News!

No, sorry, no exciting news. Just a general update to the general populace, aight? I don't expect this'un to be long.

First -- academics. Not much to complain about. I'm waltzing pretty darned well, when I remember the routine. Neurobiology is by far easiest class, unless you count New Testament. Oh, and family history. But as far as religion classes go -- compared to the other classes I've been taking, they're a joke. Don't get me wrong; BYU religion classes are hard. It's just I kind of forget when I'm studying for them that it's a class. So they don't count. My hardest class is neuroanatomy. It also happens to be my favorite class.

Second -- social life. Y'all should be proud of me. I have recently discovered what the difference between me and the center of the party is: I expend energy in social situations, whereas your classic extrovert gains energy in them. I come home from socializing more exhausted than when I spend the same amount of time exercising. I don't think anything I do will change that.

Despite its exhausting nature, I have been quite good at socializing this semester. Reveling in my unemployment, I have endeavored to memorize everybody's name in the ward and be to carry on a decent conversation with all of them. I still have a loooooong way to go. I get all the many Matts mixed up.

Among my social accomplishments this semester:
-- About every other day I go to somebody else's house for dinner.
-- Every two weeks I cook for them instead.
-- I actually invite people over.
-- I actually go randomly visit people.
-- Most of the people in the ward know my name.
-- I actually try to go to party-esque things.
-- Although I study better alone, I attend more study groups.

Be proud!

I actually also had a date last week. No, none of the guys in my ward...

Meet my friend Carlos Alett Osorio Rueda, age 18, from Mexico. He comes over to our apartment on occasion -- and that's a bit of a hike from where he lives. He lives right across from the MTC (about a thirty minute walk from our house). He knows us because he knows Ron and Aubrey. He is just one of those people that when you see him, you just have to jump up with your arms in the air and yell, "Carlos!!!" And, whenever he visits, that's exactly what EVERYBODY does. He's an interesting chap. By my judgment, he is one of those extremely shy guys with an extroverted facade. He is fluent in five or six languages -- English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Arabic, and Hindi. He uses big words a lot, and is a teensy bit narcissistic.

Thursday night I said goodnight to Shannon, who was studying on our bedroom floor, when there was a knock on our closed bedroom door. "Come in!"

Carlos pokes his head in timidly and explains that his roommate just last minute decided to do a double date tomorrow and that now he needs a date. Then he looks at Shannon and asks if either of us want to go.

Shannon declines and explains that she is busy. (She had a date scheduled for Friday evening, Saturday morning, Saturday lunch, and Saturday evening... all different guys... This is typical of Shannon's weekends.) Carlos looks over at me then, and well, I didn't have anything better to do, and this is my friend... so... "I can go," I said, looking tired and a little bit like a drowned cat lost in a quilt trying to stay awake. What can I say, it was 11:30pm. Groggily I wrote my phone number on a slip of paper for him, kicked him out, rolled over, and fell straight to sleep.

The following evening, Shannon and I got ready for our dates. I finished getting ready first, and then helped Shannon with her outfit. Her date told her to dress in the 20s style, so I lent her one of my hats and one of my little silk flowers. She looked pretty amazing. Feeling a little inferiorly dressed, I borrowed her French beret. There.

Shannon's date showed up first. I let him in, but Shannon wasn't quite ready yet. He was dressed all spiffy-like in 20s garb too and introduced himself as Jaren Meldrum. Once inside, he made a beeline for our bookshelf. Aside from our ginormous wall of missionary pictures, on the shelf closest to the ceiling I have a little magnetic picture board that Rachel's mom gave me for Christmas. I had printed a few duplicate pictures for it, but it was teeny and I can only see the very topmost picture if I try to put them all on. Tonight the top picture was of Elder Strong (that's Ryan) feeding some kangaroos peanuts.

He inquired as to who it was, and I told him. "I thought that was him. I picked him up from the airport. And that's at the Gorge. ... I was probably there when that picture was taken. I might've even taken that picture!" He then spied the wall full of pictures (you've have thought he would have seen that first...) and found all the pictures with Ryan in them. And then he told me exactly where each picture was taken.

Small world, eh? This sort of thing has actually happened a few times with some other missionaries on our expansive wall, including Dallin and Cliftonius. Only at BYU would something like this be commonplace. Soon, guys'll be looking at all the pictures on our wall and suddenly we will hear one exclaim, "Hey, that's me!" We've got a bajillion nameless companions up there...

Shannon and Jaren left for their date and I was left all by myself. And Carlos didn't show up until forty-five minutes after he had said he'd show up. But he did show up eventually, looking a little ruffled and distracted. We piled into the back seat his roommate's car. His roommate, Joseph, was driving, and in the passenger's seat was Joseph's date named Ericka. According to the guys, the plan was to make pie. To say the least, I was pretty excited.

But first -- to the Creamery! We needed lemon juice if we were going to make lemon meringue pie! Ericka was also starving and begged Carlos to buy her dinner. He consented and bought her an entire pizza. He offered to buy me food, but I told him I'd already eaten. Then he offered to buy me groceries, but I thought that was a tad ridiculous. At the checkout with lemon juice, a pie crust, and a pizza, I saw cashier Kerstin Wheatley! It was exciting.

