mostly probably

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? Got divorced!
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Nope, my resolution last year was to get pregnant. That never happened. I don’t think I’ll make more this year.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Pretty much everyone possible. 2008 was baby year.
4. Did anyone close to you die? A lot of old friends and family are pretty much dead to me. Does that count?
5. What countries did you visit? Viva la Argentina!
6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? More dates.
7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? August 8 was the day my husband told me he wanted a divorce, August 11 was the day he told me he had an affair, and September 16 was the date the divorce was final. And then May 24 was my birthday, and it was fun.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Graduating.
9. What was your biggest failure? Being married.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Not actually.
11. What was the best thing you bought? Spring Break outlet shopping. That whole trip was a great success. And my movie ticket to Mamma Mia!
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? Mine. I think I was a pretty good person this year.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Both of the “he’s who must not be named,” (Parts I and II, thanks Tyler).
14. Where did most of your money go? Shopping. And post-divorce-stress-eating-and-skinnier-jeans.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Going to Argentina. San Diego. Portland (I’m not going until 2009 but I bought tickets in 2008). Seeing the Stank and Anberlin. Boys. Graduation.
16. What song will always remind you of 2008? “Ever So Sweet” by The Early November. “Retrace” by Anberlin. “The Sun and the Moon” by Mae. All the songs on Mamma Mia.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: A) happier or sadder? A lot more sad. B) Thinner or fatter? Thinner. Yay, right? C) Richer or poorer? Hard to say. I would say richer because all my money is my own.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Travel. Avoided drama. Snuggling.
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Sitting at the computer. Wasting time spent with lame peoples.
20. How did you spend Christmas? With my parents and more family in Argentina. And the cutest missionaries ever.
21. Did you fall in love in 2008? The jury is still out on that one.
22. What was your favorite TV program? Arrested Development.
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Yes, the most unexpected of peoples, but I’m working on not. And I’m working on hating people I don’t. I’m all backwards in 2009.
24. What was the best book you read? Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Grapes of Wrath (again).
25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Mae and the Brobecks.
26. What did you want and get? I can’t think of anything.
27. What did you want and not get? A baby.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? Mamma Mia!
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 25, and I can’t actually remember. My ex-husband was out with his girlfriend.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Mr. Dry Spell being someone slightly more attractive.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? Whatever the crap I want to wear. Same as in other years. Lots more yoga pants from Old Navy though. And lots more hoodies.
32. What kept you sane? Friends, shopping, and my therapist.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I don’t know. Jude Law?
34. What political issue stirred you the most? I’m not stirred by political issues in general. But probably Prop 8 because of my conflicted feelings on the whole issue.
35. Who did you miss? Chad the most. But all Stringhams.
36. Who was the best new person you met? mmmmmmmmmmk! (PREC! I know, right?)
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008. I learned all sorts of valuable life lessons. Probably the best one is just be true to yourself and love yourself for who you are. You’re the only person you can ever really depend on.
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. So many. Every song on New Surrender (Anberlin) and The Everglow (Mae). Seriously, every single one. Buy them.

I know I’m super boring, but that’s the only title I could come up with. In years past I have sent out a Christmas letter but that was when I used the Christmas letter to tell people about how boring my life was and how we didn’t have any kids, and how the dogs were doing. Now my life is a little less boring (sometimes I wish it was more, though), I still don’t have any kids, and any dogs I would have if I had dogs would probably be dead because I forgot to feed them. So there.

Last night, listening to the sound of Greta talking in her sleep in the bunk above me, and the sound of Christmas in Argentina everywhere else (read: hours of fireworks, shouting, and apparently, bombs going off) I thought about the last few months. I realized something. They have really been awful. They have also been the best months of my life. Best as in the most rewarding.

The best because I have witnessed an outpouring of human decency and overwhelming kindness. I have been privy to the best and the worst of human nature. I have seen the definition of true friendship acted out on my behalf. I already talked about this in my last blog though, and I just don’t have it in me to do that again. But I love people. I’m still probably not a “people person” but if you’re already a part of my life and I haven’t shot you yet, I’m glad you exist.

