My former teammate, Molly, mentioned that I should have plenty to write about for my next blog post.
But I feel blank!
Which means.... I have waited so long to blog again, that all my fun has clustered into one big mess; a mess that I am having a hard time de-cluttering!
Let's see. Here is what comes to mind.
My brother engaged in a commitment to marry his sweetheart on December 5th! Parker and Meegan, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g... Honored to be her bridesmaid.
St. George Marathon. Shaved off 46 minutes from 2008's finish, coming in at 3 hours and 44 minutes. Missed Boston by 3 minutes and 1 second. Yes, I was very, very bitter about the latter, but very pleased of the former.
My super hot and super fit mother finished the marathon for the second time, too. After having pulled her medial gastrocnemius 3 weeks prior, she still shaved off 4 minutes and made the age of 51 look SO. DANG. GOOD.
I had a small surgery. Nothing major. At least maybe not to the untrained eye.
Thank you to October 31st and the chance to be anything you have ever wanted. So, naturally, I chose to live out my childhood dream and be Disney's bravest little Fish, Nemo, for a day. Yes, I had fins and a tutu. No, I was not covered in a giant fish suit. You get the idea.
A couple of my girlfriends and I braved the 6 hour drive from Salt Lake City to.... Las Vegas! We exchanged a chill in the air and a conservative nightlife for 70 degrees and 5am bedtimes. But we all know I can't share any more sin city stories; what happens in Vegas....
I have thoroughly enjoyed witnessing first hand Real Salt Lake barely squeak into the playoffs to now playing for all the marbles on Sunday against the Donovan-Beckham duo.
And what's on the menu for this weekend?
Why, New Moon, of course! I am sure no one fell out of their chairs in disbelief as they read such a plan.
Tangent: Still slightly obsessed with Robert Pattinson. But ever since rumors have been surfacing about him dating Kristen Stewart, my crushing has certainly taken a backseat. Ugh. How could he?
Okay, it's official. There is too much to catch up on; I am enjoying my single, independent life too much to go so long without posting.
Thank you for your forgiveness. I hope to never have need to clean my slate again!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Calling on Repentance
Oh my gaw. It's been 2 months and 2 days since I last posted.
And I think one of my New Year's resolutions was to keep blogging.
Please do not fear (needed more for my own convincing, really), I have not given up!
This post stands as a teaser to you, and a reminder to me, that I will post something of more substance....
very...
soon.
Yes, Ambiguity is necessary.
Do forgive me.
And I think one of my New Year's resolutions was to keep blogging.
Please do not fear (needed more for my own convincing, really), I have not given up!
This post stands as a teaser to you, and a reminder to me, that I will post something of more substance....
very...
soon.
Yes, Ambiguity is necessary.
Do forgive me.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Where were you...
...on this day, eight years past?
Undoubtedly it was a day that changed our country forever. A day that affected millions of people across the world, reaching those who have never even dipped a toe on American soil.
And undoubtedly, it has created a lasting impact on my life.
I was merely 14. And on September 11, 2001, I went to Les Bois Junior High just like any other day. Early morning church seminary went on as usual, without one hint of disaster looming. We entered first period at 7:50am and I took my usual seat in Ms. Adam's US History class. (Ironic?) And that's when word broke. News stories clamored on the television showing a New York World Trade Center billowing with black smoke. Confusion, apprehension hung over our heads like a dark rain cloud indecisive to let down it's guard. Was it just a terrible, but accidental, plane crash?
I couldn't conjure up the idea that this was bigger than my impressionable young teenage mind would understand. The televisions were left on in the classroom, as we all turned to whisper to one another what could be the crisis? We were left in the dark. Being two hours behind New York City, I imagine much of the west coast felt similarly.
I remember sitting puzzled, not moving to speak to my neighbor, or to engage in predicting the verdict. As we watched the first tower burning and news reporters spouting off their own media analyzed answers, the second tower was hit by another airplane. Innocently, I thought to myself, "ANOTHER plane crash accident?" And just as quickly as I murmured the last word, it became more clear.
This is not a coincidence.
This is not an accident.
We had been attacked. Terrorized. Murdered.
