Priceless Resolutions

I've never been big on New Year's Resolutions. Not because I have some complex with the idea of striving for a goal for an entire year with the possibility and reality of failure staring me in the face, but because I just don't think about it. I've never really wanted to sit down and write some New Year's Resolutions, but today I feel differently.

In retrospect, 2012 was a great year for me. It held so many exciting firsts and thrilling moments. It held love and it held heartbreak, it held the excitement of graduating and moving out, my first semester at BYU. It held a variety of different learning experiences and so many priceless moments I can't even count.

I hope 2013 will be even bigger. I'll be continuing with another semester, playing in Synthesis and touring to Brazil, turning in my papers and going on a mission--it will be my first Christmas away from home but yet the experience of a lifetime. I will grow so much. And that growth will mean more than any accomplishment of 2012. The years just keep getting better.

And so, without further ado, Goals I have for 2013: ("resolutions," if you will. Guys this is big, and a first)

* Continually strive to become the woman my future husband wants to marry
* No wallowing in self-pity.
* "Wherever you are, be there."
* Give it my all.
* Give Him my all in service

And finally, my motto for 2013:
don't just have priceless moments, be priceless.

Let's do this.

Love is Radioactive

They say love never dies. That deep down, any love you've ever felt or any hopes of love you've ever dreamed, still exist. And I believe them, whoever they are, because I believe that love is radioactive.

That's why you still hold on to that girl you crushed on in second grade or that boy who kissed you in the rain. That's why you'll always love the someone who broke your heart and remember the someone who let you break theirs. That's why breakups still hurt and butterflies never go away, and even though we fall down so many times, we get back up and keep going. It's all for the sake of love.

Of course, we try to forget. We always do. It's human nature to hide your pain between layers of dirt whenever someone breaks your heart. But no matter how deep you dig, it will never be deep enough. Because deep down, beneath the soil and rocks and clay, that love--that radioactive mess of hopes and dreams--still burns. And as far as principles of physics go, we know that radioactive materials will decay little by little,  even when there are only two atoms left, and then one. After that, the quantum particles of the lonely atom will start to break down until millions and millions of half-lives are passed and it's almost all gone but never completely, because that's not how the universe works.

Each and every one of us seven billion people living on the Earth has buried our love at some point in our lives. And I think it'd be safe to say that the Earth relies on the love we create, and that is why it preserves a portion of it day by day. That radioactive love we make is the reason why the flowers are so beautiful and the grass is so green and the snow is so white in the winter. Our world needs our love, buried in the dirt or sand or rocks for mother Earth to use as fuel to keep on living, to keep on dreaming and becoming. We need our love, too.

So after millions and millions of years, the world has become so full of true love and fake love, of lost love and found love, of happy love and sorrowing love and tough love and  unconditional love and romantic love and unrequited love and brotherly love and lovely love and every other kind of love, of so many different kinds of love that maybe we'll say it's all just radioactive love, and that one day all that love is going to reach critical mass and light up this whole world in glitter and flames.

And I want to be there when that happens.

Because even when it's all over and only dust and dreams remain, love still just might.
And after all, love is what I live for.

The Lesson I'll Learn

Something good to live by.

That last one is the hardest for me, I think. 

Sometimes I think I'm a superhero. I think I change anything, that there is always something to be done, that any situation can be fixed with enough Prayer Power and Dream Drive. But one of the hardest lessons I'll have to learn in this life, is that sometimes, things really are out of my hands. I can't change how people think or decide how people feel. I can't affect what people do or decide how someone will react. All I can do is limited to the strength of my own two hands and feet, and so when something comes up that I desperately hope and wish to happen or change, but that is absolutely outside of my bubble of influence, I have to learn to let it go. To free myself of the guilt of not being able to do anything, to fix everything. To be okay with standing quietly by the side as that moment passes, as that something rises or falls. To feel peaceful about the way life progresses, no matter how hectic things may seem. To accept God's will instead of my own. To let it go.

