tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90167898459792405832024-03-13T12:51:57.120-07:00Heather Mag.Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-90936036988338350302013-11-19T21:38:00.003-08:002013-11-19T21:38:46.830-08:00Story Time 1.1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;">Before I moved to Chicago, I worked at this sales floor that sold internet coaching. Myself, and a few other girls tediously walked computer illiterate chaps through a long and vigorous online contract and then had to somehow get them to electronically sign it. Somehow. Needless to say after a year I felt like I needed a change. I am grateful for the job I have now, but the one thing that I still miss to this day, are the stories that my co worker and I would write to entertain ourselves on nights when we literally had NOTHING to do. I will periodically post them on my blog in the coming months with the first story below. Hope you enjoy.</span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>Story Teller number 1</b>: I.........AM..................<wbr></wbr>....SO .........................<wbr></wbr>BORED!!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>Story Teller Number 2</b>: TELL ME ABOUT IT.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">I feel like a worthless piece of shiz.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: OK.... I AM SITTING HERE, DOING NOTHING</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2:</b> all i have done is made a save file and talked to random strangers on the phone.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: ALREADY DONE THE FB THING...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:24 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">I HAVE ATTEMPTED TO CHARGE A CARD</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: haha</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: LETS MAKE UP A STORY!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2:</b> A story for what?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Out of Boredom?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:25 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: um sure</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2:</b> turn down your volume!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">um sure? what else did you have in mind?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:26 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Once apon a time..there were 3 friends.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">one had blue eyes one had green eyes and one had brown eyes</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">they liked each other.........</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:27 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">(your turn to add)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: how much?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: Well..they liked each other about as much as the spice girls liked each other</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">so Sisters.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: they were ALL high maintenence</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:28 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: One day green eyes decided to have a spactacular picnic</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:29 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: brown eyes was going to bring the wine!!(ha0yeah...)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:30 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: Blue eyes was going to bring the music/blankets/cheese sandwiches</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: green eyes can bring the.... fruit</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">um k</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: But on the way to the picnic Blue Eyes Car runs out of gas (As USUAL)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:33 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: brown eyes got ran over by a car crossing at a pedestian crosswalk by a horse and buggie...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: Green eyes decided to take the Bus...but it got a flat tire. So Nobody made it to the picnic.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Brown eyes miraculously survived the horse and Buggie Accident.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:34 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">But she had to ride on a scooter cause it crushed her leg</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">(Surprise Surprise)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Also She Suddenly turned into a unicorn because she is allergic to horses.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:35 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: only at night of corse</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">course</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">like an ogre</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: Blue eyes only TOLD brown and eyes and green eyes that he car ran out of gas..</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">but what really happened was that she had to go to a secret meeting in the caves of provo for the CIA</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Cause she's a bad ass.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:36 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">So missing the picnic was no big deal to her because she saved 25 bears from eating bad malfunctioned experimental fish</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:37 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">(OKAY FINE I WILL CONTINUE)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Green eyes decided that she would take the bus because there was a really good looking guy on there that she had been secretly stalking.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:38 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">So it wasn't a big deal that the tired went flat because she spent 3 hours sitting there getting to know the back of his head.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>1</b>: meanwhile green eyes was busy banging her husband in the bus that got a flat tire...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><b>2</b>: Except he was secretly GAY</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">The moral of the story THUS far..is that picnics are dangerous.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;">5:39 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">Later during the week..............</span></div>
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<span style="color: #888888; display: block; float: left;"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;">(your turn)</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-64830235788530728802013-10-18T12:04:00.001-07:002013-10-18T12:15:26.345-07:00H.N.M. + H.N.M. Birthday Shout out!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Lets talk sisters.</b></div>
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You know...</div>
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The ones who have known you the longest..</div>
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Share Initials with you:</div>
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Holly Marie Magill</div>
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Heidi Michelle Magill</div>
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Heather Noelle Magill</div>
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Haylee Nicole Magill</div>
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That's right....my mom did that..</div>
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those who have shared bedrooms with you...</div>
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worn matching outfits with you, and suffered embarrassments with you that only they would understand..</div>
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But there is always that one...</div>
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Who copycats you all the time...</div>
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Or you her....</div>
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That one who knows all your dirty secrets..but loves you anyway...</div>
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She knows how to make you laugh again, and again...</div>
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And again...</div>
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The one you have the most random childhood pictures with..</div>
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So you keep the tradition going..into adulthood..</div>
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The one you go on adventures with...</div>
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Celebrate Holidays with..</div>
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The one who's beauty surpasses all other females in your eyes..</div>
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Even when she isn't trying...</div>
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And even when she's trying too hard...</div>
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The one who shares friends with you...</div>
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And you share friends with her...</div>
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Has the same favorite person as you...</div>
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Those kind of sisters are rare, and should be celebrated. </div>
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Especially on her Birthday.</div>
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So Here is my SHOUT OUT!</div>
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Happy Birthday Haylee! You are the best sister and best friend in the entire world. Anyone who shares a birthday with Zac Efron, and Jean Claude Van Dam is destined to be special. You are honest, kind, loyal, hilarious, and the BEST pretend lesbian I have ever known. I hope we have awkward photos like the small collection above when we are old ladies.</div>
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I love you!</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-74247940894295468262013-10-08T14:12:00.001-07:002014-02-06T09:48:11.141-08:00Family<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I began writing this post while I was in some random mountains in Brazil. once I had heard about my friends father's passing, I couldn't keep writing it. Today I finished it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">August 26th, 2013</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There are moments, in my life, where I feel as if I have been blessed with sporadic moments of spiritual enlightenment. Moments where I'm so overwhelmed and so consumed by the spirit or spirits around me, that its hard to breath. Thankfully my spiritual healthiness or religious peace has no affect on these moments, other than of course the clarity and desire to receive whatever message, feeling, or lesson, is a far greater experience when I am in tune with myself and the Lord. Sometimes while enduring severe emotions of sadness, loneliness, fear, despair, or sorrow, I can often immediately feel the emotion leave my body, as if my burden has been scooped from my overfilled heart, like sand to a bucket. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Tonight was one of those moments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am one of those individuals that was privileged with the opportunity to meet and know all four of my grandparents in my lifetime. Considering the fact that my parent's are in their sixties, that's a pretty uncommon thing. Although three of them passed while I was young, my brief personal experiences with each of them over several visits during my childhood, has instilled this solid carbon copy of them that pierces my soul, as if those memories were meant to remain vivid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My first grandparent memory was with my mom's dad, Grandpa Herb. He gave me my first sensory experience of cigarette smoke, and coffee. My first memory of a dog came from grandpa Herbs side kick, boat, fishing, and travel companion named Killer. His name made him seem to be quite the ferocious beast, but he was smaller than most cats and his ferociousness only extended to the smell of his farts and marlboro body odor. One morning, while in town for a visit, grandpa Herb took us to The Burger King on Center Street in Orem which at the time was a Hardee's drive-thru. I was probably about five or six. Off we went on our journey, which I'm sure was a disguised breakfast outing, but really grandpa needed his delicious Hardee's coffee fix, so why not make it an adventure for sausage and egg biscuits as well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Although my conversations with him were basic, considering my age, I remember his smile, and his eyes most of all. I remember how gentle he was with me and my sisters, and how much he yearned to know us. Flash forward to my last experience with him in the hospital a year or two later, and even in his hardest moments of lung cancer, he would help us up onto his hospital bed, ask us about our toys we brought with us, and show us all his tubes and IV's. From my perspective, he was a simple man. One who was set in his ways and liked to stick with routine. His bad habits were his downfall, and that lesson is something that has always stuck with me. After he died, my mom put this picture of him in our living room, where his eyes could smile over us as we grew, and I looked at it often, just to remember those smells, smiles, breakfast adventures, and leathery skin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My mothers mother, Grandma Helen/G-ma (or whatever nickname I am currently calling her), is still alive and kicking.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">She is my last living grandparent. Her crossword puzzle wisdom and repetitive senility may be growing by the hour, but her spirit is bold, and her ages of teaching seminary have taught her how to approach the youth in a straightforward stick it to your brain sort of way. My sisters and I all have our suspicions that she prefers boys, and have often had visits from her in the past where she wouldn't interact with us at all, and snuggle all of my brothers instead. But there are those moments, when she will sit beside me in the living room, breathing her 80+ year old breath just over my proximity limit, lean over with her sideways glare, and say something outstandingly complimentary, or fill me in on a piece of her personal testimony that just clicks in my brain. I then add another piece of the puzzle to her history, and adventurous past. But then perhaps her regards will be about fact that she can speak spanish --which she really can't. You never know what your gunna get with that old box of morning breath chocolate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I received a blog comment awhile back, from a cousin that said that she wished I knew my Dad's parents more. She said that they would be really proud of me. I wish I knew them more too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> raised their children and lived in Roswell, New Mexico, which my family visited only about 4 times throughout my childhood. I only remember my grandmother from tidbits of her laughter, and cooking in the kitchen of their small, retro family home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She was sassy and bubbly. She had everyone running around, doing things for her and ruling the roost so to speak. She had a higher voice, and wore lots of blush on her high strong cheekbones.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Most of my knowledge of her comes from my dad and his seven siblings that talk about her non stop. The words they speak are of respect, and of her loving, and amazingly strong nature. She was a firm believer in the gospel and did not hesitate to instill strong values into all of her children. Several of my cousins have said that there are tidbits of her in each of her many grandchildren and great grandchildren. You can pinpoint her strong personality traits, almond eyes, and striking features in almost every one of us. The second time I went to New Mexico, was for her funeral.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> I still don't really know how she died, but I remember that the occasion brought the entire Magill clan, and though the celebration of her life was loud and vibrant, there was a somber aura around everyone. The knowledge that a rare soul had left this world was weighing them down, and even as a small girl, I remember feeling like I was missing out on something great, and I felt cheated. The sifting of belongings that were divvied out among family members after her funeral was a grand experience, and glimpse into her life and personality. I would sift through random belongings in the bathroom and wonder what it would have been like to see her with those things. Perfume, jewelry, hair accessories, floral dresses with shoulder pads, that were probably a part of her wardrobe for more than twenty years, or more. But then it was time to go. Time to leave for Utah, and keep on wondering what she was truly like. I took the stories with me, I took the borrowed memories and stories from cousins, aunts and uncles, and the remaining remnants of her perfume on my wrists, and went home. I didn't think about her again for quite some time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Several years later I had the opportunity to head on down to Roswell with a cousin, who at the time was living in Utah for school? I think. She spent a few months getting reacquainted with her not so often visited cousins, and her good old Uncle Mike, and aunt Nancy. She was planning a visit and knew that Haylee and I hadn't seen our grandpa Magill since grandma's funeral. Since we were barely teenagers, it seemed like it would be a perfect time to takes us with her, and my dad agreed. I also feel like my dad and Aunt Sandra had a feeling like my grandpa was getting on in life and he wanted his youngest girls, who barely knew him, to get the opportunity to spend some quality time with him before it was too late.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Off we went in her two door car, on a journey to visit long lost relatives.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My grandparents lived in Roswell for most of their married life, and a few of their children stayed in Roswell and had their own homes where they raised their children. After grandma Magill died, my Grandpa moved in with my Uncle Sid, who happened to live across the street from his brother, my uncle Pat. Their combined houses sprawled out to what seemed like ages of land, with the feeling of a country farm house and simple living. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As we visited my family in my uncles house that I had seen briefly at a younger age, I somehow felt as if I had grown up in those rooms, and played in that field. The familiarity and welcoming peace was overwhelming. We spent the day catching up with long lost great aunts, uncles, and cousins, and chatted about how much we were like our parents, and other relatives. I remember one point in the day my grandpa was taking a nap. The door to his room was open and you could see him laying on his bed, peacefully sleeping so similar to the way my dad did. They both have this haunting way of making you feel like checking their pulse if they weren't snoring loudly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Grandpa Magill was a jokester, and a constantly smiling man, who's love radiated from him, so even if his words were simple, you knew they meant so much more than just what he was saying. I enjoyed that day of catch up more than any other family day I had ever had, or have had since then. We rode horses, four wheelers, and played in the field all day long with the cousins, and at the end of the day, we sat outside on the porch and one of my aunts made sure that we went back there and gave Grandpa a big hug before we left. There we were saying our goodbyes and I love you's for the last time, but we didn't know it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The next day, we returned for more fun and adventure, but Grandpa was nowhere to be found. He had taken the four wheeler out before we got there, to check on some water pipes, or the creek or something back on the far end of the property, but he rolled his four wheeler in the process and didn't make it. Everyone had said how he wanted to either go out on his horse or his four wheeler, so I guess he got his wish. But I wish he would have waited. I wish I would have gotten one more day. The remainder of that vacation was sad, wild, fun, chaotic, argumentative and crazy, but I will never forget that day that I hugged my grandpa and said I love you for the last time, while he hugged me so strong for someone that old. I could feel this connection with him, as if he knew that would be the last time he saw me on this earth, so he was making sure that I knew what his love felt like. