Singapore Trip: Part 1

So a few months ago Bob and I went to a seminar about a short study abroad opportunity for the engineering students at BYU. It was a three week trip to Singapore. I thought it looked incredible, but I knew it was expensive so I had kind of pushed it our of my mind. But Bob had a different idea. He wanted me to go. I guess in his eyes he felt like I should take an opportunity like this, because who knows when we'll end up having kids--this could be the only chance I ever get to do something like that. I was concerned about the price, but he said we'd figure it out.

And so we have. My group left around 6:00am on Monday morning, May 17th. We flew to San Francisco and then toured a few places. First IDEO (which, the company has changed over the years--it used to be mostly a design firm, but they've gotten into business consulting now, improving the ways companies work).

Then Stanford. Can I just tell you, that school is HUGE!!! Seriously, we were driving through campus for about 30 minutes before we got to the building we were visiting. They've got a sweet machine shop, plus a foundry and welding shop. I failed to take pictures of that, unfortunately. After that we went to see the Zircon company. They're a small business that makes a few tools, mainly stud finders. That's what they're known for. It was really fun and enlightening. And at the end they gave us each a stud finder for free! I know those don't cost a ton, but I don't have one. Well, now I do! And it's their newer design. Sorry Dad, I think mine might be nicer than yours.

Then we flew for 18 hours, stopping over in Tokyo after the first 12 hour flight. I had an aisle seat in the very back of the plane with zero space so I couldn't relax. Then we had a 7 hour flight from Tokyo to Singapore, where there was about an average of one person per row. I was able to finally stretch out and sleep. I think that's the best I've ever slept on an airplane! I suppose the fact that I'd been awake for 28 hours straight helped.

Singapore is beautiful! It's nice and humid, always over 80 degrees (even at night), and there are plants growing everywhere--even on other plants, especially trees. Really, if there's a small space between any building or pavement, they stick some kind of plant there. It's just gorgeous. And the country's national flower is the orchid. I love it here!

It's a clean country, all 30 miles of it. Napkins don't exist here. Neither do mosquitoes. The campus is nice, built mostly on hillsides. Because property is scarce, everything is built up or under ground. The malls here have two or three levels below ground, and the apartment buildings (where everyone lives--houses don't really exist here because the price of land is so high) are like sky scrapers. It's a crazy sight. Outside of each window on the apartment buildings are these bamboo poles which people hang their clothes on to dry. It's very limited space-wise, and also kind of dangerous because if the wet clothes are too heavy or the bamboo stick is too old and rotten, it can break, falling all the way down to the ground level from sometimes 50 floors up or higher. It's crazy!

Here's my room and the view from my window.

Our class is fun. There are students from Penn State, on from Carnegie Mellon, us from BYU, and half of our class is from here at NUS (National University of Singapore). We're working on product design and development, coming up with our own projects. It's really laid back, while really rigorous because we're covering a semester's worth of information in two and a half weeks.

Also, everything here is super cheap! Breakfast for me is under $2.
This morning I ate this:

It's coconut rice, with peanuts and little fried minnows, a different small fish, and some spicy-sweet sauce. It comes wrapped in a big leaf, folded into a little boxy-pouch. It's surprisingly delicious!

Lunch or dinner for me is usually $3. On campus their food area is called a Canteen. It's like the Cougareat on steroids! There aren't any major food chains, but instead just shops of Indian, Chinese, Japanese, and other kinds of food. It's amazing and dirt cheap! I have no idea what I ate yesterday for lunch, but it had rice and what I think was chicken. For dinner yesterday we went to this place called West Coast, where there are just a bunch of little food booths and shops. It's kind of like a bazaar, I guess. I ordered a pretty normal dish for here--fried oysters. It's basically oysters with an egg mixed in, fried in green onions and served with a spicy sauce on the side. It was a tough consistency to swallow--gooey and soft, but there were a few crunchy parts too.

And while we were eating, this random weird Asian guy saw all of us white people and thought we were Australians. He came over to talk to us, and at one point he was talking to my friend Brian who was sitting next to me, and gesturing toward me said how good looking his wife was, then whistled at me. Without time to even respond the guy came over to me, tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Eh, yah husband..?" pointing to Brian, then winked and wiggled his eyebrows at me and left. It took us a second to realize what he was saying because his accent was so hard to decipher, and then we all just cracked up.