Just a while ago I posted about how we really can influence fate; how we really can change anything by the power of faith. It is one of my fundamental beliefs about life, but I understand that there is a difference between the words "everything" and "anything." We can't change anything about everything. But we can always change something about everything. Whether it is directly the thing itself, or us. We may not always be able to change the way someone is treating us, or the feelings between friends. We may not always be able to mend broken relationships or heal bad attitudes. But we can change how WE feel, think, and act. We can change our minds. Our feelings. Our actions. There is always something to be done, and sometimes the only thing we can do is to let go. It isn't giving up, it is gaining a new hope in things out of our hands. 

One of these days I'll learn that lesson. It may take a week, or a month, or even a lifetime, but I will learn it. 

Until then, I'll just laugh when I can, apologize when I need to, and do my best to let go of the things I can't change.

:)

You are Beautiful

from http://averageordinaryeverydayteenagegirl.blogspot.com/

You are beautiful.

YOU.

For that simple reason that you are who you are. 

You're beautiful for your personality, for your smile, for your quirks, for your imperfections. You're beautiful for your talents and your hobbies. You're beautiful for your dreams and wishes and hopes and fears. You're beautiful when you cry, when you serve, when you love, when you simply be yourself.

Beauty comes in the most unconventional of places.

And when you discover it,

you'll find that it's in every part of you.

so never forget, that

YOU are BEAUTIFUL.

Definition #17

Helpless romantic. /help-lis roh-man-tik/.
Noun.
1. Someone in love with the idea of love
2. Someone to whom the little things mean the most

Cristofori's Dream to Mine

When I was taking lessons with my first piano teacher, I always looked up to the older students. They seemed so tall, so mature and grown-up, and most of all, so good at the piano! I wanted to be like them, to play the pieces they could play. During recitals I liked to close my eyes while I listened to the older students and pretend it was me. I imagined performing those pieces, seeing my teachers and friends act so impressed and amazed at my talent. It never occurred to me that I actually could

There was one piece in particular, Cristofori's Dream, that was the pinnacle of all piano accomplishment in my mind. It was a nine-page song, and I thought it was just absolutely beautiful. It was a New Age composition by David Lanz, and more than any other piece I dreamed of playing it.

Years passed, and before I knew it, my teacher pulled out a red plastic bag from the music store during my lesson. Just as a service to her students, she would always buy the music for us and we'd pay her back for it. Usually we got new music when we finished the previous level, but this time she said she had something special.

She pulled out for me a large, gray book and turned to a page near the back. She handed the music to me saying, "I think you'll enjoy this." When I looked down, I couldn't believe what I saw.

"Really?!" I asked in disbelief.

"Yes, this won't be too hard for you," was all she said.

I didn't understand it. She wasn't trying to make it a big scene, this wasn't one of those rite-of-passage moments for piano students. She didn't seem to realize exactly what this particular piece meant to me, but there I was, just a sixth grader, holding Cristofori's Dream, my dream piece, in my lap. I told her it was something I had looked forward to since I was a little piano student. She only smiled and said, "well, then you'll have some fun with it."

And I did. Only a few weeks later did I consider Cristofori's Dream conquered. I played it at my next recital, and joyed in the fact of becoming the pianist I had dreamed of being. It was one of my most wonderful piano moments, except for one thing: I had imagined the moment a little bit bigger.

Once I finished playing the piece I felt no different than before. Sure, I had managed my dream piece, but it wasn't anything big or important. It was no impromptu, no sonata, no concerto or rhapsody. In fact, from a music theorist's standpoint, it was quite a simple piece. I felt a little bit smaller. While after years of practice and hard work I had become one of the "older students" I had once so idolized, I also realized at that moment that New Age was not exactly the top of the achievement pyramid. But perhaps I had climbed the first stair. I was closer.

Closer is something that has propelled me through various levels of achievement in music throughout my life. Looking back on it, I sometimes wonder how it was that I ever set my sights on something that now seems a very low expectation. But then I remember that at the time, it was all I could see. Nothing can diminish the level of inspiration Cristofori's Dream gave me when I was a younger and less experienced pianist, just as nothing can compare to the self-satisfaction I feel when I compare my current goals to the ones I held previously. Once I had desired more than anything to be the "older student." Now I desire to be something even greater. A professional musician. And while this time there is no specific piece to push me forward, I revel in the memory of seeing something, dreaming of it, and achieving it.

Imagine yourself where you want to be

then make that dream a reality. :)

Just thought I'd share one of my personal mottos.