The best in that a testimony of the gospel was strengthened on an entirely different level than it was before. It has been so rewarding to me to know what it means to rely on the Savior. I never knew what anyone meant when they said to apply the Atonement, to cast your burden on the Lord. I never had to. Life has been easy for me. And I look back on the last few months when it wasn’t so easy and I’m incredibly grateful for that one horrible night in August because I never realized until then how much He loves me.

The best, because I never liked going to the temple. Let’s be honest. I went because my husband would take me out to dinner afterward. I went because that’s what good Mormons do. I went because I felt guilty for not wanting to go. Over the past few months I have gone because I don’t feel like I can physically make another week without it.

The best because I love vacations. I went to San Diego, planned many grand vacations to Austin (one day that will happen), took myself to Idaho Falls, I’m currently blogging from Argentina, and Portland and Austin are both happening within the next couple of months. That was one of the first things I thought about after my divorce, that I would get to travel. I was thinking about Ghana, New Zealand, Thailand, Europe, and everywhere else in between. I would still like to see all those places, but I’m not hung up on it quite so much now. I have been content to see more of my family and friends who live in more practical places.

The best because I have seen what happens when someone messes with a member of the Asay family. My sister Meghan has been my biggest support. She was with me the day after everything blew up in my face and has been constantly present in my life ever since. She cheered me on through all of my drama and always seemed to know exactly what I needed. I rarely talked to my dad until le great divorce and loved getting an almost daily phone call from him afterward. His advice has been indispensable. I could go on and on about my family here but I won’t. I just want to thank all of them for everything.

The best.

(Dad, do you feel bad now?)

Well, how do I look? I know I’ve gone back and forth on this ten million times in my life and everyone is getting sick of it. Well, that’s too bad. I am going to share with you a story.

My whole life I kind of had this fantasy in my mind about missions and missionaries and everything mission related. I thought everything about it was some sort of Christmas miracle.

When I started dating my husband I kept thinking about it. In fact, when we were writing while he was on his mission there was a whole sequence of letters about whether or not I should go. I always shoved it to the very back of my mind because he was always such a downer about sister missionaries. We got married when I was 20 so obviously I never thought about it as a possibility when I was old enough to go (girls go on missions at 21).

When we got divorced, I didn’t think about it for a whole… I dunno, three days. Then suddenly, the word “mission” was everywhere again. All the talks and lessons in church were about missionary work. And not the whole “do your visiting teaching and care for those in need” missionary work. Like “dresses past your knees, closed toed shoes, nametags, and living with a companion” missionary work. That persisted and nagged at me for a while.

Until I came to Argentina. Then… I don’t know, it could have had something to do with the fact my parents are mission presidents, and missionaries are pretty much an ever-present accessory in my life at the moment, and that five seconds doesn’t pass without a missionary being mentioned.

It might also be the fact that either one of my parents have told me an average of 20 times that they think I should go, or that people keep saying I should, or that I went on splits with Hermana Urban yesterday and thought it was one of the greatest experiences ever… but I really feel like I should go.

There aren’t really any cons on my “to go or not to go” pros and cons list. Except apparently they don’t have any root beer in any countries other than the U.S. so if I get called to anywhere outside of the U.S. I’ll have to sacrifice that. Not that I drink root beer anyway, but when I was in Africa for five months I got to missing it for some reason. (When I got home and drank a Holy Grail full of root beer, it was still gross, by the way.)

So right now my tentative plan is as follows:

1. Get home from Argentina.
2. Move to Provo/Orem.
3. Visit my sister in Austin. Seriously this time!
4. Attend the singles ward.
5. Turn in mission papers.
6. Go on mission.

It’s a little bit scary. I’m not constantly living in a state of excitement about going on a mission. I know they’re super freaking hard. I know that when I get home I’ll be freaking old. Like almost 28 old. That makes getting married a difficulty but I’m not incredibly worried about that either. I used to be when I was thinking about it a few months ago. But it’s easy for me to not think about that much right now because I still kind of distrust men, and by distrust I mean loathe mostly completely (except my dad, a couple of my brothers, and the elders in my parents’ mission).

