tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76433734065001131162024-03-04T21:04:19.067-08:00Jacqueline Ryan: A Chronic Daydreamer's True TalesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-57803131446198828932015-01-23T13:52:00.001-08:002015-01-23T13:52:22.672-08:00Week Two: Soreness and ZenThe path to yogi-ness is lined with sweat, practice, and tears. Ashtanga yoga is WORK. It is for everybody-but the lazy, at least that is how the saying goes. The second week of my intensive yoga training not only tested my physical muscles but also my emotional strength. Lesson: a lot of self-reflection can be painful, inspiring, and exhausting. Yoga opens your eyes to your thinking-errors and to flaws in the poses, both of which take a lot of effort to fix. Honestly, this week I struggled. I was in a terrible mood almost everyday. I was not getting enough sleep or enough food which always leads to AngryJackie. To top matters off, the yoga that I once loved had transformed into the villain causing me endless stress. Blah. I flirted with the idea of quitting, taking the easy way out. <div>
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The ups and downs of life. </div>
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After reaching a low, things turned up again, as life always does. I kept practicing yoga and I found that love and peace again. Breathing really is incredibly magical. I felt the breathe move me through the practice. Energizing my body. Freeing my mind. </div>
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Cool, huh?</div>
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Have I convinced you all to try yoga yet?</div>
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Okay, I will keep trying. </div>
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Until next week!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-43586409157638533092015-01-11T21:39:00.000-08:002015-01-23T13:52:49.031-08:00Yoga: My Journey to Enlightenment Very rarely in life do we have weeks that completely change us as a person, this was such a week. A combination of starting a new job and starting my path to becoming a yoga instructor taught me more than I thought possible--in just seven short day!. I was encouraged to teach yoga through my own experiences so I will be sharing them with you.<br />
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Although I have been going to yoga classes since I was 14, I didn't know how little I knew about yoga until this week. My idea of yoga has grown from a great way to exercise and meditate into a lifestyle that I want to adopt. My first day of class started out with floods of thoughts: "I can't..." "I wish I had..." and the classic "I am not good enough." I was surrounded by people I admired and it made me feel incredibly self-conscious. Small. Vulnerable. That is when I began to learn what yoga really means. </div>
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Yoga can be defined as Unity. It is a way to create unity of the mind, body, and with God. Yoga helps us fix the senses leading us to a realization of your own true nature. My yoga guru keeps repeating about how yoga teaches us to look internally and find our Self. Self in Sanskrit has a very different meaning than we use in the West. Sri K. Pattabhi Jois teaches that the Self refers "to our higher, unchanging, eternal nature of pure consciousness, truth, and bliss." Or what us Mormons would call our Divine Nature. We had a yoga therapist come and teach our class on Saturday and something she said really stuck out to me: yoga is non-denominational; however, true practice of yoga connects us to a Higher-Being and is worshiping God. Many people think of yoga as a bunch of poses meant to stretch and tone your muscle--which is an awesome by-product. I believe that yoga is a way of unlocking the power and beauty of the soul and using that to bless others. Although I am still a beginning student, I have already felt the powerful effects in my life. I feel peace, happiness, and love after every practice. I am learning to let go of the critical and be inspired by the power of breath. I believe that bodies are temples and yoga is one way of tapping into our infinite good. </div>
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Some of my favorite thoughts from class this week:</div>
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We have more power internally than we believe. We usually resort to external sources but yoga teaches us to look inward. </div>
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There is more clarity in feeling than in thinking. </div>
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Nothing is wrong or right in yoga because we are always progressing. Sometimes we are starting over and we have to be okay with the constant change by learning to be an observer. </div>
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Okay, I could gush about yoga all day. But in closing I want to say that I am still scared, overwhelmed, and intimidated. Who knew following your dreams and inspiration could be so hard! I am keeping faith in the process. I am enjoying the self-realization and growth (no matter how painful). I feel empowered and capable. I have learned so much from my yoga teachers and I hope one day I can help foster self-love and awareness by helping others bring yoga into their lives.</div>
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Hopefully I can get through another three weeks of 30 hours+ of classes! Wish me luck!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-77159182834813513282014-12-08T19:35:00.000-08:002014-12-08T19:35:26.901-08:00Half Way Across the WorldSaying goodbye to friends is never easy. It becomes increasingly difficult when those friends are now half way across the world. Moscow, and all the wonderful people I met there, will always be in my heart. I truly loved my experiences there: both the hard stuff and awesome stuff. Living abroad was really a trial for me! Not speaking the language, not knowing anyone at first, low temperatures, and a little too much free time really tested me. However, I learned so much about myself and also about the world. I am so grateful I had my husband by my side and our experiences really strengthened us as a couple.<br />
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I never imagined how magical Russia is during Christmas time. Seeing Red Square in its full Christmas splendor should be added to everyone's bucket list. Ice skating in Russia is also top notch!<br />
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The journey home was...arduous..painful..exhausting. Between the 17 hours spent on the plane and very little sleep--I was pretty dang grumpy at some points. I was particularly annoyed when a Russian man thought that it would be okay to wake me up at 4 AM and proceed to question me. My Russian isn't great to begin with but if you wake me up and start asking me for cigs? My Russian becomes exceedingly snarky. At least he found the situation extremely humorous. I did not. When we finally touched ground in the U S of A, I immediately started singing the Utah state song "Utah! People working together! Utah! What a great place to be!" I think if Drew wouldn't have been so tired, he would have been super embarrassed. But I can't help it! I love Utah. I realize that it might that have the glitz and glam of foreign cities but it is home. And I am convinced that nothing feels as good as coming home.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We tried to take the most touristy picture. Mission accomplished!</td></tr>
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The most interesting part about being abroad was hearing and reading all sorts of political views. Political tensions between the United States and Russia are particularly intense right now. The longer I was in Russia, the more open-minded I became and the more I could see valid arguments coming from the Russian media. The media in the US and the media in Russia really damage viewers. The portray the opposing country as, well just that, an <i>opposing</i> country. After all the years of progress and "ending of the Cold War", I hate to see our countries regress to us versus them mentalities. As naive and innocent as it sounds, what the world really needs is more love. More understanding. More befriending of those different from us. It really broke my heart to hear so many stories of people from Ukraine, Syria, and other countries and all the immense hardships they personally endured, and are still enduring. I don't know how to make the world a better place, but I want to die trying!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-61460276827006236692014-11-23T11:07:00.000-08:002014-11-24T06:39:43.503-08:00I am Jacqueline Swainston and I am a MormonThe truth: choosing to be a member of the Church of Latter-Day Saints is not, nor ever will be, easy. At least not for me. Many people are blessed with perfect faith. My faith, my testimony, and my membership in this church are something that I have fought for. Something I will always be fighting for. I want to tell my story for those who are struggling with their search for truth. This is a little about my journey.<br />