:D

A Little Thought

Holidays are special days. :) Even when you take the word apart: holi-days. Holy days. The words, the day, are special.

I felt all day almost like it was a Sunday. Not because it was the sabbath but because the day was set apart. It had that "feel." You know what I'm talking about. It feels good, it feels sacred or holy.

I felt that today as I celebrated Thanksgiving.

What a wonderful day! A special one--one to enjoy with family and to be grateful for everything you have and that you will be given in your life. It's sad to me that sometimes the media, and maybe even our appetites, try to distort the meaning of Thanksgiving. It's not about the food. It's not about the money, or the day off work. It's not about preparations for door-busting stores on Black Friday. No, Thanksgiving is about family. It's about love. It's about joy and gratitude and remembering all the blessings you have in your life.

I love Thanksgiving--today was a good one. :)

Holiday. Holy day.

Love.

:)

Thawing

My fingers are still a little cold from marching band today. But they can move. They can type, they can play the piano, they can write and turn pages to read. There are many things cold fingers can do. And as they do them, something happens. They warm up. A little bit of life seeps back into those bones and muscles. They start to thaw.

And if my fingers can do that, then I can too.

Just a little imagery for the mind and soul. :)

This Inspires Me

It also speaks for itself.

Day 26.

DBC intro and Day 1

I am a major stalker. Okay, well... technically facebook's the stalker, since it's the one that led me to that person that led me to that blog that linked me to that blog... or, since, I'm controlling the mouse, does that mean I'm the stalker? Either way, I stole this

Daily Blog Challenge

From a friend of a student I don't know at Orem High. Creepy, right? But whatever. I'm bored of not being able to express myself--sometimes thoughts are so stubborn!

Here's how it goes:

Day 1: A picture of youself and a description of the most creative thought you entertained that day.

... okay, so I might've changed it a little. As the criminal, I reserve the right to intentionally desecrate, moderate, or otherwise mutate the objects in question. Of itself, change is not a crime. I will therefore proceed to add some personality into my Daily Blog Challenges. Don't like it? Deal.

Now, here's the sad part... I meant to post this yesterday. But, I believe in repentence! And efficiency! So I will proceed to post DAY 1 in addition to the intro to my new little project.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Day 1: A picture of youself and a description of the most creative thought you entertained that day.

Voila. So pretty. On to the interesting stuff.

I didn't "think" all that much today.... well, comparatively. I usually think a lot more than other people do, which can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the day. But that's not the point. Here's how I lay it down for today:

As I was running home from Young Womens, I passed a group of Young Men and their leaders returning to the church. As we approached each other, one of the leaders to the time to say, "Hi, Brittney." I suddenly felt flooded with happiness. Excitement, almost. Someone called me by name.

I know, I know. Silly thing to get excited about, but think about it! I have a name, and people know it. As if that's not cool enough (remember: there is beauty in simplicity), attached to that name is a person.

ME.

Along with all my other quirks, flaws, talents, abilities, strengths, shortcomings, and sarcastic attitudes. The name is mine, and on that topic: Juliet is wrong.

What's in a name? is the famous phrase. Enough with the roses, in a name lies a person. You, or me, or him, or her. A living, breathing soul with a living, breathing name. Here Juliet goes wrong, in that by any other name, that person would not be himself. A name reflects you, represents you, then becomes you. You are the name. She is Jann. He is Bradley. I am Brittney. And though another rose could smell sweeter, no other name could as accurately represent the person I am, have been, and will become.

Anyone else feel the urge to climb a tree and shout their name for joy? I do.

If any one thought was worth my notice today, it would be that I am Brittney!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

P.S. We did this poem thing in English, where we cut out a whole bunch of "poetic words." As a class, we didn't really know what to do, but I had a blast cutting apart magazines, gathering some 100 or so words (!). Today we finally used them in a poem. Mine went something like this:

This madness staring, captures
my memories and sets them ablaze.

what prestige, to journey into
silence.

A new dynamic
sounds, and I discover
Grace:
a rhapsody of flavor and color
as I awaken from a blazing
revolution.

I don't know. I kind of liked it. Enough to post it, that is. But I wouldn't recommend trying to think about it. It's one of those, this-sounds-deep-but-really-doesn't-mean-anything-poems. Whatever. Wrote it in five minutes (thank you self! The plethora of words to choose from helped greatly). Anyway.

