Unofficial Beehive Adviser

I guess, you know, technically, it's not official. I didn't get set apart yet. But guys, I got called as a Beehive adviser today.

And I'm freaking out.

Also, I'm crazy excited, because being a Beehive adviser sounds like a crap ton of fun! For realsies. I'm super dooper excited.

But I'm still freaking out.

No one even raised their hand as being opposed when I got sustained. What IS this?

A List Of Reasons For My Freak Out.

1. Under qualified. HELLO, I couldn't be more under qualified! What do I know about caring for the spiritual needs of 12 year old girls? Oh. Right. Not a single thing. So that's delightful! I don't know how to do this! I don't know how to do this! Oh no. The anxiety is kicking in. Hurry - someone get me a paper bag!

2. I'm practically a Beehive myself. ... That's an exaggeration. I've got, like, 8 years on the kids. But that's not very many years! I am so young! It's not like being a Beehive adviser is a high profile calling or anything - it's not a big deal - but still! I'm too young for real callings! I should be in Primary or something. This is nonsense.

3. Come on know. Who is going to take ME seriously as a YW leader? It just seems so out of the realm of possibility. I can't even take myself seriously! How will they manage it?

It's okay. I'm freaking out a little, but it's okay! I actually for reals am SUPER crazy excited. Gah! Young Women! I love being in Young Women!

So yeah.

un[OFFICIAL] Beehive Adviser. That's happening.

Unofficial Enthusiast: Jousting

I have a new favorite sport. As far as sports that aren't normal sports are concerned. Basketball will forever fill the Favorite Sport portion of my heart, with football as a close second. But that's not the point. The point is

JOUSTING.

Who knew, in this day and age, that jousting still exists.

Good news.

It does.

And it's flipping classy.

Horses, lances, full out armor. It's legit.

This is what jousting looks like.

I went with most of my family to Estes Park, Colorado last week for the Scottish Irish Festival which they hold every year, and it was awesome. Bagpipes playing every hour of the day, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke wafting over the fair grounds, the unpredictable weather freezing you one minute and roasting you the next, the general acceptance and encouragement of kilt wearing - it's basically a dream come true. And at this most magical of festivals, I witnessed my first ever live jousting tournament. (Not like I sit around watching it on the TV or the internet at home. But I have seen enough movies about knights to have seen a fair amount jousting.) Flip, guys. It was SO COOL.

Lances were breaking, armor was coming off, people were falling off horses - it was intense. And we all got some sick sort of pleasure out of watching it. I felt a little like a barbarian cheering when someone was unhorsed, and a little classy because I was watching jousting like a flipping princess or something. It was conflicting. But I decided to go with the classy princess option, so I mostly enjoyed it. (Who am I kidding? I enjoyed it the whole time. I just felt a wee bit guilty about enjoying it for a moment or two.)

Look at those lances breaking! This is some sweet crap jousting right here.

So yeah. That's my new thing. Jousting. I am a fan. If you guys ever happen to be in a random place where jousting is happening, you should check it out. (You probably won't be in a random place where jousting is happening unless you're a total nerd and you go to Renaissance fairs or something of that sort.) But I'm serious - it's flipping sweet and super fun to watch. And it makes you feel like a G from King Arthur's court. So it's worth the nerd label you'll be stuck with into the eternities for liking it.

I am an un[OFFICIAL] jousting enthusiast. 

Unofficially Homesick

Well flip, guys. I miss Poland.

Like, A LOT.

Poland is as much my home as anywhere else. Which is interesting, because I've lived in Utah a considerably longer time than I lived in Poland. But, for whatever reason, that country feels like home. And I miss it.

Don't get me wrong - I love being home in my Utah home. Love the crap out of it. It rocks. But it's just not the same, you know? Something is decidedly less magical - less exciting. I mean, it's POLAND, for goodness sake. So much history. So much culture. So much adventure. (Define adventure. Adventure: living in Europe, more specifically, Poland.) I miss that. And I also miss the not magical and unexciting things about Poland.

Basically, everything. I miss everything about that blessed land. (Except, perhaps, the smells. But at this point, I'm so far gone I might miss those too.)

A List Of Things To Be Missed:

1. Banana juice. I'm barely surviving without that ridiculously sugary beverage working it's way through my system. It's the worst. I don't even know how I'm still alive, to be quite honest.

2. Ryneks. Yeah. Good luck finding a rynek in Layton freaking Utah. I want to see some old classy architecture and street vendors with overpriced souvenirs and Asians with cameras. We just don't have a lot of that here! It's very disheartening.

3. Cobblestone. Why are the streets not cobblestone here?

4. Trams. I know, I know. I hate public transportation. But maybe not because what do you know I miss trams. They're so convenient. (Actually, cars are a lot more convenient. And I really do hate public transportation. But I miss trams because they're so thoroughly Poland for me, and I miss everything Poland right now.)

