obviously enough to warrant concern.

I'll be sitting on the couch happily, thinking happy thoughts, being perfectly warm, and then -- graaghglghlgghaa! A series of nerves fire and it's a seizuresque shiver.

You know, it doesn't bother me, most of the time. Except --

Sometimes I shiver over and over and over again in a short period of time. When this happens, the muscles around my spine start to ache and I get a little shaky. But that's okay, it doesn't bother me that bad. Although when it happens on dates, he'll look over at me and nervously ask if I'm okay. It usually scares the living daylights out of whoever he is, even if I assure him this is perfectly normal.

Sometimes this happens: I'll have both my hands in front of me, and suddenly those nerves will fire -- and my arms will tense up -- and more nerves will fire -- and -- SMACK! I've clapped quite loudly, and my hands are stinging. And all this, involuntarily. I can only pray this never happens during a funeral. Or when I'm in the same room as a clap-activated bomb. Or when I'm trying to hide from a killer in a dark room with clapper lights. This could be potentially disastrous, no?

My dad is also quite concerned about this shivering phenomenon. He tells me I should see a doctor or something.

I say, Whhhyyy?! It's totally benign. The worst thing that ever become of it is... hm. Annoyance.

Well, he says, the doctor could give you some anti-seizure medication.

Yes, I say, but why would I want to be taking that for the rest of my life? I couldn't think of a good enough reason. Honestly... I can't stand the sight of blood, so we won't have to worry about me slicing a major artery during neurosurgery or anything.

About a month ago, my dad asked me -- Do you ever shiver like that when you're sleeping and wake up?

Naw, I say.

Never? Are you sure? He proceeds to interrogate me, and I answer truthfully. Soon, I realize... well, yes, I have.

See, sometimes, I wake up suddenly in the middle of night scared to death. I feel like either someone has grabbed me by the shoulders and given me a good, hard shake, or like I've fallen from a few feet in the air onto the bed. I used to attribute this to bad dreams which I didn't remember, but were intense enough to trigger a physical reaction... but... honestly, the shivering thing makes more sense.

Well, of course, my dad would be the first to wonder... What if you're cuddling with your husband and you both fall asleep and then you shiver and wake him up!?

Hm. I'd expect that wouldn't be enough to keep him awake for too long... I don't think that's a disaster. Honestly, if I were him I'd be more worried about wifey stealing all the covers. BAHAHA! And I think many normal couples suffer from the blanket-hog syndrome and the subsequent freezing awakeness of the thus coverless spouse, so I doubt a little shiver now and then would damage our relationship much.

So, all I can say about the shivers is... the condition is much too benign to worry about. Unless that clap thing happens in close proximity to my significant other's face... then I might slap him pretty hard without meaning to. That could damage our relationship much, ya?

Besides. It is obviously a neurological condition. And -- guess what. I happen to be studying neuroscience. What better field than that to have at your disposal if benign ever turns to malevolent. But for now, I feel no need to see a neurologist so I can get anti-seizure medication. All that would really do... is poison my liver. On the other hand... shivers aren't shortening my lifespan much, so I shan't worry about them.

Now for a secret missionary fan club update.

In other news... Clifton... er, Elder Dudley, has recently been stuck in the MTC due to Visa problems. He's supposed to go to the Mexico Monterrey East Mission. Well, he's not in the MTC anymore -- he's been temporarily assigned to labor in the Salt Lake City South Mission. Which I don't mind so much, because that means any letters he sends will still reach me relatively quickly, whereas if he were sending me something from Mexico, I'd probably have to wait for a long time. He sent me a picture of him and a few of his missionary buddies mimicking the Abbey Road cover in the MTC crosswalk. Genius. I shall have to frame it.

Will... er, Elder Budge, is still in the MTC, but he's leaving for Argentina on Monday. Excitement! In less exciting news, some of the other elders in his district... got scavies, and the hermanas in his district... have milk-chugging contests. Mostly he just wants out of the MTC.

And Ryan... er, Elder Strong... has been in Australia for a while. However, I finally got a letter from him. He wrote it almost a month ago, on that eternally long flight from San Francisco to Sydney. He read all ten letters within the first thirteen hours of that flight (in between Preach My Gospel and the Doctrine and Covenants, he assures me). Yikes... that must have been a rather boring flight. :D Thank goodness for email though. His mom forwards emails to me and his other BYU friends. I can tell you that he doesn't like Vegemite; he says it tastes like someone broke a bunch of pens and spread the inky stuff all over his toast. His companion kind of freaked him out at first because he says "I love you" to everyone and their dog, even when they get flicked off. And, most recently, he's pretty much waay excited about preaching the gospel. He loves it, and I'm pretty much jealous that I'm not serving a mission right now.

What else can I tell you?! Hm...

How about Elder Jolley? I can tell you about him. You don't know who he is. Neither do I really. I only recently found out that his first name was Joshua. Before that, for lack of a first name, I called him Oscar. Well, Elder Joshua Jolley is a good story.

