The Bucket

That's right, a list of things I would like to accomplish before I "kick the bucket."  This -> * <- means I've done it! Hooray!! I will modify and update this post as I (hopefully) accomplish some of these things.
*1. Learn how to ballroom dance [I won a Bachata competition up at BYU-I. It was exciting.]
2. Go Snorkling
3. Be an EFY counselor
*4. Hike up a mountain/Rock Climb [I HIKED UP MT. BALDY IN ALASKA! WOOHOO!]
5. Visit Every State (Alaska, Arizona, Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Maryland (District of Columbia), Nebraska, Nevada, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, Tennessee, Utah, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wyoming)
6. Milk a cow
7. Pet a snow leopard
8. Swim in an aquarium
9. Visit Ghana & Serve the people
10. Go to the Circus
*11. Play in an orchestra
*12. Sail on the Ocean [Again, ALASKA! YAY!]
*13. Make a blanket
14. Serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
*15. Write a children's story
16. Carve a watermelon
*17. Lord of the Rings Marathon
18. Star Wars Marathon
19. Harry Potter Marathon
20. Read all of Jane Austen's novels (I've got Pride and Prejudice down...)
21. See a Shakespeare play in the Globe Theater
*22. Paint a mural
23. Draw/paint a family portrait
24. Be in the Hill Cumorah Pageant (I've been 6 times)
25. Have a "giftless" Christmas
26. Go to a live General Conference session
27. Build a treehouse
28. Drive from coast to coast
*39. Visit Alaska [BOOYAH!!]
30. Direct a choir
31. Play "Misguided Ghosts" by Paramore on the guitar
32. Learn to play the violin and/or cello
33. Visit Ireland
34. Record a song in a professional studio
*35. Get straight A's (Huzzah!)
36. See Beethoven's 5th Symphony performed
37. Feed a Zoo Animal
38. Tour a movie set
39. Go to Art museums around the world (Like the Louvre or the Musee de Orsay)
40. Fly in a small plane
41. Go to a soccer game in south america
42. Get married in an LDS temple
43. Birth a child (That's right! I want to be a Mom!)
44. Read the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe
*45. Ride a camel
46. Graduate College (sooooo close!)
47. Read The Lord of the Rings trilogy (I finally started)
48. Go to Yellowstone
49. Make a crayon-melting painting
*50. Go to Las Vegas
51. Learn to do Archery like Robin Hood and Katniss Everdeen
52. Meet the Vlogbrothers
53. Design a home
54. Meet President Monson (I saw him in the airport once, but I haven't actually met him)
55. Have a picnic in a cemetery
**Updated 9/11/13**

Country Living

I'm going to revisit a place that has been a prominent part of my life: my Grandparents' hometown. Staying with my Grandparents always seems to change my perspective on  life. It isn't just because I'm staying with a couple of people who have lived long, successful, and wonderful lives. It's their house, the magical swing set, the haunted basement, and the old books. 

This small town. Adrian, Oregon: home to a whopping 140 people. You know, one of those towns you miss if you drive by too fast and blink. A town where everyone knows everyone else by the generation.

At my stay over Christmas break, I was fattened up by the mounds of treats delivered to their doorstep. Showered with handshakes at church. We even traveled around the outskirts of the "neighborhood" for 4 hours singing Christmas carols. And by neighborhood, I mean drove around the miles and miles of various farms and mini-mountains and valleys.

As we drove around this serene place just off the Snake River, calm overwhelmed me. The skies were clear and the land swayed in the wind.

These quaint farm houses sprout out of the fields all around the area. Even as the farmers work in the field, the days go by easily, and the quiet never seems to lift. 

The illustrious "A" announces the town and looks over the valley, somehow protecting its loyal residents.

However, beyond the quiet peace, Adrian is full of secrets and surprises. While taking a walk on windy winter day, I stumbled across this:

I was taken aback by the shock of seeing the remnants of a living creature and found myself pondering its past life, imagining what it had been and how it spent its days. I continued walking with a suddenly reflective state of mind. As I came up the other side of the street, chilled from the wind and eager to arrive at the warm house, I looked down and saw this:

A broken deer leg. The sight of it laid a filter of sadness over my thoughts as I mourned the loss not only of a life, but of a life unremembered. This deer was forgotten, left at the side of a country road. As I took a moment to remember the deer and began walking back up the street, I made it a point to remember this place--this small town that has come to mean so much to me--so it would never be forgotten.