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I was born into a Latter-Day Saint family. But I was not born a Latter-Day Saint. No matter how young you were introduced to the Mormon faith, you have to <i>choose</i> to be a member. To me being a member is more than the physical act of being baptized (although this is an important step), it is about deciding that you will dedicate your heart, your talents, and your soul to your Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. This is a daily decision. It wasn't until high school when I really started to question the "why" behind the way I acted: going to church, reading the scriptures, etc. I vividly remember reading the Book of Mormon and the moment when I first thought "what if this is <i>not</i> true?". That doubt, like all doubt I have experienced after, made me physically sick. After long prayers and many tears, I felt the Spirit strongly testify to me that this was good, pure, light. I remember going to church programs like Girls Camp and Education Week where we would spend so much time studying the Savior and His plan for our lives. I honestly experienced pure joy. I cannot explain how powerful those spiritual experiences have been in shaping my life. I hungered for more. Reading the scriptures, listening to church music, and praying connected with my soul in a way that no earthly thing had ever done before. It spoke to my spirit.<br />
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Then I went to college. I met more and more people from different faiths. I heard more and more intellectual arguments against not only Mormonism but God in general. The sparkle and the glamour tempted me both intellectually and emotionally. We hear that wickedness is never happiness. But to a young girl, they look almost the same. I had many dark hours of doubt. On one hand, I knew that the gospel of Jesus Christ had always brought me happiness. On the other, I really questioned the psychology of "why" I believed the way I did.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwuGMWT0miNWQBj392Ji6KsPBPUqlkNtQrYaCR4LY8swdIfqbASNqTNuFRoq1-cpK-TF8TeBSBVHrN9Xya5OeqMVwbR3q-hmAENFyEI77QhnI6YKS75Vn5Xnh-GKJ4nb7RK-PKtVF3okw/s1600/Jesus+Christ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwuGMWT0miNWQBj392Ji6KsPBPUqlkNtQrYaCR4LY8swdIfqbASNqTNuFRoq1-cpK-TF8TeBSBVHrN9Xya5OeqMVwbR3q-hmAENFyEI77QhnI6YKS75Vn5Xnh-GKJ4nb7RK-PKtVF3okw/s1600/Jesus+Christ.jpg" /></a>The reason the say that the world is "loud" and the Spirit of God is a whisper is because it is literally true. We are constantly attacked with rhetoric that goes against revealed doctrine. It is literally a battlefield every day for our souls. Everything seems to be controversial these days. People seem to disagree on almost everything. For goodness sakes, it is hard to know if eggs are good for your health or not with all the "science" out there. I have learned that there is only ONE way to learn spiritual truths. It is through the Spirit of God testifying of truth to your soul. That is the one thing that has saved me from dark periods of doubt.<br />
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To this day, there are things that I do not understand. There is doctrine that is hard for me to accept. My faith is imperfect. My testimony still growing. However, despite all my imperfections, I know that my Heavenly Father still loves me. I know that the Book of Mormon is literally the word of God. I know that the temple is the House of God. I know that if I continue to pray, continue to search the work of God, and keep the commandments that I will be blessed with more light and knowledge. In short, my soul and heart know that this is the church of God, even if my mind sometimes struggles. <br />
I believe in Jesus Christ.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-1920908318896665452014-11-23T10:27:00.003-08:002014-11-23T10:27:49.583-08:00An American in London<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMmdsAu7fzTB_X2FwLSeJzw9pIrkoGokkoPoDRBSkcXFIwBrP5aYwEMCg77ZdGQUDfymEVLySxz48PjyKz3W5luwcQ4R2Jui54a8IePkgkspZPZZfDVRogLYuJHCQtlFbdkTLh8cTt66P/s1600/2014-11-12+16.34.45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMmdsAu7fzTB_X2FwLSeJzw9pIrkoGokkoPoDRBSkcXFIwBrP5aYwEMCg77ZdGQUDfymEVLySxz48PjyKz3W5luwcQ4R2Jui54a8IePkgkspZPZZfDVRogLYuJHCQtlFbdkTLh8cTt66P/s1600/2014-11-12+16.34.45.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a> Upon entering the UK we were greeted by warm, smiling English-speaking people. To be honest, I was a little culture-shocked. Russian people often get a bad street rep for being "cold" and "unfriendly." I wouldn't agree with this statement; however, Russian people on a metro? That's a different story. If someone talks to you on a metro, one of two things are happening: 1-they want you to move so they have a better position for exiting or 2-they are drunk. Being on the Tube, we were bombarded with "please", "excuse me", and all sorts of pleasantries. And to make things even more strange: people actually lined up in straight, neat lines and boarded the metro in an orderly fashion. It was awkward. Additionally, the city seemed so...<i>clean.</i> As I was walking around pointing out the lack of graffiti and litter, I told Drew, "AND the sidewalks are so well-kept." Mid-way through this sentence, I tripped over a big pot-hole, #irony.<br />
The hardest thing about being an American in London is fighting the urge to speak with a British accent. I don't know what it is about their fancy word choice and pronunciation that I find so seductive, but I quickly gave into the urge. Isn't imitation is the surest form of flattery? Let's just hope any eves-droppers thought so.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn07htU1vK4GESw50IUXSqlovIi254pvXu7lzreohe6pPfcY5B1lZilQND236YbzfYJz_rL-M4W8t88KXj61TlW-8c_md3_CQxew_m0ZUzqBT7-9CeOyWOUuRsXRUMsbyL2FrLACX5aUFd/s1600/2014-11-15+13.22.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn07htU1vK4GESw50IUXSqlovIi254pvXu7lzreohe6pPfcY5B1lZilQND236YbzfYJz_rL-M4W8t88KXj61TlW-8c_md3_CQxew_m0ZUzqBT7-9CeOyWOUuRsXRUMsbyL2FrLACX5aUFd/s1600/2014-11-15+13.22.08.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a> I am resisting turning this post into a detailed travel itinerary and bore everyone. I will instead mention the highlights. We were lucky enough to attend the London Temple which was a special experience for us. Due to the lack of temple in Moscow, it has been awhile since we were able to attend the House of the Lord. In Utah, we are so blessed with temples so close to us that it is easy to not truly appreciate this blessing. This is something I have really come to appreciate. While in London, we went to Wicked and Mamma Mia. There are only three times I can remember crying because I was so happy. Two of those times happened on West End: Les Mis and Wicked. Also, I finished the Harry Potter series while riding the Tube--this felt like the best way to celebrate being in London.<br />
I have always been slightly off-putted by England and I have no idea where this started. Maybe I have some Boston Tea Party genes in my DNA. Upon further examination, I have narrowed down to the "royal" aspect of the UK. It just rubs the American in me the wrong way to hear about a Queen or people being knighted, A British man argued that the traditions of coronation and royalty are a symbol of how consistent the country has been through out the ages. This simple statement changed the way I viewing this nation. London is actually a stunning balance of the old and the modern. From the castles to the iconic Piccadilly Square, the buildings are unique and timeless. Additionally, I realized that England has given me some of my very favorite things: Harry Potter, Sherlock, America, and the Beatles. I quickly got over any faint ill feelings that I previous held and fell head over heels with London. It actually is now a place that Drew and I are seriously considering moving to.<br />