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Continued, Oct 8th, 2013:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Since I have moved out here on my own, without the company of a familiar face, or family member in sight, I have felt what it is like to truly feel lonely. My job takes me on journeys and adventures in other countries that are filled with fun family time, but it is not my family. I will always have a love for my family over anything else that I do, but while I am here on this journey of mine, I tend to feel alone without them. My ward is here, my few friends are here and there that I can see movies with and explore restaurants with, but there really isn't anything like my time that I spend with my family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">On this one particular night, while laying in a foreign bedroom with memories of a foreign family on the walls, and feeling completely disconnected from the world, especially without any internet or phone access, I had this sort of panic attack. I suddenly had all these feelings and worries about traveling without them, or getting in a car crash and never seeing them again, or missing out on something important because they aren't able to call me, and I feared that once I was finally connected with them again I would have missed so much. I couldn't breath, I felt cold, I felt sad, and all I could do was panic. But then, there it was. This familiar, warmth that I knew so well, even though I had only experienced it that one time. It was my grandpa, I'm sure of it. Radiating his love for me in that unknown place, all alone, in a different country, telling me that everything was going to be okay. I was immediately calm, and filled with such warmth, peace, and indescribable love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For me, family means putting your arms around them and just being there, on heaven or earth. I often feel this longing to know those who have passed on in my family and I have a hard time dealing with the fact that I feel their presence, but I can't see them and I can't talk to them or ask them about their life, or ask for advice. But then, I feel as if I know my grandparents so well, from the obvious love, peace, comfort and heavenly guidance that they send me so often. I feel their arms around me and I am so comforted to have to knowledge of eternal families. I look forward to catching up with them all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><u>To Rachel,and Fam</u>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">I cannot really think about doing anything risky with my dad in attendance. I won't go on any treacherous hikes, or journeys with him in constant fear of what might happen if he slipped and fell, or got hurt.</span><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">He eats dirt while riding his bike to work all the time, breaking elbows, and giving himself black eyes, and every time I have to look at my battle worn dad I can't keep it together. I want to sit in a corner and cry, hoping that his pain will not last long. I want to wrap him up in bubble wrap, feeding him squash and sauerkraut in front of a football game all his life. Just hoping that he stays his happy go lucky self forever. It's this kind of love and adoration for someone that has done nothing but cherish, inspire, motivate, and protect me my entire life. He is the one true person that has never said anything to demean my character, insult me, look down on me, or do anything but support and love me even when I was the worst child. My adoration for him has only gotten stronger over the years as I have gotten older.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I heard about Ricker, I couldn't keep it together, as I know that the love you have for him parallels the love I have for my own dad.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm sure you already know that those of us who cry when hearing words of Rickers greatness, and your sorrow for the emptiness in your life, the heartfelt wishes you receive and kind words of uplifting motivation, and sympathies come from those of us who are not just sympathizing for you, but mourning right along with you, even from us measly friends who only knew him by name, or from a few late night parties, and softball games. Ricker was the kind of man who on departure from this earth, his souls exit left an after shockwave that could be felt farther than anyone actually knew, until it was already done, and the veil was closed. I know for sure, that he is with you, radiating his love for you and I know he used sweet RJ (Ricker Jr.) to bring his love with him through the veil. Rachel, you are an inspiring mom, great friend, and a true example of someone who loves their family unconditionally. I know that Ricker is celebrating his birthday with a big smile on his face.</span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-39859257629488068232013-10-05T00:01:00.001-07:002013-10-05T00:01:10.119-07:00Songs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Since I have turned into a music enthused freak who does nothing but practice songs sung by men and go over iTunes piano lessons again and again, I figured that I would post my progress. It is my hope to come up with some great covers to add to a set (hopefully in addition to a couple of my own songs) and get in the acoustic night scene around Chicago. It's quite the feat I've heard but everyone has to start somewhere, right? You can watch them <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8wZiKLvXZ0" target="_blank">Here</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIG439kfe-0" target="_blank">Here</a>.</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-56770831960201998932013-10-04T11:11:00.002-07:002013-10-04T11:12:00.761-07:00Fotos De Brasil<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here is a sneak peek at a few posts I will be writing about my adventures in Brazil.</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-66337695536066386692013-09-29T02:11:00.006-07:002013-10-01T22:02:45.369-07:00Forgetting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One sunday, as an almost 20 year old girl, I found myself sitting in the bishops office of my home stake singles ward that had every high school friend, childhood neighbor, and recognizable face in attendance. I was new to the ward and had only been going back to church steadily for my third week in a row. My courage was high that day, and I feared for the worst as I knew that what I was about to endure was going to be agonizing. My souls secrets were locked away, and the key to opening them was hidden so well, that I didn't even know if I was capable of saying what I went in there to say in the first place. What I didn't understand, was that I had happened upon one of the most tender hearted, kind, and compassionate bishops that I would ever have the pleasure of knowing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My past experiences with bishops had been nothing but terrible, and although my soul ached for relief of all the hardships of the past year, I found myself on the verge of a panic attack as I sat waiting to talk to a complete stranger, for what seemed like forever. After I had approached Bishop Seastrand, he had asked me to wait for him in his office while he finished up some random duties after sacrament. So there I sat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just as I was about to get up and change my mind, in walked the bishop. He smiled and shook my hand as I sat there with the weight of the world on my shoulders, and he stared deep into my soul, i'm sure of it. He too sat down, asked me how I was, and we then chatted about my sister who had been in that ward and the familiarity he had with my family. After he had calmed my nerves a bit, I split second thought about how I would begin. I intended to seem confident, direct and cheerful as I was about to spill all my sins that I had ever had, seeing as to that was the first time I had ever met with a bishop by my own doing. I had every intention of "keeping it together".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I began pleasantly explaining the year I had just had, and tried to focus on all the progress that I had currently made. I had already been to see a bishop once, with my fiancé at the time, and told him of our relationship and how we had been living together. He had been fair and direct, but had told us to see our current bishop because we were outside of his boundaries, and he gave us his advice about all that we would have to do to reach our temple goal. Afterwards, <i>He</i> moved out of our apartment so we could begin the necessary adjustments. We never actually made it to our proper bishop because <i>he</i> had called off our engagement shortly after that first bishop's visit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Much time passed after <i>that day, </i>and I didn't do much of anything other than straight work, which I am sure I was an absolute joy to be around. Its kind of a blur now that I think about it but I remember that at least two or three months had passed before I could work up the courage to appear out in the open to my friends at home without tearing up at the question of my relationship. I knew how many of the singles in the ward I was supposed to attend knew me, and I worried about the speculation, and questions that would eventually come. I was on top of the world a few months prior and had spent all my time and energy focusing on someone else and the life I would lead with him. I had showed my military support for him as he spent a year in Iraq and everyone knew how committed I was to him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I did finally leave the cave of wonders in my parents basement and embarked on the first Sunday of the rest of my life. The questions came of course, as well as the occasional inquiry as to when my wedding was, which stung like I had stepped on a bulging hornets nest. Sometimes I wish that I could have seen my face when people would ask me questions about <i>him.</i> The relationship definitely felt like a divorce and I'm sure my face was full of mixed expressions of anger, annoyance and pain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But I endured the masses, and pondered in sacrament often, and sat in the back as to go unnoticed. After giving it much thought, and literally studying the mannerisms and personality of my bishop, I decided that he would not make things worse for me. He was trustworthy, and was the one that could help me. So after the decision was made, and I had journeyed into that small hall office, I felt prepared, and ready to move forward with the next stage in my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After I was finished fake pleasantly explaining my year to him, and how I wanted this to be the beginning of being active and making right decisions, he said....nothing. I hadn't told him anything <i>Specific</i> that I had done, but living with a man out of wedlock implies several things. He sat there, and looked at me. I sat there and looked at him. Then, after a moment of deep thought and pleasant expressions he said,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> "I'm so proud of you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Huh?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I lost it. I tried to smile, I tried to hold it in, but the confusion, the sorrow, and the floodgates of sadness completely came over me like I had just walked underneath that powerful waterfall at bridal veil falls. As I half smiled, half frowned and fought back tears I said, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"What? That was not what I thought you would say."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He then replied with a scripture about repentance and words on the beauty of having your sins washed completely away, and how the only thing it takes is that one step. That one courageous move to walk through his door. He didn't need to hear anymore from me, I am sure he knew what I had been through. He was filled with so much joy and encouragement, that it was like he could see into the future, at the future me. He knew things about me and my personality that I hadn't told him, but his remarks were powerful, and reminded me of my father, on earth, and in heaven.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But then he paused, as I sat there half excited, half relieved, and said,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"Did you love him?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He got blurry from the tears in my eyes, as I gasped and blurted, with my head towards the ground,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"I still do. I will always love him. It will never go away, and I can't make it stop."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and then I sobbed. Harder than I have ever sobbed in my entire life. So embarrassingly loud that I am sure the entire hallway full of people outside could hear me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My bishop waited, as I got my sloppy self together, and then with a joyful smile, and obvious tears in his own eyes he said, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"You know, there will come a time, when you will meet the man of your dreams. One who will carry you through veils of this mortal life, protect you, love you in ways you cannot imagine, and when that time comes, you will not even remember this time in your life. It will be but a small grain of sand on the beach of your memories, and you will not even remember <i>his</i> name. Of this I am absolutely sure."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This pivotal moment, one conversation with someone who was obviously sent to this earth to not only help others, but me specifically, was the single most important event that I had ever had. One mans words, changed my viewpoint on the gospel and the power of repentance forever. He reinstated my confidence in the bishops of the church, and helped me work past the single most devastating thing to ever happen to me. I will never forget those words. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">about 3 months later, I had the opportunity to receive my patriarchal blessing from my bishops father, which made it all that more meaningful to me, and I am sure it was no coincidence.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Although I wish I could forget <i>him,</i> It hasn't happened yet, but there is no doubt in my mind that what my bishop said in his office that day is so true. I think that his words were not only a message of hope for my future, but one that had a double meaning on </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">repentance</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">. The beauty of it is quite amazing. The lord will remember our sins no more. How beautiful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> "No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">By</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">kindness</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">, and pure</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">knowledge</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">, which shall greatly enlarge the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">soul</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">without</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">hypocrisy</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">, and without </span><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">guile</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">—</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"><span class="verse" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 1px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span>Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"><span style="line-height: 10px;"> </span>love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy; </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">That he may know that thy faithfulness is stronger than the cords of</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">death</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"><span class="verse" style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 1px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span>Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"><span style="line-height: 10px;"> </span>presence of God; an</span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #2f393a;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">d the doctrine of the priesthood shall distill upon thy soul as the </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">dews</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> from heaven.</span><a class="bookmark-anchor dontHighlight" href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9016789845979240583" name="46" style="border: 0px; color: #486fae; line-height: 22px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">companion</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">righteousness</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> and truth; and thy </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;">dominion</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2f393a; line-height: 22px;"> shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever." </span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-51361957169846265302013-09-25T23:13:00.001-07:002013-09-25T23:13:05.946-07:00Red Eye<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are so many things that I need to update my blog about, but I just can't find the words.<br />
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Its like my brain needs to decompress and somehow recollect everything that has happened this summer. I have over 7 drafts on my page that I have no desire to even look at, let alone complete. Why not write a completely new post about nothing? Alright.<br />
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I spend my personal time wandering. Wandering through the city, after 14 hours of straight sleep that sometimes ends up lasting right through church. The fall weather is definitely drawing me outdoors, so rather than sit in a house or on a porch on a couch..you get the picture, I would rather wander.<br />
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I spend most of my days indoors entertaining a two year old who's only redeeming quality is to say thank you and clap at my guitar playing. The point being that the weekends are my only time to be alone, and I like it that way. I find that filling my weekends with social activities only exhausts me to the point where I am twice as tired the following weekend. None of this is good for writing inspiration. Until one of my wanderings late at night happens upon a favorite blog or two of mine, and its like the words on the electronically speaking page are some sort of password to open my creativity. Why can't I just be creative all the time? This must be what it feels like to have writers block.<br />
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I usually find inspiration to write, at around 2 am. Big surprise, guess what time it is? The majority of my late night time is usually spent wondering how I can turn my brain off. Its like I go on auto all day long, go through the motions to get the hours to pass, which are not unpleasant hours, just repetitive. By the time I get downstairs around 8pm, I cannot figure out how it all works again. Auto pilot goes off and I have forgotten who I am, what was I going to do once I got down here, and where the remote control is. I then wander Netflix, facebook, and news websites aimlessly looking for I don't even know what and before I know it its 2am again and I'm all wired, poetically motivated, and I have to be up in 4 hours. Great.<br />
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-91616855199629561182013-08-10T16:45:00.000-07:002013-08-10T17:01:06.167-07:00A Farewell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"May 16, 2011 at 7:13pm:
Me: "Corry, Please make sure you pack enough Gas for that Hot air Balloon!"
