Conflicted at Work

Whenever people ask the "What are you doing these days?" question I usually answer with a truthful but not whole answer, something like "I work for the Alpine school district as a teaching assistant." For most people that usually does the trick, but the inquiring few ask "What school?" or "What grade?" And then I say well, actually it's a group home. And then they say what's a group home? And I answer it's where kids who are in state custody but need higher surveillance than a foster home go to live. And then they ask why are they there? And finally, I'm forced into the whole truth: it's a group home for underage male sexual offenders.

It's a dance I've perfected.

I try to avoid the end of this ritual, not because I am ashamed of my job but because I always hate what comes next: the look of offense or worry or alarm and then the final question, "What did they do?", with the underlying assumption that the answer could sum up the whole of their existence.

I always want to say "It's complicated" but I never do. Instead, I brush it off with a simple I don't know. In fact, I have some ideas but they're not pretty. If I tell them to you, you will imagine some picture of a sexual predator. That is partially true. Some of their crimes are truly horrific. If I focus on that side of their past I find myself emotionally distancing myself from them, so I try not to do that. They need love and discipline, not distance.

What I want you to know is that they aren't just sexual predators. They are people like you and me. In a way, that's even more frightening because they are just like you and me--not internally of course, but externally they are just like any demographic of teenage boys. It is absolutely chilling to realize there are likely many more undetected sexual predators in schools. I mean if you came into our classroom (or even taught here for that matter) you would have no idea. So most of the time I don't think of them as sexual offenders. I get in the mode of thinking of them as normal guys--something I can't afford to do. Carter worries about my safety at work, though I always tell him it is unecessary. At school we're all stuffed into one classroom with three to five other adults at any given moment, and even if I ever were alone with any of the kids, only two of them are big enough to pose any real threat. In any case, none of these boys are particularly aggressive; they're manipulative--their victims are usually trusting children they know that can take advantage of. Therein lies the real threat. If I forget that they are sexual offenders, it's easier to put myself in compromising situations. So I try to always remember.

Another confusing part of this puzzle is how much I love them. I love them! I want them to recover and  succeed and live normal lives with loving families and good jobs, not suffer for all the horrible things they've done. And the thing is God loves them. He has their names written on the palms of His hands. He looks to his lost sheep and mourns. I, too, find myself mourning their lost childhoods and broken minds. To be so emotionally, mentally, and physically unstable is so tragic for such a young age. I mean, 13! 17! It's too young. Some of them have really dysfunctional families that explain how wrong their lives are at their age, but some of them have really normal parents who are absolutely heartbroken by their child's choices.

So there it is: the pity and horror and love all jumbled up in my mind everyday. When I go to work I have to simultaneously remember their crimes and forget they are criminals. It's an inner conflict I'm still working on.

Summer Reads: Matterhorn

Graduating and just working part-time while I try to get my act together has left me with mountains of extra time. At first I wasted away my free time with the same reckless abandon I used in college. I mean, what if I never had another free moment to waste again? What if this was my last chance to mindlessly troll pinterest and facebook and dream about future renovations to hypothetical houses?

Several months later, I realize there is only so much time a week I can waste and still maintain my self-esteem. All of this is just to say that I am reading more and I started a food blog. Only Carter (and now the rest of the internet) knows that cooking and food occupy 30% of my daily thoughts. You should know, as an accurate estimation, 30% is A LOT of time and thoughts. It only barely falls under how often I think of Carter and rises far above the thoughts I devote to finding a full-time job. Being real here. My new food blog is called A Dash or Two and I focus on easy, fast recipes with uncompromised taste. Part of me wants to bury this blog in the depths of the Internet until I can perfect every recipe and word but in an effort for personal growth, I putting myself out there mistakes and all. It's a work in progress but take a look anyway and if you don’t now, don’t worry I’ll probably be spamming your facebooks and blogger in the future.

In other, aforementioned news, I am reading more. I should probably just get one of those Goodreads accounts but there are only so many social media sites a real human can join, hence:

Matterhorn: A Review

In the spirit of full disclosure, you probably will feel depressed at the end of Matterhorn. It is a fictional book set in the Vietnam War, though written by an actual Vietnam combat veteran based on his experiences. Aaaaand the language is way past borderline. BUT in its defense it entirely changed the way I view war. I want to share my favorite part of the book in which two soldiers are talking on the eve of a major and deadly battle:

“You think we go to heaven when we die?” Jermain asked.

“I don’t think nothin’. I believe Jesus take care of us when we die.” Cortell looked at Jermain. “Believin’s not thinkin’.”

Jermain took that in for a while. “What if you’re wrong?”

Cortell laughed. “What if you wrong? You been worse off than me all you life. I got the safe bet, not you.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe.”

“No, you just playing it safe and not choosin’. Jesus don’t want you to play safe. You don’t get anyplace if you don’t choose.”

