Post #2: 10 things about you people don't really expect

1. My ultimate hero growing up was Karl Malone, #32 of the Utah Jazz. Best ball player ever (next to MJ). Not only did I admire him, but I thought for sure that I would either become him, or be adopted by him. Either way... Winning.

2. My parents own a preschool... but I really don't care for kids at all unless they my blood relatives or best friends children. Love of little kids is NOT genetic.

3. I got my first kiss at 18

4. I can name every country in Africa...in order. I believe there are 38.

5. My #1 goal in highschool was to manage the boys wrestling team. I got the job but chose other activities instead. I still wish I had done it.

6. I am a major fan of Jimmer Ferdette.

7. I prefer to walk on the right side of whoever I am with or I feel off balance. I dated someone who was deaf in his left ear and the habit stuck.

8. I cannot move the toes on my left foot independent of each other. They are basically paralyzed. I was born that way.

9. I can name almost any song and artist on the radio within the first 2 notes.

10. I will not support legislation that prohibits gay marriage until I can answer the question, "When did you decide you were heterosexual?"

Challenge: A post a day

A friend of mine had a 30 day challenge with prompts to post each day. I realize that the month is half over...but I want to write, therefore I do. So, consider this post one for the next little while. I wont promise to post daily, but I will get through the 30 prompts....just watch.


Post #1: Things that make you scared

Everything.

Seriously. I have an abnormal amount of fear. If you know me, you know that this statement is sad but true. For example, on the Lady Bug Drop at Lagoon... its like a ten foot ride that drops you. It is intended for small children... I gripped the security belt like death and screamed the whole way down. Meanwhile, my niece who was 3 turned to me and said, "Hayley, it isnt scary, put your hands up, like me!" She then proceeded to chatter away and giggle with her arms in the air. Eventually she saw that I had not released my death grip and said, "Ok I will just hold your hand."

There is something very wrong with that picture. I am the adult, I comfort her. So besides my pathetic fear of rides or anything that moves for that matter, I will expound on one or 2 more.

Serious relationships with the potential to end in marriage.

Stress me out. It is not so much the relationship I fear, nor someone loving me for a very long time. I fear me and MY ability to truly say I am in this, for good, for bad, for ....Eternity. I wonder if it is possible to truly grow and change and do so together. I fear losing connection, intellectual stimulation... I fear. Yet, I love to be in said relationships. I take them seriously and have had nothing but consistently wonderful, long-term relationships since I was old enough to date. Yet I am not brave. Puzzle.

Big Dogs

I am not a very big girl, therefore large animals that easily weigh double my weight and are a foot taller than me on their hind legs... Ahhhhh! Once I get to know the dog then I am fine, but that first time....so freakin scared. Ironically my favorite dog is a Chocolate Lab....can anyone say... good luck? I know. I am in for a treat. This fear is logical... as well as familial....I grew up with 3 corss-eyed cats that feared humans, therefore my contact with animals was pretty much non-existant.

At the end of the day, I am not usually someone people call brave. But I like to think I am brave in my own way. I do not take counsel from my fears.

Some people fear love. I have loved, been loved and will continue to do so, knowing very well that I might end up the bad guy, or the one crying in the bathroom because he chose her, not me. I don't regret that.

Some people fear public speaking. I love my own voice. I think my opinions are valid, educated, witty, insightful, inspiring, carefree, intentional. Worthwhile. I hope to always have a voice to speak, the passion and tools to empower others to do so as well, and an open ear to hear those wanting to do the same.

Some people fear inadequacy. To them I steal the words of someone who said it better:


"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

An old story I cant seem to shake

I used to write things, stories, poems, ideas. And then I stopped. I don't know why. I suppose it is because I feel that stories have their own agenda.... Perhaps they understood that I was in Europe and would not be thinking of them for a long time. Perhaps they felt abandoned, replaced. Even now I find it hard to hear them calling me. Perhaps they have stopped doing so. Perhaps I can regain their trust and they will share themselves with me.

