Long Time No Blog

Well hello people.

It's been a while and all I can say is I'm sorry. But I remember what Miss Stacey from Anne of Green Gables said: "Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it yet." So here we go again: The City of Megan and my attempt at chronicling my thoughts and experiences. Well I’ve been having quite a few – let’s call them “interesting” things happen in my life recently which then caused me to reflect on similarly “interesting” things that seem to happen throughout my life no matter what my age or where I’m at. Let’s just say if there is such a thing as unluck, it has decided to befriend me. But what is it they say? Something about acting versus reacting, playing the hand you’re dealt, choosing to be happy… (Maybe it was just Pam who said it instead of the ambiguous “they.”) So to close, I’ll share with you the words to my newest song…

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THIS IS ME
Music and Lyrics by Megan Worthen

Sit me down – give me a pen
It’s time to write again
‘Cause I’m done being scared
Being afraid of what I’d say

I’m giving up keeping it in
I want to sing again
And my heart may be broke
But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe

Without a doubt there is only one me
This is me baby
I don’t care what you say
I’m loving my way
And living each day
Don’t try to stop me

With every test I learn a new way
To try and live each day
And learn to love what I got
I can’t waste anymore time being what I’m not

Without a doubt there is only one me
This is me baby
I don’t care what you say
I’m loving my way
And living each day
Don’t try to stop me

When the clouds fill with rain
When my heart is in pain
When I’m left all alone
When I’m feeling so old
When I feel like a fool
When I’m aching and bruised
When I pick myself up
When enough is enough
It’s all part of the plan
I won’t forget who I am
Stop trying to knock me down
I don’t belong on the ground
Just try and stop me

I’ll never stop running this race
But I don’t want second place
They say love is blind
But one of these days you can bet it’ll find

Without a doubt there is only one me
This is me baby
I don’t care what you say
I’m loving my way
And living each day
Don’t try to stop me!

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Shake it easy folks. Till next time…

Hope

It's April. The daffodils are up, the Spring Fair is almost upon us, my birthday happens to be this month, Easter, too... . Well, I'm going to the Puyallup Spring Fair this year. I've never been and boy do I hope that at least one roller coaster will be running. In fact, to steal a line from my sister Anna's daffodil candidate speech, I love roller coasters. And I do. I love the ups and downs, the quick turns, the anticipation of a turn or drop that I see coming up, the lurch in my stomach when something happens I wasn't ready for (or even sometimes when I was ready for it), the speed causing my hair to fly in every which way, the slow climb that means something is about to happen, even the plateaus that seem to last a little bit too long but inevitably end. Why is it then that when I feel like my life is a roller coaster that I don't think of it with such fondness? Today I finally drew the comparison on my life and roller coasters in general, and I've made the decision to love the fact that my life is a roller coaster just as much as the real deal.

I am a happy person. I'm far from perfect, but I try not to be too critical and try to enjoy life and find the good in anything I can. But every once in a while (sometimes more often than that...) stuff happens that I have absolutely no control over and I feel lambasted. Usually I can rebound pretty quickly. I pick myself up, lean on the Lord a ton, try not to let anyone know that I'm struggling, do my best to keep the waterworks under control, and then attack the world with a genuine smile on my face. Recently, however, a compilation of struggles has left me at a loss as to how I, the Lord, or anyone else for that matter could help me get back to seeing the good, being the "me" everyone recognizes, and letting the fiery darts bounce off me. My eyes have been puffy and red, sleep evades me, and people tell me that I haven't seemed myself. Not good. I even broke my rule and talked to someone - shared my load, which was hard to do. But I did it. I talked with my mother. I love my family dearly, more than anything in fact, but confiding in any of them has never been a strong suit of mine because, quite honestly, they love to fix things, and I am hard-nosed and don't like hearing the advice and/or suggestions no matter how valid. Can you say pride? Anyhow, my mother has been telling me to have hope. Hope that this or that will turn out, hope that this or that will happen, just hope. I countered with my feelings that it is pointless to hope for anything I have no control over - job, friends, school, relationships, the plot of a favorite tv show or book. It just leads to disappointment or even devastation. So I began to move on and try and heal. Then after almost a week from our "hope" conversation, my mother said this to me today,

"I have to disagree with you on one point, Megan. Hope. To not have hope is going against the doctrine. It's okay to have hope. Remember faith, hope, and charity? Let yourself hope."

A friend of mine once said that he tries not to have any expectations so that he's not disappointed. It's a true concept: expectations not met equals disappointment. I started aligning myself to that way of thinking. But no more. Complacency is for the weak. It takes strength of character to hope. To anyone who shies away from letting yourself hope in fear of being hurt, disappointed, or whatever reason there may be, you're not alone. But I attest that there is more joy and happiness in having hope. Thank you, Mum, for saying the right thing at the right time. I am committing to anyone reading, but more importantly to myself... I will hope.

Hi. My name's Chubby...

Do you remember pretending to be "Chubby" and telling those stories? You know, maybe one like this... You squish your face together and say,

Hi! My name's Chubby! My mama's chubby, my daddy's chubby, even my baby sister's chubby. Anyway, the other day my cousin took me on a motorcycle ride. He asked how fast I wanted to go. I said, "Faster, cousin, faster!"

"This fast?" he asked.

"No. Faster, cousin, faster!"

He went faster and asked, "This fast?!"

"No! Faster, cousin, faster!!"

So he went even faster and asked, "This fast?!?!"

(Here's where you un-squish your face and pull it back instead...)

"TOO FAST, COUSIN! TOO FAST!!"