After dinner we walked around the shops. We  found some durians and had to try them. They smell pretty rank, especially once they're cut open, but they supposedly taste sweet. The outside is really spiky and sharp, and the inside is this weird yellow, foamy looking mass. they sell them as the fruit itself, and also as just the inside stuff.

Some of the NUS students who were showing us around bought us some to try. I went to pick up a chunk of it, and it just fell apart in a gooey mess. That was unexpected. So I scooped it up and put some in my mouth as I held my breath. It was.....interesting to say the least. It did have an oddly sweet flavor, but the consistency made it hard to swallow. I managed to do so without gagging. Our native friends just laughed at us, then dug right in and ate up all the rest that we couldn't. Maybe I'll try it again later and see if I like it better.

Then we went on a Night Safari. It's basically a zoo of nocturnal animals, so it's only open at night. It was so much fun! We watched an animal show, and one of the guys in our group got to hold a huge python that was bigger around than my waist! We also rode on the tram and got to see all kinds of things--random breeds of deer, a rhino, lions, elephants, as well as some weird animals I've never seen or heard of before. We walked around a bit and saw some leopards and flying squirrels--but these ones were huge! They were the size of big, fluffy house cats. I really enjoyed it.

 Photos of the fried oysters, Angela and I holding durians, and our Night Safari.

The time change here has really been rough on me. I've been forcing myself into it, making myself stay awake, but I can't seem to sleep in much. Yesterday I woke up at 4:15am and couldn't go back to sleep. So I just kept myself busy until the breakfast place opened. Today I woke up at 7:30am. That was nice.

So the trip here is going great. I'm having a blast and really enjoying a different culture and the beautiful country. I think I love traveling. I've always thought I would, but this is just solidifying that idea. It's only been two days, so I can't wait to see what else I get to do while I'm here!

Hosting a baby shower...

So Marissa's baby shower was Thursday last week. I learned a few things from it:

1. I spent way too much money on it. But everything I bought was for her! And baby things are just too cute anyway.

2. Decorating blank onesies with stamps and fabric markers is my favorite baby shower activity.

3. Three boxes worth of cake bites is enough to feed everyone at a BYU football game. But man are they delicious!!

4. Well, this isn't news to me, but doing all of this just reiterated the fact that I'm a total over-achiever, in case you didn't know.

5. I should start a business for party and event planning so I can make a profit on it. Apparently I'm good at it.

Hooded Baby Towel

I'm throwing my first ever baby shower for my cousin, Marissa. She and I were roommates for two years out here in college, then we both served missions, both got married afterward, and now she's expecting her first child. She and her husband were hoping to wait a little while to have kids, maybe three years, but three months into their marriage they got a nice little surprise. It's going to be a boy. She was kind of nervous about letting any of her friends here throw her baby shower. When I found out she was pregnant I immediately asked her if I could throw it for her, to her great relief.

So it's this Thursday. I went out shopping for it yesterday. I spent more money than I should have, but it was fun! And the money I did spend was on mostly good deals. For example, I got four packages of crepe paper streamers, four bags of balloons, paper plates, napkins, prize bags, and a small laundry basket for a game all for $16. I love dollar stores!

Anyway, I also wanted to get her a gift I could wrap. But I was already broke. Then I saw some towels at Costco and thought of that cute little hooded bath towel I had as a kid. I've never made one, but I know they're simple. I called my mom about it just to clarify a couple of things, then ran to Wal-Mart to get a towel I could afford more. I opted for a nice sage-green color, especially because Marissa preferred green for her baby stuff. (Blue and yellow are great too, but she really seems to like green.) I found some cute ribbon to match, then went home and got to work on organizing and planning for Thursday, and finally made the towel.

I looked up some DIY instructions online just for some tips, and there was one lady who made a pleat in the back. I really liked it so I did it as well. You can see it in the bottom left photo. I also have some nice thin brown ribbon that matched the striped ribbon I bought, so I used it as well. I love how it turned out, especially the top left photo--you can see the detail of the ribbon.

Then I folded and wrapped it up nicely with some more brown ribbon (bottom right photo). It's a simple project, but I really like how it turned out. I hope Marissa does too.