And then there is this piece, which has quietly haunted me since its inception sometime between 2005-2007. For a long time I thought this was the seed that would blossom into greatness, but I do not know. So much of me longs for this story to begin, so it can end. It needs closure just as badly as I do, but I do not know how or what story to tell. Perhaps if I share it, it will come back to life for me and I will know what to do. Please not that this is complete WordVomit... no drafts, not even spell check. I just wrote and this is what came out so be patient with the choppy inconsistencies.

At one point I called this story "Jack and Jill".

Here goes.

Its like I dreamed it all up, him talking to me again. Like I am the crazy one for thinking he actually went anywhere. He’s just here, I can hear him in the bathroom, humming while he pees, like he does every morning. The sliver of light from the bathroom door falls across the carpet to the bed where I lay, red clock digits read 6:06 reminding me that the worm is his and I let him have it.

I always go through 3 alarms before I can even open my eyes. He is up by some internal alarm that his body has heard since he was 16. I have spent many a Sunday trying to keep him between the sheets. No matter the begging, cunning and pure seduction I impose on him, he is up and down the hall like a bullet, I spent so much of my adolescents dreaming of the romantic man who would lay in bed just to watch me sleep, I laugh now at the cruel irony, that it is I who watch the man who never sleeps.

We both like orange juice. If we forget every reason we are together now, Orange juice will save us.Orange juice will be the one thing we agree on until our deaths. We like the carton kind with the little blue lid and the oranges on the container, looking so moist and fresh, as if taunting you to just nibble at the carboard, because it really is fruit. Everyone wants to try that, don’t pretend like you haven’t wished that. Anyways. Juice, with lots of pulp, he likes a drink you can chew.

Breakfast is something we mutually understand, it is Switzerland. It is the time of day where we seamlessly work. He has eaten before I even get up but still he sits at the table, sometimes he reads, other times he just sits and thinks. He doesn’t sit for just say 5 minutes and then heads for work, he sits for 1 sometimes 2 hours. I have no idea what he ponders in those moments, they are his and I don’t ask. I eat cereal. That’s all I can handle at 8 in the morning.

“I’ll never understand how you eat that snap crackle crap,” he says

“I don’t get why you stole Paris Hilton’s pansy dog.” At this his jaw clenches, eventually relaxes and he says, “You want more juice?” filling my cup without waiting to hear my answer, stopping just as the juice hits the rim of the glass.

I make fun of his dog, he over-fills my orange juice and smiles snidely as I gingerly sip it down to a manageable amount. So I lied about Switzerland. Truth be told, we have never been to Switzerland and I don’t think we ever will.

He gets self-conscious about his work sometimes. He tells people that he is en route to becoming a professor, a life seeker of knowledge. He and I are the same in this respect, he describes teacher using 17 adjectives, I say I am a weaver of words, a Watson for the human language, when really, I’m just a writer. I think his work is noble but he had some crazy ex-girl friend who dumped him because he made some middle-class sum. She turned out to be a lesbian so I’m not entirely too sad at her selfish departure.

Before now, you could ask me a million things about love, life, the future and I could tell you down to the second what my plans were and how I was going to get there. Somewhere between Phoenix and Dallas, plans changed and I am here yelling at a dog that looks like a football sized cotton ball, sucking up scrabble pieces with the vacuum yet again, and wishing things would never change.

By the time I was in my mid twenties I had kissed a few dozen men. I needed to keep my skills sharp, my commitment limited, my lips soft. I found with him, kissing stopped, conversation started. Our fist conversation was about sex. I still wonder to this day how we managed to talk sex without actually being semi perverted or even saying the actual word. To an outsider we could have been talking about Ghandi’s pilgrimage or my neice’s 3^rd birtday, it was simply astounding. He knew it and so did I.

Even when he’d leave for work I’d feel this sudden urgency, like a premonition of something terrible, but nothing ever happened. He always came back, kissed my cheek and it was fine. I was fine. I couldn’t imagine being one of those military wives who had no idea where on God’s great earth there husband was at any given moment. If he was dead, or alive, how long it had been since he ate or brushed his teeth.