We finally went back to Portuguese House where Carlos and Joseph live. I'd been there before because Carlos made us enchiladas. They were tasty, so I figured our cooking adventures would turn out all right. However, making the pie was a little rocky. Several things were not done as they should be, and when I'd comment, Carlos would just tell me to trust that it would turn out. Eventually we got the lemony goodness filling into the crust, and then into the fridge. We all decided not to top it with meringue because none of us really liked meringue anyway.

While the pie was in the fridge, supposedly firming up, Ericka pulled out coloring books and watercolor paints. I grabbed the Care Bears coloring book, and ripped out a page that said, "I love you!" with a Care Bear holding a ginormous heart. I painted it. With skill, much to the amazement of everyone else.

"What are you going to do with that when you're done?" inquired Carlos.

I thought, and answered, "I shall send it to my brother. He's in Mexico."

After the Care Bear, I ripped a bird picture out of a different coloring book. I painted those for Carlos. Then I abandoned the coloring books, and just started painting on blank paper. I started with a classic triangle-shaped Jenna. Then I decided to attempt a guy. I suceeded painting one in a Sunday clothes. I decided that would be Alex since he didn't have a name badge. (Alex isn't allowed to wear his missionary name tag all the time. Sad day.)

I also painted a French moustache and soul patch on Carlos. Ericka and I both loved it, but Carlos kept fidgeting and complaining about it. Then Ericka and I painted moustaches on ourselves. Then he pinned down Joseph and gave him a Hitler-stache.

We broke out the pie -- but it was an epic failure indeed. Carlos was devastated, and felt obligated to buy us all ice cream. We went back to the Creamery. Carlos looked humiliated because of his painted 'stache, but the rest of us flaunted ours, taking a gajillion pictures as we went. We went back to his place with ice cream and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail -- until Carlos fell asleep. We left Carlos on the couch and Joseph took Ericka and I home.

So that is all for my social life. Sorry I don't have any other exciting stories to tell you about. No, I don't have a Valentine, nor anyone in particular that I wish was my Valentine. This will be my twentieth Valentine's Day, and still alone! Sad day. I think I'll spend Valentine's Day... erm... sleeping. And doing homework. And maybe I'll invite people over for dinner or something. Ooh, I know, we should have a breakfast cereal party! ... It will be amazing.

Ooh, I'll invite my former FHE brothers! Oh, sad story. Dan and Alex Seegmiller, whose guts I love, have been chased out of their apartment by bedbugs. They are no longer in our ward. Rachel and I are trying to convince them to pitch a tent on our lawn and live there (we promised we'd feed them...) but they have yet to accept our offer. (Is that against the Honor Code?)

And they left just when we were starting to make progress with Alex's hugphobia. I mean, really. I very deliberately stood three feet away from him and exclaimed "ALEEEXXXX!!!" like I always do when I hug him. And he came forward and gave me a hug, immediately afterwhich he crossed the room and gave Shannon a hug too. Yesssss! Still though, if you hold on too long, he reverts back to being as stiff as a board. Sigh.

Even worse than my favorite 26th ward brothers leaving -- I got a new one that creeps me out of my mind. No hugs for him. His name is Ben. He pokes me in the side a lot, complains loudly when I don't hold eye contact long enough, steals my computer to pull-up weird YouTube videos, and randomly stops by with no-bake cookies. I sometimes get the feeling he is evaluating me as a test subject for some strange experiment. When he comes over, I make a point to hide upstairs in my room.

As far as I am concerned, he is a disgrace to the name Ben. I always wanted to name my oldest son Benjamin and call him Ben, and if creepy brother Ben sullies that name I shall be quite upset with him. Quite.

Speaking of Benjamins -- this is for Elder Ben Poulsen!

Clifton could very possibly be dead (!!!!), Ryan lives, Alex lives, Zach lives, Dallin lives, Will lives, and, yes, Ben lives. I've heard from all of them in the past week via letters/ emails/ blog posts (viva la Internet), except for Clifton, who I haven't heard from since December. He's dead! *panic!!!* Anyway, I neglected to inform everybody last time that Ben, too, lives. I'm sorry, Ben. It won't happen again.

The end. Send me word of the goingson in you people's lives. It makes me feel loved to see stuff pop up in my inbox.

[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.

One of Thirty.

Sunday finally came. Sunday, the day of pie. Ooh, Cherish didn't even know what was coming to her. And she didn't even know what efforts we were going to to make her this pie. I had gotten my sister to read me the recipe for cherry pie over the phone. And then me and Ryan went to a real grocery store to get the cherries for it... (We split the cherries in half. I paid for two cans, and Ryan paid for two cans. The cashier looked at us funny. Finally, he asked me, gesturing to Ryan, "Why'd you split it up? Why didn't you make him pay for all of it?" I laughed. "Because we're both making the pie, and we're both equally poor!" Hm. This happens to us a little too often. Cashiers get upset that Ryan isn't paying for me all the time when we're just doing friend stuff. Yeesh. I don't know what their problem is...)