Our Hobby Room/Office

So our first little apartment has been a fun place to live. It's old and poorly kept up by the landlord, complete with bad repairs, no repairs, and tons of ghetto-rigged repairs. Some of the latter are from us, I'll be honest, but we're not about to spend a ton of money to fix up a place we don't own. I think we've done pretty well with it though. Even with the low ceilings, pipes and ducts everywhere, horrible white walls, and ridiculous layout, it's still cozy, comfortable, and best of all it feels like home.

Jennie Ray was living with us for a few months while she got on her feet here. She just needed to get out of Clarksville, and I've been in those shoes before. I also know how hard it can be to start off on your own for the first time. With that in mind, we let her stay with us until she got more established here in Utah. We had a spare bedroom, so why not? Granted, when we moved into this place we hadn't planned on having her live here so we had to changed our move-in and set-up plans. But that was totally fine, aside from being more crowded in our bedroom.

Well, she moved out and into her first apartment, which she loves, along with her fun roommates. So Bob and I got our spare room back. So we moved forward with our original plans for it. Now it's back to being an office/hobby & project room. Here's some pictures (although they're already outdated because there's more on the bookshelves and I have a mess of fabrics, scissors, thread, hot glue gun, etc. on my table):

 The view down the hall as you walk in.

Here's my little side of the room.

And here's the view from where I sit. 

Not too bad, eh? I love it. It's helped me relax more and keep my sanity. I think I've needed a place like this my whole life, and now I finally have space for it. 

And now, I'm going to get back to using this room for what it's meant to be used for.

Journal Cover

I'm heading to Singapore for a three week study abroad class in less than 10 days. Dr. Todd, the professor heading up the whole trip gave each of the 8 students going these navy blue journals to write down notes, thoughts, epiphanies, and anything else during our travels. I didn't like how the front looked because 1) it was bland, and 2) they all look the same. I like to stand out and be unique. So I pulled out some scraps of paper I had laying around and came up with this:

I also sealed it using about 5 coats of Mod Podge, taking care to make sure the edges of all the paper were sealed to the cover. I did the label separate from the rest of it though. I used this really nice textured, fuzzy mulberry-like paper. I wanted to keep that, so after the final sealing coat had dried on the cover, I coated the back of the label with Mod Podge and glued it on.

 So now I like my Singapore journal much more. I actually want to carry it around with me and write in it.

Fabric Flowers

So with my new hobby/project room, I've started making things. I posted some pictures on Facebook, but I thought I'd put some up here too. I suppose I just really want to document all of this because I'm really pleased with most of it. So I'm going to be posting lots of blogs of things I'm making. I'm also going to try and catch up on posting past projects, so there might be several posts by me, all in a row.

Last night I couldn't sleep. So I finally got up and went into my project room and sat down at my desk. It's funny how I remember having so many ideas of things I wanted to make, and now that I have a place to do all of that I can't remember any of them. Luckily something came to me.

I've recently seen some cute headbands and barrettes with fabric flowers on them. I thought they looked simple enough, so I tried it. I cut out some paper patterns and they worked perfectly--first try! That doesn't happen very often. So here they are:

The red one on the top right was the first one I made. They just got better from there. I finished the edges with Mod Podge so they won't fray.

Now I just need to figure out where to get a bunch of headbands or barrettes.

Ending up an Ode.

It's kind of ridiculous how many things are going on in my family. Within a year, there's been a wedding, a death, and there will be a new baby born. Life seems to change too quickly.

Monday morning I woke up and just felt kind of somber (aside from feeling completely miserable from this cold Bob and I both had). I also started thinking about when we could go down and visit my grandparents again in St. George. Around 11am my mom calls me and almost ignoring the usual pleasantries she said, "So, there's no easy way to say this," and then took a really long pause. I just knew it was Grandpa. She finally continued on, "Grandpa's blood pressure has dropped and he's in a coma. We don't think he's going to come out of this one." He's done things like that before, but somehow he'd always fool us and come out of it telling jokes and singing songs.