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Back to the U.S.S.R.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-58601673851594513912014-11-10T07:45:00.002-08:002014-11-10T07:45:26.495-08:00Penza: AKA Real Russia Countless times I have been informed that Moscow and St Petersburg are not "real Russia." I would think to myself: Not real Russia?! Everyone is speaking Russian. I see Kvass, Red Square, and Soviet-style buildings everywhere. How is this not 'real Russia'? It is the capital for goodness-sake!"<br />
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It wasn't until I traveled to Penza, Russia (approximately 640 km south-east of Moscow) did this start to make sense to me. My husband, Drew, served a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Russia and he lived in Penza for almost a year. Drew really wanted to visit his friends in the city and I, naturally, wanted to see where my husband had spent half of his mission. One hot (87 degrees!) 14-hour train ride later, it seemed that we had arrived in different country; Penza is an incredibly small city of 500,000 when compared to the Moscow metropolis that contains roughly 11 million citizens. At the train station, we were greeted by one of Penza's own, Alexey. His quick humor and warm-nature kept us laughing and comfortable our entire stay, not too mention full! He and his wife gave us ample--if not too much--food during our stay. Let's just say, I left Penza a pound or two heavier than when I arrived. We toured the city with our native friend and he told us stories of the corruption and poverty that the good people of Penza have endured. He complained about how tax money was rarely used to fix the roads or to make sidewalks nicer. "If there is one thing that Russia will never run out of, it is crappy roads and stupid people!" he exclaimed. The obvious poverty in certain areas of the city, the elderly I saw preforming hard labor, and stories of people we met touched me in such a powerful way. Real Russia, as it turns out, has a huge population and stray cats and dogs. Also, to be "real Russia" apparently it is necessary to see babushki (old Russian women) sitting around complaining about their pensions. It is true that we do not know how blessed we are in America until we see the heart-breaking effects of poverty.<br />
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We were able to meet with many church members during the days we were in Penza. Although my understanding of the Russian language is pitiful, I felt great love for these people because I understood the language of the Spirit when they spoke. One man in particular, Sasha, after only minutes of being introduced to me, asked if he could bear his testimony with me. Drew acted like a translator as this sweet man told me of the powerful experiences he has had with the Spirit and the Book of Mormon. I was touched to the point of tears. The members I met lived their lives in ways that showed me, a stranger, that their testimonies were the most precious things they owned. They willing shouted from the rooftops the glorious message of the gospel of Jesus Christ.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfb-Cw8JwmyD0DNg68I9fXNb2quD5DZxiwiINnJh1RaaTT_dlaMw8wTPgo4oUIlRv3MEpLegIBQ18vL34EvyIrR8Un3DwFpIou8b3GqlhPHzdme39N2VuSWvqm7FgIiiwtW_6fTO9HJnc/s1600/2014-11-02+16.41.01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfb-Cw8JwmyD0DNg68I9fXNb2quD5DZxiwiINnJh1RaaTT_dlaMw8wTPgo4oUIlRv3MEpLegIBQ18vL34EvyIrR8Un3DwFpIou8b3GqlhPHzdme39N2VuSWvqm7FgIiiwtW_6fTO9HJnc/s1600/2014-11-02+16.41.01.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a>When we entered the train station to board our departing train, we were surprised by an older woman who immediately ran to Drew and hugged him with tears flooding down her face. It was later explained to me that she was Valentine, a woman my husband had taught and baptized on his mission. Her love for him was evident. She told me how much it meant to her that he and his companion, Steven Bolt, were persistent in testifying of the restored church to her. She told me that they should up to her house every evening almost completely frozen just to teach her.<br />
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The Spirit testified to me so strongly about missionary work while I was in Penza. Drew and I were trekking through snow/ice/slush and the freezing cold one night when I realized the great sacrifice he (and thousands of others) have made by going on a mission. Missionary work is profoundly beautiful and Christ-like. My admiration of all returned missionaries grew as I contemplated the arduous nature of missionary work. The sacrifice of time, comfort, home, and many other things in the pursuit of bringing the world His truth. A more noble cause I cannot think of.<br />
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I am grateful for the opportunities I have had to hear the testimonies of people all around the world. I know that Heavenly Father loves His children and that His gospel is spreading quickly because of the blessings it brings into our lives. Jesus Christ is our Savior and the joy that comes with this knowledge is to be shared with everyone. Penza opened my eyes to both the hardships Russian people endure but also the powerful<span id="goog_1990430247"></span><span id="goog_1990430248"></span> testimonies of Russian Latter-Day Saints.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-89619755607713993632014-10-13T09:35:00.000-07:002014-10-13T09:35:17.573-07:00Not European. Not Asian. Just Russian.<br />
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Walking down the streets of Moscow, you can't help but feel swallowed up in the concrete, steel, and bleak, Soviet style apartment buildings that seem to never end. Then, in a fleeting glimpse catches your eye of golden, onion domed churches rising above the grey. Upon closer examination, Moscow turns from a modern metropolis to a city bursting with hidden treasures. The juxtaposition of grey, lifeless skyscrapers and vibrant, bright Russian Orthodox temples contrasts the world of old Russia with the splendor of the Czars with modern Russia, creating an overwhelming sense of awe in any one who takes the time to let the beauty of this country sink in. Even the mundane task of taking the metro is marked with masterpieces of art and architecture. In the metro, you can find statues of the heroic men and women who fought in World War II. They remind you to take a deep breathe and reflect on those precious moments where the human spirit triumphed over evil. Just a quick moment though--because let's be honest, metros smell the worst. A native Russian explained it to me like this: "Russia is like silver. On the outside, it is not much to look at. However, on the inside? It is beautiful and rich." It just takes some effort on our part to look further into a country than what is portrayed by Hollywood and truly learn about our brothers and sisters around the world.<br />
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<i><b>My Love Affair of Russian Literature</b></i><br />
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From <i>Crime and Punishment</i> to <i>Anna Karenina, </i>from Pushkin to Gogol, Russian literature is abounding with complex characters that aren't afraid to tackle the tough subjects. The way Dostoevsky creates battles between religion and psychology, which are infamous foes, the reader is compelled to not only apply these hard themes to the characters, but also pushes them to apply it to their own lives. My study of Russian literature is not only teaching me about Russian history and culture, but it is teaching me about myself and enriching my belief in God. Luckily it takes me forty minutes by metro to get almost anywhere--aka reading time!<br />
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<i><b>Life of this Wanna-be Muscovite</b></i><br />
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How have I been spending my time here? I have been lucky enough to be able to work with the Pushkin State Art Museum and proof read some papers that have been translated into English for their Cyprus Art Exhibit. I have also been volunteering a few times a week at the American Center where I get to meet with people from all over Russia and help them improve their English skills. I love the opportunity to meet with people from all walks of life. And I love to talk, so it is nice to have new people to talk with! Other than that? I finally finished HIMYM--The finale is a rant for a different time. I walk up A LOT of stairs. A LOT. I also like to race our friends when the take the elevator. Mostly because this gives me the chance to sing "Jackie VS. The Machine" in my head and feel triumphant when I get to our floor.<br />
