Class, and then piano, and then class, and then home, and then temple, but they were too full so I sat in the chapel and read scriptures and pondered (lemme tell ya, it's the BEST place to read scriptures and think), then home, then out to eat (paid for by Emm's AWESOME mother- I'm gonna miss her when she goes) (Emms is AWESOME too), then piano, then home, then talking with the roomies (I have THE BEST roomies in the entire world). And now I'm refusing to go to bed.
Emily and I went to the temple together. On the three-or-so minute drive up there, she played "Praise To The Man" sung by MoTab and it was AWESOME. Then right as we got out of the car, there was lightning and the wind was blowing really hard and we almost died. Then we got in the temple and were told it was too full for me to do baptisms (that's how it should be) and so I sat in the chapel and studied my scriptures and read my patriarchal blessing. I really felt the spirit. I'm going to do baptisms on Saturday, so it's okay. Man, it was awesome though. And I know for sure that you receive blessings when you go to the temple. I am so blessed to have this opportunity to be at a university where we begin each class with a prayer, and where we have a temple within walking distance, where the spirit helps us to learn, where nearly everyone is a member and has the same standards. Where teachers tie the scriptures in to their lessons, and guys use stories from their missions when answering questions. Where all the buildings are dedicated. Where we have devotional each week. Oh my goodness. "Count your many blessings" for sure.
But after the temple, we started "Praise to the Man" again, and it came to the last verse, where it crescendos and becomes really epic, and we were driving right past the temple and it was so beautiful...it made me cry. I had the thought, "Satan will be defeated." Man. I love this gospel.
So tomorrow's Friday and TGIF. Piano and roommates and whatever else. And then Saturday and the temple and hanging with Char again and then Sunday and testimonies and more awesome lessons. Sunday's always a good day. Then do it all over again. But I love it (except for nutrition class. I know everything already and it's such a bore...I just doodle the whole time. But it's better than that genetics class I dropped. At least this is easy and I don't have to do any thinking.) So yeah. Still no complaints. I love chemistry and look forward to it each day. I love college algebra and look forward to it also. I look forward to BOM because my teacher is awesome and so is that class. I don't look forward to nutrition, but like I said, it's easy. Then there's communications, and I thought I'd hate that class, but I absolutely love it and I think I'm going to make a few friends from that class. And it's definitely going to help me be more social and confident. I can tell already. I love to listen to people and have them tell your stories. And I've found that it's really easy to have a conversation with someone if you keep them talking about themselves. When I had that thought, I laughed.
Oh, and I bought goggles for chem and felt like a huge nerd, and I also felt sort of proud of my nerdiness. But that'll come crashing down when I actually have to wear them.
I have one of the piano songs stuck in my head. The one by Scarlatti. I like that one. Can you hear it too?
I hate falling asleep. I love dreaming. I'm okay with sleep. I hate going to sleep full. I love going to sleep hungry. Dogmuffin.
I love my hair. So do other people. I've gotten compliments, and it makes me happy. It also makes me think that there are more people who like my hair who just don't tell me. I think compliments about people that I don't tell them. Shame on me.
I'm tired. I feel like drawing. I have a chem quiz that I need to take tomorrow or Saturday. Tomorrow for sure.
Rexburg. I love it here.
But the weather won't make up its mind. But I love it. It rained today. And hailed. And snowed. And fogged. What the heck.
So I love my life, and that's all there is to it. I'm freezing.
No comments:
Post a Comment