So that’s it. Surprise. So if you live in the Provo/Orem area, we should hang out and partake in some beautifully wholesome activities. Like buying comfy shoes and shopping for modest dresses. I’ve turned into a ho!

Well, I’m in Argentina now as we all know. After this, I could be anywhere. I’m still planning on Austin but being here with Mom and Dad has put some very different ideas in my mind. So now there are two more options to consider: a mission, or somewhere entirely different, like staying in Argentina indefinitely. Hmm. Yes. Warm.

Anyway, I’ve made no secret of being solely dependent upon other people the past few months. I have been needy and (a lot of times) incredibly insecure. I’m not being at all melodramatic when I say I honestly feel that my friends have kept me alive since my divorce. I have experienced the darkest, most depressing, most stressful, and loneliest days possible the past four months and seven days and there were times I didn’t think I could do it and even more times that I didn’t want to.

I could just use a blanket statement to cover everyone to say thank you, but I was thinking about it on the plane and decided to write it all down. This list is by no means comprehensive, but there are just things I want to say, and you can’t stop me! Muhaha!

First and foremost, to Amanda for so many things! For being the type of friend who I can call after years of not talking (for real, anyway) and pour my heart out to. For restoring my faith in humanity. There are good people in the world and you’re honestly one of the best. For being for me what no boy could. For good advice, for being a sounding board, and for being someone to talk to despite our mutual social awkwardness.

For my beautiful friend Becca, who has always given me perspective and awesome advice. She is the best at making people feel loved, appreciated, and just plain wonderful. When my husband told me he had cheated, I asked him “Why?” and drove as fast as I could to Becca’s before waiting for his response. And that first night she sat with me and cried and prayed and cried some more. She has used her own horrible situation to save me from mine more times than is possible to count.

To Beckie, for making me feel talented and asking me for help. For her confidence in my writing skillz, and being the one person who truly validated me more than anyone else. For taking an interest in the angst of my life, particularly when no one else wanted to hear another word about it.

Bennion. I put you on the rebound list at the bottom of this at first but then I realized your paragraph was longer than some of the others.  Thanks for  that one time when I said “Yeah, I was really beautiful back then!” and you said, “You still are.” I about died three times. Whoever you do end up with, your TRUE least cost alternative, I’m sure you’ll be incredibly happy. I think I’m qualified to give references of your good boyfriendness at least. You know how to reach me.

To Brita and Dallas… to Brita for the reality checks. There were times I wanted to land a thousand curses on my ex-husband and his entire family. When I’m angry it’s usually because of the way my former in-laws have handled the situation and Brita has helped me see things differently. To Dallas, thank you for treating me like a normal person and not a divorced person. For setting me up on my first date and my induction into the world of dating. And for Dallas for his awesome threats on someone’s life. I know you would do it. Bart hearts the Johnsons.

To Christopher, who has shown me that good, communicative guys do exist. Thank you for being honest with me even when it was hard to hear. It makes me sad that we let eight years go by before we reconnected, but it definitely won’t be eight more! Of the three kissing experiences I have had since le great divorce, I’ve had one good, one bad, and one ugly. Of the three, I don’t think it’s a secret where yours lie. If you need references, you have my number.

To Marci, for being supportive and encouraging. I would never have graduated without her help. In four months she has showed me more support than my husband did in five years. She was there through my ridiculous crush of angstiness and helped me realize a lot–namely that there’s a lot more to life than being loved/liked. By a boy. Especially one who doesn’t care about me the way I deserve to be cared about. And I know better what I deserve because of her.

To my mom and my sisters… for helping me see things clearly. For Courtney, for wrapping her arms around me and encouraging me to just let it all out and for crying with me. (I might never watch Mamma Mia! again though just to be safe.) To Meghan and Natalie for helping me to not settle. For Meghan’s brutal honesty and for being a mom when ours is gone. To all of them for looking out for me and being so protective. For rallying around me, for cheering me on, for being with me when I want to cry or yell, or when I actually miss my marriage.

