So I Think I Can Dance

Here's a little something lighter than the last entry.

Inside My Haunted Head

I have trouble falling asleep a lot of the time. It is hard to shut my mind down long enough to rest. When I do finally fall asleep, I am haunted by very vivid dreams. Its not that they are nightmares, but they are so vivid and real to me that they leave me emotionally exhausted, and impact my mood, sometimes for days. I can usually pinpoint which aspects of my day manifest themselves in my dreams. One thing that has haunted my head for weeks now is a painting my Uncle Scott gave to me. It is taken from a snapshot taken many years ago at the SCERA Shell. He so honestly and accurately captured my mom's personality, intensity, mannerisms, etc. that it is somewhat disconcerting to me. I've got the painting hanging in my bedroom, but I may have to move it. Looking at it, I am reminded so much of my formative years spent at the Shell. That is where mom spent 22 hours a day (the other 2 were usually at VI) during the summer months. For most of those years, I was there with her. A few summers my siblings chose to spend their summers elsewhere while I stayed home to hang with mom at the Shell. Here social circle was my social circle. I may have been a "pre-teen," but I felt like a part of the crowd. I sat and watched and absorbed every word that was said, every step that was choreographed, learned the blocking and lines of every part in every show, accepted as gospel every word spoken by the Inner Circle of Shell-dom. This is where I wish my memory was a little weaker. It is full of specifics that are probably not worth remembering- funny things that were said that are long-since forgotten, little "inside-joke" moments, "meaningless" things said in passing, and moments of intense emotion that only a young teenager can feel. And all of this comes back to me in vivid, emotionally-charged snippets of dreams that begin with sleep while this painting watches over me. The abstract figures on the stage are real people to me- and I have a myriad of emotions attached to each of them. Do I wish I could forget? No. But I do wish I could remember without such strong feelings coming along with the memories. All at once, I'm 13 again. Or 14. Or 16, wishing so much to be older and wiser, but not knowing what that really meant. And watching over all of this is my mother. The eternal director, the one who could so honestly FEEL along with the people around her. Maybe that is why it is so intense to relive this- because I feel my mother there, living it all along with me again, leaning forward so intently, ready to jump out of her seat with that shout of "YES!!" and clap her hands, make that triumphal fist when the scene goes the way she saw it in her head, because she is feeling and living all that is on the stage before her. And I want to get it right. I want to have honest "moments" that will make her proud.

After Camp

Every spare minute of my life for the past few months has been CONSUMED by preparations for Young Women's Camp. I was called as the camp director for our ward many many months ago, but it has really been crunch time. Now that we have returned from MIA Shalom, all limbs and digits intact, no major traumas or fights or crying episodes (other than my own private breakdowns) among the 15 teenage girls and only 2 leader, I can celebrate and appreciate the experience. So that is what I've been up to... more tales to come. Until then, here are a few photos.


Canoeing on the "lake"



At the Waterfront