2 nights later I found myself sitting on the toilet in our bathroom all of my clothes still on, pants up, sitting on the toilet, humming. I hummed, the melody, so familiar, so simple. It was a song his mother used to sing to him to help him sleep. I hummed louder, rocking my body back and forth to the rhythm. I hoped that it would help me sleep. I could hear the dog’s claws scraping at the closed door. I closed my eyes and sobbed.

I think I knew it was too good to be true before I even saw the end. I read him this quote once about the person you will marry. The quote melted on my tongue like butter, he was silent well after I had stopped reading. “I know what they mean.” I knew too. The quote says you marry who you do because they see past all your crap, you can no longer get away with anything, and for some reason you aren’t mad, in fact, you’re impressed. You think, well done, ladies and gentlemen we have a winner. And you stop looking.

I made that all up now Im thinking. The clock still reads red 6:07 am. I listen for him humming at the toilet. It is silent. I reach across the bed and caress where his body lay so many nights, familiar and warm, the mattress worn to fit his body and his alone. I remember the first few nights after I tried sleeping in his spot. I layed so still my breathing startled me in the silence. I tried to take smaller breaths as if that would make the suffocating silence decrease. The dogs jumped up beside me and I didn’t push them away. Their dissapointment at finding me and not their papa lying there was as poignant as a pained child. “Im sorry,” I whispered to them. Finn curled up agaist my rib cage, he usually ran from me, but he understood that now, more than ever that I needed him, that some how he could fix this, even just a little. We laid, breathed and tried to fill the void.

The next day I went to the shop where we bought his watch. He demanded that he pick his own watch, I obliged, after all he had to wear it. It had always been heavy but today I was certain it was made of solid gold, heavy, priceless.

“can I help you maam?

“I want this sized.” I said laying the watch on the glass

“For?’

“Me”.

“This is a man’s watch, perhaps I can interest you in one of our female styles?’

“This watch is fine.”

“And what about the owner, doesn’t he want this watch?” He said this to me like a child who has just been scolded for a mundane thing.

“The owner” I gasp, “ gave it to me.”

I watched the man behind the counter take out link after link

Sometime later I left the shop, his gold watch, the familiar tick, cool gold, loose enough to slide off without touching the clasp, good thing too, I could never figure it out.

Revival of the Old Blog-a-Roo

GUTEN TAG!!

I just wanna take this chance to thank my trove of faithful readers who have stuck with me through this anti-blog hiatus----- That's a shout out to my 2 faithful followers, (you know who you are... # Paisersmama/Broboy).

For a few years (almost 3 to be exact) I've either been off talking about Jesus with strangers, being corrupted by the liberal ways of higher education (#my dad), or stalking mostly unfamous, totally married, yet deliciously talented musicians.

Whenever one takes a sabbatical, it is usually in the name of self-discovery and personal growth, I however, return to these pages having gained only one piece of wisdom.... blogs are not just for fairytale married Mormon "hubbies and wifeys" to update their fams on their super cute adventures in the exotic land of dental school. BLOGS ARE FOR EVERYONE. So ha.

In short. If I feel that my egocentric cup is a little low...I'll come here. I'll tell you.

Or as a wise old German woman once told me,

"Mach den Topf leer!"

Aka- eat everything in this pot or I will be totally offended.

I figure life is like a pot of soup meant to be eaten until you vomit, if only to make a little old woman smile. This is me, making soup. EAT UP.

Today I spent a majority of the rainy afternoon reading things that make me laugh and I thought to myself, man I miss making people laugh, which in reality is just me, making me laugh. I figure if it’s not funny to anyone else…at least I got the joke. And other people are just stupid.

I find that most humor comes from everyday life. In fact, I am so convinced of this, that most of mission journal consists of character sketches of people I found irresistibly hilarious, people I could not have made up myself if you had paid me. True characters. I may have missed the purpose of missionary journals, but you know, I have a freakin treasure trove of hilarious characters should I ever actually sit down and write that book I’ve been meaning to write since I was 12….