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I have also been trying to improve my Russian skills. After a month of being here, I am finally able to hide my deer-in-headlights look when someone speaks Russian to me. I am finally starting to think quick enough to make a reply or at least ask them to speak slower. The latter usually ends with them rolling their eyes and walking away. But hey! Progress is progress! I am proud of the small victories.<br />
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<i><b>The Great Mystery of Russian Women's Legs</b></i><br />
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Yo Sherlock! You busy? I could use some help here. I am completely baffled by the women's legs here. Not only because they are long and beautiful but because no matter how many layers I wear I cannot escape the cold and here these women are looking fantastic in a coat, skirt, and tights! T face the bitter wind without even flinching! My theory: Although their legs are incredibly thin and lovely, they are made of steel. This most likely occurred because Moscow is basically a gigantic stair-master.<br />
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Welp, that is all for now folks!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-51972402862904527912014-09-25T09:44:00.000-07:002014-09-25T09:52:29.197-07:00From Russia, With Love<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>A Glimpse into our Europe Trip </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOXQitmp5caJ_iq3SxKvnk4Q6tWSusaV1CC7_VHfHGmmmpGC426supefPylVtiVyxA5FKduFgXYpiKoGPA_31MhCz4sktTc22zNbzlkUuJf-UcANIeRk0kkZw-fwpSqSFl2lQ0usl0OSG/s1600/2014-09-06+10.31.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOXQitmp5caJ_iq3SxKvnk4Q6tWSusaV1CC7_VHfHGmmmpGC426supefPylVtiVyxA5FKduFgXYpiKoGPA_31MhCz4sktTc22zNbzlkUuJf-UcANIeRk0kkZw-fwpSqSFl2lQ0usl0OSG/s1600/2014-09-06+10.31.36.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Adventures First Stop: Prague, Czech Republic. Meandering around
the medieval cobble pathways of this beautiful city, we found ourselves
absorbed in the unique culture of this post-Soviet country. From castles to Communist Museums, we were
diligent in our goal of “experiencing” Prague. However, towards the end of our
stay, it was determined that the most valuable way of spending our time would
be eating Czech food (aka potatoes and meat) and lounging about the laid-back
city. Prague provided us with endless picturesque places to over look the
entire city and relax. On a side note, nothing makes you feel more
self-conscious about being an American like walking into a Mickey D’s—Can’t a
girl just want some cheap ice cream?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6TKtGrcXsYn9twDGuFridmWYSaXC2NAE1PeGcx2Rfv8GMObS91vOdNUmOAhvhFCD70-WWbghQl-ZcbSc3fBpFePfIV8lgriu69ZV8p7AsJPmRY9u0C0_aZ99VUPHEnz1LmaF3aN9jpAN/s1600/2014-09-08+10.44.17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj6TKtGrcXsYn9twDGuFridmWYSaXC2NAE1PeGcx2Rfv8GMObS91vOdNUmOAhvhFCD70-WWbghQl-ZcbSc3fBpFePfIV8lgriu69ZV8p7AsJPmRY9u0C0_aZ99VUPHEnz1LmaF3aN9jpAN/s1600/2014-09-08+10.44.17.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Next Stop: Dresden, Germany. Dresden is a small town in
south-east Germany. The fog was heavy around the city but for some
unexplainable reason, it made the city feel homey and romantic. In an effort to
be classy and well-educated, we bought tickets to “Cosi Fan Tutte” an opera by
Mozart. Despite my best efforts to be sophisticated and refined….three hours of
Italian turned out to be too much for me to handle. No doubt that the music was
stunning and uplifting but I think my sophistication can only last for an hour
and a half. Maybe I can work up to it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">On to Berlin! There is so much to be said about Berlin.
Don’t fret, I will spare you. I would hate to turn this blog into an overly
detailed account of my trip! Berlin provided ample opportunities to learn about
the history of both the city as well as Germany. Drew and I went to more
museums than our brains could handle. We
are the dorkiest: we love to learn about history but to be where history took
place is even more powerful. I did, however, hate being such an American
tourist by not speaking any German. I apologize Deutschland, I apologize.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Finally, it was our time to cross over to the Russian
Federation. After months of preparation
and years of wishing, I was finally going to meet Mother Russia. Stress and
fear replaced my excitement. Foreign airports and delays can do that to a girl.
After hours pregnant of inconvenience, HEAVY bags, unplanned fasting, sore
muscles, delayed flights and taxis, we finally arrived. Welcoming us to Moscow
was a techno version of the theme song from Pirates of the Caribbean and
massive traffic jams. After arriving to our apartment and signing contracts--that
probably promised the University my first child since neither of us attempted
to read the long documents-- I couldn’t wait to get some sleep. My dreams were
quickly turned into nightmares with the Russian Cyrillic alphabet terrorizing
me. The next morning it took an hour or so and mental preparation (and extreme
hunger) before I finally mustered up the courage to leave my apartment and
commence the hunt for food. The adventure was only beginning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Heart Don’t Fail Me Now, Courage Don’t Desert Me</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> As childish as it
seems, that has been my motto while being abroad. I am pushing myself way out
of my comfort zone almost every day. The few muttered Russian words I speak a
day seem like a real personal victory. Contrary to what you may expect, Moscow ain’t no Provo! Moscow is brimming
with gray skyscrapers, herds of people rushing to the metro, beautiful Russian
Orthodox churches gleaming in the sun, and traces of a communist past. Almost
everywhere you go, in this maze of concrete, you find something strikingly
beautiful. Luckily for me, I have three months here full of time to stop and
smell the roses. Unfortunately, Moscow smells like cigarettes. Moscow also
sounds like jackhammers, construction, and movement. Luckily, after brief
exploring of our surroundings, there are beautiful parks where I can turn for
the peace.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZHBu-WxHa0lFhzDI8v4WdH0osM0-ddccsuQNgvo_eW8F9hQ9RP0yM_ZByqgKwhDCsLRboDqAHDa9y9-fc7D6B5JJ9E0JizRp9afjDuFD0ZOinskSbXnOXq5mja7qeTU9RZGXsi5uTvcD/s1600/2014-09-13+17.34.42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZHBu-WxHa0lFhzDI8v4WdH0osM0-ddccsuQNgvo_eW8F9hQ9RP0yM_ZByqgKwhDCsLRboDqAHDa9y9-fc7D6B5JJ9E0JizRp9afjDuFD0ZOinskSbXnOXq5mja7qeTU9RZGXsi5uTvcD/s1600/2014-09-13+17.34.42.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> One thought that has
really struck me is how ignorant many of us, I am definitely included, are
guilty of being towards other cultures. Especially Russia and America. Russia
is painted as a freezing country full of Volka-loving-Russian-mafia. Russians
think Americans adore Micky D’s and never stop smiling. Is there truth to
stereotypes? Sometimes. Should
Americans know more about Russia than snow, Putin, and Tetris? Definitely. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My Mission (I have already chosen to accept it): Give my
readers—or reader, which is probably more accurate—more knowledge and insight
into this vast, diverse, country from my experiences here in Moscow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Stay tuned for hot topics such as: Are track suits really a
thing?, Funny questions I have been asked, and Strange things I have seen.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-29480933216768383542012-10-02T08:15:00.000-07:002012-10-02T08:15:31.066-07:00Peace, Love, and Running<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVCvHFGBP-bt2oF1VwOkRygZkTfqosdOEOsw9NjFcQ9o4FNP8Br0yawKF3v_EU6nh0R1a99PB1L_W199YqxKZnv6lHuE6Zjgvd21Dc8lHjUxiusfvWWAB4vmF5RtHkGsAiGEKwIi-eO2X/s1600/10k.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614109667943718322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiVCvHFGBP-bt2oF1VwOkRygZkTfqosdOEOsw9NjFcQ9o4FNP8Br0yawKF3v_EU6nh0R1a99PB1L_W199YqxKZnv6lHuE6Zjgvd21Dc8lHjUxiusfvWWAB4vmF5RtHkGsAiGEKwIi-eO2X/s320/10k.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 234px;" /></a><br />