But not this time. My mom heard my silent recognition and let me off the phone. Bob had seen my facial expression change during the conversation and moved over to the couch to sit with me. I hung up and tears filled my eyes. I looked up at Bob and recited the whole thing to him through little sobs. He held me as I cried, and then I wound up reminiscing for an hour, telling stories about Grandpa and laughing about how jolly of a fellow he was. Mom called an hour and a half later to tell me that he had finally passed. I asked how she was doing and we ended up laughing about some favorite memories of Grandpa.

Mom flew out Wednesday morning to Salt Lake, I picked her up and after a four hour drive we were in St. George embracing more family members.

I guess I wasn't sure what to expect for a funeral. See, I've had to miss various family members funerals for different reasons (school, school again, three weeks before I got home from serving a mission for church). I suppose I felt that I needed to finally experience one.

Note to self: Avoid ever planning another funeral if at all possible.

It was a really hard week for me. I drove my mom around and tagged along when someone else drove, tried to help others make decisions (for example, choosing flower arrangements or adding another song to the funeral service), offered to help at every step of the way, and all the while I put on a cheerful face and ignored myself for the most part. I was not the important person there, and I did not need the attention that my grandma, mother, aunts, and uncle each needed.

It wasn't until Thursday or Friday afternoon that I finally felt my wall of strength start to break. I went with my grandma, mom, and uncle to the funeral home to take care of some last minute arrangements for the service the following day. After that was all taken care of we walked out of the arrangement room and down the hall to make sure grandpa looked nice for the viewing. We stopped at a door, and one of the employees opened it to let us inside to see him. Uncle Jeff stopped a few feet away and said he would wait in the hall for us. I looked in the room and saw the casket, opened with Grandpa's body inside. I stopped and couldn't get myself to go in there either. I sat down in a chair as tears filled my eyes. It finally started sinking in then. A few moments later my mom and grandma exited the room, red-eyed and sniffy-nosed.

Then we all went to Dairy Queen to drown our sorrows in some frozen desserts. It's amazing how much a chocolate covered strawberry Blizzard can help ease the pain of losing a loved one, even if only for a moment.

The viewings and funeral service were wonderful (wonderful as funerals go). We all cried. Grandpa loved singing, dancing, and music. I mean, he had a passion for anything to do with music. He sang in choirs and barbershop quartets for probably his entire life. So when the barbershop quartet (which he used to be a part of) started out the service singing "Always," we all cried, knowing that he was singing right along with them, happy that he's free from old age and pain, but missing his wonderful spirit.

He also loved being outside--hiking and gardening especially. I remember seeing him out in his huge garden everyday when we'd visit their home in Hurricane, UT throughout my childhood. The smell of tomatoes, peaches, and grapevines in the warm, dry sun of southern Utah is something that can never be replaced and will forever remind me of him. After the service several of us drove over to that old yellow, stucco house. It was all different, changed. The yard where his garden used to be was owned by the neighbors. The front door was different, the clothesline was gone, as were his grapevines and peach trees. I cried, wishing that I could somehow go back and relive those wonderful memories.

Other favorite memories: His big cheeks and that permanent five-o'clock shadow of whiskers he'd rub against my cheeks every time he gave me a hug; that smile of his that was so infectious and made everyone else around him smile; his hilarious sense of humor and desire to always make people laugh; his huge heart and the way he'd give anyone anything, even the shirt right off his back--which I'm sure he's actually done more than once.

He loved life so much that I think it took his physical body a while to realize he wasn't really living once his mind started to go a few years back. He truly lived life to its fullest. It was just time for him to go, and now that he's free from his broken mortal body I just know that he's singing and dancing, laughing and hugging all of those who've gone before him.

I hope that's how I can enter the next life.

St. Patrick's Day

At work I'm supposed to wear all black, even down to my shoes. Supposed to. Today I had to wear something green though. So I got away with a green shirt under a black V-neck. They like me enough at work for me not to get in trouble anyway.

And Bob and I had a discussion the other night about starting family traditions. Bob mentioned that he'd like to try corned beef and cabbage for dinner today, but I'm not a huge fan of beef and I get nervous to cook cabbage. I do remember my mom making green food in honor of the holiday throughout most of my younger years. So I decided to combine the two.

