The dreaded College essays. . .

For the past year and a half, I have attended Salt Lake Community College. Although it has had its ups and down like any wild ride of life, it is time to look at a real University since SLCC is only a two year  college.

I would like to be a Professor in English Literature. Yes, I said Professor, not teacher. I want to teach college students.

Looking at Universities, where do I want to go. . . . BYU, is the place that feels right to me. . . or BYU-I in that case too.

In their transfer applications they ask for two essays. I already have one down, "Why do I want to transfer to a BYU establishment?" It is the second question that is getting to me.

It's personal, and asks a lot for only 200 words.

Please tell me what you think. Help me out please.

Peace and Love to all.

B - Describe a setback you have encountered in your life. Explain how you have handled the situation and what you have learned from it.

Early in life, I wore glasses and braces simultaneously. Math, verbal expression, spelling and handwriting were subjects I had difficulty in. I was teased, made fun of and left out of games and programs at school, church and play. As a 4th grader who had dark thoughts of ending her life, my life seemed pointless. I felt alone, unloved and a failure at everything I did; even at night under the covers I couldn't hide from  the nightmare.

As I began the fifth grade with contacts and a new set of teeth. Entering my first lunch of the year, I observed a girl sitting alone. She remained alone for days. By the fifth day, I gathered my sack lunch and bravely sat down beside her, my new-found friend.

Understanding the need for a friend, I overcame my own demon of low self-esteem  by redeeming someone else’s. Remembering to see the world through another persons eyes has helped me become a better person. I look out for the underdog, because I know what it is like to be one. 

Mother of all Mothers. . . .

Mothers. . .
You can't live with them. . .
You can't live with out them. . .

After some topic about mothers tonight, I started to reflect on my own mother. She's crazy. Highly Liberal and Highly opinionated (if she thinks your an idiot she will tell you, you sound like an idiot.) She is the most compassionate woman I know. . . and I mean that. And if you make her pissed. . . you better run.

It got me wondering what I was going to be like when I become a mother.

Many say they don't want to be like their parents when they have kids of their own. Although my mother has her flaws like every one else on this planet, I hope I'm like her. . .

I hope. . . and what I want to do. . .

I'm fun loving

I will always know what to say to my kids

I'll will support my kids in everything, even if I don't completely agree.

I'll lay in bed with them and cry with them when their heart is broken.



                *       *      *       *       *

My kids will love the music I pick. . . cause I'll be hip like that.

I'll be at every soccer game, play, music recital, art show, Anything my little ones want to do. . . I want them to reach for the stars when they go for their dreams.

I'll love them. . . for their light and dark

Music will blast through out my house, and we will dance and giggle and be a family.

My kids friends will (hopefully) think I'm the "bomb" (or whatever the hip word at that time)

Although my kids and I will fight, I hope they know that I will always love them.

When I read stories to them, I will put on characters voices and entertain them to show books are better then T.V.

Holidays will be big. We'll even make up holidays!

We'll travel and have fun and learn everything about this beautiful world.

I'll protect them if anyone messes with them

I'll teach them about the gospel, let them know it is the true church, Yet let them experience life and differences too.

* * * *

My mother has done all this for me and so much more. . .
I hope I can be this for my little ones.

Thank you mom. I love you. You are a great mother and my best friend. 

Peace and Love

Laurel Evelyn

Music is for the soul, emotions and unspoken connections.

When I was little, I remember my mother had a stereo in the kitchen, It was the first big thing my parents had boughten once they were married because my Dad knew that is what made my mom most happy (Isn't that sweet?) My mother would (and still does to this day) blasts music through the house. Mostly cause she wants to get her groove on. :)

When I was 15 through 17 , I went through my first love and heartbreak. Many people believed that one of so young a age couldn't fall in love. . . I knew one could. That summer I spent in Germany, Italy, England and Ireland. . . I ruined that vacation for my family. I would connect and plug into my pink I-pod and listen to music all day. While we were walking, grocery shopping. . . anything, I was shutting my self out. Slowly falling deeper into a depression. Music, connected and explained every feeling I had. Artist such as Maria Mena, Alanis Morissette and many broken hearted musicians helped me think of what I would love to send the ungrateful a-hole who broke my heart. However, on the way home back to the great America I heard a song on the airplane called "Sleepless" by Until June, who made me realize that everything was okay. I got home and there were three letters and a tape. . . My first waiting for a missionary experience.

I was very quite about this experience with many people, especially at school. For if things would have worked out. . . well I would be married by now. Josh Groban and his new CD at the time "Awake" was getting me through not having him or talking to him everyday. Then on July 24, 2008 I was "Dear Jane'd" for he had fallen for someone on the field. This was my summer of playing Lesil, who was the love sick puppy in "Sound Of Music" how could one do that when the heart was shattered. I gather every scrap of sanity in me to do every performance and once it was over I crashed. My senior year started with me gaining weight do to depressed eating and crying every night. I did somethings to get my self out be doing a great service, which ended up not working out. How on earth was I going to get out of this rut?