To Nate and Michelle for opening up their home to me and the birds without knowing how long I was going to be there and when the next breakdown was going to be. For Nate for being worthy to give me a priesthood blessing. I love that he was willing to do that for me. For both of them for being there for me those first horrifying days.

To R… oh dear. Thank you for reminding me how good it is to laugh that hard. There were a lot of times when I felt so awful the only thing I could think to do was go over to your house just to laugh. For making me feel like I’m good at something and having me edit your papers. For making me feel funny, and for all the music recommendations.

My dear friend Shari. For doing anything and everything for a pathetic little girl in need of a friend. For all the empathy and advice. For reminding me that I deserve more and for encouraging me to be a better person (and for not hiding your disappointment when I do stupid things anyway). For being an example of what a disciple of Christ should be. For being willing to drop everything for someone who needs it.

Tyler, thank you for being honest, even when it led to an awkward conversation. For introducing me to Gob and Buster, for making me feel pretty and awesome and funny and smart. I think I’m ready for 44 oz. now, and if you are ever in the Austin area for any reason, never call me Olga! And new coffee makers, obviously. Anytime. I mean it.

To Type Awesome Amanda, the occasional husband bashing comment has been welcomed to remind me of all the red flags I should have seen. That hindsight really is 20/20, that this was absolutely a good decision.

I have had my share of rebound crushes. Most of these lasted for about two seconds and I think it’s a pretty good way of ending this blog of seriousness. The following are the significant rebounds. That is to say, the ones I spoke with.

Brian. You never came back to the lab, but thanks for being a hot little ray of attractiveness and sunshine when I came into work. Basically for being so gosh darn nice to look at.

Jason. Also gosh darn nice to look at. Thanks for making the hot springs less awkward. For flirting and making me laugh and for being so ridiculously hot.

Wylie. Thanks for the ride home from the temple, and for sitting with me in the chapel, giving me a tissue and not treating me like a leper when I bawled through the entire session. For remembering who I was the rest of the semester. For calling me “love.” You’re painstakingly cute.

The preceding list is in no way meant to be comprehensive (the thanks part I mean). There have been so many otheres who have been there for me and I will never forget my “wood work friends.” Thank you everyone for your emails, blog comments, fbook messages, and phone calls. I have very rarely felt lonely in what should be the loneliest time of my life and I love all of you!

THANK YOU!

And that is all.

When we were in high school, Beckie and I created the sandwich list. The sandwich list was an elaborate glossary of all of the many possible methods of snuggling. Every possible snuggle maneuver was represented by its own separate sandwich topping. We made the list because the words “snuggling” and “cuddling” are hideous and lame-sounding, and everyone loves sandwiches. So the sandwich list was born, and the world rejoiced.

Side note: For several years my ex-husband was known throughout my ward as the guy who came to church one day and announced to the class that he had eaten a delicious turkey sandwich for breakfast that morning, with all the toppings. Well nearly all of them. I’m not that easy. He worked at Subway and had a shirt that said “Sandwich Artist” on it, and at least for a little bit, it was an apt title.

At any rate. The sandwich list’s whereabouts have since been buried in the depths of somewhere deep and scary. What I’m saying is I would like that list to come back, because in the past few days I have partaken of many great sandwiches that are just difficult to define without the proper condiments to symbolize them. The only one I can remember is mustard, and I can’t get involved with mustard right now. If anyone finds the rest of the list, please remind me what roast beef was, because I’m pretty sure that was piled high on my sandwich today but I can’t remember what it tastes like.

Every year for the past few years I have written a newsletter. I feel weird doing that this year since it’s just me, but it has been a pretty big year for me and I feel like it needs to be commemorated somehow. An  instant replay of each quarter ought to do the trick.

Quarter 1.

In honor of the election year, I shared my complicated political views, and ate a lot of starches. Fortunately, potato consumption did not kill me.

Quarter 2.

I cried while reading this out loud in class and it was embarrassing. To cope with living alone out in the middle of nowhere, I got birds. I was reunited with my lover Iago, and also Man in Chair.

Quarter 3.

I watched the news sometimes. But mostly bad reality TV. It was also my wedding anniversary. I divorced, then discovered boys. Not long after, and possibly as a related issue, I decided my bum is a very good one and I will probably keep it.