I had never and have never since felt, so much pride for my country. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I am an American, born and bred. This is my home, and everything America stands for represents who I am. Me.
Parents began to call into the school, demanding televisions be turned off. Perhaps it was the conservative Idaho environment, but we did not receive one more lick of information. A once blackened room, given one shred of light, was now locked and silenced. We had to bear the rest of school as if nothing had happened.
As 2:35pm rang it's closing bell and I hopped off the final step of the yellow school bus, I ran straight home. Without stopping to take off my backpack, I flicked on the tube. And there it was; everything I had missed for the past 7 hours coming to light. I sat with my father as we took in the tragedy that lay before us. I had so many questions, and I let them fly one right after the other. My patient father did his best to answer, and to keep the mood calm. (Gracious man, my daddy.)
The days following my thoughts were consumed with powerful images of collapsing steel building, sheets of thick black smoke, papers of all colors flying from windows, and god forbid, my fellow Americans following the same destiny as the paper. Screams from different directions penetrated my ears, some from the throats of frightened people fleeing the scene and others from the sirens of fire trucks headed in the opposite direction.
To those who ran to, and not away from, burning buildings and injured Americans, your efforts are unparalleled. I have recently thought that if my services as a nurse were needed in a dire life threatening emergency, would I have the courage to follow through? The bravery and selflessness? Would my sense of duty to my country carry me through? My gratitude to those who did follow through and execute is unexplainable. Words are not enough, and never will be.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
A Citizen of these United States,
Meredith Kaye Mangum
Undoubtedly it was a day that changed our country forever. A day that affected millions of people across the world, reaching those who have never even dipped a toe on American soil.
And undoubtedly, it has created a lasting impact on my life.
I was merely 14. And on September 11, 2001, I went to Les Bois Junior High just like any other day. Early morning church seminary went on as usual, without one hint of disaster looming. We entered first period at 7:50am and I took my usual seat in Ms. Adam's US History class. (Ironic?) And that's when word broke. News stories clamored on the television showing a New York World Trade Center billowing with black smoke. Confusion, apprehension hung over our heads like a dark rain cloud indecisive to let down it's guard. Was it just a terrible, but accidental, plane crash?
I couldn't conjure up the idea that this was bigger than my impressionable young teenage mind would understand. The televisions were left on in the classroom, as we all turned to whisper to one another what could be the crisis? We were left in the dark. Being two hours behind New York City, I imagine much of the west coast felt similarly.
I remember sitting puzzled, not moving to speak to my neighbor, or to engage in predicting the verdict. As we watched the first tower burning and news reporters spouting off their own media analyzed answers, the second tower was hit by another airplane. Innocently, I thought to myself, "ANOTHER plane crash accident?" And just as quickly as I murmured the last word, it became more clear.
This is not a coincidence.
This is not an accident.
We had been attacked. Terrorized. Murdered.
I had never and have never since felt, so much pride for my country. I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I am an American, born and bred. This is my home, and everything America stands for represents who I am. Me.
Parents began to call into the school, demanding televisions be turned off. Perhaps it was the conservative Idaho environment, but we did not receive one more lick of information. A once blackened room, given one shred of light, was now locked and silenced. We had to bear the rest of school as if nothing had happened.
As 2:35pm rang it's closing bell and I hopped off the final step of the yellow school bus, I ran straight home. Without stopping to take off my backpack, I flicked on the tube. And there it was; everything I had missed for the past 7 hours coming to light. I sat with my father as we took in the tragedy that lay before us. I had so many questions, and I let them fly one right after the other. My patient father did his best to answer, and to keep the mood calm. (Gracious man, my daddy.)
The days following my thoughts were consumed with powerful images of collapsing steel building, sheets of thick black smoke, papers of all colors flying from windows, and god forbid, my fellow Americans following the same destiny as the paper. Screams from different directions penetrated my ears, some from the throats of frightened people fleeing the scene and others from the sirens of fire trucks headed in the opposite direction.
To those who ran to, and not away from, burning buildings and injured Americans, your efforts are unparalleled. I have recently thought that if my services as a nurse were needed in a dire life threatening emergency, would I have the courage to follow through? The bravery and selflessness? Would my sense of duty to my country carry me through? My gratitude to those who did follow through and execute is unexplainable. Words are not enough, and never will be.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
A Citizen of these United States,
Meredith Kaye Mangum
Friday, September 4, 2009
Straight males DO know Boys 2 Men!
