It's been awhile...HEY

So, hello. It's been about oh...forever since I posted anything on here. A lot has happened.

Moved home.
Served mission.
Came home.

So only 3 major things that I can think of but that might be a lot to some people. Like me.

To start, I move home August 2011. Complicated story but sparing the details, I ended up turning my mission papers in in September 2011 and I got my call in October. Feb 22, 2012 I left to head to Kobe, Japan for 18 months. 

So, my mission...I don't know how to sum it up in one sentence or less but I will try. The most difficult (mentally and physically) thing I have ever done, but the most rewarding. Who ever said sisters serving missions was a wonderful land of unicorns and lollypops lied. And we all know where liars go. But anyway, my mission was so hard. Everyone asks me "OH! Sharlene! How was your mission?! How was Japan?!" and my first words are..."hard." Followed by "really rewarding." Because, let's face it, that is what missions are. Insanely hard to the point you are pretty sure either you or your companion are going to die that day, but when you stand back and look at all that happened and how much you grew, you realize how rewarding it was too. How many people you helped. How much you learned about the Savior and God's love for His children. Missions are the biggest way, I know, to build your testimony. They will break you down until all you have to build you up is God. And while that is a difficult spot to be in, it is also a life changing spot to be in. 

Am I glad I went? Yes. Did I feel like I was going to die sometimes? Big yes. Do I love God and Christ more than I ever thought I could? One million times yes. 

Missions are wonderful, you just better be prepared before you go.

So, now I am home. Someone told lies to all of us growing up. Someone said "OH, you'll come home and meet a special someone and fall in love and get married and it will all happen within 2 months of getting back! It'll be great!" LIE. Well, I guess it could still happen...but I am a realist and I've been home for a month now and it's not happening.

Something happened to America while I was gone. Dating became lame. I mean, people don't even talk to each other at church. Not even friendly conversation let a lone a "hey, do you want to do something Friday night?" There is none of that. It is all "hanging out" and "facebook me if you wanna do something!" What the junk? Call me old fashioned, but I am a girl, and I am never going to ask a guy on a date because that breaks all rules I have ever set for myself on dating. But having this "way of life," if you will, is not really working in this day and age. Guys don't ask girls out. It is so weird. I am not trying to be a hater, I promise, I just am really perplexed at the lack of dating and one on one dates and guys actively pursuing girls these days. I know I have only been home a month, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see what is happening. 

Anyway, what I am trying to say, life after a mission is not all fairy-tails and rainbows. Not yet, at least. And it is frustrating. That is all I want to say.

Life, in general, is good though. I am so happy to be with my family and I enjoy every second of time I have with them. And I have a great job and time to do the things I want and need to do. It is really nice. I even have time to write a blog now. So stay tuned for hearing more about my life. I know you are all pensive on the edge of your seats. Settle down. 

Oh, and Duck Dynasty, anyone? Hello! Best thing that ever happened to American television. Hooked.

Conflict With the Cat

 

Once upon a time, I was little and crazy.  Correction, I am still little and crazy. 

I digress. 

When I was a little girl, I had a plethora of pets.  My favorite choice of animal was a cat and so I think I must have had about 97 of them.  My two most favorite were Puddin’ Pop and Lester.  Puddin’ Pop was named after my love of pudding pops and Lester was my dad’s cat, apparently, and so he named him after Lester Flatt, the great Bluegrasser. 

Puddin’ was my baby.  He was white, blind in one eye, about 19 pounds, had a gimpy back claw, no front claws and a meow that melted my young heart.

Lester, on the other hand, was evil.  He was 6 feet long, splotchy black and brown, could jump 9 feet in the air and he sharpened his claws on a disk grinder. 

            I had a bad habit of loving animals to death.  I just loved them so much I couldn’t stand it.  I had to constantly be holding, petting or, as my family says, torturing them.  I gained the nickname “Elmyra,” after the girl on Looney Toons.