Maybe this is a common side-effect of being a psych major but...I am addicted to self-improvement books (well and Diet Coke if we are being honest..). I have been reading a book a month since January to complete a New Years Resolution and 4 out of the 5 have been some sort of self-improvement. I love it. The idea of positive psychology and the innate ability we all have to shape our personality and future "thrills me, fills me with fantastic terrors never felt before" (sorry, Edgar Allan Poe moment). The consequences of reading these books has exploded all over my room and notebooks in the form of a) motivational quotes/notes to myself b) goals. goals lists are everywhere, some handwritten and some more formally typed up c) schedules. The instant feeling of accomplishment that comes when crossing off a goal causes an immediate physical reaction for me. As cheesy as it sounds, I can't help by smile. I feel great about life and my future and this feeling has developed to my own personal drug. "It's like you're my own personal brand of heroin.."(that's embarrassing I just quoted Edward who, in all honesty, looks like a stoner..anyways, too funny not to include). The bad thing about completely a goal is that your knowledge of your capabilities expands and you can help but demand more of yourself. The goals keep growing in ambitiousness. For example, I am now signing up for a half-marathon.<br />
The training is brutal.<br />
I am in my first week.<br />
Prayers and encouragement greatly appreciated.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">The Road to Enlightenment</span><br />
Something about the hippie movement always has drawn my interest. I oft imagine what it would have been like to be a part of the early hippie movement, actively protesting the civil injustice of the time. If only, If only the woodpecker sighs... Since last winter, I have been determined to become more educated on hippies and implement their beliefs into my life style. This idea is pregnant with irony due to me being an active LDS BYU student with no plans of leaving my religion. However, Hippism (made that up) and Mormonism can coincide if done properly. I am just ignoring the whole free love/drug thing. Which, to be fair, is a large part of their beliefs. A modern, religious, hippie--my goal. To accomplish this, I am teaching myself the art of meditation. It is going really well! ....I started yesterday but I am still interested and hopeful. Also, I am planning a "Wilderness Soul Search" where I am going to go and camp for a few days and explore the deep corners of my soul through poetry writing, meditation, scripture study, painting, hiking, and being one with nature.<br />
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Anyone have any suggestions about how they find peace or explore their self? They would be very welcome:) That's all for now folks! I'll keep you updated on my transformation to a running meditation guru!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-69227832832766135062011-05-11T14:43:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:35:28.202-07:00Returning to Sprinkles and Mayo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVq_eLZkVXRWyp3LA9n_a-NLzgCQlekwR8YtSRBsPiEIpP-fz4tLbl6L0dmSVz-qJV-iSJlEM1gdrkw58PVOcz67jWDvTpaffoQsqISuekxytRp_UPs5I3dpSM6AUFhKsVxm2XxkLE-pr/s1600/207318_1779209283404_1334550056_31812294_3406994_n.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVq_eLZkVXRWyp3LA9n_a-NLzgCQlekwR8YtSRBsPiEIpP-fz4tLbl6L0dmSVz-qJV-iSJlEM1gdrkw58PVOcz67jWDvTpaffoQsqISuekxytRp_UPs5I3dpSM6AUFhKsVxm2XxkLE-pr/s320/207318_1779209283404_1334550056_31812294_3406994_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605588059295949058" border="0" /></a><br />My Floridian sojourn concluded with a tearless departure. Although remorse of leaving my newly acquired home and friendship filled me, the brightness of the future blinded me to fully experience the pain of leaving. Home! The destined tears did eventually make an appearance; however, seeing my family arrive at the airport was the incident that acted as a catalyst for such great emotion. You don't know what you've got till it's gone. My excited outlook of my return lasted for a few weeks and during these weeks the beauty of the mountains literally amazed me. Being a Utahan since birth, I have always been accustomed to the loving nature in which the mountains hug Utah Valley. The absence of such familiar, gorgeous landscape (even though it was "replaced" with palm trees and sunshine--my favorite things) made the return to such a boon to be thankful for.<br /> Transitioning from housekeeping to scooping and spreading mayo was similar to taking a fish out of water than returning it to its natural habitat. Easy. Natural. Wonderful. The lack of Disney magic and luster of pixie dust slipped away unnoticed through my embracing of familiar sites and friendships. There ain't no place like home! OR there ain't no place like Jimmy John's and Cold Stone for that matter.<br /> The BEST part about being in Provo is people watching. Ever since being introduced to this practice at an early age by my sage, humorous grandmother, it has played a significant role in my daily activities. People watching proves to be entertaining everywhere you go. You can bet I found some odd ones to worry over in Orlando! However, Provo is the best place because there are precious, BYU couples everywhere! (My definition of precious couple excludes ANY PDA more than holding hands--yuckie). Loving Provo couples is a recent change and I think it is due to becoming baby hungry at Walt Disney World. Strange I know, and possibly hard for those of you that know me best to comprehend but, I, Jacqueline Peck, am baby hungry. It is near impossible to work at a place so centered around families and leave without being inflicted. Go on and try it, I dare you..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">*Life of a Scholar*</span> (more accurately named, Life of a girl trying to put on the facade of a scholar..but the first one was catchier)<br /><br /> Strive for perfection: having a perfect spring semester. With the goal of perfect grades consistently hanging over my head, I am having a hard time not buckling under the stress. Rather than to dwell on the arduous pathway to my degree, I will tell of the quirky way I travel the path. My study habit are...well...original. First, I listen to my man Bob Marley whenever possible. His message of love and relaxing help battle my nerves. Emancipate yourself from mental slavery! Secondly, if I am not listening to Bob I will undoubtedly put in "The Little Mermaid." Even though I have copiously viewed this film, I never ceased to enjoy its musical spectacular and attractiveness of Eric--those eyebrows..yum! Plus, for some inexplicable reason, my studying abilities drastically improve. Thirdly, I must be comfortable and in sweats. Which means I do not study in the library if I can in ANY way avoid so. And finally, my system must contain a certain exhilarating liquid motivation, more commonly referred to as Diet Coke. The prejudice of this invaluable substance sometimes makes obtaining it a herculean effort. But don't you readers fret! I creatively manage to smuggle this illegal(ish) substance onto campus when needed. I also ignore the judgmental glares of my fellow students. We all have our sins! Judge ye not! <br /><br /> Welp! I must now leave and attempt to reduce the weight of this fat burden squashing my soul! In other words, do homework..gah. Love you all! Thanks for reading!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-32061802022102755522011-03-10T10:46:00.000-08:002011-03-10T11:58:28.631-08:00Deep Thinking During Vacuuming<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJB9uKvFN_rADGonmqv_gf46csddkGC83jDfBHe15a2Zz_rPJaCBDkA2ttVc3shlXZgCnn7PwuBFdkbYbQDghmvxrIKxgts7tcCJpAa_Tl-c1ijD82WapM0qEBoGronkZC84mzYw40Rn3v/s1600/Florida+037.