After church, Ryan had to go do his home teaching, so I had time to go to my hall meeting before we made the pie. In the middle of our hall picture, Clifton and Alex walked by... Clifton yelled out, "Hey, Jenna! Is your door open?" I blinked. "Yes?" "Okay!" And with that, the two of them disappeared into my hall, presumably to take over my apartment. As soon as the picture was done, I dashed up to my apartment, and straight into the kitchen.

The sight made me sick. Stuff alllll over the place. I had just cleaned this place last night when Ryan was here before we went and got cherries! "WHAT are you doing?"

"Making you dinner! Out!" And with that Alex tried to push me out and shut the door on me.

Nuh-uh. NOT in Jenna's kitchen, you don't. Particularly when I had plans for this kitchen. I think I must have been trembling with a strange mixture of emotions. Shock at the upheaval my kitchen was in, gratitude that my dear guy friends would think to make us dinner, annoyance at their using MY kitchen to do it, and stress from the realization that there was now a conflict between pie-making and dinner with friends. Gaaah. I just spluttered weakly, "My... my kitchen is dirty. It can't be dirty. No..."

Oh, I was tense. Alex looked at me sternly. "Jenna. CALM down. Calm down. You... are REALLY REALLY tense. Calm down. Everything is okay!"

"My kitchen... I... I... I'm making pie? I'm making pie. Except you're using my kitchen. My kitchen. I was going to make pie..."

Oh man. I must have been ridiculously stressed before this, because now I was a nervous wreck. I shivered, and then grabbed my broom, and started sweeping. Then it occurred to me. "Hey! Do you guys have shortening?" We had had shortening yesterday, but then it had been used up in the night and now there wasn't any to make pie pastry with. Alex looked up from preparing his meal. "I do." "Can... can I use it?"

Alex considered, all the while staring at me. "Only if you promise to stop stressing and calm down." Ooh. This is going to be tough. But... I need the shortening. So... it's worth a try at least.

"Okay! I'm calm, I'm calm..." I muttered breathlessly. Well, I wasn't calm and Alex saw.

"No. I don't mean you just say you're calm. I want you to BE calm." Oh man. Alex is a toughie. I was going to have to actually calm down... for real!

I took a deep breath, and it rattled angrily. So I took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. I realized suddenly that my fists were clenched. I let them go. And my whole back was as stiff as a board. I forced in into a more comfortable position and held it there until Alex decided I had improved enough. Then he left to go get the shortening. And then I tensed up again and continued sweeping.

Ryan showed up to make pie. I... think I got even more stressed, because right at that time Clifton declared dinner ready. I finished sweeping.

"Dinner time!"

"Wait, right now?" I said, despairing.

"Yes. Right now."

"But. But. I was going to make pie..." After muttering that, I set off to set the table. Clifton made Ryan stay and eat with us. I busily set the table, and then Alex scolded me. "Jenna. Remember your promise."

"What? Oh... yeah, promise. Shortening. Promise." And I took another long breath. But that rattled too. WHY was I so incredibly stressed? I knew why, but I wouldn't let myself think about it. "Not stressed not stressed!" I said. Ryan looked at me with that weird amused look he had sometimes. At least someone wasn't upset with me. I looked behind me to see Clifton standing there making a twirly motion with his finger. I blinked at it. "What?" Then I realized he wanted me to turn around. "Ohhh!" I said, and I obediently turned around, not sure why he would want me to do something like that.

Well, I didn't have to wonder for long. "Come 'ere, sis." Clifton put his arms around me and hugged me. I closed my eyes, but not all the way. What I saw almost made me laugh. Poor Ryan couldn't handle it. He was very pointedly not looking at me or Clifton, and looking down, up, behind him, everywhere except right in front of him where I was being hugged.

I've told you all how Clifton is basically my little brother, and that pretty much sums up everything. He teases us all the time, is really annoying most of the time like a little brother, but every once in a while he'll do something really nice. This hug was one of them. I wonder if he got hug-lessons from one of his parents, because it was just like that... like a family member was hugging you and comforting you. So, naturally, I calmed down quickly. My heart beat slowed down finally, and so did my breathing. I relaxed. When he finally let me go, I felt like a rag doll.

I sat down at the table (next to Ryan, who still wouldn't look at me... haha) and then we said a family-plus-Ryan prayer. After that, Clifton and Alex left, and then Ryan and I set off to make pie.

Well, the dough was interesting. We just couldn't get it right. It just wouldn't hold together. And the attempts to get the pastry into the pan were failures for the first few tries. Finally, we got the bottom in the pan. Ryan prepared the filling while I tried to manage the top crust. I looked over at Ryan filling the pastry. And then I looked away, and then looked back. The pie... had overflowed. "Oh no," he said. "I think I ruined it."