Q: Does a California vacation ever fail to satisfy?
A: No. Hell, no.
{Please don't wash my mouth out with soap, mom}
A vacation to San Diego with one of my best girls yet again proved that I love that sunny state.
Loved pampering ourselves with my first ever "spa day." Massages, mani's, pedi's, uber relaxation!
Seized every opportunity to run alongside beaches, harbors, and bays. And felt stinging pains of nostalgia as I watched herds of soccer teams fill Mission's grassy parks. I wanted to jump in and play with them. The lone white girl who can actually play. But then I remembered I am grateful my body still has the capability to run. Have I ever told you that knee joints need serious re-engineering by the big man upstairs? Yeah, I thought so. Ten times over.
Late nights and late mornings.
Glorious sunshine and tanning my 9am-5pm indoor white skin.
Finding the best place to usher in our SoCal vaycay... the Sandbar. San Diego style.
And best of all, getting $$paid$$ all the while!!!
Usually the jet lag post vacation due to reality checks and piles of work completely negates the benefits of time off.... But not this time.
This week has been a RIDE! Everything that I love about the wonderful world of futbol.... all came together in my kitchen one late Tuesday night. In one big human train. And though I do not expect anyone to understand the aforementioned memento... I wrote it for me. For future memory reminders. And there it shall remain.
A: No. Hell, no.
{Please don't wash my mouth out with soap, mom}
A vacation to San Diego with one of my best girls yet again proved that I love that sunny state.
Loved pampering ourselves with my first ever "spa day." Massages, mani's, pedi's, uber relaxation!
Seized every opportunity to run alongside beaches, harbors, and bays. And felt stinging pains of nostalgia as I watched herds of soccer teams fill Mission's grassy parks. I wanted to jump in and play with them. The lone white girl who can actually play. But then I remembered I am grateful my body still has the capability to run. Have I ever told you that knee joints need serious re-engineering by the big man upstairs? Yeah, I thought so. Ten times over.
Late nights and late mornings.
Glorious sunshine and tanning my 9am-5pm indoor white skin.
Finding the best place to usher in our SoCal vaycay... the Sandbar. San Diego style.
And best of all, getting $$paid$$ all the while!!!
Usually the jet lag post vacation due to reality checks and piles of work completely negates the benefits of time off.... But not this time.
This week has been a RIDE! Everything that I love about the wonderful world of futbol.... all came together in my kitchen one late Tuesday night. In one big human train. And though I do not expect anyone to understand the aforementioned memento... I wrote it for me. For future memory reminders. And there it shall remain.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wildfires
Tomorrow evening, I will be floating westward for the beach sunshine that belongs to the Golden State. (and suddenly my mind is taken to the shoebox float representing California that I created in 4th grade; it was decked out with Sunmaid raisins and the hotshot license plate that only looks good on beamers and range rovers).
But instead of homemade school projects, I will exchange dried grapes for flip flops and sunglasses by day. And I will trade sexy car plates for Paten leather black high heels by night.
I am all packed; stuffed to the brim, but what's new?; so ready to escape somewhere not completely imprisoned by land. (Side note: Fear not, my love affair with the Wasatch mountains remains just as hot and heavy as ever.)
But one thing I am SO looking forward to upon my return home... USA Men's Soccer versus El Salvador in SLC! Clearly my love affair with my 17 year played sport remains even more hot and heavy than mountainous grandeur. Not even shredded knee ligaments can put out such a fire!
And sometimes that burn is so strong, my body physically aches. It pounds like a broken heart. So despite singeing my bare skin as I watch others play the sport I love, I can't help but revel in the beauty of the game. Even as I engaged in a small pickup game with people ten years my younger a few nights past, I couldn't help but feel... SO ALIVE!
Sweaty, but alive.
Bottoms up, Cal-ee-forn-I-ay!
But instead of homemade school projects, I will exchange dried grapes for flip flops and sunglasses by day. And I will trade sexy car plates for Paten leather black high heels by night.