I think if people saw the humor in the every day, there would be more peace in the world. No matter how awkward the situation or how often I think “ man, sucks to be that guy”, some how feel as if I am watching a little bit of myself in that moment. I am startled/ discomforted by this recognition…. And yet, in these moments of mild humiliation it’s kind of like seeing an old friend. Hey I know you, glad you could make it…now please leave.

My desire to write is completely inconsistent. When I feel a need to do so, I need to do it right then or the genius is gone. Writing is very real to me, it is very alive… stories have an agenda of their own, and we the writers are simply the conduit through which theses stories find their voice. Sometimes I feel like a very lucky mommy, that a story has chosen the womb of my psyche as its place of nourishment and livelihood. This is striking me as very Freudian which is never good so I will stop with that.

I have no really story to tell today it seems, and that’s ok. I’m starting a project… its most-likely temporary name- will be something like…”Stuff I feel like writing about, that you may or may not feel like reading, nevertheless furthering my own agenda and divine egocentrism”. CATCHY.

Today’s Agenda:

It’s a soggy Utah fall day. Some people wake up angry, so people wake up surprised. I wake up STOKED. Do you have any idea what this means? If you were thinking rubber boots, scarves and layers, you would correct.

2 Rules about living in Utah

1. NEVER EVER pack you warm clothes away. I don’t care if it is June 5… it will probably snow. Don’t think you know better than the wheatear and heaven forbid don’t think Kevin Eubank has any idea what is going on either. He doesn’t. He is hypothesizing. Nothing more.

2. LAYER LAYER LAYER. Last year I made what might be the best purchase I have ever made. I went to candy store on crack (no, not the Gap or the Vans store), the other candy store known as REI. It’s not like I actually bike or canoe or anything, but it’s the IDEA that if I wanted to, I COULD at any moment start and REI would lead the way.

Anyways, I bought long johns, leggings, spandex, whatever you want to call them and they were TEAL. Good one on you REI. Good one on you. I wish I could wear them on the outside of my pants they are so cool. Staying warm never looked so rad.

You can always tell who is experiencing their first Utah season change, I find myself wanting to say to them “You’re right, it is totally cool that Tom’s are biodegradable and in about 40 seconds when that cloud dumps 6 inches, their going to melt right off your frozen feet. I bet that does suck when your “I heart Pink” umbrella snaps blows away…I guess that’s what happens when something is made of underwire and lace.

For real kids. This is Utah. Its called layers. Better luck next year. And for the record I LOVE rain boots. LOVE LOVE LOVE them. Jeggings and rain boots are my new PB & J. And although he may or may not have had anything to do with Jeggins and rain boots, im giving the cred for today’s Word Vomit to Steve Jobs. I probably wouldn’t even know what Jeggins were without Apple products…. Or Amazon.

But that’s another day, another case of Word Vomit.

22 days are gonna fly!!

Life update: Its freakin October already!! That means a few things of note in the life of Hayley Jensen:

First off, Happy birth to my mother Kathleen, a dainty 25 years old. I love you Mama, my best friend, the one I will miss the most while in Germany hands down. Happy birth also to my Benjamin. I adore you. You and your guitar have brought so much joy to my life. Oh, and happy day to my eldest brother Nathan- I love you even if you are brilliant (for which I hate you... a little).

Happy halloween to one and all. I ran out of costume ideas about ten years ago so I am glad for the excuse that I will be in the MTC that night.

Speaking of MTC: 3 weeks is on kids! Is it just me or does that sound crazy? It totally hasnt hit me, but when it does I will probably have a melt down. I keep trying to wear my really crappy jeans, hang out alone alot and do things I will otherwise be banned from come the 22, but I will be honest with you... I kind of just want to leave. Ha! Sure I will miss life and freedom and men and Dr. Pepper, holy jeans and my Vans. But well... cant wait to go!!

Other October Gems:

The leaves changing colors!!

I dont know if it is awesome everywhere. but in Utah, fall is quiet possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. So much red, yellow and orange it burns your eyes! The cool air is just perfect for nice hikes up the canyon and lets face it, hoodie weather anyone??