I laughed. Oh, it was SUCH a mess. Some weird cherry-sugar-liquid concoction spread all over the table, and down onto the floor. Perhaps I should have supervised Ryan more closely. Oh well. Whatever he did wrong, he won't do it again. I made him go get the paper towels, and I shoveled cherry stuff into a bowl. I poured the liquid out of the bottom pie crust. And then I put the actual cherries back into the pie.

And then we set to work trying to assemble the top. We did eventually, with the help of Rachelle. Somehow, as we talked the subject turned to... dirt. Like, the information sort of dirt. Rachelle wanted to exchange such dirt with Ryan. Dirt. Like gossip. Ryan wanted to know what the girls have been talking about in their secret girl talk sessions. Rachelle, of course, wanted to know all about what the guys were saying about the girls. I also wanted that, but I hadn't any bartering dirt. Besides, Ryan tells me everything anyway.

Oh dear. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. He's begged me multiple times to let him in on the girl dirt. And every time, I swear another oath that I never will. Not even when he's eighty. This frustrates him... majorly. He is far too curious for his own good. He'll get himself in trouble. It ended up that Ryan and Rachelle worked out until the deal was, "Okay, if you give me your dirt, I'll give you mine." At this point, I backed out. I looked at Ryan. "I haven't got any dirt. Maybe Rachelle does, but I don't. Nobody gossips with me, because I won't gossip with them."

Rachelle promised she had some juicy dirt. Ryan looked tempted. I knew what Ryan's dirt was, so I warned, "Don't do it, Ryan. She's probably pulling your leg... her dirt's not worth it!" But Ryan wanted dirt, and then happened one of those rare instances where he got frustrated with me. "Jenna!" he exclaimed in exasperation, "Will you just... step outside or something?" I laughed at him. And then Ryan couldn't take it any more. He caved. All right, Ryan, go to your doom if you like. And then, he gave Rachelle his dirt. Unfortunately, this dirt is still gossip I just don't tell people without the subject's permission, so I can't tell you what it was. I know, you're curious. But you'll just have to settle with not knowing.

Rachelle listened intently as Ryan confessed his dirt. Rachelle looked over at me, and then at Ryan. When Ryan was done, he said, "All right. Your dirt. Give it." Rachelle looked up at the ceiling. "Actually... I don't have any dirt. I didn't think you'd actually tell me your dirt..."

Ryan looked stunned. Poor man, I even tried to warn him. And then he was a little upset. "RACHHEEELLLE! You'd better give me ALL the dirt you've got!" Well, she didn't have a single granule of dirt. As we put the pie in the oven, Ryan then turned on me. Looking at me, he said, "Jenna. I KNOW you've got dirt. Give it."

"Dirt? No, I don't..."

"Yes, you do. Remember you said there were some girls talking about me at the beginning of the year?"

"Oh, yeah." I had forgotten about that.

"That's good dirt. I want that. Who was it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Ryan! I told you. I'm never ever going to tell you."

"But... but it's the end of the year! I'll never see them again! It doesn't matter, just tell me!"

"You're right. It doesn't matter. So you just don't need to know. I don't tell secrets, okay!"

Ryan was very frustrated. He rounded on Rachelle again. "You CAN'T tell your roommates."

Rachelle swore she wouldn't. When the pie was done, we carried it over to 128 with Hillary (where Rachelle, Liz, Claire, Patrice, Cherish, and Kerstin all live) and presented it to Cherish, who was delighted. It wasn't the most beautiful masterpiece of a pie, but for a first pie, it was pretty darn good, I think. We sat and talked. And I watched Liz and she practiced her signature. Finally, I said, "Liz. You have beautiful cursive E's... Show me how to do them, just in case I marry someone whose last name starts with one!"

And I think, with that, the conversation turned into girl talk. Ryan listened intently. He even took notes. And then he's ask questions, clarifying what he had heard...

"Wait, so you guys all think Brooks is cute?"

We concurred.

... "Why is he so cute? Is it how he does his hair?"

We couldn't agree on anything like that, except that Brooks was undeniably good looking.

..."Why do you guys like Roy? Is it something he does... Is it something I can do?"

Ryan stayed as long as he could, and then he had to leave so that he didn't break the honor code. As soon as he was gone, though... Rachelle piped up, "Jenna! Can I tell Ryan's dirt?"

I blinked. All eyes were on me. Oh no. I grimaced. "It's not my dirt to give..."

But it was Rachelle's dirt now. Ryan had given it to her, as dirt. When Ryan told me, it wasn't dirt, it was a conversation between friends. But Rachelle had it as dirt. So she told.

And then everyone looked at me for verification once she told. This disconcerted me. Everyone would look at me whenever they need verification about dirt concerning Ryan, because I'd know if no one else did. "Uh..." I said. But my face gave an obvious yes, it's true expression. I watched as their faces changed from skeptical about the dirt to trusting. Gaah! I have such a revealing facial expression when I'm trying to keep something secret. I exploded. "Yes. Really. Quite."

I didn't feel good about that at all. That night I went home and it took me longer than usual to sleep.

So This is Stress.