I made cornbread and spinach.... Well, I experimented with the spinach and tried it in whipped potatoes, and then had green beans and some chicken sauteed in onions and barbecue sauce. And then I experimented with food dye. Earlier I had run to Smith's for it and a couple of other things, and naturally all the regular food coloring was gone today. But there was some neon food coloring left.... Eh, why not. So our potatoes and cornbread looked toxic, and the onions just looked... well, odd. Not even green. More like... something old and spoiled.

But it was delicious! Bob enjoyed it anyway, and so did I. The picture doesn't really do the toxic glow justice, but it really was there.

healing and hope

So this is going to be kind of new for me. Not blogging--I've been blogging since high school (starting with MySpace... yuck, I know). What's new is what I occasionally intend to start blogging about.

A while back I wrote this blog about PTSD that I've been diagnosed with. I've been hesitant to talk about it to anyone because of how personal it is. I also know that lots of people don't know what to say when told about it because it's not something anybody really understands unless they have experienced a similar disorder. It's not a physical illness, but like one it takes time to heal.

It's one of those dark, secret parts of me that I've hidden for most of my life, and I'm tired of it. Part of the healing process is accepting things. It's hard to accept things while hiding them. To me, it just doesn't make sense. People hide things they are ashamed of. In learning to love myself for the first time, I need to express it, not hide it. I don't expect advice or stories from anyone who reads these. I don't even need comments on these blogs. These are for me, because I need things out of my head and out of the dark. That's why I'm publishing them. If you'd like to read them, please do. If you don't want to, then don't. I'm not going to go into details about past issues. This is all about my progress. 

This is looking forward with a smile instead of looking back with tears.

So here's a huge step I'm happy to write about: I told my mom!

After years of hiding and blaming myself for things that were never my fault (which I still do frequently), I've been working on talking about it. The start was talking to my best friend (who is now my husband) about it four years ago. I've told a couple of other friends since then. Before October of last year I could count on one hand the amount of people I'd talked to about those dark corners of my memory. Then I went to see Liz, my therapist, for the first time just a few weeks before I got married. Since then things have gotten better and worse at the same time. Yes, that's possible.

Recently, my parents came out to visit mine and my brothers' families for about a week, and while they were here I wanted to talk to them about it. But I was terrified to do so. For one, I felt that I'd be creating an unnecessary wound that my mother wouldn't need. But a part of me just needs her to know. I need her to understand. I also worried that my dad just wouldn't know what to do or say, and a poor reaction would really hurt. Each time I had an opportunity to talk to them, I chickened out and didn't. Then I'd beat myself up about it later. Bob, the wonderful husband that he is, finally stepped in to help me along. After mom and dad came over to our apartment for breakfast last Friday morning, I still couldn't find the words to say to them. They left to go to my brother's house until they flew out the following morning, and I cried and beat myself up over it. After a brief phone call, Bob gently took me by the hand and helped me into the car, then drove up to my brother and sister-in-law's house. I was just searching for the right moment. I decided that I just wanted to start with my mom. If I could tell her, it would be a huge relief, and she could tell my dad later.

My nephews started playing outside in the back yard, so I followed them out since it was a gorgeous day. Bob came out and played with them while I leaned on the rail that ran around the back deck, watching the boys play in the grass below. My mom came and stood next to me. We talked about nothing for a while, really. Just school and work, the weather, how quiet their house is with all their kids gone and married, etc. I finally started explaining how hard this semester had been on me, that I was seeing a therapist, that I'd dropped all of my classes for the rest of the semester because of this disorder. (I'd wanted to be functional while I healed, but that just wasn't working and I kept avoiding the obvious solution: let healing become my full-time job.)

She still wasn't getting it though, so I explained what causes PTSD and briefly recounted what led to my having it. She cried a little and finally understood. I went on to explain why my actions were the way they were sometimes. For example, when my brother Ben was getting married, I had a serious breakdown and cried uncontrollably at Russ and Ashley's house one night. I'm sure everyone who was there remembers that, and as usual everyone probably assumed that I was being a spoiled brat (since that's what everyone has told me that I am my whole life). But I wasn't. I was struggling with some recent events, flashbacks, and the fact that Bob was on his mission and decided that we needed to stop writing to one another, and the last of my brothers was getting married leaving me the lonely little sister who was damaged more than anybody knew. Nobody knew what I was dealing with, and nobody knew that I actually needed some love and attention--not the unnecessary and spoiled type, but the important and valuable type. Had my mother known why I was crying (or anyone else for that matter), she probably would have been a little more patient and underdstanding with me.