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Corry Wood: "I talked to my friend about it. She recommended a pool to cool off instead of the basket. What a way to travel."
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Me: "Oh cheers to that Idea. It was pretty much the coolest dream ever. I kind of wish it was true. A, you would have a sick Toyota lookin SUV that was black, sexy, and full of camping gear and summer adventure items. and B, you were steering the hot air balloon with the car! so you have an SUV..camping gear..a hot air balloon, and a pool!? wow. This IS going to be the summer of my dreams ....also there were a few people in the SUV but they were all squished..I think maddie was one of them..except for me who was on a motorcycle attached to the bottom of your car. (try and visualize that!) our first adventure? I didn't attach the motorcycle good enough so it fell into a city and my wallet was in it. So you had to put me down so we could go on a search for my wallet which got stolen by a bunch of teenage girls who were playing keep away. that part wasn't as fun, but the rest was pretty great!"
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">To say that I have some of the greatest best friends is an understatement. I firmly believe that the lifetime friends I made while working at a mediocre and questionably cleanly mexican restaurant was no coincidence. We all got stuck with each other at exactly the right time. We needed each other for some specific reason. Perhaps that is why my los G's will always hold a special place in my soul forever.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Enter: Corry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Corn Dog. Coral. Corry cakes wood. Redwood. The gangly ginger kid. The list goes on and on.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My first experience with Corry was a conversation about making out, or the N.O.P. if you will. Although I was engaged at the time, he did not hesitate the put the word out there that he was up for "Whatever".
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Five years later, several boyfriends and one fiancé for me, and a plethora of girlfriends and N.O.P.'s for Corry have come and gone, and although we never embarked on the "Relationship" Journey Thankfully...that would be weird, Corry and I have had quite the friendship.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Roadtrips, epic party planning, late night hot pots trips, late night conversations about our woes with life, finances, girlfriends, boyfriends and who knows what else, we did it all. I'd make fun of him, he'd make fun of me, we'd gripe about how we were always the glue to the gang, and he would ask me dating advice for his current girl situation, or vice versa. The bottom line, is that he is probably one of my greatest friends in this world. I would even dare say that he is the greatest male, non romantic friend I have ever had.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, My soul died a little bit today, as he married the love of his life. Not just because I wasn't there, or because of who he's marrying because, lets face it, Corry wouldn't marry anyone that wasn't above average, outstanding, beautiful, or perfect for him in every way.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This death comes from the sadness and realization of the end of an era.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We all know how this works people. Opposite sex friendships are never the same after marriage. Not that I would never speak to him again, or write him off because of his new chapter, but because its just the way things work. He will have conversations about life, finances and who knows what else with his new love. As much as I am happy for him, I am sad as well. I will miss the conversations, and another single friend, ally, and confidant. Thank goodness for Facebook, the most appropriate form of friendship...until I get married..then there can be married friendship which is cool I guess. So I will reminisce. I will treasure the friendships and laughs that we had as singles ready to mingle..and him as my wing man..and assistant party planner.
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So some Cheer's are in order. Cheers to Corry. Cheers to Becca. Cheers to their new found love and journey together for eternity. Cheers to new beginnings, and cheers to one of the greatest guys I know.
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-22360734762220168392013-07-29T01:01:00.002-07:002013-10-02T12:42:30.928-07:00The big C<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">Shawn. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">The patriarch, manly, computer nerd </span></span><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;">guru, who never shows any soft emotions other than to preach his passionate opinions, tickle the little children until their small lungs can no longer take the physical workout of laughter, and snuggle all the animals, most of which is Jub Jub, the patriarch family cat that acts like a pride lion. Shawn is bold, opinionated, brilliant, loving, and loves his family so much and so obviously that it smacks you in the face.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">I missed out on getting to know him as a child, because he was nearly an adult when I was born. The only Shawn I know is the Shawn that has treated me just like he treats his own children. He lets them be wild and crazy, isn't afraid to tell them to cut the crap, and will always be there for them. He is more like a father figure to me than a brother, which is a role that doesn't need to be filled considering the grandeur that is my own father, and yet, I feel as if I was blessed with more amazing and diverse male influences than any other person on the planet. </span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">Having five older brothers comes with many perks.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">Because n</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">one of my brothers got the loud obnoxious rambling personality that I got (at least I think so), I often assumed as a child that it meant they did not understand me, or they had no personality. Jared (No 2.) and Casey (No.4) were the cool kids, snowboarders, skateboarders, pot smokers, and free spirits. I never knew them as well as I knew Heidi and Haylee. As the three youngest siblings, we shared a room right next door to Spencer (No.5) and Jake (No. 6). Being the last 5 kids meant that we all shared until we were basically out of the house, or someone grew some balls and moved out. My most vivid memories of any of my brothers usually included after hours glow in the dark ski masks floating mid air in our pitch black basement room, associated with spooky horror movie noises coming from Jake, followed by the usual </span><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;">apology of snuggles while falling asleep to book of mormon stories on tape; And don't even get me started on "The Wall Trolls".</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"> But once they all became teenagers, I was still in my single digits, so I wrote them off as the typical older large mormon family siblings, but I never really got to know them until I was older. Now that I do know them, I realize all of their childhood quirks are still in tact, but the rest of the puzzles that are my brothers has been solved with this wide diverse glossary of unique qualities, that I sometimes cannot believe I am related to any of them. </span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">If I challenged their </span><span style="color: #333333; text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">intellect by bringing up something about religion, politics, science, or perhaps I needed a good laugh or wished to be reminded of the times they locked me in the closet as a 5 year old for their own entertainment, every conversation would solidify my resolution that they are all truly great men. </span></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">I genuinely credit my opinion of men, and relationships with the male gender in general solely to the male influences of my family.</span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">My sisters were always my challenge. I fear that one day, when I do actually have children, they will all turn out to be girls, and that will be my karma. I fight girls, hate girls, and I have always had troubles with them. My oldest sister Holly (No 3), moved out as a teen to follow love to Las Vegas. I didn't really see her until she was an experienced independent adult, with ages of relationship and life experience advice on her shoulders. I got smacked right in the middle of numbers 7 and 9, also known as Heidi and Haylee which at the time I hated, but now that I am older, I </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 19px;">cherish all the basement hallway brawls, clothing wars, and tattle telling marathons. Heidi is my role model and the person that I look up to the most, and Haylee is my truest and greatest friend in the world, and I value her opinion higher than anyone on this planet. I hate the drama that girls bring, but my sisters are the syrup to the stack of waffles that is my family. Warm and gooey, and are the perfect compliment to everything. I really think that </span></span></span><span style="line-height: 19px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;">adolescence truly does just suck. I was such a brat and thought so poorly of everyone, and my sisters took the brunt of it. What a difference a little maturity can make, even though I still feel like a child most of the time.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px;">The bottom line, is that my family is my life. My siblings are my life. The reason I am the person that I am today is because of my family. Imperfect, argumentative, bitter, stubborn, grudge holding, and paranoid as they are, I love them. </span></span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I believe that your family is your strongest ally, and support system. They will always be there for you, no matter what. </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: left;">No truer words have been said, especially with the recent family trial in our lives.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">"The official diagnosis is rhabdomyosarcoma.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">The days are blurring together now, and only five days in. We can hope for gradual improvements, which we are assured will come. I have been trading days on and off with Autumn. On my shift Rebekah began the first night of chemotherapy and anti-nausea drugs. There was diarrhea but no vomiting. Yet. Several times I had to arise to help her adjust her position in the bed, which is significantly complicated by the probes and tubes attached to her body. Together we have learned that she likes to be cooled by a wet washcloth applied to her skin with gentle pulsing rubs. After a session of that I can take a break on the adjacent futon in her room where I try to conceal from her the sound of my sobbing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">The following day she ate and drank well and was more mobile. We got her out of bed to walk her to a scale and to the window and back to get her circulation and muscles a stretch. After the walk I held her in the rocking chair and broke down. It was the first time since Tuesday I have been able to hold her and I told her so. She rubbed my cheek with her tiny hand to comfort me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">Autumn says this evening her other leg, the right one, hurts. Rebekah's team of experts have decided they'd like her to start the anti-coagulant drug after all, but this is subcutaneously injected, so very hard for my girl psychologically.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">I am still dealing with a significant amount of guilt that as a parent I failed to get Rebekah the help she needed sooner. Once in a while a doctor asks me to recount for him or her "how she presented", which is like asking me to confess all the ways in which I am a horrible person. I understand intellectually a case that exonerates us both, but emotionally I am just not there. Now, how do I explain even piecemeal to my daughter the choice we are making for her to complete 35 weeks of chemotherapy spread out over the next year to keep her alive but not really living, all in the hope of making her well again? For us it's an easy choice with a difficult consequence. The alternative would be simply to let her die. And I can't tell her that."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;">- Shawn Magill</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 19px; text-align: justify;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At the time that this post was written, his words and thoughts were the only news that anyone in my family had gotten, especially for those of us who aren't around my parents home as much. My sisters and I all read this post and bawled our eyes out. I cannot speak for them, but as Shawns sister, I have never felt so much love and respect for him. Not simply because of the emotion that he so obviously smacks you in the face with, as usual, but the bold nonsensical writing and passionate educated <span style="text-align: left;">grammar he uses to depict a true tragedy. Sometimes you need to grasp the reality of a situation so that you can understand how to cope, and while reading his words, my heart breaks for him, and his wife, and his boys. My soul aches for my darling Niece, who's journey has been and continues to be a rough one. The only comfort that this situation gives me, is knowing how incredibly strong and brave Bek is. She is a champ, and was blessed with the perfect parents to help her handle this diagnosis and journey. If anyone can win this battle, its her. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; text-align: left;">Although I am sad to not have known my brother as an adolescent, or to obtain childhood memories with my older siblings, I don't think I needed it. My experiences and life lessons that I am learning through them is specifically tailored for my age, my personal and spiritual growth, and its meant to teach me how to treat others and raise my family. They have all been through some rough shiz, and I am so blessed to witness their trials and journeys as I grew up, because I learned so many invaluable lessons. Shawn's family's trial is definitely the hardest one to witness thus far. I hope that I am brave enough to take on the feats and challenges of parenthood as courageously and they have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; text-align: left;">But the journey is ongoing. Prayers are still needed, and once again, in my family another young cherished loved one has been diagnosed with the big C. So hold your loved ones tight, Love them, care for them, cherish them, and thank the lord that you don't have to endure 35 weeks of Chemotherapy at age 5.</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-91106892610894255052013-06-13T19:56:00.001-07:002013-06-13T19:56:07.019-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> I have this uncontrollable feeling to burrow down like a little gopher, or oversized hobbit, never to emerge or socialize. Perhaps living alone and having a lot of personal free time has turned me towards the dark side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Ironic that I work 70+ hour weeks and feel like I have more free time then I have ever had?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm okay with that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am plagued with insomnia and the uncontrollable desire to take long hot baths. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I would rather spend and hour putting makeup on, messing with colors and techniques while chatting with friends back home, then try and sit in some random bar and socialize, or try and make it to the last 20 minutes of FHE.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">When I am proud of my work, I will put on some role that this makeup has created and selfie it up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"> Like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am not ashamed. Job well done, self.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Some people Crochet, I paint..myself. I wish I was brave enough to post my failed makeup attempts. Really I take pictures when I have done a good job because its like my 8th attempt at eyeliner and they finally match. I look towards the heavens with a sore twisted neck and blurred vision and shout my victories. Then I think to myself, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"I better document this shiz."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then somewhere along the way my mind wanders to some random place, imagining when I would ever wear this makeup in real life, and appropriately my facial expressions interpret my imagination. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I need to stop posting this crap on </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Facebook and insta. People are going to think I'm full of myself. Well I'm full of makeup that's for sure.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Maybe I'll be a makeup artist one day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Keeping myself occupied to avoid the homesickness is a hard task in the evenings. I can only workout for so long. I know I could always move home, but I don't feel like its time. I always know when its time for a change and I still think I am in Chicago for a reason. If I still have no idea what that reason is then I guess it's not time for me to go home yet. The job perks aren't </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-align: left;">all that easy to give up either...</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hopefully I will return to my obnoxious party girl self once I finally do move home. Or perhaps I am really this boring and lame. I am almost 25 and I peaked way to soon.. </span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-83749055141666813282013-06-10T21:31:00.003-07:002013-06-10T21:34:57.400-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There is this enigma of a person in my life right now. Too much of him is confusing me. No this is not a romantic person. He wishes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It seems like I attract these type of men. Insecure, lost boys that need to be herded back to the flock. I dislike playing good shepherd, mommy, or therapist, unless its by my own choosing. No no Male, having an in depth conversation about life and all your woe's will not magically change my mind into seeing you in a whole new light. I said no, and that will never change. