When I'm Master of the World, all bathroom stall doors will push OUTWARD.
Why does this even need to be an edict? Can't common sense just prevail in this regard? Yeesh.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
When I was in Utah for break, a few people mentioned that I'd lost weight. I'm notorious for not realizing just how much weight I've lost or how different I might look. Yeah, like that time I hadn't realized that I'd lost 25lbs on my mission.
(humble bragging abounds)
I guess it's true b/c I needed new jeans and I tried on my normal size and they fell off. So, smaller size and they're quite comfy.
healthier eating + being more active + anxiety and stress
That appears to be my recipe for weight loss.
Posted by Vanessa Swenson at 16:02
Monday, January 14, 2013
It's weird that every time I think about the soon-to-be-told story, I think of the word "justice" in Spanish: justicia. I don't know why, but it's the best sounding word for how I feel. You'd think maybe the Portuguese justiça, considering the situation. But nope, JUSTICIA.
Back in July, before I'd shared my story so widely about what happened on my mission, I realized that I had an opportunity to do something to perhaps protect others from my mission trainer, who I'm positive isn't a one-time attacker. She lives in Brazil and is far away from me (thankfully), but this also meant that it would be harder for me to try to stop her. Then I thought of my second mission president because he has connections with the Brazil North Area presidency of the church. He came into the mission at the beginning of July 2001 and my trainer left a couple of weeks later and was in his first grupo de saída. (Leaving group? What's that called in English?) Thus my mission pres had met her once, when she left.
I realized that I could contact him with what happened to me and maybe something could be done. I didn't know what or how, but I had to try because ever since she left the mission she'd been working in the relief society or young women. Yeah, brilliant, I know. So I wrote my mission president an email--well I wrote one letter first using lots of Brazilian swear words and lots of sentences that minced no words about how I felt about that deplorable "human" being. But then I wrote a second letter devoid of the swears detailing how she "groomed" me (got me to the point that I couldn't fight back, essentially making me feel that I couldn't count on anyone but her and much less myself). I then explained how she abused me, what, how often where (in a stake center a bunch). A few days after sending the letter, I heard back from him that things were on track to happen, interviews within a church framework.
This knowledge relieved me, b/c I didn't want anyone else to suffer b/c of her like I had suffered all those previous years.
Recently I found the courage to ask my mission president if he'd heard anything further, if there was any info that I would be allowed to know. He told me a few things, but the most important one is that she cannot hold a position of authority in the church--well any position of anything in the church right now. He couldn't tell me the exact form of discipline in the church that had been levied (I don't even know if he knows), but he could tell me that she'd been heavily disciplined.
She has been blocked from hurting people within church settings.
So very few people in my situation see any form of justice--¡JUSTICIA! In fact only 3% of rapists see ANY jail time. The numbers don't improve much for assault or molestation victims seeing any form of justice, especially since there's a stupid statute of limitations of 7 years usually. So if the 4 year old figures out at age 13 what happened, oh well.
The fact that I have seen my abuser have repercussions, that I know that she's been outed in front of church authorities even with any denial on her part--I mean, the fact that I know all of this justice is simply... well, I don't know what to call it. I've been with this knowledge for a little while now and I still don't have words for how I feel. I still don't think I know how I feel.
But still: ¡JUSTICIA!
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Months back I had this dream where I created a variation of the sport cricket called Cricket Sixes. I created rules and everything, which, don't worry, I won't explain here.
Then last night I had another dream about cricket. In the dream I explained to the people practicing cricket about my dream about cricket. Who were the people playing cricket? Snooki and Britney Spears were. Other random people were, too. Snooki had amazing ability as a cricket bowler, by the way.
So I dreamed a dream where I explained another dream.
Friday, January 4, 2013
A while back, when I was talking to Scottie about how it was still hard to read the scriptures, he asked if I was still using the same set that I had on my mission. Yes, I was using the same set that I'd used from seminary on up. No wonder I couldn't read from them. Companionship study wasn't a safe thing at all when I was with my trainer.