It... has been an enormously long time since I wrote and email. And I keep putting off writing about my life, because there is soooo much that has happened... and I just don't know where to begin. And every day I wait, the worse it gets. In fact, I'm not sure I remember a lot of what's happened. I haven't actually written anything since looong before the rock, paper, scissors tournament that Ryan, Hillary, and I went to. I didn't even write about that. I just sent pictures.

Well... after the tournament a couple weeks ago... here's what happened. The tournament was over by about five. At about six, Jackie and I went to a passover dinner together, which was hosted by my Isaiah professor. We got home late-ish, and went to bed. Then, on Saturday, Ryan and Rachelle and I went to the temple in the morning to do baptisms. Later that day me and Jackie went to a dance concert, which was spectacular. On Sunday, we had our last Sunday school lesson and our last Relief Society lesson. I don't remember much else about Sunday except that I did get home taught, visit taught, and I did my visiting teaching that day. And then after I was done with visiting teaching that day, I remember coming directly to ward prayer. I showed up right as Ryan was coming down the stairs. I gave him a big hug, and then other people started showing up, and they all got big hugs too. I think I also accidentally sat on Will's hand, and Jackie thought he thought it was significant. I stayed away from Will after that. Then Hillary and Rachel and I were about to leave, but then Ryan and I started talking again (surprise surprise...).

And... he had bad news. He was leaving a whole day earlier than he had told me earlier. Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Gaah! Another day lost! I must have looked devastated or something, because he hugged me again. I didn't let go, and he didn't either until he decided it was too long. ("No longer than fifteen seconds! Longer than that and it's baaad!" ... I swear he counts. I swear. Or at least watches his watch over my shoulder...) Then we decided we had to do something really exciting before going our separate ways after finals. Seemed simple enough, but then... well, life turned into academic h***. Sad day.

Well, Monday after that was okay. But then things got progressively worse. I spent all of Monday attempting to get all sorts of homework and projects done for Tuesday, which was the last day of class. But after classes on Tuesday... it wasn't over. Me and Ryan had our choir concert to go perform in. We did that, and we felt relieved that classes were finally over... but, sad day, it was going to get worse. Wednesday was classless, but not at all workless. I studied and I studied and I studied. And I wasn't going as fast as I would like. Ryan showed up, and said he was going over to my angelic neighbors at 128 to make playdough and he wanted me to come with... but I felt that I had to decline or else fail biology. And about here is when I snapped a little. In a week Ryan would be gone. And I just didn't have the time to go do any silly stuff with him. It was the most frustrating thing I'd ever felt in my life. I was mad at school.

But I got over it just barely enough to sit and read another hundred pages of biology before I dozed off. I woke up early in the morning on Thursday. Looked outside and saw sunshine. And was drawn to it. It was too cold to go out and just sit without a sweater or something, so I took my quilt, my coat, and my biology book and camped out on the grass outside my kitchen window. And read. And read. Robert, my home teacher walked by... "Are you going to the baptism?" Oh. That. There were three Nepalese boys in my ward who were getting baptized this morning. I told Robert I wasn't, giving the excuse that I didn't even know the boys, but I felt another flare of frustration again. I couldn't have gone if I wanted to. I needed to finish reading this biology book about how evolution and religion don't necessarily disagree, and then write an essay about LDS doctrine, evolution, and the views of the Catholic author of this book... all this by 4pm. It was almost 10 am, and I was half-way through that book. And it was a slow read! It was chalked full of ridiculously science-y terminology, and I understood it, but I couldn't skim it. Gaah!

I sat on the grass and read as quickly as I could... a crowd of people in my ward walked by, and I did my best to ignore them so that I could get through this book... but ignoring the crowd was a useless endeavor, especially when one of the is Ryan and calling to you to look up and pay attention to him... "Jeeeeennnnnnnnaaaahh!!!" So I looked up and waved, had a two-minute conversation, and then he ran off to join to mob of people that was quickly disappearing.

After about an hour or so, I had read almost another hundred pages of science-y gunk that I probably would have enjoyed had it not been for that looming deadline jeering at me that I wasn't reading fast enough. It was a darn good thing I had decided to study outside, because it was chilly, and if I had tried to study inside I would have been doomed to have fallen asleep instantly. People started coming back home from the baptism. Lots of the boys stopped and talked to me, and most of the girls just waved. After I had determined to ignore the rest of the passersby, it wasn't long before I noticed two nicely-shoed feet on the grass in front of me. I looked up to see Clifton, my dearest little brother. He inquired as to what I was doing... I explained, and distressed about the evil deadline I had. He sympathized, then asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

I considered carefully within the next millisecond, and replied, "Food?" My stomach was growling angrily at me. Clifton raised his eyebrows. "You want food? Okay." And he disappeared. I didn't have much time to wonder if Clifton actually was going to bring me any food, because then Ryan showed up again, and started talking to me.

