The Huge Update (Featuring Romance & Despair Part II, with a happy ending)
If you actually read the following, please leave a comment, even if it's just, "hey, I read it." I'm wondering how many people will take the time.
Whoa, you people! It’s been forever since I wrote in this! So much stuff, so let’s get started, shall we? Worst news first (just happens to occur chronologically that way anyway) . . .
During the early morning hours of Halloween this year, my grandma Davis passed away, ending a 5-year-or-so battle with cancer. We had known the inevitability of her death for some time, and so it was not too much of a shock when the news came. For quite a while I didn’t really realize that she was gone. I half-expected to see her lying in her room at my uncle’s house for a while after her body had been taken away. In reality, she seemed more or less gone for a while prior to her death, as she was confined to her bed and asleep virtually all of the time. I felt a little guilty when I didn’t react terribly to her death (this is the first death of a close family member that I can remember). I felt like I should be more upset. But I guess I realized even then that it was for the best. She had been suffering for years, she had been without her husband since my mom was 16, it was becoming harder and harder for the family to take care of her, etc. Also, of course, my religious understanding of the nature of death made things quite easy to bear.
It was a good funeral (the first LDS one I have any memory of attending). I cried and I’m man enough to admit it . . . but it was interesting. My tears were less caused by sadness and more caused by joy. I felt so strongly that things were ok, that grandma was finally with grandpa again. It wasn’t just wishful thinking or positive self-talk. It was a reassurance that came from something greater than myself (and obviously I know what that is).
My grandparents were sealed together in the temple for time and all eternity. Their marriage covenant and their relationship will continue forever, quite literally. I could feel a confirmation of that statement so strongly at my grandmother’s funeral that it brought tears to my eyes. I’ll see her again, and when I do I’m sure I’ll finally get to meet my grandpa. I wonder what he thinks of his grandson . . . I’m glad grandma was buried with her wedding ring on her finger. It’ll come in handy during the resurrection. :) I love you, grandma. Farewell for now.
My grandpa Gardiner is also in failing health. He could go very soon, but he’s taking it very well.
My dad: "How are you feeling?"
My grandpa: "Cadaverous."
Grandpa Gardiner is one of my heroes. It’ll be sad to see him go, but, once again, it’ll be for the best. The Lord knows what he’s doing.
My grandma’s funeral was on November 5th. The following Saturday, November 12th, my friend Tara Mitchell got baptized. She has quite the conversion story, which I will only briefly relate here. It’s better when she tells it, anyway. Basically, she had searched for truth and meaning in her life for a long time, couldn’t find it, and gave up, thinking that religion was all just gobbledegook that didn’t make much sense. Then she met my cousin Emily. The two became good friends, and Emily introduced her to our church. Tara read the Book of Mormon, and as she did one day it suddenly hit her, "Whoa, this is the real thing!" That realization transformed her life for the better. Anyway, that’s it in a nutshell, leaving out all the interesting details. It was a totally awesome experience watching my uncle Scott (Emily’s dad) baptize her. I realized that I, having been ordained a priest for over a year now, also have that power. On November 20th she was confirmed a member of the church by Brother Gale, who is a man so awesome I feel like he could be my second dad. Anyway, now when people ask Tara if she’s Mormon, she doesn’t have to say, "Well, uh, sort of . . . Steven, you explain it." Needless to say, I’m thrilled for her.
I want you all to know I wouldn’t be Mormon if I wasn’t convinced that my church is true, and when I say that I mean objectively true, none of this "true for me" crud people always talk about. Either Jesus Christ was the Son of God (I say he was) or he wasn’t. You can’t have it both ways. Think about it.
Call me crazy, call me conditioned, call me whatever you please. It doesn’t matter. You all know that I’m of sound mind (come on, right now I’m still ranking number one in my class at LHS). In all my often overrated intelligence, if I know anything then I know this: that as surely as I live, I have a loving Heavenly Father who knows me personally and hears and answers my prayers. His Son Jesus Christ was the promised Messiah, who atoned for the sins of all mankind. Through the Savior’s infinite atonement, all who truly repent shall be forgiven of their sins. Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I’ve read the Book of Mormon; it’s all the evidence I need to know that he was. Gordon B. Hinckley is a prophet of God. The power of the priesthood is real. It’s all for real, people. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. You can take it or leave it, but I won’t deny it.