I am all packed; stuffed to the brim, but what's new?; so ready to escape somewhere not completely imprisoned by land. (Side note: Fear not, my love affair with the Wasatch mountains remains just as hot and heavy as ever.)
But one thing I am SO looking forward to upon my return home... USA Men's Soccer versus El Salvador in SLC! Clearly my love affair with my 17 year played sport remains even more hot and heavy than mountainous grandeur. Not even shredded knee ligaments can put out such a fire!
And sometimes that burn is so strong, my body physically aches. It pounds like a broken heart. So despite singeing my bare skin as I watch others play the sport I love, I can't help but revel in the beauty of the game. Even as I engaged in a small pickup game with people ten years my younger a few nights past, I couldn't help but feel... SO ALIVE!
Sweaty, but alive.
Bottoms up, Cal-ee-forn-I-ay!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
So this is what it feels like.
I can barely keep my eyes open. My fingers are slow to follow the command of my brain. And I desperately want to retire my weary frame and sink into my foamy mattress. But I feel so much tonight. I feel something that I must share before the moment passes me by. I cannot forget because it proves something that science nor pessimists can legitimately explain.
I may be speaking too plainly. But I don't care. These are my thoughts.
I have had a friend since I was 15 who has positively impacted my life in multiple facets- socially, academically, romantically, spiritually. His name is Derek.
Like I said, I may speak too plainly. But remember, I don't care.
My connection with another human being has yet to reach the capacity as the one between he and I. The definition of a dearest friend.
As he departed for the east coast today to partake of the Harvard crimson at the medical school, I felt something unparalleled. With genuine care and without expecting something in return, I am absolutely elated for him and his accomplishments. No reserves. No compromises.
It feels as though I am about to enter medical school. Which clearly I am not. Nurse Mer for life. And yet, I feel for him, as what I would feel for myself entering a dream long awaited. I feel giddy, and eager, and confident, and happy, without hesitation. A tear fell down my cheek. A tear of excitement and pride.
It's incredible.
I said to my sweet girlfriend, Carley, that I know this is exactly what he wants to be doing, and he will be so damn good at it. I feel such satisfaction in knowing that someone in whom I have vested sincere care is walking the walk. Making his story a good one. Grabbing life with full grasp and not only taking the leap, but giving himself a push start.
I feel absolute happiness when thinking of Derek wearing his white coat and connecting with a patient who needs him. Needs his brilliant mind and compassionate spirit.
Perhaps this is a glimpse of heaven, where only joy and love can linger.
Go and do what you were born to do, Derek. You have a friend a couple thousand of miles away who cherishes your strong (and stubborn) spirit.
xo.
I may be speaking too plainly. But I don't care. These are my thoughts.
I have had a friend since I was 15 who has positively impacted my life in multiple facets- socially, academically, romantically, spiritually. His name is Derek.
Like I said, I may speak too plainly. But remember, I don't care.
My connection with another human being has yet to reach the capacity as the one between he and I. The definition of a dearest friend.
As he departed for the east coast today to partake of the Harvard crimson at the medical school, I felt something unparalleled. With genuine care and without expecting something in return, I am absolutely elated for him and his accomplishments. No reserves. No compromises.
It feels as though I am about to enter medical school. Which clearly I am not. Nurse Mer for life. And yet, I feel for him, as what I would feel for myself entering a dream long awaited. I feel giddy, and eager, and confident, and happy, without hesitation. A tear fell down my cheek. A tear of excitement and pride.
It's incredible.
I said to my sweet girlfriend, Carley, that I know this is exactly what he wants to be doing, and he will be so damn good at it. I feel such satisfaction in knowing that someone in whom I have vested sincere care is walking the walk. Making his story a good one. Grabbing life with full grasp and not only taking the leap, but giving himself a push start.
I feel absolute happiness when thinking of Derek wearing his white coat and connecting with a patient who needs him. Needs his brilliant mind and compassionate spirit.
Perhaps this is a glimpse of heaven, where only joy and love can linger.
Go and do what you were born to do, Derek. You have a friend a couple thousand of miles away who cherishes your strong (and stubborn) spirit.
xo.
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