General Conference:

This weekend its conference- thats like the Grammys of the Mormon Church. The Prophet and all the apostles in one room for 2 days- a cornicopia of spiritual awesomeness and divine guidance. If you have never done the challenge, DO IT.
The Challenge: before conference carefully think about and jot down some questions, any really, about life, doctrine, whatever and IT WILL BE ANSWERED. GUARANTEED.
I have done this every session for about 5 years now and it has yet to fail.... plus it helps you listen better. Cant wait. Love it. NeXt....

Aggie Football:

Why would I ever consider this a gem you ask? Well, clearly, the team is NOT a gem, but being in Romney, eating a snowie, singing the "Scotsman?" That is a gem. Seeing my best friend and other half JP is pretty much the best thing ever, as well. Miss you JRParoo and cant wait to see you! PS: when BYU wins my dad is really happy, I like when he is happy so again I thank Aggie football.

Last note: I am totally whipped------- I love Kohner and Hadley Brown. Played mommy for my nephew, age 7 and neice, age 3, tonight and well.... I'd die for them ten million times. If anyone wants my heart ever, lets face it, cant have it, call the Browns if you want it. I love you Hads and Doodie- NEVER EVER FORGET that. Like we talked about I'll be gone for 2 Christmas's, then I promise to come back and sleepover again. Thanks for playing with me and being my best friends. I hope you never get too old for "Auntie Kissy Monster." You can sleep on my couch when your parents drive you mad- they will- and I will be there.

We may be near, we may be far, but our love will surround us wherever we are.

Promise.

Trying to find somthing

Every year I get a little bit older I find that I am more confused about who I am and what I want to be. Isnt that a little backward? Suddenly I find that I am grown up and must stop saying "when I grow up I am going to..." because I am there. That time is now and I am still lost. If children become grown-ups, what can grown-ups become??

Since I currently have no idea what I am doing with life I think I will make a list of things I am borderline obsessed with and see if I can mesh them together to make a career or some sense of direction for myself.

My Future In a Nutshell

1. I abseloutely love Harry Potter. That book series is the most ingenious thing I have ever beheld. How can one writer possibly come up with so many characters, details and bits of history, mythology, etc. and make it flow through seven books? I'm really Rowling is half writer, half genius. I could talk the details all day but I wont.

2. Anything Ryan Shupe. Music, his mandolin and fiddle, the concert at Thanksgiving Point, creating my own line of Shupe merchandise that he doesnt but should sell ( ask about my 1,000 Times Tee and other ideas) and improving my already impressive attendence record- 37th show this saturday.

3. Multi-Cultural authors or books especially the Middle East such as my all time favorite- "The Kite Runner." Fiction or non-fiction the culture and history of Pakistan, Afganistan, India etc, is so rich, so unique I can't help but be fascinated by it.

4. Baking different kinds of chocolate cake. In the past few months I have made 4 kinds of chocolate cake. What a fascinating medium to explore, cake and I love chocolate.

5. CSI Las Vegas. Oh Griss how I love thee. Gil Grissom is my all-time favorite television character. He's brilliant, witty and unique. He is admired by his friends and his enemies. He proves himself and all the other CSI's even when he cant hear a word they are saying. And lets be honest, the unspoken but oh so obvious Sara/ Grissom love is enticing.

6. MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC
Lately I love- Lady Antebellum, TJ McCloud, Metro Station, Josh Gracin, Joshua Radin, The Color Fred, Kalai, Jack Hody Johnson, Hellogoodbye and Sam Payne. Check them ALL out. A musical cornicopia is a must have for all humanity. The art of music has failed if one can simply categorize themselves as a fan of country or hip hop. All music should be appreciated for what is brings to the listener, how it adds to their identity and helps them to become or understand who they are. There is no genre capable of doing all that.

7. The Book of Mormon. What a cool gift that book is. I could read it 300 times and still find application for my life. There is such a power when you read it, it just lifts the soul and inspires curiosity. The BOM is depth and simplicity in harmony. Read it and think about it often and you will see what I mean. If your whole life is not better for having read it you can kick me in the head for every word in that sacred book. There are so many promises and tools within the pages, Id even venture to say that it surpasses Harry Potter and the Kite Runner in awesomeness and ingeniousness. (That cant be a real word!)