"Hey, can I study with you?" he finally asked. I blinked. I wondered if it was a good idea to say yes because I would probably be quite distracted. The speed of my reading would be dramatically reduced because I would be watching him in my peripheral vision instead of staring at the page of words. "Uhh... yeah..." Hm. That wasn't quite what I was trying to say. At all. He eyed me. "Are you sure you won't be distracted?" I looked back up at him. "Nope," I said, meaning that I wasn't at all sure. The stupid thing about questions like that is that a negative answer like that can be interpreted in two ways... no, I'm not sure, or no, I won't be distracted. Well, I think Ryan wasn't sure which I meant, so... "Hm. I know. We won't talk to each other. No words." I nodded. And then he set off to get his books. Oh dear. I am in a strange situation. I have so much I need to do, but I would so much rather be spending all this time with my friend who is going to be far, far away next week.

I spent the next ten minutes trying to stiffen my concentration. I was quite obviously failing in my own mind, judging by the increased occurrence of reading the same sentence over and over again. Ryan came back out, changed out of his suit and tie, and laden with a backpack full of books. He came over. And then he said, "I think I'll go study in the law library. I'm going to meet the other Adelaide missionaries at one and I'm paranoid I'll miss it."

I nodded. "Okay." I was both relieved and saddened by this news.

He started to leave, but then came back. "Hey... do you know how to make pie?"

I looked up again. Hm... "I've made a pie before, yes..."

"Well, I want to make a cherry pie for someone."

I don't know if I've figured out how to read this boy's mind or I just know the way his brain works, but I knew instantly who he was talking about. I mean, Cherish's name sounds a lot like cherry pie. Who else could it be for? "Cherish?" I asked.

He blinked, looking a little shocked. "Yeah... I want to make a cherry pie. For Cherish. Cherreesh."

"Let's make cherry pie, then. On Sunday. After church." He nodded, and the plans were made. He left, and then Clifton came bearing a large, carefully prepared meal. I gave him the biggest, most grateful hug I could manage, and then I read some more, chomping down on that food. After about another hour, I had finished the book, and I came inside and whipped up an essay in twenty minutes. I was so tired of it, that I just sent it away without proofreading. Maybe this is bad, but I'm rather confident in my writing skills... enough that I expect that my first draft is good enough. [It was good enough, it earned me a perfect score... I can't complain, I guess...]

Then I got out some other things and started studying for my Book of Mormon final... study study study.

The next morning, I woke up early. I put on my Sunday clothes, and then Ryan, Rachelle, Liz, and I went to the temple again and did baptisms for a bit. Then... instead of coming straight home, we went and got Krispy Kreme donuts. Half were glazed, and half were the chocolate sprinkle kinds. Ooh, the blessed dozen. Rachelle received them from the drive-through window... and then passed them back to Ryan. It was Rachelle's car, so she requested that we not eat them until we got home. The box... was sooo tempting.

We kept talking about donuts. "Let's stop talking about them! I won't be able to resist them any longer!" So we stopped talking about them. But then gave me a sly look. And started opening the box. I gaped. "No!" I whispered.

He nodded. The sight of those artery-clogging goodnesses would surely break me. So, desperate to keep myself in control, I covered my eyes. "No, no! I won't look!"

Ryan started teasing me now. "Oh Jenna, just one look won't kill you!" I could tell the box was open now. But not because I could see it. It was the aroma. I was getting fatter just smelling it.

And I wasn't alone. Liz and Rachelle gasped. I kept muttering "No, no, no... I won't... I won't..." Finally, Rachelle rolled down her windows. And Liz and Rachelle stuck their heads out, gasping for air.

"Ryan, clooossseee it! Close it, quick!" "No, no, no, I won't look, I won't look, close the box, Ryan, close the box!"

I think he really enjoyed that brief moment of power he had. He closed it, after what sounded like a malicious giggle, which reminded me of my dad when he plays a nasty trick on someone. I opened my eyes. Rachelle and Liz were wafting the remains of the delicious aroma out the windows. We scolded Ryan. "Don't ever do that again!" He didn't, but I could tell he was toying with the idea.

We finally got home. But it was too early for Ryan to come into our apartments... so... donut party in the lobby! We sat and talked and ate donuts and drank milk for an hour. And then Liz and Rachelle went inside their apartment, and then me and Ryan came to mine. With that, we studied Book of Mormon for an hour together, and then we headed down to the Wilk to take the final. I got a 96% on it, and then I sat down on a cushy couch and studied Isaiah for several hours. Then I took that final. By this time, it was about five. I got dinner, and then I studied calculus for about an hour and a half. Then I went and took that final. By the time I was done, I'd been studying and testing for twelve straight hours. It... was horrendous.

To tell the truth, what was motivating me this whole time was the thought that maybe, just maybe, if I got all my finals done today and tomorrow, I'd be able to spend time with my best friend before he left and not feel guilty that I wasn't studying. So I came home, emailed Ryan, showered, and went to bed.

