Once in a lifetime.

This morning I got to sing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and it was amazing. I really don't think I can eloquently describe how amazing it was, to be able to be under the direction of Mac Wilburg and singing right next to a row of sopranos in the Tabernacle, hearing our voices bounce off the walls and then waiting, quietly, alert, at the end of the song for the recording manager to tell us that we could relax. Brother Bryan gave thanks to the Choir on behalf of all of us, and reminded them that the 100 in attendance were from all over the world, and all over the states, to come and be a part of this experience. Indeed, many in the company were converts, and first generation members to go to a CES school. Let me just say, the Spirit was very strong, and I was very grateful for that experience.

As if things weren't surreal enough to sing with the Choir, a manager announced that a friend of theirs from New York wanted to come and say "hi" to us. We watched as David Archuleta came on the stage and said hi, and waved to all of us. Now, granted--I was not one of the people gasping and twittering excitedly about his appearance, but it was neat nonetheless.

I'm going to be receiving a copy of the performance, and when I do, I'll try to post it on here for you to see. This is a day to remember, for sure!

Magnetic Poetry.

As I was about to go to bed last night, I got distracted by the magnetic poetry on our fridge. Standing there for five minutes, then ten, then longer, I rummaged through the words and thought and dreamed and constructed. I want you to understand: magnetic poetry does not showcase brilliance: rather, it allows a cliff, a jumping off point for it. That is, if you allow it to do so. It *is* quite artsy-fartsy.

white spring rain

and red mountains

like sugar cupcakes

can I hold it together

grow to wax ugly

for me it is like brilliant music

sensual lies

come the way of her smooth life

ask a good book

said in a thousand words

imagine when it speaks

it connects to your soul

A Study in Contrasts.

I'm a dichotomy; a walking and talking antinomy, a breathing incongruity. This is a study in contrasts, in the complex and yet oh-so-simple nature of me:

I think out loud and love to talk, yet have many times where I prefer to be alone with my thoughts. I value intellectualism and am sometimes seen as harsh, yet I daily where my heart on my sleeve. I may seem disconnected, even icy, yet the intensity of my love for people around me sometimes breaks my heart when I'm met with disappointment. I'm articulate, yet oftentimes stop mid-sentence, confused at the eighteen trains of thought my mind has currently going through its Grand Central Station. I'm not girly, yet I love lip gloss, hair products, and walking around Sephora. I love people yet choose to be alone a fair amount of time. I'm incredibly diligent and on task with goals that I have, yet will literally waste hours of time staring at the wall instead of doing things on my to-do list. I'm intimidating, yet scared to do a number of things. I'm very expressive, yet keep so much under the surface that no one ever sees. And on, and on, and on.

Accommodation is key here. We must present ourselves in a certain way, be certain things, to achieve certain ends. Sometimes it calls for one to be a chameleon, in a sense. That's all right with me. I've got plenty of contradictions to go around.