            Puddin’ would let be do anything to him.  Everyday, I would put baby doll clothes on him and push him around in a stroller.  He loved it.  I think. 

            Lester wouldn’t even let me look at him, let alone touch him.  But I just had to!  He was soft and fuzzy and I needed to pet and squeeze him!  This is where he and I differed on opinions.  This difference in opinion led to injury.  Not to him, to me.  Claws.  Gnashing of teeth.  Hissing.  You name it.

            The harder I fought, the harder he fought.  I was done for. 

            I remember, vividly, at Christmas, I would tape wrapping paper to his tail and head so he couldn’t see. Then I would tape some to his feet so he couldn’t walk.  This was too enjoyable to me.  This fun would always end in tears, however, because Lester would maul me. 

            Now, with all of this going on, something had to be done.  My parents threatened to take Lester away from me.  I cried and cried, but my love for him and his fuzziness just couldn’t let me leave him alone!  This was when my physiologist father came up with the Think Before You Do journal…boy oh boy.

            Everyday, I would write and draw a picture in my journal of a way that I avoided conflict with the cat and what I had learned from the experience. 

            This tactic must have worked because I eventually stopped having scratches all over me and Lester remained in the house.  

            The cat lived to be 97,000 years old and I would like to think that that had something to do with me.  I taught him to be tough and well rounded in the art of escape.  So, you’re welcome, Lester. 

Zombie Apocalypse

Many of you might wonder why I am the way I am.  I don’t have an answer.  I will say that it could be due to the fact that I have strange dreams that wake me up at 5 in the morning.

Last night’s dream taught me how to survive a Zombie Apocalypse.  Very useful. Read on.

So, Ben and I made a journey to Kansas.  The perfect setting for such a thing to happen.  When we got there, the house was sitting tilted sideways on the ground.  You might be thinking…”You basically dreamed you were in the Wizard of Oz.”  No.  Though I did turn to Ben and say “We’re not in Tennessee anymore Bennie…”

I digress.  So we’re in this sideways tilted house of a thing and there are no other humans around.  I was weirded out but Ben was all gung-ho to investigate, of course.  All of the sudden, we were on the moon.  What the?  Yeah, I don’t know.  And then, ZOMBIES!  CRAWLING ALL OVER!!

The first thing you should know is that average Moon Zombies cannot survive on our planet because they do not breathe oxygen.

*Note: Moon Zombies don’t breathe oxygen!*

So I guess that means we’re back in Kansas because the moon doesn’t have oxygen but that is beside the point.  The point is that all around Ben and I, zombies were dropping like flies! 

I thought we were in the clear.  Ben, however, was not as sure as I was and we were creeping all over the house searching for more Zombies. 

Did you ever hear that saying “Don’t go looking for things you don’t want to find”?  Well, yeah, that saying is true.  We found more zombies.  This time, however, they were not Moon Zombies.  They were genetically enhanced zombies.  They didn’t die no matter what you did.

I’m standing behind Ben about to hurl because I’m so scared.  All of the sudden all the zombies in the house turn towards Ben!  “NOOO!” I screamed as they came towards us!

Luckily, Ben had apparently gone through training in how to defeat zombies if you were suddenly attacked and he whips out an asteroid gun. 

Quick thinking, Ben, quick thinking.

He began blasting zombies apart, one right after another.  It was nasty, there were blue-green guts all over the wallpaper.

*Note: TO kill genetically enhanced zombies, use an asteroid gun, it’s the only way and could very well save your life.*

Now ladies, I know what you’re thinking…You wish you could have a boyfriend like mine that could save you in the case of a Zombie Apocalypse…

Well, HANDS OFF! HE’S MINE!

THE END (I know this ends suddenly but I had to wake myself up because I was so scared.  I’m a pansy.)

This is just one of many strange dreams I’ve had.  My psychological state is in disarray.

