Kate's Updated Awkwardness Theory

Recently I've been finding that I don't have the words, in any language, to express what is really in my heart.

Maybe it's not so recent. Maybe it's the same irony of my brother in law, who is a master carpenter, having broken kitchen cupboards for years. Or my dad, who is a math teacher, having a daughter whose highest level of math was precalculus where I got a C+. Or how the electronics at my house, where I have an in-house computer expert, always seem to either be too complicated for normal users to use (cough cough the home theater) or broken. I sometimes think our house is the place where computers in our family and extended family come to die!

So maybe it's a similar irony for me, a person who really loves languages, not to have the ability to express myself in words.

My dad taught me how to play piano. I never had official "lessons." It was always impromptu after dinner things. He made sure I always had music that was interesting to me (like the Phantom of the Opera). I made him write out by hand the Czech songs that he used to play - these tunes I grew up hearing randomly when he felt like playing them. He taught me the fingering. I remember playing these songs for my Grandpa Vasicek, and he sang the words in Czech, which I did not understand at all, but which were apparently really funny because he laughed and smiled so big.

My dad told me that learning to play the piano would serve me well through my whole life because when I got too emotional or angry or whatever, music could be a really good outlet. I've never been a great player, and there is certainly a lot of pressure to be great in my family, where my uncle just retired from the National Symphony Orchestra, etc. etc. But when I'm not feeling frustrated at how crappily I play, what a precious gift it is, to be able to play at all. I don't play particularly well, but I enjoy it.

I've been trying to take better care of my mental health recently. Running, going to yoga (which is ridiculous, but it always makes me feel much better) - and more music. Right now I'm working on Debussy's Arabesque, another tune I grew up hearing.

I could write reams and reams - well, I guess a more apt measure would be bits and bytes - I could write terabytes of words. I could fill up libraries. But these stupid words would always fall short where music doesn't.

Sometimes throwing more and more words at a problem actually makes things much worse. My Awkardness Theory which I developed as a freshman at BYU is like this:

So, here is my Awkwardness Theory #2:

When you're in an awkward situation...

...the best thing to do might be...

...nothing. 

Later, when you are alone, a wordless outlet can be a real comfort. 

One in Three Billion

You can't see God. Well, you can. But you don't.

How do you know that He exists if you can't use your senses to observe Him?

*****

I've been dealing with a really frustrating health problem for the past three months. I know that something is wrong, but I don't know what it is yet. I feel it every day, almost every minute.

I'm not a doctor. Even though I have the world's largest library at my fingertips, there is nothing I can do on my own to discover what is going on with me. Nothing.

*****

And friendships. How do you manage them. How do you know that your friends who are far away care about you. How is it possible to be a good friend when you are far away. Is it?

Me: "Finding good friends that live nearby is kind of a matter of faith, too."
Danny: "And statistics."

That was probably the most depressing comment anyone could make. Somehow thinking that there is definitely 1 person out of every 3 million that would totally get me and want to be my friend makes it seem even less likely. 1/3,000,000 might as well be 0.

Danny: "But you're not that unlikable."
At this I burst into tears.

Later, talking about it more he says, "Like, 1/300 at the worst. And that's totally doable. It might take a little work."
[Danny is not actually a jerk. This is his way of flirting with me.]

By the way, I originally accidentally wrote 1/3,000,000,000, and Danny looked over my shoulder and said, "Whoah, one in three billion? You're definitely not that unlikable! That's like one out of a third of the world's population! If that's true it's a miracle you got married!"

*****

Epistemology. How can you know something. When do you need to let go and trust that something which feels right is right? If you can't observe something yourself, how do you release your pride and trust somebody else?

On Tuesday I meet with the specialist and they will interpret the results of the test I just had. Either they will know what is going on, or they won't, and they'll do another test. I feel pretty helpless.  

I want very much for my friends to care about me. I hope that they do. It would make logical sense; why would they endure me if they didn't like me, and how do you like someone you don't care about? When your friends are across states or continents, when you only communicate with them in silent lonely typed letters - how can you trust that they are real, that they think about you, and that they hope you stop feeling like your chest is on fire and you're swallowing shards of glass and your stomach is blown up like a giant balloon and the back of your head has a constant low buzzing ache and...?

I guess you just do?

It is easy for me to have faith in my God. It is a lot harder for me to have faith in my friends. Why should it be that way? Can't I be more trusting, more patient, more submissive? Why does my pride always force me to feel like I am unlovable? It's totally stupid. Even statistically.

*****

How I treasure a true and lasting friend.

Standing with me always to the end.

How they notice my thinnest faintest smile.

How they take me stripped of all my guile.

Inner worlding, talking mind to mind.

Sharp and witty. Sensitive and kind.

Holding steady, steering me aright.

Laughing freely. Always in the light.

Never lonely, never solitude.

No pariah. Not misunderstood.

Deepest friendship, worth beyond compare.

Lasting friendship.

Somewhere. Somewhere.

Instant Messaging with the Holy Ghost

It's been a really long time since I wrote something here.

I've had the name of this post in mind for about five months. I'm not sure exactly what I want to write.

I've always been a lonely person. There's always a void longing to be filled by another person. No matter how much I try to fill it, it remains. I've come to the conclusion that it's basically a condition of mortality for me to feel this way, and that someday when I can be reunited with my heavenly parents, it will be filled.

But God didn't send us to this earth alone. There's this third really weird member of the godhead called the Holy Ghost. We have been promised he can be with us at all times if we covenant to take upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ through baptism.

If this is true, what a gift.

I think about feedback all the time: for my part time job teaching English, for what I wish could be my full time job learning Czech, and especially how easy it is to text with people I love. They are right there, at the tips of my fingers. I can open Facebook and peer into a soul. It's supposed to make me feel less lonely. I think for a very brief second, it does. It's like sugar: the instant you stop consuming, you crave more. It's like an addiction.

If the Holy Ghost were accessible via instant messenger, and I could get instant feedback on my life, would I like that? Would it make this test of earth life too easy? Would I listen to it?

Some really specific council I've received in my life is that my close and lasting friends should be honest and have high moral standards. I really crave close friendships with people who care about the same nerdy things that I do. For the first time in my life I've found multiple friends like this, but they are in a seven hour difference time zone. We mostly communicate through video chatting and instant messenger.

It's really enjoyable to video chat with my in-laws. The dedicated time and focus and the slight lag all combine to create this personal space where we all feel heard. Perhaps even better than in real life, where physical things get in the way of our communication. Dinner. Diaper blowouts. Awkwardness that is normally hidden slightly by the camera. I'm a professional at this one.

Would I enjoy this kind of relationship with the Holy Ghost?

No. I want something even more personal.

Sometimes I catch myself mentally writing a Facebook update or a post in Czech about some mundane thing. It's really nice to have someone on the other side read it and actually care about me and my raw thoughts, someone who isn't in my physical world.

I couldn't write even a millionth part of my thoughts. There isn't a human soul alive who could satisfy my desire for meaningful connection, not even my dear husband who has a really uniquely intimate stewardship over my mind.

But God can do anything! And he knows me perfectly. I don't always hear him, or see him, or notice him, but I trust he's there and that he cares about me. I hope that someday I'll get a massive backload of life feedback, where the communication is crystal clear, where there's no doubt as to his role or presence in my life, where billions of those tiny personal spaces (like instant messenger boxes, video chat window, comments in a Google doc, etc.) flood over me enough to fill the void. I guess that is what heaven would be like for me.