Ink (or graphite, or chalk, or whatever) and Paper

It is amazing what power exists in ink and paper. Each are simple objects, neither of them particularly incredible; but when they are combined with a hand and creative mind, magic occurs. There are endless moments in which I find myself being changed by reading a book. When I read, I invest myself completely in what I am reading. I delve into the world the author has created and explore it like a child on a new playground. I flip through the pages and breathe deep in anticipation, climb through each sentence, grinding their ideas into my mind similar to grass stains on a child's knees. I walk up timidly to other children in the playground, at first feeling out of place, but with further observance come to know them. I begin to understand them, sympathize with their feelings, come to love them, and even hate them. This new world blends into my own, with me as the catalyst for the transformation. I see people differently. Real people. My friends, family, and strangers. My outlook on life is altered, my emotions are magnified, and epiphanies are always eminent. The things I read fuse to my soul and become one with who I am.

The world is small compared to the universe.

After the much-anticipated end of a most challenging semester (my sixth: WEIRD) arrived, I seized the opportunity to cross something off of my bucket list. That's right: I had a Lord of the Rings -Extended Edition- Marathon!!!! Indeed, I sat through the whole 12 hours of Peter Jackson genius! It was a time of great feasting, gut-bursting laughter, and an immense amount of nostalgia. Let this be a shout-out to my wonderful roommates and friends who make my life not only endurable, but enjoyable as well.


I left Rexburg the next day, ready to be home. However, my journey took me to an unexpectedly pleasant place in Utah before I could nestle into the trees and other green things of Ohio. I stayed with my Grandma's cousin's family (which makes them my second cousins, and their daughter my second cousin once removed-it's complicated) and had a gloriously relaxing time. I walked their dog through a cemetery, which I found to be delightful and not creepy in the slightest, made delicious food, including an Easter feast complete with apple pie, and, get this, sat down and just breathed! Easter Sunday started off on a wonderful note, as I got to go to the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City to watch the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and The Orchestra at Temple Square film an episode of Music and the Spoken Word :) Thomas S. Monson, President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Elder Richard G. Scott were there as well, and it was incredible to know that I was in the presence of God's Prophet and one of his Apostles! My heart burned with feelings of love and celebration as I remembered Christ's sacrifice and his glorious resurrection. It was here that I also realized that it is the nature of the world to be small. As the orchestra was tuning, I noticed that my clarinet professor was performing! A smile crept onto my face as I remembered my interaction with Brother Holman--the many things he taught me, and the many smiles he put on my face. That man gave me confidence where I had none, and helped me realize my learning potential. It was great seeing him again, and I marveled at the coincidence that I would see him at such a random moment. As we left for church later that day, I saw another person that has impacted my life more than they know. Three years ago, I went to a week-long youth program called Especially for Youth in Nauvoo, Illinois. During that week, I met wonderful people and grew in confidence and kindness. I owe much of my joy to the counselors that led my group. I saw them as my heroes more so than mentors, but I also thought of them as friends. My thoughts were far from EFY during the church meetings when I noticed a girl that looked strikingly familiar. However, I couldn't connect her face to a memory until we were preparing to leave. I saw her again and I had the epiphany that she was my EFY counselor! Suddenly becoming uncharacteristically shy, I fought with myself about whether or not I should talk to her. She had meant so much to me, but I was worried that she wouldn't remember who I was. I guess I couldn't handle the disappointment. However, I gathered some courage and said 'Hello'. She nearly instantly recognized me and the reunion was grand :) I had obviously worried for nothing, as she gave me a huge hug and we effortlessly settled into easy conversation about our lives over the past three years.


With my travels coming to an end, I lamented having to leave so many friends in the West, but I was glad to be back with my family. But I also knew that when I stepped off the plane I would not be coming back to the same people, or even to the same house. My brother D.J., for example, is threatening to be taller than me, and my sister Kenna is turning into a young lady. I found myself sleeping in a new home that somewhat resembles the Weasley's "Burrow," and I am faced with unnumbered decisions that will change the course of my life forever. . . Needless to say, I'm kind of freaking out about it. The future seems dark and unknown, but I know that this seemingly aphotic universe contains a glimmer of light for each of us. Mine might be an encouraging word from a good friend and yours might be the chorus from a Beatles song, but the light is there, just as the stars are in the night sky.

Dried Up

I spent the morning judging poetry for the school's poetry competition, Last Poet Standing. It inspired me to post the only poem that I have ever written. It came in a time of great frustration, but I like it. It's strange; I feel like I'm exposing a small bit of my soul to the world. I guess that's what poetry is--the embodiment of the soul. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. [Update: This poem was accepted to be published in Juxtaprose, BYU-Idaho's poetry journal! Hooray!]


Dried Up
by Kiah Carroll

You look across the room

And you’re falling.

literally

The sight of her makes you falter

And your feet turn into luke-warm jello.

The ground is a welcome home.

You press your face into the plush carpet

In hope that she will one day 

Reciprocate the on-goings of your soul.

The sound of her voice,

That angelic noise, floods through your skin

And speeds through your veins,

Filling every inch of your body with warmth.

her every word

every sentence

every insight

sets your heart on fire

Your mind is baffled.