Quarter 4.

I decided I was cool enough to go on a trip with. I dated some, and became a sports fan, and I did this annual review. I’m going to Argentina.

I think I might password protect this post but for now I’m just going to put it all out there. I don’t know why, I just think that’s what I’m going to do.

Today, for maybe the second time since my divorce, I missed my husband. It was an odd thing, sitting there in sacrament meeting, and suddenly not being able to breathe because of an impending nervous breakdown. It was the dumbest thing ever that started it, too. I was sitting there singing the hymn and thought, “This music is really beautiful.” And then I thought about how he never sang because he thought hymns were stupid and how he always said he has no testimony of music. It always annoyed me when he would say that because music in general is a pretty big part of the life of me… so I’m not sure why I started thinking of it then, and why I was suddenly overwhelmed with missing him. And now I just want to pour my heart out to someone but can’t think of anyone, so why not everyone?

I sometimes miss marriage, and I sometimes miss only little nuances of it. Usually when I think of my marriage, I think of it as an object. Like I’m watching a movie of someone else’s life. I never miss him. But I do today. Spending Thanksgiving with your family is a lot easier I guess when you’re married. I have just been thinking this weekend how much fun it would be if he was next to me.

It’s little things like cooking bacon and playing hide and seek with the nieces and nephews, or walking around the grocery store picking out snacks for our movie. I miss Friday Fun Days, and both of us skipping work/school for the day and watching recordings of lame reality TV shows. Or waking up in the morning and sitting next to him while he played Xbox, asking him inane questions about who’s winning the war (Call of Duty) or the football game (Madden 07). Blah.

Today just before I had to book it out of the church I just started thinking of how he looked in a suit, and how he hated PDA and would almost always find a way to hold my hand behind the hymn book. Does that sound weird or what? I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, and I’m not. He’s not mine anymore and I haven’t seen or talked to him (well, not a real, quantifiable conversation) in almost three months, but I still feel him almost every day.

I’ve done everything I can think of to get this ghost out of my life and I’ve done really well with that. I honestly very rarely even think of him. And I never mind talking about him, my marriage, my divorce, but today for some reason (might be because it’s almost December, December was always a particularly special time of year for us) I wish that I hadn’t thrown away all of our pictures, and I really want to watch our wedding video. And that seems seriously messed up to me. And now I’m done.

I’m feeling all fluttery. I don’t know what to do. I have been in cahoots with the LDS Institute down in Austin (North Austin, Natalie, because I thought it would be easier to get a job there) about finding me an apartment. And I feel like crying because I found one. I would be living with two other girls, both LDS and single, in the master bedroom (with a private bath) of a house.

I haven’t prayed much about it because I don’t know if I can deal with the answer that I get. What if I have to move? Moving = scary. What if I am supposed to stay? Staying = More boy angst, more nondates. Mostly I want to move, but mostly I want to cry because I want to stay in Logan. Not just in Utah. Logan. My ex-husband taught me the therapeutic nature of decision making through lists. So here goes.

Moving Pros

• I wouldn’t be paying a whole lot more for my Austin apartment than I am paying here. (I would have roommates though, which makes me feel sad a little.) That’s how amazing Austin is. Utilities and internet are included, and there’s a washer and dryer in the house. So no more laundry unmentionables nondates. But I was surprised at how inexpensive it was. Who knew?
• Remember how Austin is warm?
• Remember how my sister and her cute kids live there, and I pretty much never see them, ever? How far away would you be, Nat?
• I can’t shake the feeling that I need a new life. One that is in all ways incredibly different from my old one. Moving somewhere else within Utah wouldn’t cut it. I recognize all of these things holding me back from going (see cons list) and I don’t want to live like that anymore. I have felt more like myself the past few months than ever before, but there’s still that residual sadness and unadulterated loathing (thank you, Wicked) that keeps bubbling up to the surface at random opportunities. It’s nothing I can’t live with, but I would really love not to. Anger is debilitating.
• I’d like for people to not say, “Didn’t she just get divorced though?” when they find out I like someone or actually want to date and move on. In Texas, I have the option of letting people know (if they must) that I got divorced. Not everyone knows and keeps track as they apparently do here, gauging to make sure the appropriate waiting period between divorce finalization and actually being allowed to have feelings for someone has passed. I am tired of people deciding for me when I should date again, when it’s appropriate to have regular human feelings. It’s my timeline. When you get dumped by your husband, I’ll maybe take your suggestions into consideration as to when it’s okay for me to move past my divorce. But probably not. So basically… divorce anonyminity is a big pro.