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJB9uKvFN_rADGonmqv_gf46csddkGC83jDfBHe15a2Zz_rPJaCBDkA2ttVc3shlXZgCnn7PwuBFdkbYbQDghmvxrIKxgts7tcCJpAa_Tl-c1ijD82WapM0qEBoGronkZC84mzYw40Rn3v/s320/Florida+037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5582542979575086370" /></a><br />Since a large part of my day is spent vacuuming, which is obviously a one person job, I have found myself the owner of tons of alone time. At first, my thoughts were centered around the current events and drama of my life. I'll have you know that I tried to have those thoughts keep me entertained but after the third room of "I can't believe she said that" or "why is that boy so confusing?", it got exceedingly tiresome and my mind started to realized the monotony of the work I am required to perform. I desperately needed something to distract me!<br />That thought acted as a catalyst to the creation of what I nicknamed "Deep Thoughts While Vacuuming Hour." This title is a bit deceiving because it is not one hour but in actuality covers about four hours. Anyways. This is where I study out the deeper aspects of life. I have made, what I consider significant progress, in figuring out personalities of my friends. I also plot the course of my life and determine the best pathway to get me to where I want to end up. Religious doctrine I have never explored is examined. After time spent perfecting this inventive thought exercise I have created a very entertaining way to spend my day. It works! Time flies! Just know that at any moment during my work day, I may be attempting to examine the inner functions of your mind. oh I am such a Psych major..<br />*Crazy Canadians*<br />One such day at work, my thinking hour was intruded upon by a larger Canadian woman. While I was going all Marry Poppins on her room, she returned to her hotel room to grab her camera. Innocent enough, right? Only should take a few, quick seconds. Well, when she entered she began to chat. I welcome any conversation do to the lack of human interaction involved in my job. Also, I was determined to provided a "Disney Level of Service." As we talked about trivial things such as where we are from and what not. She then began to unzip her hoody, revealing that she was wearing just a sports bra. um okay...I am feeling a tad bit uncomfortable. Then the next ten minutes of my life was spent listening to a detailed narration of all the pictures on her camera as she searched for a specific picture of a bird she had been following. I now know a lot about how her family celebrates Christmas. and everyplace they had been at while being at Walt Disney World. Yay me. Anyways, I started panicking as I remembered all the rooms I still have to clean. Then her toothless, honestly kind of creepy husband joins us and starts muttering words I can't for the life of me understand. Let's just say, I cleaned as fast as humanly possible, skipped a lot of stuff, and just got the heck out of there! ....awkward...<br /><br />*Spending the day with my boy Bob Marley*<br />Not to brag but um..I am living the life. I get to spend my days off at the beach running on the sand and laying out with a soundtrack of relaxing Reggae. I have made significant progress on my handstands and sand volleyball. I almost have a tan I can return to Utah and be proud of. Something about the Sunshine state with its Palm trees, magical sunsets, and nightly fireworks has stolen my heart. Okay I am done bragging about my life. Sorry. It just had to happen.<br /><br />*God's Hand*<br />A large majority of my "deep thoughts" have been centered around how the Lord really has a plan for each of His children. He guides us through different experiences and trials that are uniquely designed for each of us. I don't know why but I know that I was supposed to move to Orlando for these few months. Nothing shakes you like being removed from everything you have been surrounded with for your entire life. I have been forced to determine more clearly and more certainly who I am and what I stand for. The conclusion I have come to is that there are a lot of things I don't know, and will never know, but the one thing I do know for sure is that there is a God and He and His son appeared to Joseph Smith all those years ago. If that is true, then so is the rest. I have known that my whole life but never as surely as I do now. It would take a very long time for me to enumerate the ways I have seen God's hand in action since being here. Just know, there is a God and He loves us all.<br />----sorry for my churchy moment but. This blog would be significantly lacking in honesty if I skipped over the most important thing that has happened to me in Orlando. <br /><br />Thank you. Thank you all who are my friends! Thanks for the phone calls, random texts, and Facebook messages that let me know I am loved and not forgotten about. Seriously I have been so blessed with all the amazing friendships in my life. Also, just know that if I tell you I love you. I mean it.<br /><br />That's all for now folks! I'll try to remember to write on a more frequent schedule. Lots of love!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-38963827253803746522011-02-08T14:58:00.000-08:002011-02-08T16:24:20.219-08:00You may now refer to me as WakinaI have always wanted be sent to fat camp. It's not that I believe that I am morbidly obese..I just wonder how I would hold up under such a vigorous exercise routine. Well, I am proud to tell you that I now know. In housekeeping, they like to gradually work you up to the daunting task of 18 rooms a day. You start at 8 and they load on 2 days everyday. It is like your wrists are duck-taped to a treadmill and your manager is pushing the up the speed and incline without concern if you are ready to adapt to such arduous demands! Each day I was overwhelmed with a feeling of inadequacy but somehow found it within myself to finish on time. This allowed me to glory in a great feeling of accomplishment and a not so great feeling of sweat. How am I doing now that I am assigned 18 rooms a day you ask? I knock those rooms out like it is no one business! Interesting fact: you burn 280 calories an hour vigirously cleaning. Imma gonna be one hot momma!<br /><br />*Word Travels Fast in this Tourist Town!*<br />(or maybe it is due to immense language barriers?)<br />One day while innocently cleaning a room, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Miquel</span>, an older co-worker of mine from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">MeHEco</span>, walked in and quickly inquired, "are you ready to strip?" My first thought was "how does he know about my skills?" JOKE. I was caught off guard, naturally. Then I realized he really meant, "are you ready to strip the beds so I can take the sheets?".....maybe I should just learn <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Spanish</span>... but I have a feeling work wouldn't be nearly so scandalous nor entertaining!<br /><br />*My Best Friend and the Other Jackie"<br />Everyone should be delighted to hear that I have overcome my shyness and feelings of exclusion and finally made friends at work. I am no longer the new girl that sits alone at lunch! Part of the recent surge in my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">popularness</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bahaha</span>) at Pop Century is the addition of new College Program kids. Finally! Youth!<br />Anyways, my favorite co-worker is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Wakine</span> from Mexico. He told me we have the same name and that I needed to start responding to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Wakina</span>. So I do. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Wakine</span> is the cheeriest man I have ever met, including good ole Saint Nick. He tells me wonderfully humorous stories and teaches me <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Spanish</span>. What more could you ask for?<br />Despite the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">abundance</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pleasant</span> co-works, you do run across the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">occasional</span> sour patch. This one is particular stood out because we share the same name. Besides she goes by Jackie and down here I am known as Jacqueline. She was just the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">epitome</span> of a bad attitude and her whirlwind of negativity almost sucked me in! I approached our meeting with great enthusiasm, rejocing in the familiarity of a common language (even if every other one of her words was not appropriate for small children, or anyone for that matter). She quickly picked up on the strong stress signals I was giving off and offered her advice on cleaning rooms: cheat, but don't get caught. At first glance, her suggestions of cleverly cutting corners to increase speed seemed rather enticing. At second glance, I realized the strong moral oppostition I had to such behavior! As my mother taught me at a young age, I am a Peck, we do a good job, and finish what we start. I am proud to say I grasped onto my honor tightly and did not give in to the tempting arms of laziness! You would want to stay in a room serviced by this jackie.