Musings Of A Janitor

If you don't know that I am a janitor from 5 AM to 8 AM at the Tanner Building it is because you have lived in Nepal for the past 3 months or something. It has become apparent to me that I tell e v e r y b o d y about my job. Everyone. People who help me carry my bike up the stairs, cashiers, people in class... It seems to slide into all my conversations with people, not importing the original subject. I seem to wear it like a badge as if to pridefully say; I. DO. HARD. THINGS.

But if you haven't been a victim to my complain-a-brags, here goes.

I'm an early morning janitor.

Hahahahaha. Or I was, before I quit 4 days ago. Hallelujah!

And there are soooooo many things I've learned whilst you've been sleeping. Hang on my Pad Wan, this is learning time.

~ First, I learned that I am the type of person with the If-I- Can't-Sleep-Nobody-Can mentality. And because of this I always sent my friends and family members selfies of me taking out the trash with a urinal in the background.

~ The urinal pictures segue into another gem from my lifetime of knowledge... urinals are theeeeee most disgusting things ever. If my future husband asks if we can get one I will pee all over the floor and walls and say, "there. no need to get one now because I already fulfilled it's purpose." But really, the truth is that men have terrible aim and I refuse to clean one of those germ thrones again.

~ My Dad and I have the completely founded belief that we are the only truly sane people in the world. Exhibit A: My coworker who wouldn't come to work 60% of the time and the 40% of the time he was there would sing SHOW TUNES at the TOP OF HIS LUNGS at FIVE IN THE MORNING.
Exhibit B: Every person at work who liked to quote movies in Russian accents or start small talk long before the break of dawn.... NO. NO MORE COMMUNICATING, OKAY?

~ Something worse than Capital Punishment is vacuuming. As a child my beloved Father would make me vacuum over and over again until the lines on the carpet looked orderly. He also chased me around with the vacuum when I would be playing Barbies during clean-up time. Basically, the only real trauma I received as a child was the result of a vacuum. Why I would pick a job that involves doing it every day is beyond me.

I know this Let-Me-Tell-You-About-My-Job post just turned into a whiny complaining mess, but can we just observe all the chairs I had to vacuum under??? Imagine all those getting caught on the vacuum! The pain! The annoyance! The heart break!

~ Okay enough aggravating griping about all the things I didn't like. Honestly, my favorite task of the day was taking out the garbage. There was such a fulfilling aspect to it. Sometimes I would be on the verge of skipping work when I would sit up quickly in bed and think, "But the garbage! It will be overflowing onto the carpet and people will suffer! I must get up!" It was true. For some reason Business majors seem to eat an absurd amount of 5 dollar pizzas from Little Cesar's and the smothered burritos from The Blue Line. They may be rich one day but they'll have a buildup of MSG and clogged arteries as well.

~ Sad to say, but there were moments when I would come down with the Maid-In-Manhattan Syndrome. If you haven't seen Jennifer Lopez in that pivotal role, it's about a hotel maid who thinks she isn't good enough for a rich Senator guy. Sometimes I would actually feel inferior to the suit-clad men and pencil skirt wearing women who would come into the study rooms while I was cleaning the whiteboard and say, "ummmm.... excuse me? we reserved this room for a highly top secret and important presentation about stocks and robbing the common-man."Then I would be ushered out by their annoyed gazes and start thinking, "look at me. just a lowly janitor. what would it be like to be in the business school with sleek hair and briefcases?"

Then reality would set in. "GET OUT OF HERE MAID-IN-MANHATTAN SYNDROME! I actually am a student at the Business school! All my classes are in this building and they are not better than me." As my Dad once told me, "there is nothing undignified about working Alex. you should never be ashamed of contributing to society, however small it seems."

And if that little pep talk couldn't shake that false sense of inferiority I would remember finding this in the men's bathroom and know that at least I don't play basketball while pooping at school. Maid in Manhattan, indeed.

~One of the best parts of my job were the three hours I would have to listen to General Conference everyday. Coming back from a mission is a time of uncertainty and bouts of unexplainable sadness. I think it's like a mild version of PTSD, you feel displaced and confused. The time I had to wander the empty halls of the Tanner Building listening to the words of living Prophets and Apostles gave me comfort and guidance. It gave me hope for the future. It allowed me to dream up new dreams and to see the new role that God wanted me to take on in the world.

