Allen's Is Spooky

I just want everyone to know that; 

1. I went to Allen's today.

2. I bought two dozen doughnuts at Allen's. 

3. Allen's is spooky. 

4. I'm never going to Allen's again. 

For all those who don't live near South Provo, Allen's is a grocery store that is literally a creepy ghost town filled with ghouls and drug addicts. A group project required that I buy some doughnuts on the way to the ice skating rink. Although I tried to find another way, deep down I knew that the only store on the way was, you guessed it, Allen's. 

Let me illustrate how my Allen's experience went down. Because this is obviously something that people care about. 

I pulled into the parking lot and was confused to see that it was basically deserted. It was like the Apocalypse suddenly happened as I turned my blinker on and I didn't even realize it. The handwritten signs advertising eggs and milk shook in the tepid air, an eerie rattling of the sorry souls that dwell within. Was it open? Was anyone alive in there? 

Where is everyone??

The automatic doors to go inside were broken and swinging back and forth back and forth. I took a last deep breath of the clean and lively air outside, squared my shoulders, and entered... Allen's. 

I just can't describe to you how unbelievably scary an empty grocery store is. It was a prime shopping hour and yet, NO ONE WAS IN THERE. Where were the children buying candy after school? The moms with babbling babies? The men grabbing some beef sticks and toilet paper after work? The college students stocking up on generic Oreos? 

And really, what do they do with all of that food that surely goes bad? How are they still open? Oh no. Do they kidnap people and turn them into weird deli sandwiches and boxed carrot cake? Is this a torture chamber where desperate people go to rot? WHERE IS EVERYONE??

There were about 3 1/2 employees there. The half person was a decrepit old lady who was so zoned out that her breathing had stopped. I found the bakery and ordered my doughnuts from a woman who told me that she was super tired because her boyfriend had left the oven on all night and it was 98 degrees in her house when she woke up. *insert every single horror movie plot into brain* as I nod my head mechanically. Sweet little Bakery (but most Deli, she said) Lady took about 20 minutes to get the doughnuts in the box. 

Bakery Lady: What doughnuts do you want dearie?

Me: Just an assortment of all of them. It doesn't really matter what kind. 

Bakery Lady: So, do you want glazed? 

Me: Sure. Sounds great. But really, just put any in, it doesn't matter. 

Bakery Lady: What about jelly? They're nice. 

Me: Really, any kind of doughnut will suffice. 

Bakery Lady: No jellies, then? 

Meanwhile, flies were crawling all over the inside of the display case and the Bakery Lady was explaining to me that Allen's had an electrical fire that very morning and yadda yadda yadda. The flies were just MACKING on all of the food in there. Heebie Jeebies, galore. 

Bakery Lady. It's blurry because I was terrified she would turn around and see me and throw me in the oven. 

It was a relief to finally get out of there. When I was exiting I saw a handwritten sign on the wall saying that it was prohibited to take pictures. Cue the sprinting to the car and hoping that the Allen's zombies wouldn't come pouring out and suck my brains out and make me work there. 

And that is Allen's. A great little Halloween gem, brought to you by good ol' South Provo.  

Happy Halloween! 

P.S. The doughnuts were actually delicious. Worth the scare. 

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 Bike-Stairs Struggle

The Smith Field House is nestled right at the bottom of the giant hill to get to the main campus and everyday I must climb them. With my steel frame bike. On my shoulder. Sometimes those stairs look like mere child's play, nothing that could impede a fit 21 year old.

But other days, those stairs represent everything hard in my life. They represent confusion about what I want to do with my future. They represent my constant and hopeless struggle against classes that I do not excel in. They represent waking up early everyday, occasional loneliness and a constant battle against who I am and who I know I should be. 

Those stairs can be my very last straw on a hard day. 

Many people pass me on those stairs as I slowly trudge up. Most of them are probably worried and sad and busy and late, even more so than me. I assume that they too are facing a "last straw" on a gloomy day. Occasionally people stop to ask if I need help and they dutifully grab my bike and sprint up the stairs. They relieve me of a physically taxing load, but sometimes the heartache sticks; because after all, it's just a really down day. 

Today I was walking those stairs, bike on my shoulder as custom goes. It truly had been a long long day. Scrubbing the walls on my hands and knees at work, ineffectively studying Anatomy all morning and then 4 hours of Anatomy classes on campus... I was whooped emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. Negative thoughts of inadequacy and self-doubt loomed in my mind. How is it that I am the only idiotic student at this behemoth of a school? Why can't I just get it?

That is, until the most attractive and kind looking man came up to me. He had just passed me on the stairs, obviously late to something but had turned around to help me. The poor guy was going the opposite way of his trajectory. He most likely had many other things to worry about. He grabbed my bike from me, talked with me, and helped me. His act was much more than a small token of service for me. His face radiated love. Not a I-am-helping-so-I-can-get-your-number love. In his face I saw the way that my Heavenly Father sees me. 