No logic could justify the way you feel,

But you couldn’t imagine being without her.

you want her

need her

by your side

always

She is everything you have ever wanted,

And you are fascinated.

You have spent months analyzing her every move.

watching her

cry

smile

laugh

yell

But you did it passively.

You watch her now from the floor,

Peering up through the carpet’s fibers,

Waiting for her to kneel by your side

And crawl into your open arms.

she would fit nicely

picture perfect

almost

I wish I could make you happy.

I wish I could run to your tree-sized arms

And feel protected from the world.

but my legs are broken

and my wishing well is dry

Existing on an In-between

I am sitting on an in-between. Not really sitting. It’s more like floating, but with less movement. I’m in-between semesters, in-between years. I’m even in-between states, nearly on the state line of Idaho and Oregon. I’m half-way in-between my 20^th and 21^st birthdays. It’s like I’m stuck at the top of the big hill at the beginning of a roller coaster. Anticipation is nagging at my stomach, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up and bristle in the wind. I’m sitting right in the middle of the roller coaster car, and I can’t see anything. I have no clue of what’s up ahead except for what I’ve seen from the ground, but that perspective isn’t going to do me any good. I am caught up in the moment of now—so caught up I don’t know which way is down.

At least with a roller coaster you have some kind of security. This in-between is unruly and abrupt—overcast. The longer I wait here, the more its decay is revealed; the more I am able to uncover its flaws. I’m beginning to see the rust eating away at the wheels on my car, freezing it in its place. Soon enough the wheels won’t be able to turn at all. I see the holes in the floor of my car becoming so big my feet begin to fall through. I see support beams failing on the track behind me, unhinged and bending. My world is falling apart.

I lean forward in a panic, shouting at the empty cars in front of me. I can feel the track sway in the wind, tilting from side to side. Its groaning is getting louder and louder, each creak sends chills up my spine. I scream once again in desperation, begging the car to move forward. I can almost feel the momentum building up inside the string of cars, or is it merely within me? I strain my ears, listening for the sound of screeching metal. I wonder why the car won’t just break free.

I take a look outside of the car and down the side of the track. I snap my head back up in fright. The hill was higher than I thought. It shouldn’t be possible, but it seems as if I am thousands of feet off the ground. It is as if I am looking at the ground from an airplane. Even that doesn’t describe it. I can’t see the ground, can’t make anything out. Nothing is clear. In truth, it’s as if I am viewing the past as I look down. Instead of an amusement park below me, I see memories. One small, bustling building is my freshman year of college, the other my senior year of high school. Another larger building is built with the memories of my family. Looming low to the ground is a dark building, seeming to contain the memories of relationships gone wrong. With a shiver, I try to shake away all of these memories. I consider once again my options of escape.

I knew I couldn’t remain up there for much longer. I also knew I didn’t want to return to the past. In a sudden burst of wind, the track was pushed to the left, leaning dangerously toward the ground. With an unhealthy amount of adrenaline and an unexpected dose of faith, I quickly climbed out of my car and into the one in front of me. This new determination refused to be pushed around—to die. I pushed back the screaming fear of plummeting to my death and began climbing from car to car, wiping the sweat from my hands and tears from my face, until I reached the front car.

Unable to see past the sudden fog I offer a small but mighty prayer. I scoot down the side of the car and grab hold of the track. I cling there gripping onto the cold metal with all the strength I can muster, refusing to open my eyes. After what seems like an eternity, I scrape up my leftover courage and slowly open my eyes. Nothing has changed. The wind is still blowing, the track still swaying, my heart still pounding. I try holding back the tears as I lift myself on top of the track in front of the now abandoned car. I wrap my arms around it and bring it into an embrace. Never before had I been grateful for the large metal beast.

As I lie there, hugging the roller-coaster-type track, I gain a sense of security. I had escaped my cage and was now free to roam about as I wished. Though the fog hasn’t yet cleared, I am free. I look down and see my memories, my life laid out so beautifully below me. I no longer fear what is coming, what obstacles are yet to come. I am free. Free of this in-between. I am free, and on my way to the future.

*Photo courtesy of the "Bridget Callahan is Your Best Friend" blog

The Things She Carried

Well, I am finally posting something... but not because I took time out of my day to write it. BUT I wrote this for class and I think it's mighty awesome. Here Goes!


The noise and bustle of the airport echoed in Lauren’s ears as she moved forward in the security line. She hoisted her nearly bursting carry-on onto the conveyor belt that lead into the x-ray machine, and looked at the security guard for approval as she stepped through the metal detector. She paused as she looked to the side and saw that her bag was being examined. “Please step to the side, ma’am,” the security guard droned. With panic tightening in her throat, she quickly obeyed as the guard opened her bag and began searching through it. Once they were finished, not finding anything of consequence, they handed her the small suitcase with its contents spewing over the sides. Lauren sighed and began strategizing how she would fit all of her beloved books back into the bag. She was determined, though. Her books would stay by her side, just as they always had been.