“I don’t want to go nowhere but back to the world.”

“Yeah, I be right there with you,” Cortell said. He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Ever’one here think it easy for me. I be this good little church boy from Mississippi with my good little church-goin’ Mammy, and since I be this stupid country nigger with the big faith, I don’t have no troubles. Well, it just don’t work that way.” He paused. Jermain said nothing. “I see my friend Williams get ate by a tiger,” Cortell continued, “I see my friend Broyer get his face ripped off by a mine. What you think I do all night, sit around thankin’ Sweet Jesus? Raise my palms to sweet heaven and cry hallelujah? You know what I do? You know what do? I lose my heart.” Cortell’s throat suddenly tightened, strangling his words. “I lose my heart.” He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He exhaled and went on quietly, back in control. “I sit there and I don’t see any hope. Hope gone.” Cortell was seeing his dead friends. “Then the sky turn gray again in the east, and you know what I do? I choose all over again to keep believin’…It ain’t no easy thing.”

I LOVE that passage. I love that he describes faith as a choice. Unreligious people so often look at the religious and think that we are all brainwashed, somehow fooled by a mass delusion. What they don’t realize is that faith and hope is a choice, and it’s a choice everyday. Some days it’s easy to choose faith but other times it can be very, very hard. Isn’t that a beautiful passage?

The Name Game

I've been considering whether or not I should change my name. . .but ya know,  not really.

Part of me really likes my last name. Landon. It's phonetic, in the middle of the alphabet, and doesn't hint of some trashy celebrity. It has always made me feel like a part of a whole, one of the Landon clan. I imagine keeping it would be kinda chic and different and maybe a tinsy bit feminist, like a statement of "I know who I am and this is it." Feminism carries so many bad connotations, none of which I really mean. I don't really mean to say that taking his last name would encourage male oppression of the female population. 

Having said that, I've been pretty sensitive to gender discrimination lately. I think it's a phase but I can't be sure. Gender discrimination still exists, did you know that? Women still get paid less than men for performing the same job. So your "make me a sandwich jokes" aren't really funny. 

 Sorry. Rant.

Anyway, Carter doesn't know that I have been thinking of keeping my last name. We talked about it and I told him I would take Davis. And I will, despite my musings, because in the end presenting a united front and working in unity with my husband is most important . . . maybe we can hyphenate? (just kidding, Carter)

P.S. You can read more stories on last name decisions at The Last Name Project.

THIS IS MY WEDDING DAY

If we're in the spirit of regrets and disappointments here then I could probably tell you that I wish I hadn't taken my mom's advice and that I had styled my own hair. I wish I would have ordered my dress in white so I could find some GLAMOROUS elbow-length gloves that would match. Annnnd if I'm being really honest than the venues and catering were also a bit much (did I say that???). But tell me, what's a wedding without a Bridezilla? really, tell me. is it nice?

In a different spirit (apparently a spirit of cliches), my wedding was also perfect, because I got married. As it turns out, weddings are not about flowers and cakes and perfect get-aways with sparklers. BREAKING NEWS. Despite my week of non-stop breakdowns, I floated on cloud nine all day. I was untouchable and it was magic.

In other breaking news, marriage is actually really great and not horrible and life-ruining. So that's been nice for me.

P.S. I usually retro-date my posts because the pressure of posting on time is oppressive, but I've always wondered how that works out with blogger. Do you see my posts come up in your feed on June 26th 2013 or December 15th 2012? Help a blogger out, will ya?

Carter and Whitney: An Engagement Story

In case I forgot to mention it, Carter and I were engaged. It preceded us getting married if you are confused about the timeline of my blog. I am fundamentally against time-constraints on the basis that we are eternal beings. Time is totally irrelevant. I mean, who will ever care in the future eternities that I'm late to church every Sunday? Who?

 

Man, I love that nail polish.

Carter's family vacationed in Canada in August 2012 and I joined them for the weekend. After six weeks apart we were more than happy to see each other. They stayed in a house on the inlet of the pacific ocean so Carter suggested we take the rowboat out and attempt to spot some of the sea seals he had been seeing earlier in the week. Carter rowed us around a bit but it ended up being too dark to see anything. I remember wondering why we didn't just row back and try again tomorrow. By the time Carter finally did row us back it was so dark we could only see by the light of the house shining off the shore, but I could see a point of light on the dock. I joked that there seemed to be people on the dock and that we shouldn't go over there or we might ruin their moment. I then joked that they might be robbers/murderers/bad people and that we should just land elsewhere, except I was only half joking and might have even begged Carter to stop until we could figure out what the unidentified object was. In any case, we did land on the dock and it turned out to be a lovely candle-lit dessert table that Carter had prearranged for us. Duh. This is an engagement story.