I have mentioned my roommate, Rachel, but I don't remember how well I've described her to you. She is rather short. And squirrel-like, definitely, squirrel-like. She makes bizarre noises, and is usually laughing hilariously at something. She often fantasizes about the perfect man -- tall, dark, and ominous (T.O.D.) and preferably a bass or baritone who enjoys serenading. She has a goal to beat the height differential between her parents when she finds her one true love, and her ideal courtship probably involves numerous food fights and contests to see who can make me spray hot cocoa out my nose the farthest. If any of you are Facebook friends with me, look at my videos. There's one entitle, Territorial Dispute. This is Rachel and I fighting over a pillow. Vicious. Like spider monkeys, vicious.

Rachel has a high school friend named Elder Ben Poulsen, currently serving a mission in the Big Apple. Prior to his departure, I talked to him on the phone twice, and met him once (at his farewell). Rachel, Hillary, and I, the terrible trio, wrote him collective letters last semester... Actually, I remember one letter in particular where we all got lipsticks of different colors and kissed the envelope. And then mailed it away, hoping to freak out a few mailmen, Elder Poulsen, and his companion.

Well, at some point during the summer, Elder Poulsen got a companion named Elder Jolley. Rachel was still writing Elder Poulsen, of course. Letters which no doubt were full of random expressions like, "Look! Flaming phoenix squirrels!" "We'll blow up the ocean!" "Hillary and Jenna are Irishmen and I'm an Irishwoman!" "I got Jenna to spray hot cocoa out her nose, all over the kitchen!" "Wakakakakakaaa..."

So...

Rachel phones me and tells me a tale. She's been receiving love letters from Elder Jolley... and some of these letters referred to a future time when they'd be married.

I demand that she tell me everything she knows about him. Everything. Well, she doesn't know what his first name is. Or where he's from. Or anything. All she knows is what Elder Poulsen has told her. And all Elder Poulsen has told her is that the mysterious Elder Jolley takes his pants off at the dinner table. Awkward, yes, but upon reflection... if there exists a girl for a guy like this, it's a girl like Rachel. And at this point I understand why Elder Jolley is sending Rachel love letters.

Rachel was a little freaked out by her not-so-secret admirer, so she sent back an enormous packet -- an "Application to Write Rachel", which also demanded an audition tape and two sources.

I obtain Elder Poulsen's address from Hillary, and send a letter. Demanding to know who Elder Jolley is. And, I add, in lieu of Johnny Lingo, that Rachel is definitely not an eight-cow woman. It's two dragons, or no deal, since I want a dragon and Hillary will want a dragon as well.

I get two letters back... one from Elder Poulsen, who was rather thrilled at getting a letter. He also asked if he might be eligible to win our marriage pan (an entirely different story, which I may tell later) and told me to warn Rachel about Elder Jolley's audition tape.

The other letter was from Elder Jolley. He informed me that his name was not Oscar, but that it was Joshua. He continued to inform me that he was wondering how he was going to get into Rachel's inner circle of friends, but that by writing his companion, I had provided him with a great opportunity. He proceeded to beg me to be his co-conspirator. And he wanted to know what sort of dragon I wanted.

Well, I was tempted to reply back that I would certainly be his co-conspirator. However, upon further thought, I decided that I ought to inquire more about the position before accepting it. Especially after what Rachel said about the package she received from said Elder Jolley. He had filled out the entire application... and provided an audtion tape, where he read the entire book of Deuteronomy. (Holy crap.) She told me he was not eligible to marry her because his voice wasn't deep enough (tenor) and he was a mere six feet tall (too short...). He also didn't seem to be quite ominous enough -- he's mostly just a clown. So sad. They seemed rather perfect for each other. Well, that is it for comical stories for now. Toodaloo!

[Lack of] Adventures in Chandler?

Yes, the emails have stopped for now. People have kind of been asking for "Adventures in Chandler" and that sort of thing... but...

Well, the truth of the matter now is...

Nothing of interest is really going on with me. Life is boring, usually. I have been to church three times down here. I have gone to see Prince Caspian and Wall-E with the Burchfields. But besides that, there isn't a great deal of excitement going on around here.

I have been writing a lot of letters though. I suppose I could tell you about that since a few of you have been asking about my missionary friends.

Yesterday I sent away a few boxes of snickerdoodles to my friends in the MTC... a box to my rather clingy friend Elder Will Budge (Argentina Mendoza Mission, departing the MTC 08/18), a box to my little brother Elder Clifton Dudley (Mexico Monterrey East Mission, departing 08/04), and (of course) a slightly bigger box to my very good friend Elder Ryan Strong (Australia Adelaide Mission, departing 07/14). My son, not-yet-Elder Alex Compton, has not entered the MTC yet, but he will in September. His initial assignment? The Singapore Mission. I am writing quite a few of my other friends too, but I think those are the only ones you might remember.

I get the most letters from my little brother, of course. He has been in the MTC the longest, and before he left, I made him promise something to me... that no matter how busy he ever got as a missionary, that he would write back, at least a few lines (even if it was just, 'Querida mi hermana mayor, I'm alive and the gospel is still true! Love, Elder Dudley!').

So he has. I have gotten a few letters that are extremely short, and some that are decent in length. I am happy to get them all. The other day he even sent me a picture. I can't wait to get back to my little apartment in Provo, and get myself a spiffy picture frame. And then I will put it on the wall for Rachel, Hillary, and I to admire every day. I have sent him two boxes of cookies so far.