You may think that this is a big reaction to such a insignificant thing. But what Tate the Economics major did for me was show how we can follow the Lords counsel in Doctrine and Covenants 81:5;

 "Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees."

Thank you Tate. I will most likely never see you again, and I'm sure you won't ever realize how much you impacted my life. Because of you, I want to be a better disciple of Jesus Christ. I want to help those whose shoulders are heavy with the weight of their own "bikes" in life. And I not only want to help with my actions, I want people to feel my sincere love for them. I want them to know that I see them as a child of God, infinitely precious and valued. I want them to feel that at the end of the day God doesn't care if you are terrible at Anatomy or slightly awkward or alone. God loves you for who you were, who you are, and who you will become. 

My hope is that I may incorporate this more fully into my life. To serve with my heart, not my conscience. To love a person like God would, not according to my impression of them. May we all carry up those figurative bikes up those figurative stairs with a deep and genuine love for others. 

Happy Monday. 

The Breath Bubble

Hermana Ostler’s Update – July 14, 2014

I AM OFFICIALLY FULL ON LEGAL-FIED! 

And in the process of getting legalified, I went to Lima, the biggest scum ball of a city. Have you ever been camping and wake up in the morning and the tent is full of those little raindrops? Have you ever shaken the tent to have a little rain shower of what you thought was “fresh morning dew” fall onto your face? Well, I hope that the second part didn’t happen because we ALL know that the fresh morning dew is really just condensed morning breath. That my friends, is Lima. You literally CANNOT see the sky. Ever. It’s just a giant grey cloud that engulfs millions upon millions of people. The breath of all those people is just trapped over the city and never escapes. As we were flying out we finally escaped the Breath Bubble to find that at about 10,000 feet, there are blue skies over Lima. DISGUSTING.

But Lima was actually not that bad. We ate cinnamon rolls and Papa John’s Pizza and got yelled at by the Migrations workers (that Vicki is a fireball). We also met up with a ton of Sisters from Piura. I thought that all my stories were completely normal for Peru missions, but from their screaming exclamations I came to know that I just have really bad luck and it has nothing to do with the country. They were dying of laughter, the absurd poop stories, cockroaches, cups of pee in the face... they just could not believe it. 

I also met a sweet sister this week. Hermana Cardon. After one day we became best friends. She asked me to be her roommate for heaven’s sake! I hope I find her one day, I forgot to creepily ask her for her email. The mission is perfect for picking up friends. Hermana Cardon said that I could say “pudding” and she would laugh. I said “pudding”. And she did indeed laugh. So fun. 

Lima means meeting a lot of BYU students. One extremely large Elder (6 FOOT 9 INCHES) asked me who my friends were Freshman year. WHO ASKS THAT? I embarrassingly could not remember, probably because I spent all my time roofing Grandma’s house and third wheeling with my sister and brother in law and climbing with Ellis Island. But in my panic I started MAKING UP NAMES. John. Tyler. Amy. Loann. “Oh you don’t know them? Weird...” 

He totally knew I was lying and left with the knowledge that I am just the biggest loser ever to walk BYU campus. 

Lima also means getting attacked when you are waiting outside a government building in a car. We were parked there waiting for our Taxi Man when about three men walk up to the car and start screaming about how we are parked outside the lines. We should have acted like we didn’t know Spanish, but started to yell back as well. They were trying to get in the car so they could move it, but excuse me that goes against EVERYTHING I ever learned in elementary school. Strong words were exchanged and in the end I couldn’t lie to them and tell them that the keys weren’t there. So they got in, moved the car two feet and left, but only after shaking the car around and asking us why we didn’t trust them. I about died of laughter. Peru is just so awesome. 

The best part of my trip was going to the temple. I love that place. If any little doubt comes to my mind about the church, I think of all my experiences in the temple and it is impossible to doubt anymore. I feel the love of God so strongly there. I know that that is everyone’s purpose in this life, to get to the temple and to make covenants with God. I know that God loves me and is proud of me, even though I am about as imperfect as they come. I know that the Priesthood is the power of God on earth and that by that power we all may become perfected in Christ and return Home again. 

This week I have had spiritual growing pains. I am changing. It hurts. But it is happening. Sometimes we have to feel a little pain in order to become better. I feel that my heart is transforming, that I am shaking the scales that cover my eyes and heart. I know that we can all change for the better. Thanks to Christ we can do that. 

AND: We had a concilio of leaders this week. The quote of the day goes to my precious Hermana Thompson. 

Me: Being with Elders makes me doubt marriage. 

Hna Thompson: Being with Elders makes me doubt the human race. 

And with that I say farewell. I love you all! 

Hermana Alex

The Temple

So Many BLONDES

This is an apple covered in the sugar they use to make cotton candy. This is my face when I found out that the apple was half rotten inside. Peru style. 

Family History Conference