 I should interject here that I knew this was coming. We had gone ring shopping together the month before so when Carter suggested I come up for the weekend that was my first thought. Not to mention Carter started to breathe really heavily as we approached the dock. As I re-read that, that sounds borderline creepy but in reality it was pretty cute. Like, he was really nervous and unable to control his bodily functions. Cute, right? So it was all very romantic, except for me. I couldn't stop myself from ruining the moment...every moment. It was like an out-of-body experience where I could see from a vantage point that what I was doing was horribly wrong but mind and body weren't making any sort of connection. Carter went to tie up the boat and I kept insisting that I help even though he kept insisting that he only wanted to tie up one end ("Really, I can tie this. But really. I can"). He just dropped our life jackets on the dock and right before he got down on one knee I made us pick the life jackets back up and hang them on our chair. I don't know what can over me. All I can say in my defense is that I am really unromantic. They call me murderer of love.

Carter said some very nice things about me and then he got down on one knee and proposed. I said yes. He tried to put the ring on the wrong finger but we figured it out. It was a beautiful moment. Carter is easily my favorite person in the whole world. It is incredible how well made we are for one another.

In an alternate, yet perhaps more honest, ending to our proposal story, when I realized what was happening I almost asked Carter to stop. I almost made him get up from his knee and I almost asked him to propose on a different day because today, in that moment, I wasn't feeling it. I was scared and unsure because, after all people, this is marriage! MARRIAGE. As in an eternal covenant with God! So for an eternity - or half a second, I honestly wondered if 'yes' or 'no' was going to come out of my mouth. As it turns out, I said yes, because I loved him and I thought it might crush him if I said anything else. In a poetic way, I think that is a more fitting response to a marriage proposal but it wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

Even after I said yes, there were still lots of periods of indecision during our engagement. Lest anyone think I am confessing to marital unhappiness, I am head over heels for Carter and we are happier than we have ever been. Marrying Carter was the easily the best decision I've ever made in the most cliche way. I just wanted to relate a more truthful version of this story with the message that real-life true love is less about romance and more about sacrifice. And it's OK for times to be hard and decisions to be scary. It's life, after all.

Jen and Chris

Last weekend Carter and I got our wedding on and traveled down to see Jennifer and Chris get hitched. And by see, I mean we stood outside the San Diego temple and watched little nieces and nephews play on their iPads. I figure I had better hurry on up and finish my final edits to their engagements (if only for myself) since they're already wed. Whoops. How time flies!

Carter-less

Photo cred to the beautiful and talented Cassie!

Sometimes when Carter isn't around to censor my actions, not good things happen. Not good sometimes meaning I post our fake engagements photos all over the internet...fake engagement photos that are scarily authentic. In my defense, they were taken as a prank on a particularly gullible mutual friend on his mission. Not that you'd have to be all the gullible to believe that invite. Another factoid probably also not appropriate for the internet: I'd do anything for a good prank.

In ONE Year

Inspired by Caitlin's blog, Blah Blah Blah. So much happens in a year, especially in this stage of my life, so why don't we take a looksies into my crystal ball, hmmmmmm?...

in one year I'll be:

outgrown by yet another roommate who is in wedded bliss.

freaking out about graduating.

a "usual" at salsa club.

either extremely happy about getting into medical school on the (pick any one) coast or really excited about serving a mission. All you sister missionary haters can (inject mean things) because all my friends and I will be/are bombing sister missionaries.

dreaming about moving to Portland or Texas or D.C. or San Diego.

a triathlete BABE.

probs single again. AND LOVING IT. Confession: the other day I tallied up all my married/engaged/soon-to-be-one-of-those friends and felt this overwhelming sense of gratitude that I was not among their ranks. Praise Allah!

sooooooo overwhelmingly broke.

again avoiding all those people from freshman year who are now back from their missions. shudder.

a spoken word performer.

one of those rad people who can quote scriptures word for word from off the top of their head. So the thing is I'm soooooo not a memorizer. But I am a believer.

STILL thinking about the Hunger Games. This will never change. ever.

one year ago I was:

thinking I was maybe going to Med school, then it was Occupational Therapy school, then it was Physical Therapy school, and then it was Physician's Assistant school. Now we're back. Life is funny circles like that sometimes.

wishing I knew how to dance.

applying to the Jerusalem Center.

bemoaning my lack of dates but still liking being single. OH HOW THE TIMES HAVE CHANGED.

helping Sandra readjust to dating after her mission. hahaha

freaking out that I had no hobbies other than school. I fixed this. Don't worry.

head over heals for jimmer and justin beiber.

If you had asked me a year ago where I thought I would be now, I could NEVER have guessed all that would happen. Jerusalem, continued blog writing, first biathlon, numerous blind dates, Hunger Games, caregiving, photography, DanceSport, med school prep... I planned some of it. But most of it just happened. Life is better that way, I've realized.