His mother also posts his letters on a website for all of his friends to read while he is away, along with other pictures. It is very useful. It even has a nifty countdown on it. Right now it says, "Your missionary returns in 721 days." But I'm not really going to pay attention to that. I wouldn't put it past my Clifton to extend.

Elder Strong has only been in the MTC for about a week and a half, but he has less than a week before he starts the journey to Australia. It is for this reason that he got a slightly bigger box of cookies -- I just don't have the money to send him cookies once he is in Australia (except perhaps for Christmas or his birthday). And besides, I put a few other things in his box. Napkins, duh. Ten letters. And a note of explanation.

Yes, ten letters. Let me explain, perhaps, because that would involve a story I could tell. Perhaps this email won't be quite so boring.

Actually, Ryan and I have been writing each other since long before he left. It started on my birthday. He sent me a letter, and I sent him a letter back, etc, etc, etc, until he went into the MTC. And somehow, mine were always two pages, front and back, handwritten, complete with doodles and drawings.

Apparently he liked them. While on the phone the night before entering the MTC, he said in his excited voice, "Ooh! Jenna!"

"...Yeah?"

"You should send me ten letters." And in a half-joking tone, "All on the same day!"

Incredulous, I responded, "On the same day! That would kill me! You know how long my letters are!"

"Hm..." he said seriously.

"That would be... twenty pages! And not to mention, ten stamps."

"Well... you could write one really, really, really looong one and then split it into ten little ones," he suggested.

I laughed (probably what he was trying to make me do the whole time). "Okay, okay..."

"Ten letters all at once, then," he said, more seriously, but still with a definite joking tone to it. As far as I can tell, this sort of tone means he isn't really joking and that he is very serious about it.

The last time I heard that tone of voice, he wanted me to make a Swedish fish pie... We were on the phone, and he was lamenting about how we couldn't make a Swedish fish pie. Well, I said. You could. Swedish fish in Jell-O in a pie crust so you could see them swimming around, and you could fashion the pie crust out of crushed graham crackers, or even better, crushed Teddy Grahams. I reminded him that it wouldbe purely decorative, and that neither Rachelle nor I would be too excited to eat it. Not when we could make a chocolate creme pie.

"You should still make a Swedish fish pie," he said in that strange serious-joking tone.

Needless to say... I didn't. Well, after that, he showed us up and made his own Swedish fish pie, using my idea exactly. He documented the whole process with pictures for proof that he really did.

As far as I could tell, Ryan really did want ten letters all on the same day, but I don't think I'll ever know if he was actually expecting to get them. To tell the truth, I was kind of afraid of what sort of silly antics he might pull if I neglected his ridiculous request.

So I started to write a really, really, really looong letter. And I finished it. And I couldn't bear to write any more or less than two pages, front and back, handwritten. Quite problematic, especially since that sort of letter is hard to split up into ten smaller ones.

What to do? Ten real Jenna-letters would take a long time to read. Missionaries don't have (or aren't supposed to have) that sort of time.

Well, there aren't a great many things to do to entertain myself with around here. Ten real Jenna-letters. I could do that. So I decided I would write him ten two-page letters. And then it occurred to me that Ryan was in for a very, very long journey to Australia. I then wrote the letters with the intent that he would read them during that very, very long journey.

So that's how it happened. I wrote ten two page, front and back, handwritten letters, complete with (sometimes comparatively exquisite) artwork. (My sisters were also in awe at how small I was writing.) Twenty pages might seem like a lot to you, but believe me -- after surviving IB? It was nothing. Well, not nothing. It took me a loooong time. A whole week and a half, because each letter took (on average) three hours. One took me five hours. But it wasn't difficult, and it gave me a goal, and something to do.

Once done with all ten, it was of course more cost efficient to stuff them in a box with a load of snickerdoodles and send them away. I explained to him when he was allowed to read them (not until he was travelling) and I assured him that it would never happen again (I have to explain that or else he'll ask for twenty next time). I'm sure he'll have plenty of time to read them on the way to Adelaide... In an email forwarded from his mother this morning, he said, "The journey is so long and far that it'll start on the 14th and end on the 16th. I'm leaving the Salt Lake airport and flying to San Francisco, then waiting for five hours, then flying for twenty hours to Sydney, Australia, then waiting for five hours more, then flying all the way to Adelaide, Australia." How long and boring could that be? Hopefully he runs into lots of interested people so that he can tell them about the Gospel and give them pass-along cards and such. If he doesn't, it could make for a very long and boring trip. Especially if he is one of those people who can't sleep on planes. (I hope for his sake that he can.)

Well, I suppose that is all. I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled on the 17th. Eew. I hope to spend the last few days with a full set of teeth eating all my favorite foods. And maybe I'll write loopy letters to my missionaries after I get them pulled. I have a loopy letter from Ryan that he wrote after his were pulled. It is only fair that he gets one too... I also have a little cavity that they'll be filling. I'm rather bummed about that; I haven't had a cavity before.

I hope to maybe make a pie in the next week or so... it's time for July pie! I'm not sure what sort of pie I'll make though. Just for the record, so far here is the progress on our thirty pies:
1. Apr '08: cherry pie
2. May '08: chocolate creme pie x 2, lemon meringue pie
3. Jun '08: banana creme pie
4. Jul '08: we shall see...
After this month, a whole row on the pie chart Ryan made will be full. We didn't have much to do in May, can you tell?