8. Snowcones. I have talked of snowcones before so I will be brief. Delicious ice flakes, drenched in tropical sugar water.... eat one and it will make you happy, in fact it will make you so happy you wont even care that you spilled half of it down your shirt as it melts.

9. My family. Sitting in a circle talking favorite memories about my dad for fathers day. A lesson on the blessings of the temple. Hadley being in love with Parker. Kohner as a 2 year old saying everything with a German accent, Ikey thinking school is "Damn Good!" Seeing Jake holding his son barely seconds old. My mother being the best thing I will ever have. Being terrified as my father seems to age before my eyes, forgetting things, not hearing things. Hoping beyond hope that my brother will remember who he is and come back. Laughing so hard I cant breathe because I have the funniest family in the whole world. So thankful we are eternal and I get to come home to them again.

10. Late night conversations with JP. How we can seamlessly move between the hillarious and the sacred, our greatest fears and proudest accomplishments. Laughing at everything because we can. Admiring her for being so much stronger and braver than anyone I have ever met. Lucky to have her as my best friend. My HSLM. Seeing everything I ever wish to be and knowing I can because she believes in me. Hoping I help her to be a better person. Wishing I could repay her. Knowing I never can.

11. String Cheese. Nothing even needs to be said.

12. Watching really lame movies in the middle of the day alone in my parents basement with all the lights on. This is my favorite down-time ritual. I love a snack, a drink and a really terrible looking film picked up from the library. I dont know why I do it, but its kind of my thing. I dont get it.

13. Recalling memories. I love my memories. I love journals, scrapbooks, facebook albums, old text messages and emails. Anything that takes me back to a different time, many great memories, some terrible, many pointless, few life-changing. I could think about lifes adventures or talk about them with a friend for hours on end and never grow faint. I love a good battle of "Remember when...."

14. Anything having to do with Utah State University or Cache Valley. I love it all. My blood runs aggie blue and that will never change. How lucky I am to have gone to school there. That is where my heart is. It is who I am. I want to see USU do well, to thrive, to open doors and inspire possibilty in others as it has done for me. I want people to go there and find themselves, to be changes for the better, to make it their own. To be as happy as I have been.

Go Blue or Go Home!!

I am a person of habit. I have compulsive ways in which I live my life- the order I put in and take out my contacts, the specific width and weight of my favorite writing pen, my borerline unhealthy love of Ryan Shupe music, Dr. Pepper and string cheese.





I often as myself if perhaps I am getting predictable and boring because I love the same things over and over again. It takes me only a moment to realize I really don't care. There is one place I find myself returning to over and over always losing and re-finding myself. Cache Valley is a place, but for me is has also become a symbol for me; A symbol of my happiest moments, my greatest struggles, where I know I can always come back and it will feel like home.





I got to back to Logan this weekend for the first time since I left in May and my welcome could not have been anymore beautiful. It was dusk as I rounded the last hill that would open my view from Providence to Preston. The sky was pink and warm and off in the distance the "A" shone blue. I was home.

I was happy to spend some time with my best friend in the world JP and my old and dear friend Melissa. It was bittersweet to spend time in the apartment that JP and I were supposed to share, starting the traditons and memories we could have made together. But I feel lucky to have been included even for a few days.

This weekend was also the first time I got to see Justin Schmidt since his return from his mission a few weeks ago. Justin was one of my best friends my first year at USU. I will always love our scooter gang, "Fandango!" and laughing almost all the time. I wondered if we both had changed too much to remeber our former bond. Nothing has changed. He still makes me laugh more than any other person, he is still one of the best conversationalists I know. He still makes me happy. How did I get so lucky

to know so many amazing people?





Anywho, the weekend was rad complete with hippie tie die, an 80's dance, a pfzookie from firehouse, latenight stupidity and priceless conversations with JP, a bonfire and some sweet

impromtu olympics. Best of times

where the sagebrush grows!