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm a really straightforward girl. If I don't want to go out with a male suitor I will just say NO. Just say NO ladies. Its honest, to the point, not beat around the bushy, direct, and cannot be convoluted. But usually what happens lately, is that I will say no, and said male always wants to know why, and a simple "Because I'm not interested" Isn't enough. Its like, they won't let it go unless I insult them. You want me to point out your flaws? You want me to tell you what's wrong with you? I don't even know you!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(Facepalm)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"What is it? Was I too strong? Am I fat? Is it because I'm black? Are you a lesbian? Its because I'm shorter than you, isn't it?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Obviously I would rather not point out any negative gender or personality traits that said male may or may not have. I would rather not say anything at all. Every time someone asks me for a reason I am not attracted or interested in them I hear a faint, high pitched, shrill voice in the back of my head chanting over and over and over again, "If you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Good advice. Why can't we all just follow that?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I do not see how telling you what your flaws are, is my problem? If you don't know what your flaws are then get your shit together, figure it out, adjust, reassess, and try again on some other girl. Preferably one that is shorter than you. I am a firm believer in not playing the field if you don't know who you are, don't know what you believe in, or who you want to become, or if you aren't the best person that you can be. Usually when people date and they aren't "Together", it usually doesn't work out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At least in my experience.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The other </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">dilemma, I guess I could say, that I am having right now is, that I now have rejected these "men", for lack of a better word, and they want to be "Friends." Well, yes you can never have to many friends. But there is a friend, and then there is a <i>friend.</i> This is the exact example of why there are those who believe that boys and girls can never just be friends. I used to disagree. I have several really great guy friends. I have not been romantically involved with any of them nor do I plan on it. But recently I am reconsidering my position on the whole opposite sex friendships. At least while I'm in Chicago.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm not going to be a douche, and say, "No...guy. I will not be your facebook friend. I will not be friendly towards you." No no. That is not how nice people behave. I like to say that I give people the benefit of the doubt, but in recent events I am finding out that being someones friend who has asked me out, and I have rejected, to be a VERY bad idea. </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Furthermore, I am proving to these men that I am exactly the person that they though I would be. Just another girl that rejects them. So then I feel guilty, try to pretend or make up for the fact that I am a typical man rejector, which leads me to be extra friendly to them, friend them on facebook, strike up meaningless conversations with them, pretend to be a great friend, when all the while I just want to go out with Ryan Gosling. Where the heck were you Ryan? </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I dislike being a Cliché. I hate saying no to people. But I've been in enough relationships to know what I'm looking for, and I'm willing to wait for it. Why can't all of the guys in my circle who I actually want to ask me out, step up to the plate? I NEVER get asked out by those men. Its so aggravating. But, I am perfectly fine with waiting. I have no problem doing my own thing until there is a handsome mountain man to </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">whisk me away into the forest. I can hold out. Because I know it will be </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">worth it. Meanwhile I will just sit here, with all my FB messages, chatting up a storm with BOderant A and Homeschooled B.</span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-65063361523641408082013-06-07T21:57:00.002-07:002013-06-07T21:57:33.809-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Friday night comes, its 6:30 pm and the only thing I am thinking about is sleep. Actually the only thing I ever think about is sleep. The siblings always make fun of my mom for her self designated nap before bed at 7 pm. But I get it; I truly understand what she is doing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I sit on my bed and feel the stress of the week melt off of me onto my sheets, that I immediately wish I had washed the day before, so I could sleep in a heavenly place that is washed free of all the remaining remnants of the last 5 days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> My sometimes friday night date with coconut bubble bath and Netflix TV reruns is just the beginning layers of the weekend to come, and I usually take twice as long thinking about the joy that comes from not having to arise at 6 am the next morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Ironically I wake up at 6 am anyway, not out of habit, but simply out of lack of ear plugs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Even worse, as I lay in bed at 9pm, ready for slumber and dreams of fantasy boyfriends, I can't keep my self from searching the web aimlessly. Searching for something. Clothes, news, puppy videos, facebook, facebook again because I forgot that I was </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">already on </span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Facebook. Damn you Facebook, you truly are the beast.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My list of wants and needs for the following two days fills my mind instead of the desired silence, as I lay in my bed that I have checked under twice. For monsters first, then rouge spiders.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My body protests, twitching and throbbing in wacky places, yelling at me for all the crap I fed it and work I made it do.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After two hours of attempts at sheep counting, I remember that my prayers were not said, obviously keeping me from settling down. I begin my thanks and asks, and drift mindlessly mid prayer onto thoughts of my family, who as I ask to protect I worry about, miss, cry for, and long to be with.</span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As my conversation ends, I feel my body settle down, my mind turn its light out, drink its glass of water, and retreat into its own world. A world that is often more exciting than my own. So I stay there, for 12 long wonderful hours.</span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-41194692241993547022013-06-06T18:54:00.003-07:002013-06-07T22:11:46.986-07:00Neil Young<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">From age 13 to about 20, give or take, I would listen to Neil young through the floor boards of my living room on saturday mornings as my brother cleaned his room. Rarely I would get the occasional Metallica remedies instead, but when Neil Young was on, I knew my brother was in some mood, and he felt like the soulful sounds of an acoustic genius.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have an ear for Acoustic music especially because I play the Guitar. Lately I have made it a goal to learn one new song per week. I have kept that goal for the most part. But now the only problem is that I haven't been writing down what songs I have learned, so I pretty much just listen to my ipod, or the radio, and If I have learned the song I'm like, "Oh yeah! I can play this!". This is not the best method for song memory, so I hope that by blogging about my music finds and loves that I won't forget about them! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I got into my most recent Neil Young kick after I watched the few hilarious parodies from Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. Oh my heck does he pull of a good Neil Young!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Pretty much ever since this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Also this Gem:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Nobody can quite top that I don't think. Nobody.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have made it a goal to learn as many Neil Young songs as I can. I realize that I listen to a lot of folk music, and I need to get some stories down from my childhood and write a Neil Young Parody about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway, this is my current favorite song of Neil Young, which I poorly play Here:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Ah Love me some Neil Young.</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-84548483429016834552013-06-05T13:40:00.004-07:002013-06-05T13:47:36.138-07:00crap happy? Crappy.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Lately I have been feeling pretty crappy, and by crappy I mean TERRIBLE. I don't know what is going on but I am not myself these days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When I made the move to Chi town I decided that I wasn't going to move home until I had achieved a list of goals that I had made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">1. Get out of debt (Check)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">2. Save money for school. (Check)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">3. Revamp my style. (check and Check)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">4. Figure out my spiritual ish. (Checkaroo)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">5. Better myself in all possible ways independently and as a single adult living away from home (well on my way to a check.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">6. Lose weight, change eating habits and become healthy. (uh...sort of?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Just over one year later, I have lost 24 lbs. Pretty great for solely changing my diet habits and very minimal exercise. I feel like I should be taking advantage of my situation more than I already have. I live with a family where money and healthy food are plentiful and I can pretty much have whatever it is that my heart (and stomach) desires. At first, my thoughts were, "YES. Fine dining and oreos and snack food and lunchables and chips and soda and <u>insert any and every childhood deprived junk food possible</u> all the time..". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then I met Natalia and she is the healthiest person on the planet. I honestly think that I was meant to learn from her in more ways than one. She has taught me a lot about eating clean and staying physically fit. Just by being around her, which at first was right after she had a baby so she was in mega tone up mode, she has motivated me to achieve that rocking body that I know is underneath all of my muffin tops.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, I took advantage of strollers and good walking shoes. I walked everywhere, lessened my junk food/fast food and soda intake, and became friends with Healthy Choice and Lean Cuisine. That alone changed my body a lot. I am tall, so when I lose weight it isn't always THAT noticeable but I felt better, could see the slight changes in my body, and became all excited to continue on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then I kind of Plateaued.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I kept going on all of these vacations with the family, which meant going to all of the finest restaurants wherever we went. You indulge when you have the opportunity to eat $70 a plate food with a family that is saying, "Get the Fillet Minion! But don't eat too much, we are getting every dessert!". Then, once winter hit I was eating all of the most excellent Bolognese in all the fine italian restaurants in different countries, cities and even at my own home where Natalia actually taught me how to make authentic Italian cuisine. Sum that up and winter pretty much kicked my butt. I did however hold my weight, so I guess I didn't do too bad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This spring I decided to kick up the exercise about %100 and lose the rest of this weight. My ideal weight is 140 lbs. For me that would be thin. But not too thin. I currently weight 183 ish. that fluctuates every day though so I would guess about 180. I started running, doing Ab Challenges in the mornings, enter: Trapeze, and I cut my calories down to around 1500. I did this routine solid for about two months, and I started feeling great. I could see a difference and knew that I was in the home stretch. Summer bikini Here I come. Or...not?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">about 3 weeks ago which was two months after I began this diet and exercise routine, my side and back hip started hurting. It wasn't too painful but it was enough to make me notice it. I really believe that I have a high pain threshold so I am really uncertain how bad the pain really was. Sometimes I would think it was pretty annoying, and sometimes it wasn't there at all. As the week progressed the pain got a little stronger, a little longer, and now we are in week three and its always there. I have had lower back/hip pain before and am seeing a NUCA Chiropractor while in Chicago because my neck is chronically out of wack. So, at first I assumed it was just back pain. I ruled out appendix, and UTI because my body is function properly in all ways except for the random side pain, a mega dose of 14 year old style cystic acne that just came out of nowhere, and I'm super tired all the time. The pain is Usually more noticeable at night when I am trying to sleep so I have become more of an insomniac than I already was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am 90% sure I have an ovarian Cyst (Sorry boy readers...if there even are any). Its on my right side, all of the symptoms fit, and if its not that then it's something that is similar to my girlie organs. AWESOME. I felt like I was blessed when it came to the horrible parts of being a girl. I spent my whole life with almost no symptoms of anything really. But as I am now almost 25, and eating differently, and no longer taking teenage acne medication I think my body just decided to have me play catch up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The biggest issue about my current health status is that I am in Chicago, while my health insurance is based out of Utah. Getting healthcare paid for here is a huge loophole that I have to go through like 6 different times in order to get my insurance to cover it. I could pay for it up front, but considering I am probably going to need the full check up that rakes in to be around $2000. No thanks. I think I will just wait until I go home for a visit. Luckily that is in just two short weeks. If my symptoms worsen further I will take action and go somewhere here, but if it IS a cyst then they don't really do much for those anyway and I should be just fine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Meanwhile I have decided that I need to detox my body, go full force into eating as healthy as possible and take full advantage that I can eat as many organic whole foods products as possible, take vitamins and minerals and do all sorts of things that will hopefully help me balance my hormones naturally. What is even worse than my side pain is the fact that my chin and jawline look so so bad. My skin is just freaking out and I have a slight </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">suspicion that all of the recent changes that I have been making, along with the potential health woe are all just reeking havoc on my skin. Hopefully if I can keep up the good work, I will see things start to get a little better, but I won't know what plans I need to make or how long it is going to take to feel better until I see a doctor when I come home. </span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I could use some prayers friends. I am positive that whatever is ailing me is no biggie but seeing as to my recent family medical issues I am always afraid of the worst possible outcome.</span></span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-25067129427062393672013-05-18T22:55:00.002-07:002013-05-18T23:38:21.701-07:00Heels Off!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">"A dream doesn't become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work."</span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Recently, while learning my second trick at Trapeze School, I have come to realize something about myself. I have wanted to do this for a really long time. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I remember the first time I went to the Circus at Utah Valley University (UVSC at the time). I was like 7 years old, and I was with my little sister and the neighbor girl across the street who had invited us to go along. Circus outings were a rare occasion in the valley, let alone in my family. My mom was thrilled that another parent was willing to cart her two youngest children around for the day. We went to the Mckay Events Center, parked, and as we walked up to the building we could see the elephants hanging out in the truck loading dock eating some hay. I was beyond amazed at the fact that there were just some random elephants </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">chillin outside in good old Orem Utah. We took our seats in the gym which was of course transformed into the Ringling brothers circus, we had excellent seats, and I gazed awestruck at the opening scene of the show.