My sister Becca starts color guard tomorrow. Whoot!

And... besides that, I think there is no more news.

I don't believe I will post again until I am back at BYU, come August 16th. Sorry to disappoint.

Help me.

Tonight we had a session of Stake Conference. Only Hillary and I were home, so we got dressed and started to head on over. I was quite pleased when we got to a traffic light just as it turned green. "Ah! Perfect timing!" I exclaim.

But then, the unthinkable. Will approaches. My stomach drops through the bottoms of my feet, and I groan. "Oh. Never mind. Definitely NOT perfect timing."

So here comes a confession... I really just cannot stand Will. Even though I'm trying not to, I'm sure at some point I may mention things about him I don't like, but I will probably exaggerate because they happen to be my pet peeves. He's really not that bad. I just... don't like him. Forgive me.

Please don't let Will notice us. Please don't let Will notice us. Please, please, please, please let him not notice me... Maybe if I ignore him and don't say anything he won't see or hear or notice I exist....

"Hey, Jenna." Aw, crap.

"Hi Will," I say weakly. I elect not to say anything extravagant and just... be as terse as possible. I really have a hard time with conversations with Will... They're all the same: "Hey Jenna" "Hi Will" "How are you" "Manamana blah blah blah" "Oh that's good..." At which point he always starts talking about incredibly depressed he is, how much he wishes he had a girlfriend, reminiscing about his first kiss and how much he enjoys making out, how he just can't forgive someone for insulting his friend even though he's never met them, and how excited he is about his mission -- doesn't matter what topic it is, as long as he is the center of it.

"How are you today, Jenna?"

Ay caramba. "Not as happy as I could be." That, at least, was the truth.

"Oh... that's too bad. Do you want a hug?"

My soul recoiled. I manage to keep my physical self steady. "No, no, I'm okay..."

And then he launched into an incredibly boring about something, surely involving himself. For someone so depressed, he certainly loves himself a lot. In fact, I would recommend never trying to pick an argument with Will. He is always so incredibly convinced he is right. Since he is always complaining about being depressed, sometimes I attempt to give him advice. But... here's inevitably what happens... he makes up some ridiculous excuse about how that doesn't apply to him in the slightest. And then he goes on about how depressed he is. It's like he secretly enjoys being depressed because it's an excuse for him to become the center of attention, even if it is pity attention.

Hillary and I walk over to the Wilk, hoping to lose him. Oh dang it. He's following.

I whisper to Hillary that we could go through the doors behind the Cougareat, almost no one ever uses those... but Will had the same idea. He was a little ahead of us at this point. He announces, "This way!"

I grab Hillary... and go the other way with the rest of the group. Aha, here is a weakness of his. He can't admit being wrong, and he never backs down when no one agrees with him. He continues on in his announced chosen path, looking wistfully at me. Hillary and I rush to get out and as far away from the last location of our Will encounter, and...

Ah, crap. There he is... The rest of the group starts going down the stairs... and he joins the group again. I grab Hillary... and instead of taking the stairs, I turn right.

We are breathing heavily. Maybe we lost him. I look to my left, down the slope. And there was Will. He had separated from the group and was now walking alone and walking quickly in order to catch up with us. "Hillary! Walk slower! Much slower!"

Will keeps going. We walk slowly. But not slowly enough. Before we get to the place where our paths would have crossed, Hillary pulled out her phone. We stopped as she fiddled with it. "Who's called you?" I hiss.

"No one," she hissed.

Comprehension... Aha. "Ah, I see. Hillary, you're a genius." She fiddles with the phone until Will is far ahead of us. And then we continue in our journey. We walk slowly, hoping to put as much distance between us as was possible.

We finally show up to the JSB. We walk in carefully. Scan the room. No sign of him. We therefore assume that he had found a seat in the huge mass of people. Looking around again cautiously, we carefully pick a spot near the door. We no sooner sit down, when...

"Hey! Do you mind if I sit next to you?" I think I paled, and perhaps started trembling. Through clenched teeth, Hillary muttered, "Yeah..."

The stupid thing about starting something with "do you mind" is that an affirmative answer means saying "no" and a negative answer means saying "yes"... so of course there is room to interpret a "yeah" as "yeah, go ahead and sit here!"

And that is what he did. He smugly took his spot and proceeded into his usual self-centered talk. He then proceeded to brag all about how he got himself a Spanish set of scriptures and a hymnbook. I'm not sure what bothered me about this... by all accounts it was a perfectly innocent thing to do... maybe I imagined it just because I don't like him, but it seemed that it was the sort of action he'd do just so he could say, "Look at me. I'm going on a mission. I'm going to rub it in your face. Look how good I am."

Hillary and I ignored him through the meeting, terrified that he would launch into another intensely awkward descriptive narrative of this one time he made out... And as soon as it was over, we bolted out the door. Ran home. Locked the doors behind us. And finally just breathed.

A Bishop's Challenge.

Ward prayer every Sunday night is usually rather uneventful... It's kind of like family prayer (since none our of individual families live on campus) except... larger. But... this time the Bishop got up in front of us all and started to speak.

