Dear Mr. Mailman,

Let's cooperate.

I really hate it when I get a letter back that I sent several weeks ago with a little yellow sticker that says, "Vacant: Unable to forward." Don't play games with me. I know very well that's Jeff's current correct address because everyone else who's writing him said so, and they're not having any problems. I mean, he's only in Alabama. It's not like he's over seas or anything. You don't have foreign customs to excuse your folly.

Speaking of over seas, you seem to have no problem with that one, even if it does take a little long. Jono got his letter, and I had one in return from him within a couple weeks. Everything went swimmingly. FYI, I put another one in the mailbox this morning to be shipped off to England, so I better not find it returned in my mailbox after a month. If you can do England, what's the deal with Alabama?

Warning. In the next few months, I will have you traipsing your United States' Postal Service blue-trousered hiney all up and down Long Island, Staten Island, and Bermuda. And I expect no problems. So suck it up, and start making things work. Tucker will get his letters. Or else.

Do we have an agreement?

Thought so.


Love,
The girl whose friends are all leaving on missions cuz they're so awesome so she makes sure you're provided with a job.

Splurging

The picture really has nothing to do with the post, but I really love that girl. She may be pink and spoiled and ditzy and quite the stinker, but she loves to sing and dance and give loves (when she's not pouting), and plus, she really is cute... :)

Alrighty. Confession time. My name is Karli, and I'm a pen addict. I love pens. Fancy pens. I love how I can change my handwriting depending on the design. Some pens are good for making an assignment look typed when it's really not. Some pens are good for long, elegant, Thomas Jefferson style cursive. Some pens make even the worst handwriting look like calligraphy. Some are good for taking neat notes. Some are good for journaling. Some are good for writing letters. Some are good for drawing. Some are good for doodling. Some are good for addressing envelopes.

Yeah. I have a problem.

You see, this week I made a trip to the bookstore. I needed a hat for work, a new journal (on to number 6!), and only 2 new pens (because my good ones ran out of ink).

I got the hat. Forgot about the journal. Got distracted in the art supply section. And completely lost it with the pens. I ended up leaving the bookstore with a hat, a new paint-proof sketch book, conte (an art media similar to charcoal), and these...

Beautiful, aren't they?

Ok, so I didn't buy all of those, but I did buy most of them. All the pretty colors. The smooth gel, .05 precision. I couldn't resist. And those things are not cheap, lemme tell ya... Naturally, I ended up spending way too much money at the Bookstore. And I had to go back the next day and get a journal too. Hopefully, these will last me awhile. I hate spending money. But I can't really regret it when it was spent on such good stuff. Luckily, I rarely splurge like that. Here's to not buying anything "unnecessary" in the next long while.

On a side note, speaking of necessary splurging, this was me and the guys a few nights ago.

Ryan, Matt, me, Eric, and Mitch

You see, Ryan there was stressing because his mission call was officially at home (in Logandale, Nevada), and he was having trouble finding a ride, and he was completely sidetracked in all his classes, and just hadn't had a very good week. So I suggested what always works. A carton of ice cream. He was a bit reluctant, but finally gave in. 10 minutes before the Creamery closed, we rushed to the back freezer to peruse the sweet, creamy goodness. And then we sat in the basement and ate it. Ryan felt a lot better, found a ride, and has been called to serve in the Richmond, Virginia, Spanish-speaking mission starting April 27th. Woo-hoo! Oh, ice cream, how I love thee.

Why Write?

So I stole the title from my Honors Writing textbook, but as I've gone through and read different essays in it for homework, I've been thinking about my own personal reasons for writing.

It hit me just a few weeks ago, actually. 

I love writing.

I'd never thought about it before. I mean, when I think of writing, I think of rushing to complete a full 2 page critical analysis in 40 minutes with Snyder breathing down my neck. 

Hand cramps. Brain cramps. 

Not my favorite thing.

But as I've thought about it, I realized just how much I actually write.

You see, last week, I completed my fourth journal. Front to back, every single one. 

Over 600 pages of my life.

All written down. 

The one on top I bought last week. I couldn't decide if I should go with the $10 smaller one, or spend 18 bucks on this one, but in the end, I figured it's a good investment. Besides, now I can stuff even more things between the pages without having to fold anything!

 Some people feel a sense of accomplishment after completing a particularly long and difficult hike. Let's just say I'm not one of those people. But I can tell you one thing I do feel accomplished after is finishing a journal. I find there are few things so rewarding in life. Even better than finally getting that last stamp on your rewards card earning you an extra 20% off your next purchase! (Let's face it, with the over-priced everything else, you already paid for it...) But seriously now, if you've ever had the experience of finishing a journal, you know what I'm talking about. 
But what makes it so rewarding? 

I like being able to remember exact dates of certain events. Talking with old friends and being able to recall all the facts. It's incredible how just re-reading brings back all the feelings and images so vividly. I could count my sketchbooks as a type of journal (and I've got 3 of those filled), and I like being able to see where my mind was during certain periods in my life by looking through all the sketches. I like reading the letters I write to people that they'll probably never read, but they help me think and work out problems. Like talking to someone, only I come to the solution by myself. That, in itself, is rewarding, I guess.

Maybe it's the sense of eternal perspective it gives.

Spencer W. Kimball says it best.

"What could you do better for your children and your children’s children than to record the story of your life, your triumphs over adversity, your recovery after a fall, your progress when all seemed black, your rejoicing when you had finally achieved? Begin today and write your deepest thoughts, your achievements and your failures, your associations and your triumphs, your impressions and your testimonies and the angels may quote from it for eternity."

I want to have a story. 

I want my husband to know who I am.

I want my children to know who I am. 

I cannot wait for the day when my kids give me that look and say, "Mom, you were so weird!" 

I want to be able to look back and find all the promises of my Patriarchal Blessing being fulfilled. 

I want to be able to have the tangible evidence of those dried pressed flowers I pulled off the fortress wall in Salzburg or from the gardens of Herrenchiemse, the half-finished palace King Louise only lived in for 17 days. I really was there! 

I want to read the things from dear friends I have jammed between the pages and think of them- 

hopefully I'll still be in touch. 

And more than that,
to steal the words of Marjorie Pay Hinkley,

"I want the Lord to know 
I was really here and that 

I really lived."