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">TRAPEZE.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">I remember there was a family of trapeze artists, flying through the air, catching each other by their legs, swinging back and forth, and over each other. The youngest son flipped like 6 times before he caught his dad on the other side of the rig. So amazing. I not only experienced new and wild things that day, rode an elephant, and ate popcorn until my stomach burst, but I witnessed something that has stuck with me since then. I never really realized why I always remembered that circus day so much. I am a true believer that if you remember something, especially something so long ago, and so vividly, that its because you are meant to remember it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Fast forward to last week and I am learning my newest trick. Well, the second trick that you learn at TSNY.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">One of the things that I really like about this school, is that they take pictures of you while you are practicing. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That way you can have a keepsake, or refer to them for future form corrections.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Also, the staff is really fun.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Everyone wants you to get better so that you can hang out with them on staff only fly classes. I can't wait until I am good enough to join Shawn here:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Until then I will keep on Practicing.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOjQsWyO5jI/UZhmrWdYfvI/AAAAAAAAAfU/T1NqGTYkXIk/s1600/IMG_1437.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOjQsWyO5jI/UZhmrWdYfvI/AAAAAAAAAfU/T1NqGTYkXIk/s320/IMG_1437.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And practicing... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">and practicing.. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here is the trick that I learned last week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Basically you put your heels on the bar, then flip backward in a backflip type motion towards the catcher. It </span></span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">seemed really complicated at first, but once I had practiced it a few times, I realized how much easier and quicker it was to learn than the Knee Hang trick.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This Trick is hard to master, the timing has to be just right, or you will miss the catcher.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But once you get it right, It looks pretty awesome!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This is a few days later after I had it down perfectly:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwAB1Jv-hDYw0t6sPl5Fbz8FSz1Ij6QbJGwEWe0MapShnLFo7ZxlF1zikDwtiJGTsFdMGhTU0uwy83Dx_e8GA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">This week I started learning what is called "The Straddle". Its crazy hard for me, and I think it will take me a few times to get right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here is a preview:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Wish me luck!</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-31614531633627720762013-05-18T20:45:00.000-07:002013-05-18T22:22:33.293-07:00Flying Trapeze Adventures<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">“I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">Recently I attended Natalia's IFW (Intensive Flying Workshop) show at the TSNY Gym. All of the students gathered to show off their talents and hard work that they had put in over the last couple of months. Some of the tricks were awesome, some of them were pretty scary, but as a whole the event was really fun to watch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Each show has a theme, and this time the group chose "Color Wheel".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Basically everyone wears a color, and plays a song associated with that color while they are performing their tricks. Natalia Chose gold, and appropriately chose Kanye's "Gold Digger" as her song. She was actually really worried that she wouldn't look as good or perform as well as the other flyers because she was considered the newbie. Um, you can definitely tell that this lady has experience in acrobatics.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There was a girl that decided to go all out and dye her hair pink, and use the pink panther theme song while she performed her tricks. She painted her face and wore a tail. Other then Natalia, she was my favorite.</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-32113723496532104982013-05-18T15:44:00.000-07:002013-05-18T20:51:48.160-07:00Jules Léotard.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Did you know that Jules Léotard invented the Trapeze? I had no idea until a month ago. They of course appropriately named all tight fitting spandex outfits after him. The first Trapeze was created over a swimming pool, which is clever in terms of safety and quite frankly I would love to fly through the air over water. Water and the Trapeze, two of my absolute favorite things in this world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I have had a lot of people ask me what the heck has been going on, since I have been posting so many videos and pictures of me learning to fly, that I thought I would just do the usual and blog about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I work for an awesome, exercise addicted, type A, powerhouse of a mom. She is always looking for adventure, is A self proclaimed thrill seeker, Former Gymnast, competitive college diver for Stanford, and who knows what else. She has been doing flips and dives practically since birth, and has traveled to almost every continent on this planet, which gives her a vast cultural education, and imagination for adventure. If there was any person in the world that could motivate me to eat healthy and try new things, its her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So of course, being who she is, and having a bucket list to try almost every form of exercise imaginable, I wasn't surprised when she came home one day and told me about her newest adventure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Natalia at the time had this goal to lose all of the baby weight she gained while having kids, which is all of 20 lbs. Her being a five foot four frame and already a physically fit person however, proved it to be harder to lose then she liked. She got bored of the usual 2 hour weight/sprint training and Pilates routine and wanted to branch out. She had tried silks already, and was excited to try the trapeze.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Of course, She became addicted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The first thing she told me, was that it was way harder then it looks. Its a total body workout, and uses your core more than anything. She then showed me her raw, blister filled hands, and I knew right then it must be pretty hardcore. Two weeks later, she signed me up for her morning class. I was terrified. Here I am, 50lbs over weight, although I had already lost 25, I was hesitant to try anything as extreme as this, in fear that my body, my back, and my soul just wasn't strong enough.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I of course went anyway, and loved every second of it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Natalia was right. Trapeze is HARD. I have so much respect for Circus performers, even though I already hold them pretty high, I mean, they do crazy amazing things!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The first time you attend a trapeze class, they show you the first trick. Its called the Knee Hang trick. Not only do you practice the trick again and again, but you learn how to do a backflip off of the bar, and the two hour long class has you actually catching the trick at the end. Its incredible.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Learning the basics of the Knee Hang, and my first catch attempt. I sadly didn't get a video of the second attempt which was successful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">tight clothing and Long socks are the usual attire. I still need to get a legitimate Léo. Man I love that guy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The school is called Trapeze School of New York, or TSNY. Since its in Chicago its called the TSNY in Chicago. The staff is amazing and fun, and I look forward to the class every week. You can take individual classes for about $60 bucks a class, or you can join an Intensive Flying Workshop which lasts a couple of months, is a lot cheeper, and at the end of it, there is a show that the school puts on as a way to show off what everyone has learned. Most of the time, those who become addicted end up training to be a teacher, so they can fly for free and save a crap load of money. Hopefully I will get to that point. Although once I inevitably move back to Utah there will be no more trapeze. So I am soaking it up while I can! The school also has other locations in DC, NY of course, and LA. I think there are a couple more but I'm not sure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hopefully I will be Flying through the air on a Trapeze forever, but who knows. Meanwhile if anyone wants to come with me, I strongly encourage it! Its a blast, and you burn some serious calories. The School has this saying that says, "Forget fear. worry about the addiction." True statement.</span></div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-47192419087024293742013-04-22T22:31:00.001-07:002013-04-22T23:06:49.538-07:00Napoleon Ross.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sometimes I like to pretend that I am really athletic.</div>
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No, really.</div>
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Not that I wouldn't or couldn't be athletic if I tried, but really I just have no desire to pretend to want to play ultimate frisbee every saturday morning at 6 am. I know I could do it and hold my own, but why waste a perfectly good saturday morning on sweaty armpits and grass stains? </div>
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Once upon a time I was all into athletes and sports and track and field. Then I decided to be my own person and stop copycatting my sisters. So I turned to the sport of chords, both vocal and guitar.</div>
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I honestly think that my preference in interests is largely influenced by the year I was born. 1988. My graduating class in high school didn't win anything in sports, but everything in the arts. We even sucked it up in track and field which never happens at MVHS.</div>
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All of the friends that I have kept in touch with have this huge grasp on music, art, photography, drama, and all the other frilly things that most of my siblings make fun of.</div>
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So, with my inevitable destiny creeping up on me it leaves this sort of road block.</div>
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I'm a biology major. Academic success and challenge has always been my goal. Help animals. Learn how to perform horse surgery. Save all the cats and dogs at the pound. Horde all the animals on a farm and know how to take care of them myself without needing a vet, because I would do it all. I have always thought that obtaining a career in the medical field was something that I would really excel in. I don't get queazy at anything really, and I have been around a wide variety of animals throughout my lifetime, owning and taking care of as many as I could get my hands on. Witnessing all the varieties of births and mystery illnesses along the way. Also, I detest dead bodies, even when I see them on TV or all dolled up in a casket, so I doubt that I could ever be around them more then I had to, and that alone influenced my animal route even more. But the more I think about school and the fact that I won't be a Vet until I'm in my thirties, plus I would have to take anatomy anyway, doesn't really bode well at the moment. I can't help but feel like I need to jump ship before I get in over my head.</div>
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I feel proud and important having my current major. I know how challenging it is, how much I am going to have to work for it, and the thought of conquering a Biology degree will prove to everyone and myself how smart I really am. I'm a bit of a slacker, but my brains are in tact and I know what I am capable of.</div>
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So I have this conversation with my mom the other day, where she calls me and says these words: </div>
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"So, I was thinking about how artistic you are and how good you are with computers and technology, and BYU has this new program for people who want to learn all about the film industry and I just think that you should forget this whole Biology thing and make movies."</div>
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Immediately after I thought these three things:</div>
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1: My mother thinks I'm too stupid to be a Vet.</div>
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2: Aren't parents supposed to push their children to be successful productive citizens of society, who make lots of money and have a better quality of life then them?</div>
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and 3: What mom tells their child to stop pursuing a medical degree and enter the film industry?</div>
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As the conversation with her continued I answered my own questions:</div>
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1: My mom also worries about the educational length of my career choice, and believes me to be very bright, creative, technologically inclined and inventive.</div>
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2: My mom honestly believes that I would make a serious amount of money if I went full throttle and reached for my dreams.</div>
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and 3: My mom. My mom who had so many dreams as a young woman and instead of going after them, she raised nine diverse children, some of whom actually went after their dreams, and succeeded.</div>
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She lit the flame.</div>
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Now I have to decide.</div>
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I have always considered myself to be artsy, even though I tried to deny it as a child. I always wanted to pretend that I was a tomboy like my cooler than me sisters who wore their Orem rec. soccer shirts on non soccer playing days with no shoes on. Running around the neighborhood, riding their bikes, with their unbrushed hair flapping in the wind as they came down the hill, and all the neighbor boys chasing after them with stick swords.</div>
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Meanwhile, I played barbies for six straight hours.</div>
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I brushed my hair, and internally invented the middle parted two metal clippy hairdo.</div>
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I wrote stories about being grounded on the fourth of July, and pretended to be Mary with her baby Besus (bear jesus).</div>
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Creating and inventing wild things in my mind.</div>
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I fear that I am too self conscious to pursue anything in the arts. I write songs and poems and rarely share them with anyone in fear that they sound like a spice girls song. I draw, and paint, and sidewalk chalk, and internally give myself a pat on the back, while thinking to myself 'Bob Ross would be so proud'. Then, I immediately slap myself back into reality and recollect how long it took to do the shading on the upper lip of this portrait, which resembles a cat more than a person. </div>
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I can write impromptu stories about nothing and make them sound like I spent a great deal on them when in reality, I was trying to rhyme Aphrodite with something and the best thing I could think of was hermaphrodite, and suddenly my love story turns into a racy mystery about a hermaphrodite in search for a love cupid at a gay bar. The arts can be rough sometimes.</div>
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I will struggle to find a career in the arts that I am not interested in. I am interested in everything. I wouldn't know which one to choose that would most benefit my future financially, and for the sake of my happiness. </div>
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So I sit here. Stagnant yet again. </div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-15021766330789530392013-04-03T21:27:00.005-07:002013-08-11T18:12:12.195-07:00My conversion story.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I never really talk about my faith.<br />
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When asked about my own personal testimony I usually tend to clam up and feel the need to excuse myself from the room. This is normal for me. Not doing anything in terms of my spirituality is normal for me.<br />
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Heres why:<br />
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When I was growing up, my parents were very closed off about a lot of things. We never discussed anything really controversial or awkward. No birds and bee's talk, no womanhood talk, no boys and girls dating talk, don't do drugs talk, and no serious rules or chores were ever put into place.When it came to <i>anything</i> uncomfortable they usually just went with silence as the best policy. I never heard my parents bare their testimonies unless they were asked to do it for church. I always knew they were spiritual people, but they saved that for sundays, and the occasional attempt at family home evening. They very rarely said I love you to each other, although they probably didn't have any time with all nine of us driving them crazy. I doubt they were that in love back then, but then again they did have 9 kids, so you know something was going on.</div>