"Uhh... well, this announcement is for the brethren, and I was going to say something in Elder's Quorum earlier... and I'm sorry, but I forgot!" Bishop Madsen then proceeded to scratch his head a little... He put his hand in his pockets. "Have I issued a challenge before?"

In unison almost, the ward answered, "No."

He chuckled a little, "Oh, I've been too nice."

The guys kind of looked around at each other nervously.

"Well, I'm going to issue a challenge to the brethren of our ward: that you each go on at least one date a week until the end of the semester!"

Noise erupted in the tiny lobby in which all 180 of us were packed into. Of the guys whose faces I could see, about half looked delighted... the other half looked terrified. All the girls I could see were celebrating loudly (as was I). My FHE son, Alex, looked as if he had just turned to stone. This was not just terror... this was absolute panic. I was standing next to Ian. He had his face buried in his hands. "Oh, no. Oh, no no no... I'm going to be broke... I can't do this... I'm doomed to be poor..." "Ian! You don't have to make yourself poor to go on dates!" Ryan, who was a little bit ahead of me, turned around and laughed, "Shall we tell them about the Madsen Recital Hall?" (There are free musical recitals practically every night at 7:30 there). He looked fine, since he already goes on anywhere from one to three dates a week anyway.

It was then time to say prayer, and we collectively got down on our knees for it. When we all opened our eyes again, I could see that the majority of the guys around had just lost a family member, and all the girls looked like they had just won the lottery or something grand.

I'm not sure if I imagined it or not, but I could have sworn that one of the guys was on the verge of hyperventilating or something as I was leaving... Many guys begged us for ideas on the spot.

Come Monday morning, we awoke to find a note all taped up on our doors, saying something like the following... "We need fun and inexpensive date ideas... please write some on the back of this paper and deposit in the main Shipp fireplace..." This seemed incredibly funny to us, since the anonymous writer(s) obviously wanted to not be found out. However, while they had bothered to type the note, it seemed that as an afterthought it might be a good idea to label which girl's room this paper would be returning from... So, written in clumsy handwriting was our address, "126 Robison"... My roommates joked about comparing handwritings to find out whose it was. I joked with them, but kept my mouth shut... (Let's just say I knew whose it was... and I'm sure you can guess whose it was as well...)

Within ten minutes, we had typed up a two-column page in ten-point font of really random date ideas, including: mud football, blindfolded cake decorating with spatulas, finger-painting except with toes, nightcrawler hunting, making Wanted posters of each other, dollar theatre, board game night, gerbil bathing (yeah... what is up with that?), ghosting, three-legged basketball, pirate ship balcony commandeering (group date), Irish dancing, ice-cream sculpting, hide-and-go-seek, dancing in random department stores, bowling in formal dress, coloring books and ice cream, etc.

We then printed it out, stapled it to the ridiculously tiny piece of paper our mystery friends had provided for us, and inconspicuously delivered it to the men's fireplace. Strange spot for a drop-off.

Well, none of us have been asked on dates yet, but it's only Tuesday. However, we have positively identified at least a few of the culprits. This morning the University Chorale got to sing in devotional. Will, Ryan, Dallin, and I are all in this group... So... we all headed down
to the Marriott Center for devotional. Ryan and Will, being guys of small stature, ended up near the front. However, Dallin (of large stature) and I (quite tall in heels) ended up in the very last row... next to each other.

Before the devotional started, Dallin called his grandparents to tell them to watch the devotional on BYUTV, since they would be home when it was showing. He also added that his roommates and he had build a mini-golf course in their lobby last night for dates tonight, and needed an extra putter.

"A mini-golf course! That's amazing!"

Dallin nods.

"No, it really it is! See, you guys don't need help coming up with ideas!"

Dallin blinked at me. "What makes you think that was us?"

... What makes me think what was... "Wait... what?" Oh. Aha... "Oh, that. No, no, no... most of the guys I've talked to since Sunday have complained about not being able to think of date ideas..."

Dallin realized too late that hadn't been what I was trying to say.

We fell silent. Then... "Was that you?" It would be nice to know for sure it was them... since, after all, I had recognized Ryan's handwriting... and Dallin and Ryan were roomies. But it would be nice for the guys to feel like it actually had been a secret.

Dallin had the most horrified look on his face... like he had just accidentally betrayed top secret information to the enemy during a time of war. "Uhhh... Never mind... Just... never mind..."

And then we sang. But Dallin seemed rather uncomfortable for the next hour. I think the poor guy was trying to figure out how he was going to explain to his roommates how the secret had leaked out.

Shrink Duty.

This week has been splendid. Entirely. Every night I got enough sleep... and I'd gotten all my homework done with relatively no stress. The to-do list in my head was rather small... which all in all resulted in a happy Jenna.

I even sang well in choir. In fact, I think I got the piece that we would be performing in devotional next week completely memorized. Yay! So, of course, I walked out of choir smiling with a skip in my step.

Ryan kind of snuck up behind me and just silently walked beside me. He didn't even say hello. I looked over at him. "Hello!" He smiled. I started to wonder if he was all right... he seemed tired, or stressed, or depressed, or something... But since I couldn't figure it out within two seconds, I asked, "How are you?"