They Paved Paradise and Put Up A Parking Lot

Random times in my life, I get a craving for a particular song by the Counting Crows. From the title of this particular blog post, most of you can probably guess which song. It's often featured in movies where you see people's lives passing before them and they don't even stop to notice what they have.

The song is Big Yellow Taxi and I fell in love with it when I first heard it a few years back. If you've never heard it, here's the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvtJPs8IDgU

I had an inkling to listen to the song this morning. I don't feel like my life is passing before me at all though, I am really happy with life. Loving life, actually. Sometimes though, it's nice to have a reminder of all that you have and that you need to make the most of every second you have on this big, beautiful and crazy world.

Sometimes, life can get you down I suppose. I mean, we've all been there at one time or another but what if we all just remembered who we are and why were here in the first place? I am determined that if we all did that, the world wouldn't have half the problems it has.

I realize this probably sounds like a "World Peace!" speech and maybe it is, though I never really thought of myself as the type to get all feely goody about that.

World peace is a wonderful concept and maybe someday it will happen but as for right now, this is my message to people to just say: stop whatever you're doing. Look around you. Seize every opportunity you get because things change in the blink of an eye and you never know what you'll be faced with next. Take every opportunity to help those around you and love the people you meet. Learn their stories. Talk. Take time for the simple things. Do the right things. Live your life in a way that would make your mother and your mother's mother and your mother's mother's mother proud! Those people made you what you are! Don't let them down!

I am a firm believer that if you do what is right and take the opportunities you get in life, even if things aren't always perfect and blissful, you'll at least have the peace of mind that you've done your part in making the world around you better and lived your life to the fullest.

I tried to find a picture for my last post...this is what I found. Disappointed in the world. That's how I feel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSLwCImWv-c&feature=related

In and Out with A Bang!

This is to demonstrate the point that no matter what I do, or where I go, something ridiculous and crazy always happens. I can't ever just have a normal day. Nah, nah. That would be too easy.

April 28th, 2010, I was hired as Macy's of Cool Springs Tennessee's newest employee. I don't even know how I applied for the job. I am pretty sure I just typed in "job search in Tennessee" on the search bar thing. Somehow, I was directed to a totally random site and I am not really sure it was real...I was almost positive that if I put in my information, I would be tracked down and stalked or something. Seeing as how I have yet to be stalked...the site must have been somewhat legit. Anyhow, I got an email from Macy's and it told me where to go. I took my mom along just in case the place wasn't real and turned out to be some kind of Oceans 11 hideout. I don't know. My imagination sometimes gets the best of me I think. But the place was real and I somehow got hired.


Saturday May, 1 was my first day. Um. Worst first day ever. Work isn't bad...until it slows down to a screeching halt...no customers... We are all standing around wondering what has happened. Someone goes over to the doors, which were out of my sight range, and discovers that...the parking lot has flooded! Oh my! What excitement! Wait...the parking lot is flooded? Why? Huh?

Basically, Middle Tennessee had turned into a lake. I just wanted a nice first day of work where I would drive home at 6 when I got off but no. I left at 7 and got home...two days later.

Like I said, I can't have anything normal happen in my life. Too easy that would be.

Today was my last day of work. Bitter sweet, you might say. I worked in handbags. If you know me well, you know that I am a handbag junkie but I have very good control over my addiction. Don't worry.

As I was walking around looking for someone to buy a purse from me, I stopped an older lady who looked lost. She had a cane and looked fragile.
Me: "Can I help you find something ma'am? You look a bit lost."
Lady: "Oh, I'm just looking for the elevator. Where is it?"
Me: *Points* "It's right over there by the petite dresses."
Lady: "Oh...I was just over there. I think I'll just try the escalator."
Me: "Uh...ok." *Slightly worried but moving on with my life*

Not two seconds later, I get this feeling of "turn around." I turn around...Heavens to Betsy. The lady is falling down the escalator and looks like her leg is broken.