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So, when I became curious I usually went to an older sibling. They would try to fill me in on what little knowledge they did know, or they would tell me that bigfoot and unicorns were real and that we were all going to die in a few years. I learned the birds and bee's talk from good old Sarah Peterson in the back of her portable trailer, which was parked in front of her <i>permanent</i> trailer. It smelled of old wood and Marlboros. Barbies were provided. I never learned about drugs because my parents were against the <i>D.A.R.E</i> program at school. All of my friends had T-shirts and my parents were saying... nothing. I think they felt like negligence was safe. Not knowing about something meant that you didn't experiment. Telling kids about drugs in the dare program only made them curious, so if it was a touchy subject, they would be brief, silent, or give very little details. They are old fashioned that way.My brothers and their often "burned leaf" smelling clothing taught me enough about drugs, and my parents did a really good job on that "talk". I'll spare you the details of my pubescent years, but lets just say my mom decided to give us the <i>womanhood</i> talk a couple 5 years too late. It was a good try though.</div>
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I usually learned what <i>not</i> to do from my older siblings. I would either not attempt something, or do and then realize why I shouldn't have done it. Skip church = grounded, so don't do that. Skip school = grounded, so don't do that. Hit sister = sister beats me up, so don't do that. Steal candy from my mom's room = mom hides candy, so take less next time. Everything I did concerning church, was out of fear of punishment, so, I only got baptized because my siblings did and I feared the wrath of the church and my parents if I didn't.</div>
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While my parents lead by example, my mom was very stern, and shoved the gospel down our throats often. She preached about how great and spiritual she was because of her faith, and was always pleasant and comforting to be around at church, but she didn't know how to get us to listen to her at home and show that obvious passion for the gospel that she had without being forceful. My dad was quite the opposite. He was spiritual and comforting to be around all the time, passionate in all his deeds, but he never forced us to do anything, in fact my parents fought over this very subject time and time again. My mom would try and get us to do something, my dad would do nothing, probably assuming that he was being awesome enough as it is (which he was) and she would give up and try again the next monday. Perhaps she felt like she had to do all the work, because my dad was so laid back. But what she didn't know, was that my dad has this way of making you fear him, in a god like manner. He was all about feeling and the spirit radiates off of him to the point where you can't help but do what he says, or feel like you need to repent. My mom was more literal in her religious ways. If you didn't do the work, then you didn't get the A, or "C" in her eyes for Celestial.</div>
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All throughout my childhood and into my teenage and adult years I thought hated my mom. Nobody really hates their mom, even if they say they do. But I was determined to loath her forever. I tried to say I loved her when my friends always bragged about their awesome mom's but I didn't feel it inside. How many people do you know that say that? I hate that I hated her. But she was mean to me. She never believed anything I said and she was constantly judging me. I don't think I was a walk in the park, i'm sure, but I had a hard relationship with her.<br />
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My Relationship with my mom improved greatly as I got older and didn't live with her anymore. I understand her in ways that I never thought I would, and embraced the fact that our differences were mostly due to our similar personalities. I am her clone.<br />
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My parents would compete for our attention and because my dad refused to discipline us unless we really needed it, we usually favored him. I now know in my adult age that his passive uncooperative ways really hindered their marriage back then and alienated my mom, which wasn't fair to her, but my love relationship with my father has always been because of his gentle nature, and passionate comforting spirit. </div>
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The older I got the more I hated being around my parents see saw style parental guidance, their spiritual and parental competitiveness, and their bad mouthing each other so much that I doubted everything they ever taught me. They teach one thing, and often times do another. So I doubted my opinions in anything and most of all I doubted my faith. This faith that has brought so many people together, and that brought so much happiness and joy to those around me, was also the faith that was reeking so much havoc on my own family. My older siblings never went to church, and they often made fun of the church and were constantly talking about how judgmental everyone was, which hardened my heart at a young age. I often felt judged and unappreciated in my home ward. Granted, my home ward had some really judgmental people that assumed the worst of my family. Everyone assumed that we were no good and were bad influences when really we weren't. At least not at first. Tell someone their ugly, stupid and dumb long enough and they are bound to believe it eventually. We were constantly accused of stupid things, untrue things, and were looked down on. There are only a handful of people in my home ward today that I would even consider inviting to my wedding.</div>
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Now, I know that what I am saying makes my parents seem like horrible people. They aren't. They love me, and are the best parents in the world. They did their best, and are still trying to do their best everyday. They love us all and have grown over the years to be the wisest and most fun loving people I know. I love them. I turn to them for advice. Being an adult changes you that way I guess, it really is true. I really love my mom, but was given so many mixed signals as a child that I didn't know how to recognize her love.</div>
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As a teenager it got to the point where I wanted to move away. Just get away and not deal with anything. All the friends and good times at school didn't make up for my lost spirit. I skipped seminary all the time, rarely went to church and mutual, and I jumped at the first real relationship I had just to see if that would spark any type of healthy personal relationship growth. I came close in high school to acting stupid with a guy, but used my self learned knowledge and STD warnings from my parents (they did teach me about that) and decided that seriously dating someone while in high school was stupid. So, instead I seriously dated <i>him</i> once I graduated.</div>
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I experienced what I thought was unconditional love for the first time. I felt wanted, needed, and cherished. I was attention starved and <i>he</i> gave me all the attention in the world. Naturally I fell in love with <i>him</i> fast and hard. At that point I didn't need anything or anyone but him. <i>He</i> was my drug. <i>He</i> made everything all right, no matter what I was compromising for <i>him</i>. </div>
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So we moved in together. Even today I still say those were the happiest months of my life, because I felt safe, happy and almost whole. Waking up early in the morning to kisses from your love as he leaves the apartment in army dress for work everyday has a way of making you feel amazing. I wanted to stay in my dream world forever, that is until we both started to feel the neglect weighing our spirits down. <i>He</i> tried to tell me a few months before <i>he</i> ended things. He had been on deployment, and when he came home <i>he</i> had changed his heart already. <i>He</i> wanted to be married in the temple, so he told me, and my spirit started to flutter a little bit again. Temple marriage was lost to me. I didn't even have the desire to go inside a temple ever again. I never paid my tithing even when I was going to church so I didn't know how hard it would be to become worthy to go again, especially not after our relationship.</div>
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But I realized right then that I wanted to be worthy again. I was desperate for any type of spiritual insight. I prayed harder every single day, multiple times a day, while I was inactive then I ever had in my entire life. I prayed for safety, for love, for answers, for hope, for everything. So I wasn't surprised that when we went to that church across the street from the Timpanogas temple for the first time in two years really to talk to the bishop, that I felt so good. This was the first time that I had ever gone to talk to the bishop about anything, and this one was pretty serious.</div>
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Although our relationship ended, and I learned his true colors and felt the heartbreak of all heartbreaks, that was just the beginning for me. I kept going back to church, although I did have some pretty bumpy times afterwards. It took me a long time to break my bad habits, and I often went on dry spells of no church just so I could feel independent. But slowly over the next couple of years I regained a small portion of that spirit that was missing from my life. My life was healthier, although stagnant for the most part from a shattered heart, and I was constantly searching for help, and constantly praying. My church attendance has always been up and down, but I have never stopped praying. </div>
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When my life sort of plateaued last year, I knew that I needed to change things up a bit or I would falter again. At the same time I internally had every intention of faltering. I decided to nab a job out of state and moved to Chicago. I figured that once I got out here I would fail to stick with the church, give in to old habits, and never go again. I would be free of it all and "find myself" somehow. </div>
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But, once I got out here, I felt like being close to the church made me feel at home. Thinking of my life in Utah and how different everyone is was comforting. I started to get excited that we got BYUTV on our cable network and I could watch music and the spoken word on sunday mornings like my mom did. I would go to church and make friends a lot faster then trying to meet nanny friends, or go out to a bar all alone on a saturday night like a weird Amish girl in search for friends outside the parish. Not to mention the fact that the bar scene is really lame.<br />
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When I began going to my singles ward here I attended every now and then at first. I would try it out for a week and then give myself a break for a couple of weeks. Then I would go out of town for my job and feel the hunger for the gospel come back to me. I would actually purposely not go to church just to see if the ache would return. It always did, and still does. </div>
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I felt my spirit grow stronger and stronger every time I went. But I never prayed for the knowledge of the gospel, and I never prayed and asked the lord if the church was true. I suppose its because whenever I did pray and ask for anything, he always gave me what I asked for. So I was afraid. I was afraid that I would ask, he would tell me, and then I would really have to go every single sunday and live as righteously as I could or I would be letting him down. I felt like not actually asking him was my pass to sin a little. I still haven't asked actually. But I already know.</div>
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I knew the moment my sister told me she wasn't going to church anymore. My sister who is my idol, who I always look up to, who is married in the temple, who got everything she ever asked for and is so successful in life. She decided that she didn't agree with the church. I think that is so brave. She searched and found herself. Her and her husband seem so happy. Perhaps I hope they will come back to church, but when she was telling me about her feelings of the church it really made me think about how much I actually believed. I thought to myself: This is an educated woman who has always done what she thinks is right, who searches and studies on her own and doesn't listen to anyone else. She carves her own destiny and has found such peace and success doing that. If she came to that conclusion, then it wasn't done half heartedly. I didn't ask her why she wasn't going anymore, I didn't dare. But I knew that if she was questioning her faith then I should too. I should stop going with the flow and really decide for myself if this is the life I want to have. No more fence sitting. So I searched. </div>
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I came to this conclusion. If I had to imagine my life <i>WITHOUT</i> the gospel, this would be what it meant. The gospel of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is not true. There is no life after death. There is no such thing as eternal life, or Eternal families. The plan of Salvation isn't real. Praying doesn't do anything. Faith in a higher power isn't real. The holy ghost is fake. The scriptures aren't true. Everything that I have ever believed in or looked forward to is moot. What a crappy way to live. What would anything mean if I did not have my religious backbone to keep me standing?</div>
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However ridiculous or unhealthy my upbringing was, however horribly wrong my parents were with a lot of things, there has always been one thing that has been constant in our home. My parents love the Lord. They love him and this gospel with all of their hearts. They are human and tried to raise children in his gospel, bumping and faltering and plateauing along the way just as I have my whole life. They aren't perfect, but they don't have to be. They raised us just the way that they were supposed to. So much of my life and so many of my beliefs thoughts, and loves are because of them. I am constantly realizing things about my life that I have applied because of the lessons that I thought I was ignoring as a child, but really, I was just pretending to ignore. I listened, and they taught us all how to be kind, and generous people. They taught us how to raise a family, and how not to raise a family. We are stubborn, but we all love our parents in our own way. I believe in them, not because I am a follower, or because I just listen to everything they say. But because they are right. They are a little eccentric and extreme sometimes, but they definitely know how to instill faith into their children. I believe the happiness that the gospel gives me when I apply it to my life. I guarantee that all of my siblings active and inactive have a strong testimony of the gospel, but they are just afraid to ask, or afraid to challenge the Lord who will turn them into true believers. I think they just want to sin a little. I hope they figure out what I have finally figured out. </div>
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The Church is true. That scares me. But I believe. I love the Lord. Bumps along the way are okay. I will try my best. That is all he asks, and that is my Testimony.</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-53883337844904403902012-11-18T23:46:00.001-08:002012-12-06T22:48:11.374-08:00The "What if's" of my life.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">When I was 18 years old, I was still working at my first job as a server at Golden Corral. I loved that job, well, all the way up until the month that I decided to quit. That job got me through high school, taught me how to be independent in a lot of ways, and how to work with other people, showed me that talking to strangers can be fun, and that serving people is a rewarding thing. Plus I made some very good friends, most of which I rarely see anymore. I often wonder what my life would be like if I had stayed at that job instead of ending up at Los Hermanos. I think about visiting, just stopping by to see if the same managers work there, or I think about getting in touch with my old friends that I had. I miss it.<br />
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I don't miss the bad habits that I formed while working there, or the negative influence that it had on my life, or the working on Sundays during the Catholic Church Mexican rush at 3 PM, but I miss that time in my life. <br />
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Being 18 years old and recently graduated from high school, comes with so many feelings about life, the future, and what is going to happen next. I didn't know what I was going to do with the rest of my life. I didn't know if I even wanted to go to school or if I was ever going to get out of my parents house. I remember that I wasn't all that happy. I was happy in an "at least I have a job" sort of way, but that was all that I had going for me. A couple months later I was dating Zack. Life got a little better, and I was happier. But other then a new relationship which, at the time I figured would run its course and fizzle out (boy was I wrong) everything else was still the same.<br />
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Then I met a guy.<br />
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I don't know his name, who he was, or how old he was. But I remember him. I remember meeting him, and I remember the conversation that we had as if it was one of those dreams that pierces your soul, and stays with you forever..and it has, so far.<br />
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He walked up to me while I was filling a roll basket. It was a Sunday of course, right at the "witching hour" when there seems to be a mass of Sunday best dressed Hispanics coming to have lunch after Catholic mass,<br />