<br /><br />*Work hard, play harder*<br />I do not know what I have centered my blog so much around work..all the REAL good stuff happens in my free time. However, the REAL good stuff doesn't get shared with the world..you guys just get the great stuff. I live in paradise. My days off are spent perfectly. I begin with laying out. I refuse to go back to Utah as white as I left it! Then I run and then I PLAY!! No complaints. I live at DisneyWorld. Every child's dream! And let's face it, I am just a big kid. I love all the friend I have made here and love our excellent adventures. I mean, I went on a motorcycle ride with a guy I hardly knew! Stuff that good just doesn't happen in Provo. Okay it does...but everything seems more rebellious in Orlando! I am learning the art of handstands and am becoming more knowledgable about the english language...aka I made vocab cards. I am so thankful for all the time allotted to me to work on my new years goals. 10k here I come!<br /><br />Thanks to this blog I have something to think about during the menial tasks of my day. In between writting posts in my brain I daydream. Hard. But those too shall remain secret only to be revealed to my closest circle of friends.<br /><br />That's all for now folks! Lots of Love!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-49407500499332523362011-01-24T14:18:00.000-08:002011-01-24T23:09:47.165-08:00Slave Labor and Tender MerciesRemember all that excitement you read about last week? Well all those delusions sprinkled with pixie dust blew away with a quick <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">burst</span> of wind when ! Let me tell you the TRUTH about being a housekeeper. Due to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">housekeeping's</span> physically and mentally challenging nature, I literally wake up multiple times at night because of nightmares. Housekeeper after housekeeper kept informing me of their shock because I didn't not cry during training. Apparently, that is considered normal, even for the matured women. With pride I inform my readers that I, Jacqueline Ryan Peck, did not shed one tear; however, if I am being honest (which I try to always be), I was debating whether I should jump of my little ledge of wavering sanity and dive into the pit of despair and surrender to defeat. While cleaning the rooms, I plotted my escape route instead of whistling a happy tune like I was taught. I searched for any signs of an underground railroad that would lead me back to the comfort and warmth of home. Perhaps it would even come with a brave guide! As pessimistic as this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">beginning</span> may seem, I come bearing a message of glad <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tidings</span> and joy!<br /><br />*My fellow Cast Members (Cast Members=Disney's cute way of saying employees)*<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Roselie</span>, my Haitian trainer, can make beds so fast, I freak! She is a tough gal with a quirky sense of humor, made more quirky by her thick accent. Needless to say, we clicked. Well...we clicked as much as the extreme language barrier and age difference would allow. Basically I follow her around all day like a little duckling. As we walk around, she points to people and says "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">dey's</span> trouble, right Jack-lean?" I say "oh <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">dey's</span> trouble alright!". Or she redirects my cleaning <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tactics</span>, sometimes telling me to not work so hard. And that summarizes most of our conversations.<br /><br />Pam. Pam is the woman who runs the cast learning center. She looks like Barbra Streisand and sounds like the Nanny. But I love her. I go to the cast learning center for the last half hour of my shift and read and she always has a motivational speech or funny story about a dumb person. Oh how it feels like home to mock! Anyways, she is my favorite/only person I really talk to all day long.<br />which brings me to..<br /><br />All my other Cast members. They are older woman from either Haiti or the Dominican Republic..which means, they are usually speaking in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Creole</span> or Spanish. By usually I mean about 97% of the time. Good thing I bought into the whole "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Spanish</span> will help you a ton in life" thing and took it all through out high school..oh wait, I didn't. Not only do I stick out, I can't compute any of the conversations around me. BORING. I am minority. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Positive</span> side: my reading time has <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">exponentially</span> increased since I cross the border every day for work.<br /><br />*While I was Feeling Bad for Myself*<br />Slowly I started to let the whole "poor-me-Eeyore" routine of thoughts play in their natural downward <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">spiral</span>. But as soon as I would start to feel down, someone or something came to pick me right back up. Often in was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">inspirational</span> talks given to myself about how I can do hard things and I focus on all the positives. These proved very effective. Other times, when I need extra help, it came in form of a person. Particularly a old man and a little girl. Roger (the old man) approached me in the cafeteria and sat with me all through lunch. (I definitely suffer through New girl syndrome and sit by myself). In mid-conversation, he told me I was beautiful and that he could tell how intelligent I was by looking in my eyes. He then said many words of encouragement that hit spot on the worries and doubts I was having only minutes before. This random act of kindness was then followed by a few minutes of reassurance that he was not hitting on me. Thank you cute old man for beaming sunshine into my day when most needed!<br />However, my favorite blessing was a little seven-year-old. Amanda timidly asked me for a linen bag and while I was searching for the object, she sweetly said "you're pretty." Instantly, I loved that little girl! I told her she was a pretty little princess and she returned to her room. Later, she came back and asked for my help naming her new stuffed rabbit. We decided on the name Cupcake and she left for the parks. While cleaning her room, I noticed the small rabbit and decided to leave a note welcoming Princess Amanda back "from" Cupcake. Her dad later tracked me down and gave me a warm thank you and a tip! That was the moment I fell in love with my job.<br /><br />By the end of my training, my trainer told me that in all of her 11 years, no one had caught on and been as fast as I did. I passed. It is quite the reward to work your butt off by giving your best effort and then be recognized. I determined to take this resort by storm!<br /><br />*Lessons I Learned This Week*<br />1. Stay and school and get a good job. I know this seems <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">elementary</span> but..many of the women here have no other ways to support their families. They are single mothers and just struggling to survive. I am not ignorant of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">tragedies</span> that are abundant in this world, but it is different when bitter stories surround you everyday. Their strength and hard work inspires me.<br /><br />2. My duties might lack the luster of other positions in the company but hey, Cinderella started off exactly where I am. I decided long ago to love my job and that has become a reality. I sing and dance while cleaning the rooms now. My showcase includes works that vary from Hilliary Duff to Tom Petty to Bow Wow and everything in between. Such talent should not be locked away in a hotel room but at least the towel creatures I create can appreciate my musical spectacular! Can't wait for the day a guest walks in..