5. Dopełniacz. I just want to wish someone a good day or "have fun working" without making it seem weird. Because I'm trying to make it work in English, but it keeps seeming weird. Not a fan.

6. Polish people. Glory, I love them.

7. Żabka. Because it's the most convenient convenience store of them all, and it's everywhere. And it has Milka chocolate and banana juice. 

8. Tiny branches. Church is a sensory overload in America. So many PEOPLE. Which, on the one hand, is super cool. It's like, "Oh look at the Church! It's so big! Good job, team!" On the other hand ... I miss my tiny branches. Because they're mine, and I love them.

9. Fake family. I miss my fake Poland family, made up of members and investigators and missionaries. I just miss them. 

10. Polish. In general. I love that crazy language. I love it, and I miss it. You know, I felt a certain sense of accomplishment in Poland for knowing Polish. But here, it's just not the same. No one gets it. Even if they know that Polish exists, they don't understand how difficult or beautiful it is. Maybe the Poles don't understand how difficult or beautiful it is either, because it's theirs, and sometimes we have a way of forgetting that the things that are ours are special. But at least the other missionaries understood. 

11. Pigeons. Those blasted pigeons. I hate them. But I also miss them.

12. Castles. Poor Utah. We just aren't old enough to have castles here. And since we haven't built any, future generations won't have them either. There just aren't castles in Utah. There's something terribly tragic about that.

There's more. But it's late, and I'm tired, and there are some things that haven't got words matched up to them because language is incapable of truly expressing them in all their glory.

I just miss Poland.

Yeah. This is Poland. I love her.

I'm un[OFFICIALLY] homesick.

Unofficial Public Speaker

PYSCH.

I HATE public speaking. It makes me want to jump off a bridge. Onto some railroad tracks. In front of an express train. ... Too much? Okay. Fine. It makes me want to jump off a bridge into a nice river where I can doggy paddle to shore without too much trouble, so it will be an uncomfortable experience, but not a life ending one. Better?

I'm speaking in church tomorrow. Apparently that is expected of newly returned missionaries these days. Silly.

I spent basically this whole entire day writing my talk. With an exception a couple hours spent shopping with my mom and sister. And the necessary YouTube breaks so my brain didn't fry from typing and thinking too hard about spirituality. Also, meals. But point of the story - I spent the better part of today writing the dang thing.

I hope it's decent. You know how you work really hard on something, and by the time you're through with it you can't even tell if it's decent or not, you just want to burn it in a bonfire? Hello, my day today.

That's all.

I just needed to type something other than a talk.

I am an un[OFFICIAL] public speaker. ... Lucky me. 

Unofficially Anna

Well. 

This is weird. 

I am back from my year and a half hiatus, and I'm blogging. 

And I'm Anna now.

I was Sister Young for a long time. Like, a REALLY long time. (Okay, okay. I guess a year and a half isn't THAT long. But you know. Whatever.) 

It's so strange to be Anna again. And I know, it's fine, because I'm me either way, but I think we can all agree that missionary-selves and normal-selves are slightly different selves. Not in a bad way, or a good way, but just a way that is slightly different because that's the way the universe operates.

I'm at peace with being Anna again, it's just WEIRD. Because Anna does things that Sister Young did not. For example, Anna listens to music. That's nice. Anna watches movies and spends time with her family. BIG FAN of that. Anna has her own room, and can be alone if she wants to. Score! But at the same time, there are things Sister Young did that Anna kind of can't. Anna can't walk up and down the streets, sharing the Good Word with all of God's children here at home. That would be a little bit socially unacceptable, and a lot bit awkward - besides, Anna isn't set apart to do that anymore (that sounds REALLY depressing ...). Anna can't speak Polish with the people around her, and THAT bites hardcore. Anna has to call people by their first names. It's weird.

I'm conflicted.

But, for better or worse, I'm un[OFFICIALLY] Anna now.

Unofficial Slacker

Unofficial (Blogger) Slacker

Well. Here I am. W Polsce. Pretty crazy stuff.

*Brief Message*

I fear the title may give the wrong impression. I'm talking about being a slacker as a blogger, not a missionary. I'm not just chilling in my apartment, counting down the days to coming home. I'm a pretty dilligent little soul. I just didn't want people to think, "Wow. Unofficial Slacker. What a lame missionary." Such is not the case. I'm just bad at blogging. Anyways. As you were.

I would first like to apologize for not being a more diligent and faithful blogger. It's just hard to be a blogger AND a missionary, as it turns out. There's a lot to do, and a lot of people to talk to, and before you know it - BOOM! Your time is gone! So. Apologies.

And now. Wow. I don't even know what to say, because there's so much I could say, and I've said a lot already to other people and I can't remember who's been told what, or what's even something people would find interesting, and here we are! Sorry, I know. I should just say something interesting and that would be good. But instead I'm talking about how I have nothing interesting to say, or I have a lot of interesting things to say ... Either way, this is no fun to read. Sorry. I'll stop.