Music got me out of it. My mother had compiled a list of every song that was boughten or listened to because of those few life events, love songs, hate songs, I feel sorry cause you the dumbest man alive songs, I'm stupid, what is going to happen, songs.  Everything.

To those who don't believe (You know who you are) . . . I did hurt, and I do know what it feels like so take a hike. . . anyone can love at any age. Its the strongest emotion and is why it goes hand and hand with music.

Music, my hero. Got me through a lot my teenage years. It made me happy, it made me sing, it made me burst out into random tears and have not so great of memories and remember the greatest memories when that song was being played.

Please Music. . . save me again.

Let your over powering lyrics touch me, Let the words and notes that are played help me find who I once was. Help me remember what is like to love and be truly loved back. Help me that heartaches will go away, that others in this great big world have felt what I have felt. Let them understand what I'm feeling. Help me not to go back into the pit.

Love and Peace.

Laurel Evelyn.


The Songs that are most played on my Ipod right now. . .  ( * - ones that apply to me  and will always touch me, all of them apply but still. . . you get what I mean)

 *I'm on your side, Maria Mena                      *Why Not Me? Enrique Iglesias    
Our Battles, Maria Mena                                Belly Up, Maria Mena
Just Hold Me, Maria Mena                             Heartbreak Warfare, John Mayer
Gravity, John Mayer                                       In Repair, John Mayer
*Details in the Fabric, Jason Mraz                  Song for a Friend, Jason Mraz
*God Rests in Reason, Jason Mraz                  *The Saltwater Room, Owl City

For who ever is reading. . .

*Due to comments I have been rewriting. . . . well sort of. I haven't really gotten to these pages below. . . so yes. . . .do not judge on where I am taking it, If you don't like it then go read something else.*

Thankful for church goers . . . Peter

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Your welcome, just get in, I have to get going.”  She said pushing me into the cab.

She was in a hurry.

“305 W 39th St, please.” She said to the taxi driver as she slammed her body against the back seat, shuffling through her purse to find something.  She was just as wet as I was.

“Were you running around trying to catch a cab?”

“No, I just got out of the shower and I didn’t have time to dry my hair.” She didn’t even look at me, she still rummaged though the purse.  

I had then noticed a gold cross that hung from her neck, a catholic? Really? She didn’t look like one.  She looked like one of those who only went at Christmas time and Easter and when she wanted to confess her sins.

“No I’m not” she said to me while still rummaging in her bag. Was she reading my mind?! Was she a freak, a gypsy, an alien?

“No, I’m not a mind reader. I just noticed you looking at my necklace.”

She looked at me sideways while her hands still jumbled in her bag, it would have been cool to meet an alien.

“So you are catholic?”

“Nope” I don’t know what she was looking for. . . but she must have a Mary Poppins bag cause she couldn’t find it.

“Then why are you wearing a cross?” oh crap. Why did I ask that? Why am I so stupid! Why can't keep my damn mouth shut! 

“My father was a catholic, he died when I was nine. This used to be his.”

Oh double dang. . . I’m such an idiot.

“Don’t worry. Every one asks at church why I wear it.”

She must be Jewish.

“I’m Mormon.”

What?! Out of all New York, I get in a cab with a Mormon.

Freak Show . . . Emma

He just looked at me. Gapping. Did I say something wrong?  This man soaked wet, with  one of his suit pant legs covered in mud and part of his hair sticking up in odd places with a crazed look in his eyes was looking at me like I was a four eyed, bearded lady. Luckily this awkward silence did not last long.

“$13.50 miss”

Wow, taxis are just charging more and more. The man next to me, still gapping, said nothing. Luckily I knew where my wallet was since I couldn’t find my make-up. Hopefully I could run into the bathroom before I met Holly’s newest victim for me.

“Well goodbye, Mr. Soaked.”

I opened my door and stepped back out into the rain.

“Wait!”

Oh boy, what did the crazy want now?

“What’s your name?”

What? I’m not having another stalker. But how many Emma’s are there really in the city? 5,000 I’m guessing. My first name wouldn’t hurt.

“Emma.”

And with that I shut the taxi door and walked up to my doom.

Rude. . . Peter

Emma.

That’s it. No last name, no number, no ‘we should get together.” Well that is stupid. Yeah, I was stupid. . . but in a charming way. . . I’m not that bad looking. . . I don’t smell. What is wrong? I tried to have a nice chat with the woman and when I ask for her name all she says is “Emma’. . . .yeah it’s a name, but she was just rude about it. I bet it’s a fake name.