My oh my. I am so happy that I am no longer an early morning janitor. I get my full 8 hours of sleep required to be emotionally stable, I have energy to do everything I need to, and I feel so free! But I am so grateful for the things I learned and most of all I am glad that I CAN DO HARD THINGS, THANK YOU. May you never spit gum in the drinking fountain or look down on custodial workers, or draw on tables with pens.

The sign I basically worshipped as I passed it every morning. 

The Great Oregonian Escape

I have the enviable talent of being able to avoid all responsibility "at all times and in all things and in all places." (Only LDS peeps will understand that scriptural reference. Mosiah 18:9, Book of Mormon. I'm only sacrilegious occasionally.) But back to my talent! Let me flaunt it!

With finals week looming closer than I thought, I decided that I needed a little respite from it all
 A mini-cation, so to speak. But it needed to be a place where I didn't have to be social or have to pay for food and stuff. There's not many places where you can find that; I can think of two; going tribal in the wilderness and only eating ants or going home.

I picked the latter.

The weekend started a little rough because the the Delta lady with black lipstick thought I was the most annoying person ever. I was a little overeager in my petition to fly standby and didn't even let her put her purse away before I was bombarding her with stuttering questions. It's moments like this when I literally have to slap my palm on my forehead, "WHY ARE YOU SUCH A BLABBERING FOOL, ALEX?"

But other than that, it was p e r f e c t i o n. 

First stop, skiing. Because it's not a vacation unless you do exactly what you would be doing at home, but at a different location. We of course got some grease-ball food in the lodge and witnessed my Dad go back and ask for a sandwich WITHOUT MAYONNAISE, THANK YOU. It's not a family outing unless Dad exercises his right to a mayonnaise-free lifestyle. 

Proof that I never could have been a cheerleader. My father asked me this weekend, "do you sometimes feel like a failure because you never cheered?" ....... Failing at life. 

A dinner with a side! With more than one sides! With like, five whole sides! Cooking is hard when you're poor and lazy. 

 I live in the Shire. I really do. 

Again. A vacation is not a true vacation unless you do all the same things in a different place. To stress this, we went mountain biking every day I was there. Hello perfect dirt and weather and wildflowers and shire-ness. Mountain biking in Hood River is paradise. Mountain biking with my mother is something more than paradise, like always looking good in swimsuits and never losing your keys when you're late. 

We ate real Mexican food after this. (It's important contextually to know this if you are to comprehend why we all look so excited.)

Bruce's LAX game! I have no actual picture with him because he thinks he can avoid my obsessive love for him. Anywho, I could care less about any sport in particular but I do get riled up when I watch the bro-man. He is the cutest and the best and he scored 3 basket-goal-touchdown things. 

Pacific Northwest Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. 

The Columbia River Gorge is perfect in every way. It's like I can finally breathe when I get here. So much air! I don't have to share it with anyone! 

I recommend going on the Tom McCall hike in Rowena. Watch out for poison oak and cliffs.

I wish I had a picture of all the earth-mothers (my dad's terminology for any granola person in Oregon) taking pictures of the wildflowers. The poor flowers are going to get heads from all the attention.

I say that I went to Oregon to "unwind" and "defrazzle" before finals. But in reality I just desperately needed some Sandy time. 

Death by wildflowers.

My mother is the salad goddess. 

And I got to see this turd nugget! Grace knew me back in the only time of my life that I was popular... 3rd and 4th grade. She also knows me from when I became the least popular lip bumper-headgear-braces-turtleneck-wearing middle schooler ever. That is true friendship my friends.

This weekend also resulted in my binging on Easter candy (gah! my sugar fast!) and watching hours after hours after hours after HOURS of Downton Abbey. I got over the whole No-More-Downton-Abbey-Fiasco. 

Te amo Oregon. 

The Waterworks

This post is inspired by the above picture. It's a classic one. I'm 17, on the summit of Mount Hood.... and crying.

I cry so frequently that I have no shame in telling everyone. If there is one blatantly open cry-baby in this world, it is me. But according to Ed Sheeran, "It's alright to cry, even my Dad does sometimes. So don't wipe your eyes, tears remind you you're alive." THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU ED. That, and your red hair and friendship with Taylor Swift and that music video where you ballroom dance.