Moving Cons

• I feel like leaving would be equal to abandoning everyone who has helped me out through the past few months. It feels a lot like betrayal to me, and betrayal is something I know a little bit about. I have experienced so much love and compassion and it bugs me that I would think about picking up and leaving and not looking back. I owe so much to all of my friends here. Not a day has gone by since my divorce and even before that I haven’t depended on one of my friends or family for something. That is probably my biggest motivation for staying here. Well, second biggest.
• I stayed in Cache Valley because of a boy to begin with and it seems history is repeating itself. My friend told me that a boy can be a good or a bad reason to stay, and that she thinks I should stay if I think there’s a possibility of my relationship with said boy turning into something more… significant. Well what if I think there is and he doesn’t? Leaving could make me get over it… or he could get married right after I move, and then I would die. And I want to live. So that’s a con.
• I don’t have a job in Austin. Based on my less than perfect interview skills, I’m not sure I would be able to get one. This would for sure mean working as a secretary or receptionist somewhere. But having a mindless, less stress job such as this could also be considered an item for the “pro” column.

Well I’m done now and it’s time for me to go to therapy. And I thought I wouldn’t have anything to talk about today. Woohoo!

The following situations make me cry immediately.

1. Someone asks me what my plans are after graduation. Someone in the Benson ward asked me on Sunday what my plans were after graduation. I cried. Why? Because I have no idea. Am I moving? I don’t know. Do I want to get this job that I’m interviewing at in less than four hours? Yes. Is it a commonly acceptable practice to drink two quarts of Crystal Light in a day? I have no idea anymore!
2. I see a puppy. Particularly pomeranians or pugs. I love puppies, and that is pretty much all I have to say about that. I really think that if I don’t get a puppy after graduation I will die. Really and truly. And then when/if I do get one, I’m pretty sure I will wake up to its little puppy face every morning and cry afresh, just because all my wildest dreams have been realized. And I love it.
3. I sit down on the couch in my therapist’s office. We actually discuss this every time I see him. I seriously walk in there without a care in the world (or so I thought) and cry. I always say, “I don’t know what it is about this place that makes me cry so much!” He always says, “Gosh, I don’t know. Is it possible you have gone through an emotionally traumatizing divorce situation?” And for some reason, the question always throws me. Did I?
4. I watch the coal mining montage in Zoolander. Sublimely funny. Zoolander as a whole is pretty much the most hilarious movie ever but I am moved to tears every time I see Derek with his little baby wrench with a Blue Steel plastered on his face. And then every time I hear those words, “I think I’ve got the black lung, pop…” Well, let’s just say I’m crying right now just thinking about it.
5. I go see my bishop for any reason. I went to tithing settlement yesterday. Anybody care to ask me how I’m doing? Because I’m fine, and I’ll tell you that, and there won’t be anything sad about it, and it won’t be a lie. But Bishop Larsen asked me when I went in yesterday and I about lost it. I have gone into the bishop’s office for other things. My initial interview when I moved into the ward. When I got my calling (ward libarian! awesome!). When I went to give him the copies I made for him. The common thread is I always cry. I can’t stop doing it. It is my curse.

Seriously. I am just blogging because I am so nervous. What is wrong with me? I will have an ulcer in 3.2 seconds. Someone care to take me to the ER when my spleen ruptures? Do spleens rupture with stress? I think mine just did. And I just threw up. And I’m sweating bullets and my heart is racing. And I’m going into cardiac arrest after I finish this sentence.

I AM SO SCARED! Someone please bring me a puppy.