November 12th was also the big move from the apartment into the new house. Dude, our house is pretty big. I’m not used to this! It was a lot of work, and I had to be careful with my bum leg, (yep, I’m still in physical therapy) but we made it. Now we need to get ourselves some more furniture!
On the 13th and 20th of November I got to play in this cantata gig for church. It was pretty awesome. They already had two clarinets, but I rewrote the English horn part for myself and played that. I also played some of the clarinets’ stuff because they needed more volume. Anyway, pretty sweet experience, and I got an excuse to wear my sweet suit!
November 19th was Centennial High School’s band competition, up here in beautiful (ok, not that beautiful) Bakersfield. It was AMAZING, I don’t know how else to say it. Michael and I rushed over, thinking that we needed to help Charter Oak’s band (yes, that’s what I’m getting at, they came!!!!!) with pit equipment, and we were soon presented with the good old rehearsal arc. Our band was playing Tutankhamen, the show I had heard in its infancy before I left CO.
I was astounded. All those woodwind runs were clean. Dynamic contrasts were there, and not just there, but in your face. The flute solo had been transposed and given to Nick Tavoukjian, who busted it out awesomely on the sax. I could actually hear my section for once, and they had *shrunk* to only four people! They sounded good! This wasn’t just good old Charter Oak, this was Charter Oak as I had never heard it before.
I stood there and watched my good friends (friends good enough they’re like family) do the best final run-through I had ever heard CO do. When it was over I said, "Now that’s how to say welcome back!" I was so excited. As the band was lined up waiting to go on the field in competition, I was running (well, given my leg, it was pseudo-running) around giving high-fives and hugs and saying "hi" to all the old crowd. The nostalgia was crazy.
Michael and I watched the show and thought it was absolutely great. It wasn’t perfect. In marching band you learn really quick that no performance is ever perfect. But it was the best performance I think I’ve ever seen Charter Oak High School do. It fired me up to the point that I was yelling "CO!" at the top of my lungs in the stands. I looked like an idiot, but I didn’t even care. The band I loved was alive, well, and better than ever.
Michael had to leave soon after the performance for LHS’s band competition that day down in Moorpark, but I stuck around until the very end when Charter Oak’s bus drove off into the night. Things were so different now, yet some things hadn’t changed at all. I was talking to everybody almost as if I had moved yesterday. The bonding with people that one receives from band, as corny as it may seem, is quite incredible. All those long hours of learning drill, bus rides to who knows where, away football game antics, and pre-performance section rituals seem to bring the right kind of people together in a way few things can. In going to Liberty and experiencing their band for a while as more or less and outsider, I’ve realized that although I enjoyed the band experience itself, what really meant most to me was the second-to-none comradery that existed amongst my band friends and me. I love you guys, you know that (and no J.D., not in that way, sorry).
My section made me so proud at Centennial. They all have grown so much, I wish I could have been a part of it for another year. I miss my mentoring role that I had as a section leader. I was a rather quiet leader (so was Sean) but I think my section appreciated how I "ruled" and what I taught them even if I wasn’t very into rituals or speeches. I’m angered that Jorge (my "heir," for those of you who don’t know) decided to abandon the younglings, but I’m glad Mary and Danielle took charge. They did a better job than Jorge could do, anyway.
I miss CO. I know I’m supposed to be here, and I feel good about it. There are some absolutely awesome people up here. But I still remember with fondness the good times we had back in the day, from Mrs. Ghazali’s crazy antics in Science Olympiad Club to the Mountain Dew pyramid in the tuba room to the annual NHS shaving cream fights. My good friends from CO (and if you’re reading this then that means you [unless you’re from Bakersfield, lol]) are amazing. The memories of those golden years will last forever, or at least until I get Alzheimer’s. :) I need to visit you people soon.
Let’s see . . . hmm . . . last Wednesday (November 30th) I got glasses. I don’t like them, but after finding out I needed them for driving I realized I didn’t have a choice. So far I’ve barely worn them. They’re quickly going to become car-only glasses for the most part, unless the girls decide I look cute in them, lol.