pun intended. I remember being rushed, because I had one of the largest sections in the restaurant which was ten tables full of children. Double trouble. But besides my slight chaotic mind I was feeling great that day. As I am adding the ten thousandth roll to the thousandth bread basket, this man touches my shoulder. I turn to him and he says,<br />
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"Hi. I was just wondering if you would come over and serve my friend and I over there?" while pointing over to the general direction of his table, which happened to be section two, AKA not my section.<br />
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I said, "um yeah let me get someone over to you, just give me a second."<br />
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I had every intent to ignore him because his server was in the section and would get right to him and, well, I was busy with my chaotic orange guava passion and buttery roll goodness deprived children filled section.<br />
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I grabbed my several baskets of rolls and away I went to please the masses, and when I headed back down towards section two, I noticed that the man and his friend had a fresh basket of rolls sitting on their table. Of course I had been right about their server. She was as awesome at her job as I was, because I trained her. I walked back into the kitchen with my dirty plate filled bus tub, which happened to be right next to section two. As I walked out the kitchen doors, I passed section two and I double checked the mans table just to be sure he was alright with rolls and he was so on I went to refill numero ocho.<br />
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As I am refilling the ten thousand and twentieth roll into the one thousand and twenty eight bread basket, the man taps on my shoulder, again.<br />
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I looked at him, obviously bewildered at what he could possibly need now as he said,<br />
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"Hey. I was just wondering when you were going to come over and serve us?"<br />
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I finally understood his motive, tried to hide my blushing face, and replied,<br />
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"Oh, you aren't actually in my section, so I just let your server do her thing. Sorry."<br />
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To which he replied,<br />
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"Oh. Well couldn't you just come over and serve us instead? I would really like that."<br />
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My eighteen year old head was growing by the millisecond, and I'm sure my face was beet red. But I pulled it together and simply said,<br />
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"No actually. Your server already introduced herself to you, and we are supposed to stick to our own areas. Sorry about that."<br />
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And I walked away towards section six, which <i>was </i>my section.<br />
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Now I feel like I need to put this man into perspective a little bit so you can understand how unusual this was for someone like him to be hitting on someone like me. Imagine and twenty five to thirty year old business man, probably around 6'3, dark wavy hair with dark Keanu Reeves eyes and features. He was wearing a suit, without a tie, probably a silk shirt, and had slight stubble. A total babe, who was way out of my barely legal age league, even though I looked older then I was. <br />
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I was recently dating Zack, who from day one him and I had been attached at the hip. We did everything together, his kissing improved greatly, he complimented me, and his army uniform made his recently back from basic body and him look look like my own custom life sized GI Joe doll. Life was good for me, and even though I was flattered, I was a one man kind of woman, and I had already developed serious feelings for Zack.<br />
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I returned to the bread station for the third time in ten minutes, and sure enough, the man taps on my shoulder, yet again.<br />
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Him: "Hi again. So here's the thing, I have been trying to get you to come to my table so that I can tell you that I think you are incredibly beautiful and I would love to take you to dinner sometime. Do you have a boyfriend?"<br />
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"uh..." *what do I say to this....haha*<br />
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"I actually do have a boyfriend, but, wow, thank you, I am very flattered."<br />
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Him: "Is it serious? Or are you just dating?"<br />
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"Uhm..ts pretty serious, like exclusively serious."<br />
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Him: "That. Is. A tragedy. Are you sure?"<br />
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:"yes I'm sure. I'm sorry, but thank you for the kind words."<br />
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Him: "It was my pleasure. At least I can say that I got to speak with you, even if it was for just a moment. I hope that you are happy, and have a wonderful life."<br />
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Then he walked away. Forever.<br />
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And that is how the bar was set. I will always be looking for that type of guy. A guy who is bold enough to ask me out and be straightforward. I look for that today. Its a rare kind of bravery. I will always wonder What if. What if I would have said yes?<br />
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I obviously didn't end up with Zack. I didn't get my General Issue Joe. I didn't get married and keep my cats and have a wedding. I didn't become a wife at nineteen. I did decide where I wanted to go to college, and what I wanted to do with my life. I did quit Golden Corral and move on to a better serving job, friend situation, and life influence. I was happy, then sad, then okay, then happy again. Now I am about to enter my twenty fourth year, and I wonder what my life would be like if things were different. Would I be married right now if things would have worked out with Zack? Would I be a mom at twenty four? Would I be with that amazing man who romantically hit on me at the Golden Corral, if I would have said yes? Would I be in Chicago right now, if I had chosen something different when I was eighteen. That year was big for me. I didn't move away and go off to college like most recent high school graduates did. Instead I went on a journey that completely changed my path forever.<br />
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I am still in shock, that I live where I live, and that I have the life that I have. I am so blessed. The circumstances that got me where I am right now, had to have worked out just exactly the way that they did in order for me to make it out here. I was the fifth person to be interviewed and tried out with my family that I now live with and love. I ended up with an agency that knew and grew up with my cousins in Texas, and was great friends with my coworker who with her experience helped me craft an amazing resume, right when I was moving out of my apartment and ready to move on from my dead end job. I got a job so fast. I literally came home from my interview, packed my things, and left. One choice, changed my path and helped me get here today. I am thankful.<br />
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The small choices, or spoken words in my life have been the most altering. Two weeks before my engagement was called off, I had a tearful discussion with Zack in the garage of one of my best friends. He pulled me aside, and told me that he wanted to be married in the temple. This was something that I never thought he would say. He seemed like he was happy with the way things were and I never intended on pushing him towards the church, even though that was my inner most desire. But I figured that since we lived together that it wasn't an option. Plus we had both been so angry with our families and situations that we didn't want to be apart of that life. We just wanted to be together and not deal with the judgements.<br />
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But he wanted a temple marriage, from the start. That meant that he would have to move out of our apartment, and we would have to delay our wedding again for another year, even though we had already been engaged for a year because of his deployment. So we committed. He moved out, and we went to our friends church that very Sunday to talk to the bishop about what steps we needed to take. He made it very clear that it would be hard to stay away from each other, and he even recommended that we get married and then get sealed later, but we both committed and didn't want it any other way then the right way. We prayed in that office together for the first time in our relationship, and I felt so good. I felt like I could breath again. I felt like I didn't have to pray every single day in the car to keep me safe because that was the only thing that was going to keep me safe since I wasn't living righteously. One week later he called off the engagement, but I kept going to church. I am not perfect, but my heart and soul make more of an effort now then I ever have. Its all because of that one conversation that I had. Small choices, alter my life hugely.<br />
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I am so thankful. I am so blessed, and I know that every right and wrong choice is leading me to where I am supposed to go. I am on a journey, and I will have many "What if's" and "Loves of my life". But what if I did get married? I wouldn't have my life here in Chicago, and THAT would be a tragedy.<br />
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True Story.</div>Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-5038281530545053202012-11-15T11:59:00.000-08:002012-11-15T11:59:12.527-08:00Halloween costume 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Halloween costume result:</div>
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Super Girl from the original Supergirl cartoon.</div>
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I feel like I stayed true to the original. </div>
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This was my inspiration:</div>
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I tried to do it right, it turned out to be a mix between the two I think. I think I was most proud of my makeup. I totally winged it (no pun intended) and it turned out good!</div>
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the hair...not so much. But it was a party to do.</div>
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I would say that it turned out great. But not being in Utah made it a little strange. I didn't get as good of a reaction beause I didn't actually go trick or treating like I usually do it Utah. Also, I didn't see anyone that took their costume as seriously as me. I felt a little childish. I wish people out here knew how to have fun as an adult. But at least I already know what I am going to be next year! I may be a couple of things...and I will be home. Hopefully it will be the best yet. I can't wait.</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-17921228620502782332012-11-15T11:43:00.004-08:002012-11-15T11:47:08.603-08:00Halloween 2012 (better late then never)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Now that halloween has come and gone, I keep thinking about the events that led up to halloween and I'm realizing how crazy busy that time was for the Burgett home here in Chicago. </div>
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A week before halloween, we took a trip to Sea Island Georgia. That post is coming up!</div>
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Right after we got home we couldn't even think about halloween yet because we had to make sure we celebrated Oliver's first Birthday! He is bigger and walking and oh so cute. We had amazing cupcakes from our favorite bakery who made an awesome Elmo smash cake, that Oliver did indeed smash! I didn't take smash cake pictures, but I did take pictures of his cute face all that day.</div>
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After the cake mashing</div>
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Once that was out of the way, we went into Halloween mode. First step: Pumpkins:</div>
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Back in the beginning of October we had planned on getting a good bunch of pumpkins because we/I wanted to put a jack o lantern on each one of the steps outside.</div>
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They have the perfect porch for jack o lanterns. So we set out to get supplies from Joann's and then didn't think about it again until the 25th or so. Once we got home we just kept buying pumpkins. Every time we went to the store we would come home with a cart full. <span id="goog_1284561570"></span><span id="goog_1284561571"></span></div>
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I Don't think I have ever carved that many pumpkins in my entire life. I broke the record for sure. We tried all sorts of Martha Stewarty/pinteresty things and I think they turned out pretty amazing!</div>
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I carved all the way through halloween weekend up until halloween day. It was A lot of work but it was so so worth it. It made me feel like I was at home with family, which I was, Just my Chicago family this time. The halloween decorations outside turned out to be really awesome as well. They had a bunch of stuff left over from last halloween that we put up, and we also ordered a really cool spider web and cat.</div>
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we also had this really cool fog machine that blew fogged bubbles. When the bubble popped, you got fogged! so cool!</div>
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While I was doing pumpkin palooza, we were also getting ready for an originally decided low key kids halloween party, since Natalia didn't want to go all out and do a big halloween/birthday party for Oliver. We planned the party for Lucas and all of his friends before they went trick or treating, and Initially we were just going to do treats and spooky chotchkeys in the basement for them, but when Natalia and put heads together....we get a little out of control. And by a little I mean a lot! Our party morphed into a scary witches room that you had to get to through a fogged up basement hallway. The stairs in our house are insane and there is this big pot at the bottom of the stairs, so we just stuck the fog machine in it and the fog brewed out of it. It looked so spooooooky!</div>
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We had all sorts of treats, from mummy hot dogs and mummy pizza, bones n blood (bread sticks and marinara sauce), to caremel apples and we even did mummy juice!<br />
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Brownie, and Rice Crispie treats</div>
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This was the table in the basement. We converted the ping pong table into a witches table</div>
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some of the decorations</div>
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SKULLS</div>
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We had a lot of fun planning this party. A lot of the moms brought food too, so there was an endless amount of fun treats and games to be played. The boys loved it. They all left with full bellies and party favors.</div>
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I loved having Halloween in Chicago. I only wish that my friends were here. Trick or treating in this city is so exciting and there are so many things going on that it would be so fun to go with all my Los G's. Next year I will be in Utah, so hopefully the party rocking can commence.</div>
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-17367050666666377792012-11-12T20:18:00.000-08:002012-11-12T20:18:00.513-08:00Leibster Award = Personal get to know you time. Tender<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br /><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is for bloggers with less than 200 followers. </span></span></span><b><span style="color: #666666;"></span></b><br />
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<b style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Rules:</b></div>
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Each person must post 11 things about themselves. </div>
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Answer the questions the nominator asked, </div>
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and create 11 questions for your nominees to answer. </div>
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Choose 11 people and link them in your post. </div>
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Go to their page and tell them. </div>
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No tag-backs.</div>
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<b>11 Things About Me</b></div>
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<b> </b>1. I used to say that I was allergic to Onions. Just so people wouldn't think that I was weird for completely loathing them. </div>
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<b> </b>2. I used to try really hard to be nothing like my mother because my siblings point out her flaws relentlessly and often dwell on her mistakes and her bad habits, when in reality I am the most like her then anyone in my family, and I don't think we're that bad. They can live with it.</div>
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3. I have never been immunized except for one Tetanus shot I received after scratching my skin on a poop barrel at the stables. That's right.<br />