He said he was okay. I'm not sure if I believed him or not. We walked for a little, and then just when he seemed like he was going to talk...

"Jenna!" Will viciously cut in, oblivious to anything in the world except himself and Jenna Griffin.

"What?"

Will took the place on my other side. He has a tendency to make everything about him, so it wouldn't do for him to be on the same side as Ryan. No, no, we have to completely absorb Jenna's attention.

"I'm happy!" Well, that was a change... usually he was the most depressed person within a ten-mile radius. But it was sort of expected... he had just gotten his mission call (to Mendoza, Argentina). I patiently listen to Will... and Ryan slinks away. Will continues to talk, and it gets more and more awkward (he was more happy because he had talked to his first girlfriend, and then he started telling me all about the circumstances of his first kiss, and...)

I am about to cut in and tell him I need to get to class... "Well, I'll let you get to biology..."

"Okay..." How do you know my class schedule? This isn't something I openly tell Will about. Stalker.

Well, my biology professor didn't show up... and I didn't particularly mind, because my mind was occupied and class probably wouldn't have done much good for me anyway. I couldn't help wondering if Ryan was okay. I hadn't seen him in two days, and he seemed rather bothered by something.

I went home. Pulled out my pen and paper, and proceeded to write him a little note to see if he was okay. I then ran over to Shipp Hall and slipped it under his door.

Then I went home again. Where I totally cleaned my kitchen... then my room... then my hallways... then my bedding... then my laundry... and then... I walked out of my front door and noticed a sharp smell of permanent marker. I followed my nose and discovered a note taped up by my door... and yes, in permanent marker. I smelled it before I saw it. It was in Ryan's clumsy writing. He said was okay. Liar.

I went back in my room to see messages from both Ryan and Will on my computer. Ryan was just informing me that there was a note outside my door. Will... well, I can't sign onto instant messenger without fear (usually fulfilled) that Will may start talking to me within thirty seconds. I started talking to both of them... and then Ryan wanted to come over.
He did, but then we just went to my neighbor's place.... Cherish, Ryan, and I (mostly Cherish and I) talked about random things for about an hour and a half. Then Cherish and her roommates left to go see a movie.

I was hungry, so I went back to my apartment to scavenge for food. Ryan followed me. And... there wasn't much. Somehow, my other roommates had run out of meal plan money, and I had to pay for most of the food this week... and so we only that the most basic foodstuffs imaginable... and then I was out of money too.

Checking my refrigerator and my cupboards for food, and hearing my stomach growling angrily, all I saw that wouldn't take much time to prepare was... pasta. All right. What can I have with plain pasta?

Ryan is lying on my couch rather dejectedly. I pull the chair over to the cupboard so that I can search better. Aha! In the back, a can of tomato sauce! And... three cloves of garlic on this shelf... and over there, I'm sure we have Italian seasoning... I check the fridge for ground beef, but we are out. Oh well. Meatless sauce is better than no sauce.

"Have you eaten yet? I'm making spaghetti."

"Uh... I've snacked..."

"No dinner?"

"Well, no..."

"Ryan. Do. You. Want. Dinner."

"Uhh... sure..."

"Okay! Sorry about not having any meat..." I get the noodles going. And then just as I'm about to start the sauce... Wait a minute.

"Do you know how to make spaghetti sauce?"

He blinked at me. "No..."

I pulled him over to the stove. "You're going to make the sauce." I decided I wasn't even going to touch any of the ingredient for the sauce anymore. I had already poured the tomato sauce in the pan, but the rest I could just tell him how to do...

I told him how to peel a clove of garlic, and then I pulled out a garlic press. "What's that?" "A garlic press... To crush the garlic with..." "Oh... it's meant for garlic?" "Yep." "I always just used to play with peanut butter with those..."

I told him to put the garlic inside and then crush it. He looked down at the garlic press, and then at me. "Will it hurt it?" "No..." "Oh... will it hurt me?" "No... But it might hurt the garlic..." He opened the garlic press, apologized to the garlic, closed it again, and then squeezed. I gave him the knife so he could scrape the garlic into the pan. Then I pulled out the Italian seasoning. We crushed that, and then put it in. We put the sauce on low heat and then let it simmer until the noodles were done.

I served it, he blessed it, and we ate it. And then Ryan started to talk. And talk. And talk some more. I sat and I listened, occasionally giving input and advice... I realized that I had been right about him not being okay earlier... I don't know if he had realized it though. By the time Ryan had finished talking, it was past 1 am. I pretty much got to be his shrink... I think he's better now though. Five hours of listening made me really tired, but five hours of talking made him more awake than he had been all day. When he finally left, I went to bed and pretty much passed out.

Dodging Boys and Spinning Plates.

Have you ever seen one those variety show guys who spin plates? They go to catch one plate, and a plate on the other side starts to fall... so the plate-spinner runs over to catch that one... another falls... It's an amazing feat if the guy can keep all the plates spinning. I have come to connect with this poor guy. Constantly catching falling plates. It's like my life!

Anyway. Right now is the time where I attempt to juggle all my classes... all my papers... all my midterms... all my finals... all my dates... all my life...

Well, school is the boring part of my life right now. On to what might be considered interesting aspects of my life.