Ok, now for what Collin’s been requesting . . . Romance & Despair, Part II . . . (with a happy ending) . . . me and my crazy life!
Well people, it wasn’t over, although I thought I could get over things. I admit I wasn’t ready to let go. Instead I quickly experienced a relapse. Things were fine between us for a while, but I misinterpreted how she acted and confused myself into believing alternately that I had hurt her, that she had suddenly stopped caring about me, or that she was using me. As you can tell from my previous entry on the subject, I understood the situation at first, but it didn’t last. I wasn’t ready to deal with the situation realistically, so I more or less deluded myself into believing things that weren’t true.
It all came crashing down a little while ago. Confused as I was, this time in the "uggh, she’s been using me!" delusional state of mind, I gave her a note in which I angrily accused her of some things because I thought that she was just playing games with me. It hurt her feelings badly, and when I came to my senses, (which didn’t take long) what I had done tore me apart. I felt like the biggest jerk on earth. I was trembling and my voice wavered as I apologized to her. She made it clear that her feelings were sincere but she wanted us both to try to get over each other, for our mutual good.
I initially agreed, but I began to revert back to my old feelings again (ok, so I’m stupid, you can say it). I gave her another note in which I resisted giving up entirely, and (luckily) she was reasonable enough to shoot me down. "This is stupid," she said, and gave me back the note. It was an emotional blow, but a necessary one that led to the right thing.
Finally, things started to change. I made it clear to her that I was ready to man up and face reality. I was ready to do the right thing. It was hard. Yes, this was all just a huge infatuation, but my emotions ran deep, and they were not easily conquered. I hadn’t lied to her about how I felt. I was being sincere, although admittedly over-dramatic.
There was a lot of tension between us for a while over this. I didn’t want it, she didn’t want it, but it was there because I wasn’t ready to let go. When you’re trying to get over your attraction to someone who happens to be a good friend, it takes time to figure things out. It’s a process that has to run its course.
The turning point came a little while ago. She had taken something I had done *totally* the wrong way, and she was very angry and hurt about it, to the point that she loudly refused to talk to me. I didn’t dare eat lunch with her and the rest of my typical group. Instead I took a walk alone that day through the light rain (ok, it was totally emo, but it set the mood nicely). I was distraught. All this emotion, tension, drama, and whatnot seemed to be destroying our friendship, and I couldn’t find a way out. I had been doing the wrong thing and I didn’t see how I could possibly fix things.
Finally, I began to pray. I apologized to my Heavenly Father for pursuing a relationship at a time when it wouldn’t be appropriate. I had done nothing to taint her virtue, don’t get me wrong on this. We never so much as held hands, I’m dead serious. But I knew that it wasn’t right for her and I to be anything more than friends. I also knew that she wasn’t really the one for me. I had felt this before, but I had resisted it because of my emotions. For a time it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I knew it would be hard to do the right thing. I had to let go of my feelings while somehow preventing bitterness between us. To not be friends anymore and just ignore each other was the easy path out, but it was both the wrong thing and not something I wanted. I humbled myself and asked the Lord sincerely to help me fix things, expressing my genuine willingness to do whatever would be required of me to preserve our friendship.
It worked, my friends. My prayer was obviously answered affirmatively. She and I made up and are friends again, this time for good.
It’s interesting. Somehow I’ve stopped wanting to be anything more. She’s still attractive, obviously, but it doesn’t bug me when she pays more attention to other guys. I still care about her, but it’s not particularly romantic anymore. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hang out with her anymore, and that doesn’t rule out an official date or two, but I don’t view her in the same way I did before, and it’s ok. She’s just a good friend, that’s all.
I finally let go, this time for real, and I’m glad I did. Now we can stop hurting each other’s feelings and get back to being friends, without strings attached. I’m pretty sure that she feels the same way I do. I’m glad things worked out. :)
More is to come . . . I still haven't told you about Project Get-a-Date! But I have a seven-week Econ project to do for tommorow and a week's worth of stats homework that I unwisely procrastinated to tonight, so now I've got work to do!!! Yikes!!