I obviously needed new scriptures, but I didn't know when I'd be ready. Over Christmas I was. All I really wanted was my first and middle name on the covers. Then for Christmas I got a new hymnal. My mom gave them all to me, making it all the more special.
I was feeling in a good place tonight and the first verse that I read in them was D&C 93:1.
Plus I got a new scripture bag that, as Rebeca pointed out is "girly, but not too girly."
The pic is sideways and I don't care.
Also, the bag is not "pink and frilly" as Rebeca AND Anna-Lisa asked me. Very funny.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Being home has reminded me of tons of stories
During my senior year of high school and the following summer, I delivered flowers. The shop in Spanish Fork had a wide-reaching delivery area to the south, b/c pretty much no one would deliver to some of the mini-towns that exist south of here. The weekend of Mother's Day was the worst. The second worst weekend was Father's Day.
One of my deliveries was in Mona. If you're not familiar with Mona, it's in Juab County, south of Utah County and it's the size of your palm, kinda. The town is really small but the geographical reach of Mona is like huge. I couldn't find this one address. We're talking life before GPS, 1997. I got to the post office just before it closed, thankfully, and asked the guy if he knew where the address was. He looked at me making this weird face and told me that there a bunch of people that lived on the bench of a mountain and where to go.
So I drove up a long road and got to this area where there were a couple of houses, one being built and some trailers, but no real addresses. So confusing. I finally just got out and walked up to a man and asked him if he knew So-and-So. There were tons of kids out playing and stuff because it was a warm June day. The guy said that he could give the flowers to So-and-So. I thanked him and pulled away in the delivery van.
Then it hit me. Postal guy's weird look. Two and a half houses. Lots of trailers. Polygamists.
Happy Father's Day, indeed.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Years ago when the first Work and the Glory movie came out, my cousins and aunts were ALL ABOUT going. It was Thanksgiving and they totally planned this big girls day. I had read the books b/c I was young and impressionable and bored one summer long ago. After a while, I was positive that they sucked, but I had to know the ending. But I felt that I should be part of the family, so I went.
We got to the theater with time to spare, but the theater was already filled with eager women and about three men. I ended up in the front row, in a corner seat. The movie was as cheesy and overwrought as you’d expect, and I quietly chuckled throughout.
But then we got to the climax scene. Oh my gosh. So the love story is between Nathan and Lydia (I feel good that I had to double check their names). Nathan is an early convert and a poor farmer/laborer. Lydia is the only daughter of the wealthy store owner in Palmyra. Of course. Nathan and Lydia plan to get married. Nathan starts building their house, he’s got some of its frame up already. So her parents freak out of course, probably threatened to cut her off or something. Undoubtedly this is the end for the magical couple! Horror! Will Lydia defy her parents and return to the Mormon?
The scene switches to Nathan, who had promised Lydia a house and continues to build it because he is a farmer/laborer/man of his word. He arrives and sees a note nailed to one of the posts. He starts reading it and then you hear Lydia’s voice reading the note. You know how movies do that. The camera pans around slowly catching Nathan’s reaction. There that scripture from Ruth, “wherever thou goest I will go, thy people shall be my people,” etc. Then camera continues panning and you see Lydia standing there, which is unnerving enough, BUT SHE’S ACTUALLY READING THE LETTER OUT LOUD. NO VOICE-OVER. She’s there like some creeper chick. Like, wouldn’t Nathan have realized that the love of his life is reading the note right behind him?!?!
I did the only proper thing in that theater that was silent save for occasional sniffs and sobs: I BURST OUT LAUGHING. It was hysterical. Uproariously funny. Well, I’d done it. I got burning looks full of the damnation of the deepest corner of Hell. I mean, those women were ANGRY.
So here’s my question: On what planet could anyone think that what we’d just seen was normal and healthy? If I didn’t know from first-hand experience that Mormons can be silly and super cheesy, I would’ve been SURE that I was surrounded by women trained to be drones or something. But now that I come to think of it, the theater was probably filled with women that a few years later would be on either Team Jacob or Team Edward.
Posted by Vanessa Swenson at 19:48