It seems I have become a victim of the attention of quite a few guys. I happen to not mind that Ryan likes me, because he's pretty much just as content as I am to just be friends... who happen to go on dates... every once in a while. Unfortunately, not all the guys around here conveniently don't want girlfriends before their missions like Ryan... take Will for instance. Will is one of those guys who is absolutely determined to get a girlfriend, and I seem to be his current target. Cue the sigh of despair.

I went on a date with him last Friday. Mostly I said yes because of what we were doing... Ok, so he got me at the words "Christmas concert"... The choirs and orchestras were spectacular, really. Especially those basses... Anyway.

Will certainly knows how to make a perfectly nice friendship go awkward. He gets depressed a lot... and then the first thing he thinks (and says aloud because he can't seem to differentiate between thought and the spoken word) is that he needs a girlfriend. And that his life would be magically wonderful if he had one. I always respond to this strange theory of his with hysterical laughter. Then I always make sure to tell him how ridiculous it is and lay down like concrete the fact that I don't have a boyfriend (and don't want one) and I'm perfectly happy. Sadly, this is the part where he tries to butt in, tell me I'm wrong, and that I'd probably enjoy having a boyfriend because he loves having a girlfriend. Ha. Ha. It was an amusing conversation the first time.

Will certainly knows how to make perfectly nice small talk awkward. At one point I informed him it was supposed to snow anywhere up to a foot the next weekend... he comments, with a rather sly note in his voice, that it's definitely cuddle weather... and that he didn't have anyone to cuddle with. Ugh. I respond with laughter (what else was I supposed to say?).

Will certainly knows how to make an innocent knock at the door scare the living daylights out of me. I was innocently cutting open a roll for a mini-sandwich when there came a particularly loud knock at the door. All of us ignore it... we don't really care who it is... we're pretty much stressed out of our minds... The mysterious visitor knocks again, this time more urgently and desperately. Jackie opens the door. From the kitchen, I hear Will's voice sounding off a rehearsed-sounding speech about how it's nearing finals and thus he is giving away free hugs and if anyone here wanted a hug.

Now see, I am pretty much famous in the ward for hugging everyone at the slightest excuse... I am well-known as the hug-lover. (In fact, as a silly side story, I was so tired the other day that I walked past my guy-friends Erik and Ryan without seeing them. Erik called out to me and asked if I was okay... I say I'm just tired, which was an understatement. Erik then asks if I'd like a hug... well, of course I did! I gave Erik a hug/ Erik gave me a hug while we were both walking, which proved difficult because he's so much taller than I am. It turned out to be the funniest hug I'd ever had. Immediately thereafter Ryan complains about not getting a hug, so I gave him a walk-hug too. Will was behind us somewhere watching...).

Back to the story, forgive me for the sidetrack. Well, Hillary bolts into the kitchen. I have told her all my suspicions about Will, and she pretty much... well, she feels sorry for me. She whispers to me urgently, "Jenna! We have to get you out of here!" She shoves me out into the twenty degree cold with knife and roll in hand without a sweater or jacket of any sort as I hear Will asking, "Is... is there... any one else here that needs a hug?" The door shuts and I am suddenly a very cold hobo with enough food for half a meal. I realize I have no keys either. I looked around at the snow... watched my breath for a while... watched the fog in the window... It was very uneventful. Then, Hillary suddenly pulled me back inside. We all looked at each other for a second... then Jackie and Hillary burst into laughter.

They launched into a narrative of Will's visit...they mentioned several times that he actually came into the apartment and looked into my bedroom to make sure I wasn't there. I wasn't sure I liked the drama that was happening, but I figure that's what I get for living with five other girls.

So, I'll be home late on Friday, December 21! I can't wait to see you all, and we should definitely hang out! :)

Oh dear.

I'm a busy girl.
Yesterday I took two midterms and did a lab... today... I took another midterm.

I also got my first paycheck yesterday! It was about two hundred dollars. I bought myself a BYU sweatshirt... because it's darn cold up here. Today it's raining. A lot.

Tonight I get to go to the General Relief Society thingy... Shweet.

Well, about last week.

Monday! Ahh!
So I went to work, then to all my classes, and then I came home and watched Oklahoma!... which I borrowed from Ryan. Then I set off to make cookies... Oh!
I'm pretty sure I haven't emailed off the witty cookie piece I wrote Monday night. I posted it on Facebook, but I don't think I emailed it off. So... here's that. Viva copy and paste!

----------------

Cookies: An Epic Tale
I Am NOT Having Eight Children: A Rant from Someone Who Likes Things Just So

Disclaimer: I am not incriminating anyone in my FHE group at all… in fact, I love them all bunches. I need to vent out my frustrations… which I like to do in comical prose. I may have exaggerated a few details as per artistic license.

Ok… so… we had our first family home evening group thingy where I, Momma Jenna, was in charge. Oy, that was a HASSLE. So, I figured I'd make cookies for random people in our ward, right? And then have a batch for us to eat? (That's what everyone wanted to do... but no one wanted to be in charge of it... go figure). Theoretically, that would have worked. Except I figured that everyone wouldn't be able to keep their paws off of my cookie dough. So I more than doubled the amount of cookies I'd make. In my head this made perfect sense and might even solve some problems.