A much younger Lauren was sitting on the cushy bean-bag chairs in her kindergarten classroom when her parents walked into the room with her teacher. She looked up innocently from the pages of her book and smiled. The corners of her lips began to fall at the sight of worried look on her mother’s face, when her teacher asked, “Lauren, can you read this sentence for me?” She looked away from her teacher to focus on the page. As she slowly and determinedly began to read, her parents gasped as pained smiles paralyzed their faces.


It shouldn’t surprise them that Lauren was reading at such a young age, for her mother has read to her for hours-on-end each day, even before she was born. “She would sit there and read,” Lauren explained, “Read through books all of the time. They didn’t have to be young kid books; they were just books she was reading, but she would read it out loud so I could hear it.” With a love of words and stories ingrained in her psyche, Lauren has grown up and thrived within literature. “We used to have reading competitions at elementary school,” Lauren recounts, “and I always won because they were ‘who can read the most books over the summer?’ competitions. I would win and they would give me a bag of books, but I usually owned all of them anyway."


Since her freshman year of high school, Lauren guesses she has read about 2,000 to 3,000 young adult books. These staggering numbers imply that Lauren has read as many books as some professional editors. One might say this makes her somewhat of an expert in the field of young adult literature. However, she wouldn’t view herself that way; she just really loves to read. Her books have taken her on a number of adventures. She has been exposed to situations, ways of thinking, cultures and challenges she would not have experienced otherwise; they have also made her own afflictions easier to understand.


Like any teenager, Lauren has faced many challenges, but not once has she stopped reading. In fact, she has often sought to identify with her favorite characters and confide in them, looking to them for advice and guidance. When she was at the climax of her relationship with her childhood “crush,” she buried herself in silly romance novels and cheesy love songs. She loved to dream and often fanaticized, “This could be my life!” Despite her wishes, this crush broke her heart and abandoned her, leaving her to realize, “Oh, my life isn’t a book.” At that moment, she decided to move on from these childhood fantasies and began picking up more realistic contemporary fiction. “Have you heard of Sarah Dessen?” she asked. “Her books are really realistic and deal with real girl issues.” What are ‘real girl issues’? Romance and fitting-in, of course, are most prevalent, but more important issues like death and eating disorders are penetrating young peoples’ lives everywhere. Authors like Dessen have realized this, and reach out to these young women, giving them a picture of what could be; of hope.


The only place Lauren could find real answers to her life problems was a place she could be confronted within her own mind—inside the pages of a book. Winter Girls by Laurie Halse Anderson is about a girl with anorexia whose best friend dies of bulimia. “There was a time period where I didn’t want to eat anything because I thought I was fat,” Lauren said. “It wasn’t full-on anorexia, but it was . . . I was pretty close.” Winter Girls helped her realize what she was doing to herself. Its first person narration allowed her to approach and examine the mind of the main character and experience her thought process. She was suffering from a very personal and extremely dangerous mental and physical disorder, and this book helped Lauren realize that she wasn’t alone. “You have a certain thought, and then you read it in a book and it clicks. It makes a huge impact on people,” she explained. This deep personal struggle prepared her to deal with the uncontrollable events of the future, and reminded her that she could still rely on her cherished books.


Lauren was unexpectedly separated from a good friend when he recently committed suicide. Before he died, she had read Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher, a chilling story about a girl that commits suicide and leaves cassette tapes recounting the events leading up to her death. The first time she read it, she thought the book had a sad and powerful message, but after the death of her friend she read it again and the story had changed. “It had a completely new meaning. I was reading it and literally crying because it was so meaningful to me,” she explained. That event changed her in more ways than she realized. It inspired her to take control, to move on, and to value life—she learned the importance of living.


Author Henry David Thoreau wrote, “A truly good book attracts very little favor to itself. It is so true that it teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down and commence living on its hint. . . What I began by reading, I must finish by acting.” Youth is the time where young people’s minds are most pliable; the time they are desperately curious to find their standing in life. As teenagers realize how to use what they read to change their lives, they will grow up to be imaginative and enlightened adults.


“I’m going on another trip this summer,” Lauren explained. “This time, we’re flying into England then taking a cruise into Scotland, Ireland, and Iceland.” She’s still hauling around her books. “I’ve been reading a lot of travel novels,” she said. However, it will be different this time, and not just because she has a nook and won’t have to worry about cramming a library into a backpack. This time, her books won’t be her friends, they will be her guides. “I still love reading,” she said, “but it’s not the only thing in my life. I take the lessons I learn from books and apply them to my experiences.” While exploring the British Isles, discovering history, and trying to convince the people that not all Americans are horrible, she will look to her books with contentment, knowing that she is writing a story of her own.