In the morning, I woke up and pulled out my biology almost immediately. I studied for about an hour. I was determined to take biology and then physics today. But then Cute Mike came up the stairs. Cute Mike is in my biology class. I declared my intentions to take the final today, on Saturday! But Mike gave me a bewildered look. I thought the final was scheduled for 7pm on Tuesday! I blinked. And it all came crashing in on me. Cute Mike was right. I couldn't get all my finals done before Ryan even left. Tuesday was when Ryan would be leaving. And I would be taking a final.

Blast it all. Cute Mike left. And I sat in the lobby, stunned. My plan. It failed. No! And at about this point... I lost all motivation to study. The motivation worked when I thought the plan was feasible. But now that it was foiled, I saw little purpose in studying or taking any finals today. Gaah! I finished the power point review slides, and then I stopped studying. And then I determined that I wasn't going to do any more school stuff until Tuesday anyway. That gave me Saturday, and Sunday, and Monday. Three whole days.

I still felt a little sick though. If it could have worked, my original plan would have been so much better. In fact, I think that Ryan was trying to do the same thing... I mean, no one ever takes three finals in one day. I did. And apparently (according to his email) so did Ryan. And he had been planning to take his other finals today, just like I had. Gaah. I think I sat and cried a little. After the tears stopped coming, I went home, and cleaned. And cleaned... the way I do when I'm really stressed.

And after that... I wasn't sure what to do. So... I paced. And paced. And paced. Until there was a knock at the door.

It was Ryan... I let him in. "Hey, there's a basketball game in the court outside... Wanna go to 128 and ask to watch it out their window?" Hm. 128 has a perfect view of the court. But... I didn't have any interest in the game at all. Gaah.

I wanted to spend time with Ryan, but at this point I was too stressed to feign an interest in his proposed activity tonight, which made me feel absolutely hopeless. I sighed. "Ryan... I don't really want to watch basketball right now. So, if you really want, you can go over to 128 by yourself and watch it with those girls."

He stared at me. "But I don't want to watch the game."

I gave him my most confused look. "... But it was your idea..."

"Uhh... I just thought it would be fun to show up at their door and say, 'Hey. We're here to watch the game.' And I thought Jenna would want to go do something silly like that. And I wanted to go do something silly with Jenna."

I laughed. "Yeah, I would enjoy that. But then we'd have to go in and watch the game!"

He reconsidered. "Oh. Yeah. You're right. Hm. Well, me and 128 made playdough the other night. Let's go get it and play with it." So we knocked on their door, inquired after the playdough, took it, and returned to my apartment. (Gaah... I wrote our apartment... Ryan doesn't live here... he jokes like he does, but he doesn't!) And then we played with playdough for hours and hours. And then we returned the playdough, and Ryan went home.

Fun Times

This week has been busy! But, I think it is going well. Monday was quite busy, and we made tacos for family home evening. Tuesday consisted of an Isaiah test and a calculus test. Wednesday was as full as usual, but I also had a physics test.

I woke up late on Thursday... and barely made it to my social dance class on time at 8am. I signed in, and we danced a little when suddenly the wall separating the two hardwood ballrooms opened. The teacher from the class next door burst in. "Are there any ladies in here who would like to compete in DanceSport this Saturday who aren't signed up already?"

Crickets. We were slightly confused... since entry forms were due over a month ago. It was too late now. Much too late. My teacher piped up. "Extra credit!"

Ooh, extra credit is always good. I tentatively raise my hand. The other teacher immediately grabs me gleefully and pulls me into the ballroom next door, closing the wall behind her. "So, one of the guys in my class had his partner ditch him, and now he is partnerless! And the competition is in two days!" She makes her way over to the microphone. "Matt Romney, come see me!"

A lurpy blonde guy lurks out of the crowd, looking curiously at me.

"I found you a partner! Er... what is your name?"

"Jenna!"

"Okay, Jenna and Matt, new partners!" And she leaves. Matt and I stay at the side of the ballroom and exchange information.

"Er... can we practice sometime?" We end up deciding that 3pm in the JFSB courtyard would be best. I stayed in his class for the remainder of the hour so we could figure out how the other person danced.

After that I ran off to calculus. Then I ran home. I did some homework, and then packed my bag full of shoes (heels for chacha, tap shoes for Irish hard dancing, ballet shoes for soft dancing, and then I was wearing sneakers) and books and ran off to the Cougareat. Jenna craves sub sandwich. Mmmmm. I get myself a nice Subway sandwich, walk outside toward the JSB where my next class is... and then suddenly I realize how incredibly sunny and warm it is. I smile. I find a bench and eat my food. And then it occurs to me. I can just sit here and... absorb the sun. So I had a nap on the bench (which must have been about six feet long... I stretched out on it, and there was still room...). That... was glorious.

Then I went to Isaiah. After that, I had an hour until I was supposed to meet Matt. I decide there isn't time to run home. Nor is there really time for anything except finding a comfy place to do homework. I go to that one bench where I had my catnap, but I realize that it has gotten colder and windier and decide indoors is a better option. I look over at the JFSB. I haven't even gone in there since I quit my custodial job there. But I knew the place inside and out. And I decided the best place in there to study, considering its proximity to the courtyard and abundance of comfy places to sit... was the student commons. I walked in, feeling a little strange. And it was strange. I made my way over to where the tables and couches and such were...

