If Life Were Easy, It Wouldn't Be Hard.

Sheri Dew said that. Yeah. Seriously. And she's right.

Yay Me!

I was FINALLY able to register for my classes this morning. And I was able to get all the classes that I wanted and it was surprisingly very easy. I am signed up for an Advanced Research and Literary Analysis course (which requires a minimum of 30 pages edited and documented prose. Yuck. But whatever), an Advanced Creative Writing course (Hoo-Rah!), a Family course (with a teacher I've already taken), a Family Relations course (which happens to be in the exact same room as my Family course), and an Old Testament course (also with a teacher I've already taken). So, five classes, and they all happen to be on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Which means that I get Tuesdays and Thursdays totally off. Which will be SUPER nice with all that homework I'll inevitably have and that early morning job I have lined up. I'll be working in a new building but I'll have the same boss as before. So that'll be nice.

Classes? ..Check.
Housing? ..Check.
Finances? ..Almost.
Job? ..Check.
Plan ticket? ..Check.
A way to get from Salt Lake to Rexburg? ..Not check, but working on it. Turns out the express doesn't run past ten-thirty, and that doesn't exactly work with a plane that arrives just before midnight. So, other than that I am basically stress-free! Which is really a big deal for me if you know me at all! ..I'm so happy!

I'VE HAD IT!

It's official. I am firing my immune system! I woke up sick this morning and that's the third time this month! And not just "Oh. I say! I don't feel like myself today." No! Hard core sickness. The whole nine yards. I was sick last week and the week before. (Ever thrown up in the bushes on your way home from work in the dark? Yeah. Not fun!) (Ever woken up in the middle of the night because... Well. Never mind. I won't go there..) And this is the second time I've had to call in for work. And I HATE calling in sick! I love my job too much and I kind of need the income. I leave for school in two months! Anyways, I'm getting tired of lying around watching movies all day. I'd much rather watch my nine kids. I miss them...

Speak Now.

Real life is a funny thing, you know. In real life, saying the right thing at the right moment is beyond crucial. So crucial, in fact, that most of us start to hesitate, for fear of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But lately what I've begun to fear more than that is letting the moment pass without saying anything.

I think most of us fear reaching the end of our life, and looking back regretting the moments we didn't speak up. When we didn't say 'I love you.' When we should've said 'I'm sorry.' When we didn't stand up for ourselves or someone who needed help.

Words can break someone into a million pieces, but they can also put them back together. I hope you use your words for good because the only words you'll regret more than the ones left unsaid are the ones you used to intentionally hurt someone.

What you say might be too much for some people. Maybe it wil come out all wrong and you'll stutter and you'll walk away embarrassed, wincing as you play it all back in your head. But I think the words you stop yourself form saying are the ones that will haunt you the longest.

So say it to them. Or say it to yourself in the mirror. Say it in fa letter you'll never send or in a book millions might read someday. I think hyou deserve to look back on your life without a chorus of resounding voices saying "i couldn't, but it's too late now.'

There is a time for silence. There is a time for waiting your turn. But if you know how you feel, and you so clearly know what you need to say, you'll know it.

I don't think you should wait. I think you should speak now.

Love, Taylor

Victor Hugo + Sunbeams = Not so Good.

The lesson for Sunbeams today was on Honestly and for story time I tried telling a super watered down version of the story Les Misérables following Jean Valjean. Anyway, I talked about how he stole a loaf of bread and was put into prison for ten years (I really don't know how long he was there, it was just something easy for the kids to understand. You know, having ten fingers and all that.) I told about how he escaped and went into disguise (And then of course I had to explain what disguise meant and all that) I said that a while later the police found another man who looked just like him and were going to throw him into prison instead. ..And that's when I lost them. I could see their eyes just sort of glaze over as I tried to explain. It was kind of funny. And then at that point I decided to just bag the whole story and end it really fast. So I asked the kids, what should Jean Valjean do? (except I think I used a different name..) And one of my four year old's (in the cutest little voice) said, "He should do the right thing." So I told about how he went to the police and told them that he was the real "bad guy" and that the other man didn't do anything wrong and so the policemen were going to have to put him back in prison. When I said that the kids all started getting very anxious. They didn't like the idea of the main guy going back to prision for doing the right thing. (He was honest after all) So I said that the policemen decided to let him go, and he got food, and he was all better. The end!

Uncommon.

It will always be easy to do what you've always done. It's doing what you've never done before that gives spice to life. We all have our comfort zones. I have mine and you have yours. I for one hate sleeping in any bed but my own. I don't like going where there are crowds of people. I'd prefer hanging out with two or three of my closest friends. But if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's this: It isn't the usual things that leave marks in our memory. It's the unusual things that we look back on and remember. When we are uncomfortable or scared out of our mind or outrageously happy, those are the times we remember most. When we do the same things all the time, life just sort of blurs together. Time has no meaning. ..George Washington Carver once said, "When you do the common things in life in an uncommon way you will command the attention of the world." And as Mrs. Frizzle used to say, "Take chances. Make mistakes. And get messy."

Poetry for Breakfast.

I watched a movie last week called "Cyrano de Bergerac." It's a French story about this sword fighter slash poet, who also happens to have an abnormally large nose. He's in love with Roxanne and Roxanne is in love with this pretty boy named Christian. Roxanne is the type of girl who drinks poetry for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And Christian is the type of boy who is couldn't write a verse if the entire universe depended on it. And Cyrano, like Roxanne, loves poetry. So, as the story goes, Cyrano writes letters to Roxanne, upon her request, and pretends to be Christian. Christian is the face and Cyrano is the soul.