So there's my success for the week. Bob was so proud of me for telling her. I actually felt good about myself too, something I haven't really felt in quite a long time. Even though you may not understand just how liberating that was for me, I hope you can at least be happy for me and the fact that I'm smiling right now--not a forced, fake smile.

This one's real.

stitches, Smash Burger, & soccer

On Saturday Bob and I woke up at 9:30am. My parents had been in town and left that morning. I had nothing scheduled except for a soccer game that night. So we grabbed our old-school laptop (that Bob's dad gave us after mine crashed last semester) and got online to watch an episode of Castle. Then we watched another one. And another, and another... and then we finished season one before I knew it.

At 7:00 I went to pick up a surprise visitor for Jennie Ray. Our cousin, Katelyn, came to visit for her spring break. I stopped at her sister's house to get her, and when we got back to our place Bob was doing the dishes. He got all excited or something, because suddenly he made an odd sound and said, "Uhh Janae....? Janae?!" I was standing five feet from him and looked over to see him holding his hand under the stream of water from the faucet and a big kitchen knife in the other hand.

"Did you just cut yourself?" I asked.
"Uh huh," he responded, in a worried voice.
"Bad?"
"I'm not sure."

I walked over to the sink and looked. There was a pretty good amount of blood draining, though I didn't see the cut very well. I got him a paper towel and he wrapped it up, then went to the kitchen table to look at it. I got some super glue, Q-tips and cotton balls so that he could bandage himself up.

"Is it deep?" I asked. "Do you think it's bad enough to go get it checked out?"
Bob got up from the table and as he walked into the living room said, "Maybe I shou... Uh oh... ohhh..." And proceeded to half sit/half lay on the couch as his lips turned white and his face turned greenish.
"Bob?" I turned around to see him pass out. I got him some water and rubbed my cold hands down his face, talking to him until he came to.

I apologized to Katelyn and told her Jennie should be home from work by 7, then left her by herself at our apartment. I drove Bob to the Instacare facility a few miles away. It was cold and snowing, after it had been gorgeous weather all week. We arrived and checked in, and as we were waiting in a room to get Bob evaluated by a nurse he started looking pale again. After getting him a glass of water and he slowly got color back. The nurse decided that he did need stitches, so we went to another room to get it all taken care of.

We sat waiting, and playing with a fun doctor's chair for a few minutes. Then the same nurse came in to get things started. She got out a syringe and some stuff that would numb the cut, and I watched as she poked and injected until the cut and most of his finger was all numb. I hadn't really looked at it until then. It was right on his second knuckle, and was bigger in surface area than it was deep, but it still went in pretty far. I thought it was kind of fascinating and gross at the same time as I watched.

The nurse finished and started to clean up the blood and bandages.
Then it hit me.
A wave of nausea, light headed dizziness, and static started in my ears.
"Oh I gotta sit down..." I mumbled as I stumbled over and collapsed into a chair by the door.
I think Bob said something, but I couldn't hear him.
I remember quietly saying, "This is lame."
And then I blacked out.

I could hear what was going on around me, but it seemed like slow motion and I couldn't move, or didn't want to move. When I finally came to a little more, I felt a cool wet washcloth that the nurse had put across my neck and the doctor was in there already stitching up Bob. I had a glass of water in my hand that I vaguely remember the nurse handing me. It felt like I had been passed out for a while, although it was probably just a few minutes.

So apparently I'm a pansy. This does not bode well for motherhood in my future. I think I'll try to grow and man-up a little more before I start trying to have kids. As I was sitting there thinking that, Bob told me that I was kind of cute, laying in the chair and pale and sick-looking. Then he corrected himself and said I was cute because I'm me.
Oh, how flattering.
Thanks Bob.

We went out and got dinner afterward. Smash Burger. It was delicious.
Then we had a soccer game at 11:25 that night. Late, I know. But it's indoor, so it doesn't really matter. We lost, 8-4.

New team = we don't play together well yet = I got frustrated.

But it was Bob's first time playing soccer, and I think he did really well. Things should get better. Besides, Bob and I can go kick a soccer ball around during the week together and it'll count for something for both of us now.