I hadn't even been in there when other students were using it. I usually just cleaned it. Or at least I used to. I scanned the room for an empty table. Saw they were all occupied... But... that couch over there? Empty. But it was clear across the room. So I stiffened my resolve and headed straight for it, concentrating on it, willing others to stay away from it, so that I could commandeer it...

Aha! Here I am. I set my bag down on it, claiming the couch as mine. I then sign on to the kiosk next to it... I was suddenly overcome by an urge to email my dad and tell him hello. And I had hardly signed on, when, "Hello!"

I jump and whirl around. "Uh, hi..." It was Ryan. I keep bumping into him. All the time. Which is weird, because he doesn't stalk me and I don't stalk him. If I minded about it, it could have been annoying. But I don't mind. So I talk to him. "I didn't see you..."

"Yeah, I know," he said reproachfully. Then, "You were just like a zombie." He lifted up him arms so that they were parallel to the ground and started imitating an undead creature. "Just staring straight ahead... and then you walked right past me."

"Where were you?"

"At that table over there, doing homework."

"Oh. I'm doing homework too. Or at least I will be after I email my dad."

"Ah." We carried on some idle conversation, and I wasn't really concentrating on it, because my password repeatedly failed when I tried to sign into my email account. Arg.

He left and sat at his table. I wonder why I hadn't seen him. I had passed within inches of him. I finally figured out that the keyboard was stuck in caps and that that was why my password wasn't working. I finished emailing my dad. And then I moved to the couch I had claimed and started working on calculus. I couldn't see Ryan from there, but that was okay because I needed to concentrate. And I was concentrating quite well when I noticed Ryan had moved from the place where I couldn't see him to a place that was equally far away but where I could clearly see him. That kind of slowed down my work, but whatever... it was only calculus and so I didn't need ALL of my brain paying attention to do it. I finished it relatively quickly. And then he got up and left for his three'o'clock class, which was my signal to change from my sneakers in my dance heels so that I could dance with Matt. I got up and walked out of the student commons into the courtyard. Ah, a wide open space. Cool and windy. It was nice. I fiddled with the alarms and such on my phone until Matt showed up.

Then we practiced and figured out which moves we would do mostly. We decided that we would start out first with the sweetheart, and then do the three cha-cha move... then a few cross body leads... then some parallel breaks... and then repeat. We'd only have a few minutes on the floor. We decided that we would wear red, and then we left.

I then ran off to the RB. I was way early for Irish dance, but that was okay. I commandeered a bench near my classroom... put on my ballet slippers, and then started skipping through the hallways. Then I started leaping. Warmed up, I started practicing the two-hand reel for the heck of it. Once I was confident, I moved on to the four-hand reel, at which I really stink. Wow, Jenna. You must be bored.

"Hi!" I turn around. It is Shannon, who is also in my Irish dance class.

"Hey!" I smile big.

Shannon smiles weakly. "Are you ready for the test today?"

Test. What test. Oh, we're testing on the two-hand and four-hand reels today. Yikes. I'm doomed. Me too. Good luck. You too.

I suspect it was divine inspiration that prompted me to dance down the hallways before class that day. I don't think I would have passed otherwise. I hadn't ever done it before.

We tested on paper. Then we performed our reels in front of some fancy camera equipment so that my teacher could watch us over and over again and give us proper grades (yuck)... and then we pulled out our tap shoes and learned some new hard shoe moves. And at this point I was exhausted. Tired, sweaty. Mostly tired.

I went home, played a game... and slept. Whoo.

But...

TODAY IS PI DAY! March 14th... 3/14... 3.14... get it?

I walked into calculus this morning... to find a pi party awaiting my professor. James and a girl whose name I forgot had baked him a pi pie, and there was great pi artwork on the chalkboard. Dr. Cardon walked in, and we all yelled, "HAPPY PI DAY, DR. CARDON!" He was so shocked. And happy. And excited. He was so happy about the pie that he gave James a hug (James bragged about getting a hug from Dr. Cardon all day). And then, holding the pie in his hands. He looked around at us. "I would feel bad if I didn't share..." "No, we made it for you!" ... "But... but... I want to share..." "Dr. Cardon, it's your pie..." "I really want to share this pie... Can I share it?" "Uhhh... well, I guess so... it's your pie..." "Yay!" exclaimed my professor. And with that he ran off to his office to retrieve his secret stash of paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks. He came back, with them, beaming. We finished off our pi party by deriving pi using infinite series. Fun stuff. Ah, nerddom.

The other exciting happening... also involved pie. Lots of it. You see, I was in the Pi Day Pie Eating Contest. Which consisted of a very happy Jenna shoveling as much chocolate creme pie down her face as she could in 3.14 minutes. I actually got most of the pie down. After the competition (I didn't win... I lost to a teenage boy and there is no shame there) I grabbed some apple pie, because I hadn't gotten any of that. People looked at me funny... but hey, I like pie. What can I say?