Me being the naturally nimble and short kid I am, I sprint across the store like some comic book superhero.

Note: running in a pencil skirt is hard and not recommended.

Anyway, I make it to this lady just in time. I make sure she is stable and not going to fall any further. Suddenly, I realize, we're still moving and if I don't push the emergency stop button soon, this lady might be in worse shape than she already was. So I bullet up the escalator stairs and push the button just before the lady reaches the top! PHEW!

I help the lady up. Her leg is not broken but she is really shaky. Then...two minutes later...all of my managers show up. We doctor her scraped up leg and blistered fingers and sign some papers. I run to the coffee shop next door and get her a glass of ice water to calm her down and then I walk her over to the home-wears where she looks for a cake pan.

Note: They no longer make 8" cake pans. Only 9". FYI.

We didn't find a cake pan she could use but I did get her calmed down. My managers looked like they had been slapped in the face. I didn't care. I just wanted to help the lady. So I did.  She then thanked me continuously for saving her.

Then I walked back down to my department.

No one said a word about any of it to me for the rest of the day...sigh. Superheros just don't get appreciated like they should.

Again, in and out of Macy's with a bang. Couldn't I ever have a simple, normal day? Nah. That would be waaay to easy and no fun at all.

And please, if you see an elderly person get on an escalator, stop them.

Comfort and Growth in Talking

I find that the older I get, the more comfort and self growth I get from talking to people.

As a child, I was...shy...somewhat of an introvert. My mother tried to get me to be social but I didn't feel the need to be social so important. Basically an only child, I played Barbies and did the voices in my head for all 37 thousand Barbies I had. Polly Pockets...best friends and I could take everywhere...In my pocket! What a novel idea. Genius, I thought. My two best friends in elementary school, Savannah and Katie, loved Barbies and Polly Pockets just as much as I did. So to recap: Barbies, Polly Pockets, Savanna and Katie, and my parents, of course, were basically it in the friends category for a long while.

Who needed a lot friends when you had pink and life like toys? I didn't think I did. That was until I reached middle school. Friends and being social were a challenge. I couldn't figure out why people didn't like me. I looked like all the other kids, dressed like them, made better grades than them, though I don't think that that was it. In my aged years now, I have decided that I maybe was too advanced for them? I didn't have time for young punk kids like themselves and they knew it? Meh. I still don't know what happened.

High school was a different story. No boys. I see many of you with a "gasping for air, fish out of water" expression on your faces. No boys was the best thing ever. Finally, girls being girls and not worrying about what some stupid boy was thinking about her or the girl around the corner. Nothing to fight over. Well, you would think nothing to fight over but girls will be girls... High school was great though. Really really good. I still wasn't the most social kid but I had my best friends and that's all that I needed.

Four years of high school and it was off to Idaho for college. Oh my death. I cried the first two months. WHY HADN'T I LISTENED TO MY MOTHER!!?!?? People: when your mother tells you to be social as well as other life advise....LISTEN TO HER. I had no real social skills! Why had I ever thought I wouldn't need them? Stupid girl. I couldn't talk to people. "Cat got your tounge?" Story of my life. Choking on words. Looking at boys like they were the space creatures from H.G. Wells' 1898 classic, War of the Worlds, just crawling all over the world trying to kill me. Palms sweaty. Literal brain numbness.

Don't fret readers, this only lasted two months. Then I magically got the hang of things. I don't know what happened to me one day but I remember sitting in my dorm lounge and thinking "Sharlene, you idiot, just go talk to people, make friends." I could hear the subconscious Sharlene stuttering "F-F-f-friends-s-s-s?!?" Real Sharlene: "Yes, you loser, friends. Make some."

That day was the changing point in my life. I learned how to open my mouth. Words came out! I think I was shocked. I was talking to complete and total strangers. And...I liked it!