Anyway, as I was watching the movie I kept thinking to myself, Gosh, this girl is insane. Here he is going off to battle and all she can think of is that he risks his life to write her love letters. Here he is standing under her balcony and all she wants from him is poetry. Don't talk about yourself, don't kiss me or even touch me, just stand there in the rain and tell me how much you love me. I mean, seriously? How shallow! But then I thought. ...I am exactly like her.

Feed me poetry and I shall devote myself to you. Write me verses and I am yours. ..Well, maybe I'm not exactly like her, but I'm pretty dang close. I love words. I love words that flow and paint beautiful pictures. If a guy recited verses to me I'd be smitten. Wholeheartedly. Give me Keats, tell me Shakespeare, read me Ingersoll, Browning, Goncourt, Byron..

So, is that a girl thing or just a Julia thing?

I Am.

I was challenged by a friend this week to write a list of twenty "I Am" statements. We were talking about how a person knows when they have discovered who they are and how they know. I guess the question was: If you feel like who know who you are and who you want to be, but people tell you that you need to 'find yourself' how do you do that? I mean, if you already feel like you know yourself? Anyways, this is my list. You should try it!

I am a daughter.
I am a sister.
I am a friend.
I am a student.
I am a teacher.

I am a writer
I am a worrywart.
I am a decent cook.
I am a perfectionist.
I am a lover of literature.

I am an observer.
I am imaginative.
I am considerate.
I am intelligent.
I am reserved.

I am loyal.
I am caring.
I am dedicated.
I am thoughtful.
I am hardworking.

How Do You Do It???

Holy Cabooses! Work today was crazy! I was on my feet the ENTIRE day, non-stop, constantly cleaning this doohickey or that thingamajigger; holding at least one of the children (yes, there was a point when I was holing two of them); rebuking him or her for this or that; running around outside trying to keep an eye on all the kids at once; saving the cat from the kids; saving the kids from said cat; saving the baby chickens from death by four-year-olds; rounding up the kids for dinner; helping the kids eat their dinner; cleaning up after dinner, putting them to bed... Anyways, I'm sure you get the idea. Today was just super busy!

Since I started this job I have found that my patience level is really being tried. I used to think of myself as a patient person but now... Wow. Having one child practicing the piano, while another is learning Latin, and the rest of them are running around crashing little strollers into each other as well as the furniture is really starting to wear me out. I actually cheated in Candy Land the other day just to get the game finished quicker because I didn't have the patience for it. And today, one of the kids was constantly following me around, asking me questions and repeating them every eighth of a second. I mean, ...HOLY COW!

Mothers... how do you DO it??? How do you have the energy? Or the strength to do this ALL THE TIME?? Did your energy level just suddenly change when you had kids? Did you gain more strength and suddenly find yourself with an abundance of patience? I mean, I know it's different watching nine kids who are mostly all the same age, but still. Is it different when they're your own kids? Does it make it easier? ..This whole job has made me think twice about having kids. Not that I wouldn't have kids, it's just, I don't know if I should go to boot camp or something before having any. I mean, ...whoow!

Speaking of Kids..

I've learned something about myself over the past few years of working in the Primary.. I learned that when a parent drops a child off for class and informs the teacher (aka me) that the child is sick with this, that, or the other, ..every time, without fail, I immediately feel sick. For instance, when the parent says, "Be careful. He has a stomach ache." Immediately my response is always, "Oh. I feel sick." (..Well, of course I don't inform that parents of my sudden change in health. That would be bad) But it's the weirdest thing. I've never been one to react well to illness in the first place though, so I guess it isn't that surprising. I have a feeling I'm gonna be one of those moms who makes her husband do all the sick work (literally) of taking care of our sick children. Oh well.

I've also learned a lot of things with my new job of watching seven kids (most under the age of four) that I'm sure will help me out when I have kids of my own. One of the first things I learned was that each child is different, sometimes they're subtle differences and sometimes they're drastic differences. But each of them is different. You learn which child likes to throw their food on the floor, which child likes to climb into the tub AFTER they've already been washed and dressed, which child likes to run around commando after the wet clothes have been removed, which child has a tendency of lying about whether they're the culprit of the poopy diaper, which children like to play outside, which child likes to hide out under the couch, which child likes to draw rodents on the wall, which children like movies (and by like I mean glued-to-the-screen-to-the-point-where-Armageddon-could-arrive-and-they-still-wouldn't-stop-watching kind of like) and which ones don't. Period. You learn who likes to whine, who likes to pout, and who just likes to flail around the room as if the world was going to end at any second. ...You learn who loves to give hugs. You learn who loves to trust you to catch them when they decide to jump off the edge of a couch. You learn who loves story time. You learn who loves to be tucked in. You learn that each of them show their love differently. You learn that each of them love you, really love you, even though they know so little about you.

I guess all I'm trying to say is, kids are amazing. Sometimes they can be a pain, but they're always worth it. They're hilarious, lovable, chuck full of energy, witty (though sometimes the wit of a three year old is a bit ...simpler than that of an adult, but still). Anyways, I guess that's all I'm trying to say. ..Oh, and I guess that I have a weak stomach too. But anyways.