So if Ed Sheeran says it's okay to cry. I accept.

As Of Late: Crying With Alex

• The time I went to get my Spanish paper edited by Fabian the flippin' Chileno. Man oh man. What a day. I just wanted Fabian to fix my grammar mistakes not delve into every tainted shadow of my soul! Quit it with the questions! But the tears began to change into sobs when Fabian stared at the bags under my eyes and asked, "when was the last time you slept? 2 weeks ago?" YES FABIAN. YES. I AM A JANITOR AND DON'T SLEEP. (But to his credit, Fabian did ask me on a pity date afterwards. Basically the worst day ever.) 
• Every morning when I have to be a janitor and pry gum off the carpet. Tangent: Why must people spit gum on the floors inside? Are we all heathens? This is the business school, people. Where is the so-called class? 
• Any kind of conflict. Send me back to prying off gum, but don't fight, I beg you. 
• I saw a video of a pig surfing on Instagram yesterday. *wipes away tears from belly laugh* The universe can blow up now.  
• We watched a video of someone giving birth today. At first I was like, "WOAH MAMMA! How is that thing going to get out?" And then I was crying? But let's be honest, childbirth is the most beautiful, spiritual thing ever. That baby was entering the world! A life had begun! It was breathtaking!  Says me, the perpetually single lady. 
• Perfume to the eyeballs. 
• That time when I went to the temple right when it was closing and realized I couldn't go in because I had forgotten my temple recommend. So I forlornly took pictures of the fountain and tried to think deep thoughts until I got too cold and went home and ate popcorn.
• GENERAL CONFERENCE. WATCH IT. click here!
• Not being able to eat sugar. At what point do I stop craving it? 1 more week.... 
• Any movie involving a dog dying. 
• Smacking my head on the bottom of my bed trying to reach the outlet so I can lie in bed and read other people's blogs...

Condensed version of the bullet points... I cry more than the average, 21 year old, independent woman. 

At least Ed understands me. 

Oh goose feathers. Please marry me so I can have 10 red-headed children that look just like you.

He Lives

*shivers up the spine* This video is perfect. 

Sometimes I imagine that I am a person who is not acquainted with the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. And I get it. I get why people think, "what is the big deal about a man who died 2000 years ago? who is this Jesus anyways that we should care about him and drop everything to follow him? why?"

I understand where people are coming from. From that perspective it seems absurd to dedicate a whole life to following someone who once lived in Jerusalem, spent his days as a pauper-teacher, and died by the hands of Romans on a cross.

But it's not absurd. It's not silly and ignorant because it's true. He Lives.

Jesus Christ wasn't just a normal man, He was the Son of God. He didn't just recite one-liners on love and peace, He taught the way to return to the God we came from. He didn't just die on a cross, He suffered for our sins and weaknesses and heartaches. And last of all, He wasn't gone forever after His death. He was resurrected.

Isn't that just a fable? A simple legend passed down through generations? How can someone really be made alive again and never die  anymore?

I can't answer how it works. I can't say that I have seen the Christ face to face. But one thing I know, that He lives and because of this, we too will live. What hope that gives me! The comfort I feel to know that there is ALWAYS a second chance, that unfairness and tragic losses are just  small moments in the eternal (yes, eternal) scheme. We will all be resurrected one day, meaning we will live again with perfect and immortal bodies. We will be able to see the ones we love again, death is just a gate we cross to get to something better.  In the words of a Book of Mormon prophet;

" But there is a resurrection, therefore the grave hath no victory, and the sting of death is swallowed up in Christ." (Mosiah 16:8)

As a child I would often wonder; "what if I die and there is just blackness forever and ever? what is the point of even loving and playing if none of it is permanent? will I ever get to meet my grandpa or is he long gone and doesn't exist anymore?" (deeeeeeep thoughts for a youngster, haha. My mom made me read too many books.)

My friends, black nothingness is NOT what awaits us on the other side. There is joy and light and peace and it is all thanks to our Savior Jesus Christ. I love Him with my whole soul. If it sounds implausible, then I invite you to search it out for yourself. Our loving Heavenly Father wants us to have questions because it leads us to the truth. That truth is that Jesus Christ lives. He lives.

Happy Easter.
Eat some Cadbury eggs for me.