The Butterfly Tree: A Musing

In the front garden of the place I call home, there grows a certain Butterfly Tree. It grows green leaves, but by summer it is red. It is small, for a tree, but from my point of view it stands twice as tall as any other. I've always felt a certain connection to that tree, and I think it began the evening it proved its name Butterfly, for that was the day it became mine.

It was a time ago, and I remember opening the door to surpirse. Many, perhaps hundreds of butterflies, all kissing the tree's flowers and leaves and trunk. The sight was majestic; I dared not approach the tree in fear of scaring off the beautiful creatures. Instead I observed from the window, sunlight warming my face through the glass. It has not happened since, those butterfly kisses, but as a child that one evening was enough for me to fall in love with the tree--I called it mine, and it was, and that was the end of it.

As time passed I watched my tree grow, bloom, change, then shed its colors and start over. I began to take pictures of it, for it was important to me to remember how it grows, and by so doing I noticed a miraculous happening.

Why am I so fascinated with the Butterfly Tree? I often ask myself. After all, my tree, like everything else, can only follow that natural cycle Heavenly Father laid out for it. Still, in my mind the tree seems to fill a greater role--one I have just begun to figure out. Thinking back, looking at my pictures, laying them side by side...

I think it reminds me of myself.

Like the Butterfly Tree, I grow. I change. I shed my colors and start over. I want to capture every happy moment, I want to weather every storm and stand proud through every trial. Someday, I think to myself, I will be presented with butterfly kisses, too. That will be the day I am claimed by one who is greater than I; but for now I am searching, watching, and growing. You could say my leaves are green, but one day they will turn red. One day, I will stand magnificent.

Life, and all that Jazz

It's amazing to me to think of how quickly time passes, once things really get rolling. Lately with my life being so exciting and busy--school starting, homecoming, pep band, lessons, competitions, auditions, etc.--I've found that the more time consumed by said activities, the less time I spend thinking and musing.

Not that I don't do it at all, I still pace around the house, the yard. Drift off during the really long and boring lectures given me by Mr. King... but still, I think my journal and this blog testify to my being born back into life. I'm back on the highway.

But you know what? It's beautiful, too. I love being relaxed and reflective, but I love being busy just as much. It's what I live for, that cycle of work-relax-reflect-involve and through again. It's part of what makes me who I am, it's what I do.

Recently (as if you couldn't tell), it's been music season for me. Forgive my spurting... but here's a word on that note. Pun intended.


The Crescent Octet isn't what I expected when I auditioned for Super Band. It wasn't what I thought I wanted, but now that I think of it, it's what I was headed for all along.

I was so close to making SB. So close, in fact, that there were only two reasons I didn't make it in: 1. Politics, and 2. Energy

But honestly, The Octet is an answer to many prayers. For one thing, though I'm invited, I don't have to go on tour to Japan (though I would love it, if it weren't for the cost). Also, I have to think of the vision Caleb has for this group. This is the first year the Octet will take the stage, and it's their goal to create a legacy. The Crescent Octet is intended to be another, equal group counter to Super Band. It has the same high expectations, plays at the same level in a combo setting, and will create the same renown--but that last bit is up to us.

I am going to be a part of this: The Crescent Octet. Though I was set on SB, it didn't occur to me that the Octet would be a better choice. It will offer me what Super Band can't: critical individuality, improvisational confidence, and a year to get familiar with the program. After that, Ray says, nothing will stop me. I will have emerged a prominent musician, one SB can't turn down. I count on that.

A Reformation

Something has happened to me, inside. Something that changed my thinking, if not forever, than for a time, at least until it changes again.

I don't know what that something is, because on the outside, today is no different than perhaps two weeks ago. But at the same time, internally I am built anew.

I can't explain it, maybe it's just me, or maybe I'm the first to notice it. But for some reason I have ceased to find fondness in abstract ideas. For some reason, I have embraced definition.

I think that's what I need. Definition. The past few years I've been struck with the thought of thinking, of exploring all possible relations for the simplest of ideas. But now I'm not.

I've suddenly discovered the joy of labeling things as they are.

It is a reformation. I have rediscovered myself, I have commited.

Goethe was right. And now there is no hesitancy.

Only me.