The end.

We're talking Pulitzer Prize winning, folks. Well, I hardly need to even squish my face together anymore. I'm there. I've grown into the stories I used to tell aka chubby. And now I need to grow back out and fast! Unfortunately, there are no long-lasting shortcuts so I'm going to do this the old fashioned way. But you know what? I've already started and am already a believer. I've challenged myself and a few friends to a "Healthy Lifestyle Challenge." (Original title, I know. But it gets the point across so I am completely kosher with it.) Here are the rules:

1) Weigh yourself on Monday and again on Saturday. Report weight loss.

2) Exercise (aka cardio) for at least 20 minutes at least 5 days during the week. Report successfully completed workouts.

3) Participate in a weekly challenge. Report "grade" earned. (Flawless execution receives an "A" and so on.)

4) Rest on Sunday and start over on Monday.

There is no penalty (other than being disappointed in one's self) and no reward (other than the natural side effects). The main goal is to enter into a healthy lifestyle. My friends and I are doing this for four weeks starting this week, but I went ahead and started last week and am very excited. It has been hard to workout almost everyday, but it's worth it. I can feel the difference. And I'm doing this for me. No one else. I'm pretty convinced of that fact considering that I've been fighting being sick, been extremely alone this week, and haven't once succumbed to old habits. So I may be lonely, but at least I'm healthy and happy and on my way to bidding adieu to Chubby.

It has been far, far, FAR too long...

Hello world. I would say that I am back, but that would imply that I went somewhere whereas the truth is that I've simply been doing other things and haven't put my blog anywhere near the top of my priorities list. So after a verbal slap on the wrist from a dear friend who says she checks my blog every week to see if it's updated (you know who you are), here I am. Very much alive and as apologetic as ever.

I'll bring you up to date with the main going-ons in my life in a later post, but right now I just want to address the near year and the goals I am making.

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Post to my blog at least once a month.

The world will be a better place, right?

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Write a new song every month.

I am more than at liberty to write more than one a month, but if I write 2 in February I still have to write one in March.

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Read every issue of the 2011 Ensign cover to cover.

I did this two years ago but not last year and I could definitely tell a difference. This is modern day scripture folks. Words from the prophet and apostles. Why would I NOT make this a goal? However, sometimes time management is an issue. So I am taking up a trick I learned from an old roommate: keep a copy in the bathroom. 'Nuff said.

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Get my album on iTunes.

Check. Yup. I'm on iTunes!

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Lose the weight I've never been able to.

When a friend, not a parent or a sibling, tells you they think you're great the way you are but they know you want to be more fit and they tell you they think you could drop 5 to 10 pounds easy if you just did at least 30 minutes of cardio 5 times a week... and this friend is a guy... Let's just say something snapped and I am on it.

Rest assured this list will be amended, but for now... it will do. Nothin' but love for ya!

The Hamptons

Well hello peoples. It's been a bit too long since I've written, so shame on me for not keeping my New Year's resolution. But that doesn't mean I'm throwing the towel in! I'm back on the wagon. And to start things off, I thought I'd inform you of my current situation. I am a nanny for two French children in Bridgehampton, Long Island, New York. The oldest is a girl, Marguerite who is 10 and a bit ridiculous but very bright. The boy, Achille, is 5 and also a bit difficult but cracks me up to no end. Mimi (Marguerite) has very good English and Aki (Achille) is coming along. His favorite thing to say is, "Hey baby."

Photo by M. Worthen (Aki at Uncle Oliver's Pool)

So here I am. In the Hamptons. At the pool everyday, playing with children, learning French, teaching them English... I miss Washington, but I am definitely NOT complaining. À toute à l'heure!

Chart Notes: Geriatrically Punked

Every once in a while, I have the opportunity to help the patients in the back. And every once in a while, the patients play tricks on me. "But aren't most of them old?" you may ask. Yes. Yes they are. Especially on Mondays and Tuesdays. Today was extra special, however. I took a patient in the back and got him situated in his chair. We'll call him... Bud. Normally I'll remove their socks and shoes (stay with me - don't get grossed out) and talk with them for a bit. Well Bud took off his right shoe before I had a chance. Spry, that one. However, he left his left shoe on. So I asked him if we were just looking at the right foot or if we were taking care of both today. He says, "Actually yes. I could use a trim on that one, too." So as I start untying his shoe he pulls up his pant leg slowly. Getting fresh? No. Pranking me? Absolutely. He didn't have a leg! I was blushing and he was laughing. Heartily. J Oh Bud. Thank you. I needed that. Good times...

Behind Schedule...

Hola. In case you haven't noticed, I am EXTREMELY behind schedule. I have about 4 posts that are hiding because they aren't quite done. In the meantime, enjoy this story my sissy shared with me. Of course it was a forward via email so you've probably read it, heard it, or told it before. Ah well. Enjoy it anyhow. Or else!

Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, were excessively mischievous. They were always getting into trouble and theirparents knew all about it. If any mischief occurred in their town, the two boys were probably involved.

The boys' mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually. So the mother sent the 8 year old first, in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.

The preacher, a huge man with a booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, 'Do you know where God is, son?'

The boy's mouth dropped open, but he made no response, sitting there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. So the preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, 'Where is God?'

Again, the boy made no attempt to answer. The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy's face and bellowed, 'Where is God?!'

The boy screamed and bolted from the room, ran directly home and dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him. When his older brother found him in the closet, he asked, 'What happened?'

The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, 'We are in BIG trouble this time,'

'GOD is missing, and they think we did it!'

The end.

Love,

Megan.