Poland is good. I like her. She's a fun country.

There are pigeons everywhere. And they don't mind people. They just waddle around (they're huge because the people here feed them. So ridiculous. You don't FEED pigeons), flap their wings a little, do their pigion thang. It's so weird. And they are literally everywhere.

I ride on trams a lot. They're pretty fun. Sometimes the lights flicker on and off. I'm not sure if that's a normal tram thing, or if it's a special trams in Poland thing,

or an extra special trams in Kraków thing. Either way. Fun stuff.

I mostly eat normal food, because we cook for ourselves basically every meal. Which I prefer, because I'm rather picky. Cool stuff. I LOVE the juice. I don't know what's so great about it, but it's just better, as it turns out. My favorite is raspberry/carrot/apple. Sounds weird. And it is weird, because you can actually taste the carrots a little bit. But even so, I love that stuff. My favorite food I've found here is this stuff called Nuss Milk. It's a lot like Nutella, minus it isn't as hazelnutty (or maybe not hazelnutty at all), and it has white chocolate swirled with the milk chocolate. Can you say heaven? I can. Nuss Milk. Also, their yogurt is good. I don't know what's different about it, but I love it. And also, they have good cold cereal. And oatmeal. And this stuff that's kinda like Malt-O-Meal, but it's vanilla flavored. They do breakfast right here in Poland.

My companion is stellar. Her name is Sister Allen, and I just love her! She's so great. She's REALLY good at Polish, which is quite a blessing, because I don't really speak Polish. When you're in the MTC, they tell you you do, but then you get out, and you realize you don't. It's quite an adventure. Like, every waking moment is an adventure.

  

Let's see ... I can't think of anything else really interesting to say. So I guess this is goodbye.

Goodbye.

I am an un[OFFICIAL] slacker. And I PROMISE I'll do better in the future!

Unofficial First Real Email

Let's begin with the plane rides. Wow. SO LONG. Like, wow. I just don't even know what to say. But they were long, and I didn't sleep AT ALL. That was a bit of a bummer. Luckily I had enough adrenline pumping through my veins to keep me going. That was a blessing. I tell you, I never want to go that long without sleep again. It's just not worth it. Ugh. I don't even like thinking about it. I love sleep. 

So then we were in Warsaw, met the mission president, everything was great. My trainer is Sister Allen. Skipping ahead to our train ride to Kraków. We BARELY made the trian before it left (so that was a blessing). However, it was quite crowded because apparently there was some holiday last weekend. So there was no where for us to sit or to put our baggage. Hence we sat on our baggage in the little corridor thing. Yeah. This is also a true story. We literally sat in a hallway on our suitcases, my companion and I. And we talked to this FREAKING CUTE little boy named Kuba. SO cute. Oh my heck. And I tried to talk to him in Polish. He corrected me several times. However, when he asked what my favorite color was, and I said, "Róźowy and żółty," his mother gave me a thumbs up because I said it right. So that was a proud moment. A little bit later this lady with a cart of food and drinks ("Anything from the trolley, dear?" Yes - just like that) came by and made us move. With all our luggage. Which was a pain. So then we had to lug our luggage through, like, four train cars all the way to the front of the train. WHAT a nightmare. Luckily a nice boy named Piotr helped us, so that was cool of him. We taught him a first. He wasn't interested. But he was very nice, so whatever. Good enough. So then we got to Kraków and took our stuff onto the tram (also a pain), and had to pull it through some nice, cold, wet streets to our apartment. On the way I lost the back of my nametag. And then found it yesterday morning. So that was fun. Anyways. What an adventure. We finally got home, then we had to go get food (no one had been in the apartment the last transfer, so we had basically nothing. Like, not even dish soap. We lived like animals for a couple days).

So yeah. Here we are.

Fun story. We were out tractować-ing (when in doubt, add ować to the end of the word, and BOOM! It's Polish.) and we ended up in this building, yeah? So we knock on this door. Get nothing. However, the music in the room next to us stops and we hear someone talking. So we're like, "Yeah. Okay. We'll try this one." So Sister Allen knocks on the door, and this guy, wearing nothing but his underwear (yeah, that's right. You read it right. Super sketch), pokes his head around the doorway and is like, "Yes? I don't speak Polish. Let me get dressed." Yes. You do that. Here, I'll get the door for you. Just for PITY'S SAKE put on some clothes. So the guy gets dressed (and Sister Allen and I are just in the hall, trying to keep the laughter to a minimum) and then he comes back. So we said who we are, and he TOTES let us in for a lesson! Which was unexpected. And fun. And all a little weird. He was French (which explains the, "Oh, let me just answer the door real quick in my skivvies" thing. I mean, really. Why am I not surprised he's French?). So we had a lesson, it was fun. He was weird.

Things have been pretty crazy! Love YOU ALL SO MUCH!

New missionaries from the MTC arrive in Warsaw!