a tall personalityI thought I should record this, Lillian and I were just talking about middle names. I want myself not to forget that I like the name Maggie. And if anyone asks, it shall be after Maggie Embick.
Bear watching/clam digging in Alaska I came to Salt Lake at the tail end of the worst 6 months of my life. After a huge disappointment in the love department I managed to still attend enough classes and beg for enough extra time to finish enough final papers to graduate with my masters degree. For months after I felt the pressure and feelings of failure of not being able to find a job. I separated my shoulder and so I was not able to run or hike or bike or play frisbee or even swim...basically everything that keeps me happy, healthy, and connected. I tried to deal with it...and by that I mean I watched every episode of Parks and Recreation. I spent hours applying for jobs and more hours sitting in parks reading, hoping no one could tell how pathetic I felt. I did the mind-numbing walk/run up and down 'the Y' over and over because it was the only thing I could do with my injury that was challenging but safe. I was offered a job in St. George. ...
Tonight is among the first chilly nights of Fall. I decide to wear the almost-too-warm but irresistibly soft zebra stripe pajamas my mom just sent me with my purple jacket as I lay under the stars on my lawn. Just thinking. Wondering. I give myself a few hours to try to feel better...and then it is 11. I go inside and lay on my bed. I don't know what has been wrong with me lately. I ask Heavenly Father, or maybe I'm really asking myself, "What is the source of all this pain I feel?" I have everything to be grateful for. Everything. But I still feel this gnawing pain for something I can't escape and can't identify. I feel my mind slipping over a certain emotional place every time I try to pin-point it. It's hard to describe. There's something there making me sad and someday I'll figure out what it is. A tear slips out of the corner of my eye, so slowly that it dries before it falls to the pillow. ...
When I was a freshman in high school, I was second chair trumpet in the concert band, but the really good kids, they were in the jazz band . The jazz band was the elite, cool band who met before school even started. I remember that year when the jazz band came back from the UAF jazz festival where Ingrid Jensen (professional trumpet player) had been the featured artist. I remember them trying to imitate how she played, and talking about all the things they had learned, and all the fun they had on the trip. I though to myself, "I am NOT missing out on that next year! I'm joining the jazz band!" Aaaand I did. From my sophomore year on I got to play lead in the concert and jazz band. I found myself spending extra hours before and after school in the band room practicing, taking lessons, playing around with different instruments, and getting to know music. I never went anywhere without my trumpet, just in case I found a spare moment to play. ...
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