<br /><br />3. Sunday is a special day. Nothing makes you appreciate church like not being able to go. My testimony of keeping the Sabbath day holy has grown so much since being in Orlando. I can't worm myself out of work, but what I can do is have Sunday in my heart throughout the day. I bring materials to read during work and listen to church music. The extra effort I put in to make it feel like a Sunday brought an extra Spirit to my day: "Vibrant <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">testimony</span> comes of anxious seeking"-President Gordon B. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Hinckley</span>.<br /><br />4. Take any illusions you may have about <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Florida</span> being a warm <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">getaway</span> and shatter them with a sledgehammer. On many occasions I have found myself freezing. I even saw my breath the other day and that just fueled my anger towards those who <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">deceived</span> me about the weather here! bah.<br /><br />5. and finally, my new life motto: just say yes! besides to drugs. This new perspective has been life changing and has led me to many spontaneous adventures. Including, but not limited to, jumping into pools with my clothes on, bible study groups, lots of new friends, and dancing through <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Morocco</span>. Living life to the fullest!<br /><br />That's all for now folks! Thanks for reading!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-90706823673501187332011-01-21T16:35:00.000-08:002011-01-21T18:05:20.480-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApuArv89iI23OAcFQy9QR1xPO5qFdRMOZwtRQLxX9P2W_cYR2-WOGCZhZsDB8BfkYraKB-NMaXvmPX-ZZUOa0jX_ANl3VItf0IuWza9H_bEpDe1IrcSklq_cOI3jZnItzqW_f36bOOLEn/s1600/sexy+maid..JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564825379226929330" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApuArv89iI23OAcFQy9QR1xPO5qFdRMOZwtRQLxX9P2W_cYR2-WOGCZhZsDB8BfkYraKB-NMaXvmPX-ZZUOa0jX_ANl3VItf0IuWza9H_bEpDe1IrcSklq_cOI3jZnItzqW_f36bOOLEn/s320/sexy+maid..JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br />Just a little sample of my seductiveness..Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7643373406500113116.post-57832906401948055732011-01-14T22:43:00.000-08:002011-01-21T07:11:13.550-08:00My Grand Adventure: The Begining*Quick explanation of my title*: A great injustice was thrust upon me at birth when my parents ruled that giving me a middle name was unnecessary. Feeling a lack of something in my life, I searched for many years to fill the void by trying on various middle names. I have a brief fling with the name "Jacqueline Zia" and then later flirted with the name "Jacqueline Lynn". This was obviously more of a comical relationship that I continue to have one-nighters with when I feel the need to fool those around me. But the most enduring relationship has been with the name, "Jacqueline Ryan." This name, to me at least, connotates elegance and has a classic air about it just like Jacqueline Kennedy and Doris Day. So. This is the name that I have chosen for my blog.<br /><br /><br /><br />*The Wonderful World of Walt Disney*<br /><br /><br /><br />With a big gust of courage pushing behind me, I packed my bags and boarded my flight to Orlando, Florida. Mysterious forces pulled me towards Orlando, tearing me away from my beloved friends and family. Concerns, worries, and fears swirled around my brain. However real these insecurities felt, I knew that the yearning inside for self-discovery needed this adventure to the south tropics. Disney had practically begged me to come join their team (they had heard all sorts of rumors of my hard work ethic and positive attitude in the work place)! And I have always stuggled saying no..<br /><br />Sitting down on the plane, images of the people I was leaving behind taunted me. No longer could I run into Cold Stone and grap a spoonful of Sweet Cream while exploring life's deepest corners with my sister. No longer could I visit my dad on Sunday nights just to feel the pleasentness of being home. Despite my sadness of leaving behind my home, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride in my adultness. I was now a master of the complicated forces of terminals, tickets, and baggage drop-offs...a skill only the most intelligent can begin to comprehend. I boarded that plane..LIKE A BOSS!<br /><br />I learned a very interesting thing flying on Southwest: nothing bonds two people like sitting on an airplane together. Maybe it is the awkwardness of sitting by someone for such a large amount of time? Maybe it is fear of flying? Whatever the reason, I made many friends on the plane. My first friend was Monet. I just instantly wanted to be her friend because she was so excited about everything (not in an annoying fake way but more of an Ariel on land for the first time way). What we later name our "bite-sized friendship" soon ended as she got off in Denver. But I will always remember Monet and her love of life. The second friendship I formed was with a law professor at a small Catholic school in Orlando. We also became instant friends and talked the entire three and a half hour flight. The subjects ranged from religion to sex offenders to parenting and then to divorce. I was inspired by this also brief friendship because she was such a capable, educated woman who still was an amazing mother. Cheers to brief meetings that change lives!<br /><br />After arrival in not-so-sunny Orlando, I had the arduous task of lifting 120 lbs. of luggage, WITH NO WHEELS, all over the airport, on and off shuttles, in circles around apartment complexes, and up three stories of stairs. I can assure you that I felt the pain for the next few days. Despite my struggles carrying the weight of my bags, I packed exceedingly light and am suffering through seperation anxiety for numerous articles of clothing.<br /><br />The rest of my week can be sumarized in answering and asking the same three questions repetitively: what is your name? where are you from? and finally, where in the parks are you working? I have never really been considered normal...due to my love of making strange faces and my quirky humor and partially due to the fact I collet dictators. But I have never, no never, been so odd in my whole life. When people find out you are from Utah, they proceed to tell you about how they know someone from Utah and they never party. Then they elaborate on how strange that person is. While they express their shock at Utah culture, I squirm uncomfortably as the thought "I haven't touched a drop" plays over and over in my head. If people do ask if you are Mormon, they ask questions they did not teach me how to answer in all my "every memeber a missionary" classes. Such as, "is being a Mormon a big deal?" umm..is it to me? (yes I really did say that..) or "what do Mormons believe about aliens?" (yes, I was really asked that).<br /><br />Diversity. The people that work at WDW come from ALL over the United States, even the states you have forgotten about, like Wisconsin (pronounced wis-CAN-sin). Not only does WDW have equal representation from America, there are people from all over the world. The perfect spot for a girl who loves foriegn men!<br /><br />The single greatest part about being here in Orlando is, well after the fact that it is a snow free environment (!), the magic. After listening to hours of Disney propaganda, I finally bought into it. I create the magic! But what magic can you create while stuck in the glamourless position of housekeeper? Listen here and I will tell you. While sitting through "Housekeeper Core Training" the gloryless job of maid was transformed before my eyes with a snap of Mary Poppins fingers, as she explained that once you find the fun in a job, it becomes a game. The lessons about how to make beds and clean the bathroom seemed to be sprinkled with pixie dust and I was so excited to begin! Bring it on baby! "I make da beds! I make da magic!" seemed to be playing over and over again in my head. I would now like to take the time to list the perks of being a housekeeper:<br />1-You burn like a million calories<br />2-You get to keep unopened food left in the rooms<br />3-Super sexy, hot, scandalous uniform<br />4-You get tips...oh baby..<br />5-You get nights off.<br />Yep. You could say that I am pretty darn excited.<br />That's all for now folks!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15958489691089802649noreply@blogger.com2