I started making dough at three after watching Oklahoma!… and here's where the problem comes in. My roommates (especially Jackie) seem to have a sixth sense that knows when sweets are being made. They also all seem to be addicted to raw cookie dough. They were eating dough all the while I was attempting to mix a HUMONGOUS quadruple batch… And I am wondering if the cookie-ingredient proportions were at all what they should be, because as I mixed it together, it disappeared.

It was once perfect cookie dough.

So of course I made a humongous mess mixing together cookies in such titanic proportions. Thankfully Rachel did some dishes, but really I was left to scour the kitchen alone, all the while thinking, "Oh man… I have history reading I should be doing…"

Somehow our kitchen got clean. And then the boys came.

Hands immediately reach into the cookie dough I spent forever making… Oooh, I am sooo mad. I karate kick Clifton, my little brother, in the chest, but gently, and really only with my toe. He doesn't seem to get the message. He swipes some more later, and that is when I drag him outside and lock him out. Unfortunately, Rochelle and Ashley happen to feel merciful at the time, and let him back in almost immediately.

I don't know how many times I explained that the pre-made cookie dough (my sweat, blood, and tears!) was for people in our ward and was off-limits for eating. Alex and Jon were mostly the only ones actually mixing together our cookie dough (which I yelled many times was free-reign for eating... but no one seemed to comprehend that there was a batch of cookie dough I'd let them eat). I'm sorry to complain, but I confess I wasn't quite happy with the consistency of the batch the boys made and was glad that was the batch we were keeping and not giving away.

Oh, but what I really couldn't stand was all the bickering and roaring laughter (I don't mind laughter, it's when I can't hear my own thoughts that it becomes a problem) and mean jokes and funny snapshots… it would have been fun… IF I wasn't trying to make cookies at the time. See, cooking and baking is like... my zen-mode, second only to church... (How else do I get cooking inspiration???) Most of the time I am perfectly willing to step out and initiate silliness and chaos… but I need order. I know there are certain times where you sit down and have a serious (or more serious-than-usual, as is the case with me) face... which for me is in the kitchen.

We colored paper plates with random holiday greetings (and I mean REALLY random)… signed them, put a dozen cookies on each plate, and then went cookie caroling to random dorms in our ward (we tried to give half to people we knew and half we didn't).

In total we made enough dough to theoretically cork out twelve dozen cookies. (I made two thirds of it myself.) We only made five-dozen cookies. All the rest of the dough had already been eaten. So now… here I am, left with a derelict kitchen, up way past my bedtime, and a little too frustrated to sleep… although a thank you letter from Ryan did help (thanks by the way… I really appreciated that!).

If I go to bed now, I shall get five hours of sleep… Oh, the incredulities!!!

I think I am quite feeling back to my silly ol' self. Not that that helps any… it's hard to sleep when you feel like dancing.

♥Jenna

P.S. The JFSB is always neat and tidy. I think I can completely destress there tomorrow morning... neat... and tidy... while rockin' out to Batman of course!

--------

So... that was Monday. Tuesday was very full and no exactly exciting.

Wednesday and Thursday I went to tutor at a nearby elementary school. Me 'n' Elsa (the girl I tutor) are already friends. So... here is about when I dash off to a study group... Well, actually I have another Facebook entry on this experience... But... I think in order to keep this email within tolerable lengths, I shall summarize it.

I forgot about tutoring and completely scheduled something in that time slot... a study group with Ryan, Dallin, Will, Roy, Mindy, Liz, and Claire. I had everything planned... and was falling asleep happily on my bed, when...

BAM!!! My forehead hits the shelf above my bed as I jerk up and out of bed, horrified with the realization that I forgot about tutoring. I instantaneously go from very much relaxed and stress-free to skyscraper-like stress levels. I have a throbbing headache spreading from my aching forehead through to the rest of my skull, and I feel really bad about missing this study group thingy... so I miss it...

But then... there's Will... who happens to be a history genius similar to my friend Zack in Arizona. Who kind of timidly asks if I want to study with him later since I missed the study group. Of course I say OK, cuz... well, I have to admit I suck at history and he happens to be darned good at it.

Yesterday... OK, funny story. My roommate's car wouldn't start one day, and they are already late to a concert... and then they see two guys walking to their car... and "Hey!!! You guys! Can we have a ride?" The guys give them a ride. And then give my roommates their number so they can get a ride home.

However, my roommates walk home, and Jackie decides she's going to ask the guys over as a thank you and have them eat the apple rolls we made. Well, I reminded her that she wouldn't let me give Oklahoma back because she hadn't seen it... and so she stuck it in.

Alas, the two boys come over and scarf the apple rolls, and then sit down and... don't leave. They are watching Oklahoma with us. And that's a darn long movie. And... well, there's a whole lotta stuff about marriage and kissing in that movie. Perfect set up for Jackie to feel awkward.

I was going to go to bed, but poor Jackie would feel so weird watching that by herself with two guys. So... I stay and watch it again. And I make funny comments at the awkward parts to make Jackie feel better. They finally leave at 11:30... and poor Jackie looks exhausted. Haha.

Well, I don't have anything else to say. Buh bye now!