4. I have always had a job. ever since I was a kid I was doing something. First paper route, then baby sitting and working at a barn, then Scera theater, and finally onto my first real paying job. It never ends but I love it that way.<br />
5. I secretly want to be a doctor but couldn't handle the dead bodies. So I will be a Vet instead. Road kill doable.<br />
6. I have a strong testimony and would gladly share it if you beat it out of me.<br />
7. If I could do anything in the world it would be to live on a ranch with my own land, living off of that land with a big hot cowboy as my husband who helped me take care of our many varieties of animals which we were educated on how to fully take care of. Oh and we would also be doctors, and musicians.<br />
8. Truly believe that the music from my favorite movie "the last of the Mohicans" follows me around everywhere I go. Stores, elevators, people playing pianos, bagpipes, Pandora. Its ridiculous but I love it!<br /> 9. Would love to play my guitar and sing my hearts content to an audience of thousands.</div>
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10. I am a true lover of World of Warcraft. It holds a place in my heart.<br />
11. I am really really good at Tetris. Asians lose to me often.<br />
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<b>Megans Questions</b></div>
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Do you ever wear socks to sleep?</div>
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Yes, often actually, because I like to slather them in smelly good lotion.</div>
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If you could do anything right now, what would it be?</div>
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Honestly, I would fly home.</div>
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What is your most irrational fear? </div>
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I often check underneath my bed. Twice, just in case a monster slipped under it while I was in the bathroom. </div>
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What do you wish you could make money doing?</div>
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I would love to make money as a musician but in this day and age it is almost cooler to have a secret talent then to be a famous singer</div>
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What truly seduces you? (eg: poetry, a man playing guitar, gifts, etc.)</div>
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Men who are forward, and aren't afraid to go for what they want. I hate having to entice someone into asking me out because they are too shy or scared I will say no or think that I already have a boyfriend so I wouldn't say yes. I hate men who don't step up. Also, I like it when men use the word Gorgeous, rather than babe or cute.</div>
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What color of nail polish do you always come back to?</div>
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Red. Always. so many shades. </div>
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If you could spend the day with any famous individual, who would it be?</div>
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Marcus Mumford. We would play the day away.</div>
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What is the story of your biggest heart break?</div>
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wow. longest story of all time. Girl meets boy, girl and boy fall in love, girl and boy move in together, get kittens, plan a wedding, girl buys dress, boy says lets get married in the temple, boy moves out, boy then dumps girl, steals her money, girl finds out engagement ring was fake. the end. (short version)</div>
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What is your guilty pleasure T.V. show?</div>
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DEXTER. So good.</div>
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What do you hope your life will be like in ten years?</div>
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I hope I will be working with Thoroughbreds and finished with School! I also really hope I will get married by then.<br /> </div>
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Do you eat fast or slow? </div>
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really fast. Servers always eat on the go. It stays with you. </div>
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<span style="line-height: 17.981481552124023px;"><b>My Nominees</b></span></div>
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I'm not going to nominee anyone, because I know my followers won't do it back..unless you are Rachel, but Meg you tagged her so done and done.</div>
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Loved this post. so much fun. Thanks Meg. I loved getting to know you a little better. I feel like I knew most of those things!<br />
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Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-70975499047540426032012-11-12T14:27:00.001-08:002012-11-13T05:51:50.541-08:00Can't Fight This FeelingRelationships. Yes that's what I feel like talking about because I have recently come to terms with my feelings towards men, men in general, life and were I think it's going, and mostly because I feel like I'm way beyond my years when it comes to relationships (I'm sure I'm not really, but for my own personal reality I'm a pro).<br />
<br />
I've "been around the block" so to speak, in the bad sort of way. But overall going around the block turned out to be a good thing in the end. I, like a lot of girls I'm sure, tend to compare lost relationships to current relationships. Sometimes I even compare the relationships of my close Friends, how they are doing currently in terms of happiness compared to how they were with an ex that I personally witnessed. <br />
<br />
But lately I have been comparing every guy I meet to this one particular guy. Most girls compare potentials to a past love, best friend, or their own father which is weird but sometimes they are the best comparison, unless you had a bad relationship and have/had daddy issues in which case it's the worst thing you can do. I on the other hand have an amazing dad so that wouldn't be the worst comparison...anyway.<br />
<br />
This particular guy is not a boyfriend, ex boyfriend, or even best friend. He's just this guy. I've known him for a long time, would consider him a friend but just out of circumstance, I don't know him very well, and have had no romantic interaction with him whatsoever. Yet, I think about him every time I meet new people..men...potential dates..possible future husbands...and it's driving me crazy.<br />
<br />
This thought, or "being" rather, is putting a damper on my dating life. But I do not take this feeling lightly. This is more of an unknowing unfinished business kind of feeling. Like I'm not finished with him somehow. There is only a significance, because This exact thing has happened before, but always with former boyfriends/fiancé's, and it doesn't go away until I cross paths with them again.<br />
<br />
And I always do, which is why I often end up dating the same guy twice. <br />
<br />
Let me take you into the depths of my dating life. All three of my serious relationships were revisited. <br />
<br />
The best example is with relationship number one. He was the second guy I dated in high school. Text book high school boy meets high school girl romance. Straight from a movie. I Ended up dumping him because he was a bad kisser (enter "bobby" nickname), I ditched my friends for him which was a stupid move, and I always said I wouldn't do the serious boyfriend thing, which was only because I knew that I eventually would have done not so smart things with him had we stayed together. I went onto my senior year of high school without a boyfriend after learning my lesson twice (irony?) and didn't think about him again until right after I graduated. <br />
<br />
I had been working at the same place all throughout high school, and was feeling like it might be time for a change, after the job began to weigh me down. But every time I thought about quitting I got this weird feeling that I shouldn't just yet because I kept thinking that "he" was going to walk into my work one day. Just show up out of nowhere. I even imagined how it would go down. He would walk into the front, and ask someone If I was there, someone would walk to the back were I would be rolling silverware and I would know instantly who they were talking about. I would then freak out a little like I was having déjà vu, walk up to the front, heart pounding, anxiously wanting to confirm what I already knew, to find him staring at me the exact same way I imagined he would.<br />
<br />
Two months later that's exactly how it happened. (I later learned that he went to great lengths to track me down.) That moment haunted me for two months, every shift, every time I walked passed the front of the building. <br />
<br />
That blissful reunion lead to the hardest trial of my life, and of course, he ended the relationship for the final time. I learned so many lessons, about being a good wife and companion, I learned what qualities I need in a man, and I found my own spirituality while recovering from heartbreak and loss.<br />
<br />
Next example: <br />
<br />
The second guy I dated in high school I Dumped, because I wasn't hanging out with friends, and I wasn't that into him (I was also 15....and Stupid). <br />
<br />
I Dated him 4 years later. <br />
<br />
At the time I was dating a lot, and by a lot I mean multiple people at the same time. I had taken my life down one path and was trying to figure out if things would work out better if I went down the "right" path. In retrospect I don't think there is a "right path" for everyone, but that is a different conversation.<br />
<br />
I heard that he was back from his mission and I couldn't get him out of my mind. I kept thinking that I needed to add him as a friend on Facebook and that would allow me to strike up a conversation, take matters into my own hands.<br />
<br />
Two days later he added ME, and struck up a conversation.<br />
<br />
Several months and a few NOP's later (nights of passion for my not so knowing friends), I ended the relationship because again, I wasn't really that into him. But I spent every second of those months trying so hard to be into him. I did the exact opposite of what I had always done, and I learned what kind of man I wanted to be with physically, AND spiritually. I also learned how I should be treated, and how a potential in-law family could treat and should treat me. Heck I literally almost married him just because I loved his family so much.<br />
<br />
And finally relationship number three. The double rebound that kept on rebounding. This time I didn't really think about him, rather it was fate pulling us together.<br />
<br />
When I was going through my date every man on the planet all at the same time faze, I often went to cheesy yet distractingly satisfying social gatherings in Provo. Most of the time pool tables were involved, but I decided that one night I would branch out and go country dancing with my awesome gang of work friends. <br />
<br />
We went early to take lessons, since I had never danced the country way before, and I was partnered up with this guy who coincidentally had also just been dumped. After a thrilling night of "Achey Breaky Heart" and a full belly of Denny's pancakes, I added him to my list of NOP's. My feelings for him stayed in my head for the next few days and I eventually dumped my other few guys for this one like minded Blondie, who seemed to be on the same page as me in all aspects of life. We dated, we made out, we went camping, it fizzled, and we kept in touch via Facebook and the random 6 month "how are you? Lets make out" text. Basically the way all rebounds go.<br />
<br />
About a year later, I get one of those random texts from him, but this time it was a "Hey I'm roommates with your cousin. What are the chances?" Text. This is a cousin that I hadn't seen in years. So we planned a little reunion get together and the sparks were ignited once again. Of course the relationship once again fizzled.<br />
About a year or more later, he gets a job where I work and is randomly on the sales floor one day....Aaand the sparks flew again. All three times we didn't work out, probably because both of us weren't really sure what we wanted out of life or where we were going. I figured out that I needed someone to motivate me to be BETTER in all aspects of life, not just stay the same. But I always said yes when he asked me out because I felt like I wouldn't be giving fate it's wish. I had to see it through. Especially if it was my destiny, and especially because he was the best kiss I ever had...Haha<br />
<br />
All of my examples lead up to this. I feel as If this feeling that I have, this random friend feeling is different. Not only because I don't know him very well, or dated him, but because I feel like my past experiences were valuable lessons that have been preparing me for a big test. Not in the biblical sort of way, but in the grand "journey to find my husband!" sort of way. I have learned to recognize that connection I have with someone, and I fear that it is because I will not be given two chances to figure it out. There will be no make up test. I will get him, or I won't. My problem, is that he lives in a different state. Therefore extending my destined thoughts for at least the next year. Or, if this journey is not supposed to end with him, then maybe I will recognize it the first time around. Then at least I won't be haunted by him until fate brings us back together again. Who knows how long that could take, and I hate waiting. I will take his name with me to the grave, unless I marry him, in which case he will probably find this entertaining...or creepy. Awesome.<br />
<br />
I also would like to point out that all three men in my examples were happily married soon after I left the picture. I will be sure to say "You're welcome" the next time I happen upon one of them. Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016789845979240583.post-41572308463865753762012-10-20T23:21:00.001-07:002012-10-20T23:21:06.262-07:00Los Heraldos Negro: Cesar VallejoI recently watched the film máncora, which was a pretty okay film for an unpopular one, but the beginning of the movie begins with an amazing poem by Cesar Vallejo. I have never been so moved by a piece of poetry. I tend to gravitate toward the melancholy side of the arts. Sad poems, songs, and art work. There is so much beauty in sadness..Weird as may sound. So, I felt like sharing the poem. I included the original, as well as 2 translations taken from the website that I found. <br />
<br />
Los Heraldos Negro<br />
<br />
Hay golpes en la vida tan fuertes . . . ¡Yo no se!<br />
Golpes como del odio de Dios; como si ante ellos;<br />
la resaca de todo lo sufrido se empozara en el alma<br />
¡Yo no se! <br />
Son pocos; pero son . . . abren zanjas oscuras<br />
en el rostro mas fiero y en el lomo mas fuerte,<br />
Serán talvez los potros de bárbaros atilas;<br />
o los heraldos negros que nos manda la Muerte<br />
<br />
<br />
Son las caídas hondas de los Cristos del alma,<br />
de alguna adorable que el Destino Blasfema,<br />
Esos golpes sangrientos son las crepitaciones<br />
de algún pan que en la puerta del horno se nos quema<br />
<br />
<br />
Y el hombre....pobre...¡pobre!<br />
Vuelve los ojos,<br />
como cuando por sobre el hombro<br />
nos llama una palmada;<br />
vuelve los ojos locos,<br />
y todo lo vivido<br />
se empoza, como charco de culpa,<br />
en la mirada.<br />
<br />
<br />
Hay golpes en la vida, tan fuertes . . . ¡Yo no se! <br />
<br />
As with any great poem, a single translation rarely suffices. So I offer two; the first by Clayton Eshelman and the second by an unidentified source. [If anyone knows this unidentified translator, I would appreciate being advised as—of the two—it's my favorite translation.]<br />
<br />
There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!<br />
Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them<br />
the undertow of all our sufferings<br />
is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!<br />
<br />
There are few; but are . . . opening dark furrows<br />
in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins,<br />
They are perhaps the colts of barbaric Attilas<br />
or the dark heralds Death sends us.<br />
<br />
They are the deep falls of the Christ of the soul,<br />
of some adorable one that Destiny Blasphemes.<br />
Those bloody blows are the crepitation<br />
of some bread getting burned on us by the oven's door<br />
<br />
And the man . . . poor . . . poor!<br />
He turns his eyes around, like<br />
when patting calls us upon our shoulder;<br />
he turns his crazed maddened eyes,<br />
and all of life's experiences become stagnant, like a puddle of guilt, in a daze.<br />
<br />
There are such hard blows in life. I don't know.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* * *<br />
There are blows in life so violent—I can't answer!<br />
Blows as if from the hatred of God; as if before them,<br />
the deep waters of everything lived through<br />
were backed up in the soul . . . I can't answer!<br />
<br />
Not many; but they exist . . . They open dark ravines<br />
in the most ferocious face and in the most bull-like back.<br />
Perhaps they are the horses of that heathen Atilla,<br />
or the black riders sent to us by Death.<br />
<br />
They are the slips backward made by the Christs of the soul,<br />
away from some holy faith that is sneered at by Events.<br />
These blows that are bloody are the crackling sounds<br />
from some bread that burns at the oven door.<br />
<br />
And man . . . poor man! . . . poor man!<br />
He swings his eyes, as<br />
when a man behind us calls us by clapping his hands;<br />
Swings his crazy eyes, and everything alive<br />
is backed up, like a pool of guilt, in that glance.<br />
<br />
There are blows in life so violent . . . I can't answer!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Qo_b714eewk/UIOUUQWNrjI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UuNwsdfcSZE/s640/blogger-image-1291568948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Qo_b714eewk/UIOUUQWNrjI/AAAAAAAAAVw/UuNwsdfcSZE/s640/blogger-image-1291568948.jpg" /></a></div>Heather Magillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05389106437424078215noreply@blogger.com1