Growing up, I was always boggled by my mother. That lady could talk to the Dalai Lama and not have one hair on her arm shiver. She could strike up a conversation with any complete random stranger and 10 minutes later that they were actually 67th cousins. I had never seen anything like it. She encouraged me to "Talk Sharlene! They won't bite you!" I, in turn, would shy away. Shy away until the day when I became my mother.

You're probably all thinking, that I'm still really shy. You are wrong. You just don't know me. Know me, people. To quote my mother, "I won't bite." I really like talking.

This brings me to the point in the story where Benjamin Brooksby comes in. Hey Ben, welcome, have a seat. For those of you that don't already know, Ben is my boyfriend. I love him to pieces. He is the best thing since I don't know what. I would say sliced bread but sliced bread isn't very good. To semi-quote a comic (don't remember which one) if you get the Pepperidge Farm bread...good luck, they wrap that puppy twice. There ain't no gettin' in that sucker for your little slice of sliced bread happiness. That phrase is stupide. That's stupid with an e.

Tangent. Back to Ben! Listen folks, if you ever want to meet your Mr. or Mrs. Forever...you have to have the appropriate social skills. That means talking. You see, when I started trying to win Mr. Brooksby's heart, I knew what I had to do. Could read him like a book with its cover open. I needed to prove myself that I had talking skills enough to handle myself on my own. One night, Ben left me for a few minutes to take care of some church stuff. I was left at a table full of people. Bada bing bada boom! No problem. I simply opened my mouth and talked. A simple two step process that I think many people would find very useful in their lives. You see, when Ben saw me talking to these people, he knew I was the one.

Maybe that's not what did it but it sure had a huge part in it.

You can't be afraid to talk to people. You will learn so much about yourself and others by doing so. People will like you. No if, ands or buts about it. It works! I sound like a infomercial. But really. If I could give one piece of advise to anyone it would be talk, talk to everyone all the time. You will never know what you will learn, about the person and about yourself. Life will be better.

I do it, my mom does it, Ben does it. If it works for me, it'll work for anyone.

In times of trial in my life, I find talking to people to be one of my biggest comforters. Telling people your story and hearing theirs is sort of what makes this world go round. How would anyone understand or work together if they didn't know at least a little bit about where the other one was coming from or why they were they way they were?

If you want to stop being misunderstood, the simple solution is to talk. Let people know what you're about. They will grow to understand how you are and what you mean when you say what you say. People will like you more if you open up to them. It's a trust factor. If you can talk to people about something other than the weather, they will trust you and life will be better.

Aside from Ben inspiring this little postie, my T.V repair man was what got me thinking tonight.

I have this thing. Some call it a gift, some call it annoying, take it how you will. When I hear an accent, I am attracted to talk to this person like a mosquito attracted to a bunch of swamp fishermen. I don't care where I am, what I am doing or who I am with, I will attack these people to get their life story. I'm especially fond of Eastern Europeans. Don't know why but that's how it is. Anyhow, tonight, I walk in my house and what do my ears hear??? AN ACCENT! My excitement grows until I figure out the right time to talk to this man. He's from Moldova. Never heard of it? Me either. It's resting comfortably between Romania and Ukraine. Honestly, I wasn't even sure I knew there was a country there. I am a little ashamed of that but you live you learn. Through talking to this man, I got him to tell me about his family, his native language (which happened to be Russian), he likes fishing and he's been here for 10 years. He seemed really happy to have someone genuinely interested in his life.

My mom and Granny were standing to the side in shock. Their little shy and short child had grown up to be a talker. Miracle!

As the man left, I spoke a few words of Russian to him, some of the only few I remember from my two semesters of Russian out at school. Maybe it was just me and the fact that I had just remembered some Russian, but the man seemed really happy. I was happy. Lots of happiness was acquired through a simple conversation.

You see what I mean? Open your mouth. Talk to people. You never know who's day you will make.

Even if your the most shy person on the earth, I am positive this method will work for you. It did for me.

Also, listen to your mothers. They do know best.