#perpetualfriendcrush

This is Wesley.

I remember the first time

I ever saw him

because he was wearing a yellow sweater

and it was a good moment

in my life.

Once he told us

about the small private school he went to
from kindergarten to twelfth grade.

When he started describing

the plaid ties,

I wanted to kiss his face.

Don't ask me why; I don't know.

But it happened.

But the reason I'm writing this

is not to reveal

that I've thought about

kissing him before.

So, ahem.

The reason is that
being friends with Wes
includes all the same emotions
as riding on a carousel.

A little part of you
becomes more alive
every time he talks to you.
.
.
.
I feel like I can imagine
how much care and love
our Heavenly Parents took
to create him.

It pleased Them
to make him so kind
and to give him the capacity
to think beautiful thoughts
and write beautiful words.
.
.
.

I'm convinced

that if you cracked open his soul,

there would be a butterfly there

or some other small, pleasant object,

like a little porcelain statue

of a cat

or a small array of dried wildflowers

preserved between the pages

of your favorite book.

When Best Friends Marry Best Friends.

Jon and Jessica came into my life

at the same time, actually.

I remember meeting Jon

and running into him a few days later

at the Cougareat.

He was surprisingly friendly.

We went to the Islamic art exhibit together.

He because the guy friend

that every girl wants to have.

Jon and I have no pictures together,

so here's a picture of Joseph Stalin

standing in for me.

At first,

I didn't know Jessica well.

But I knew that she was friendly and strong.

When we got to be roommates,

we found out that

we were just what the other needed

for that summer.

We did everything together.

She wasn't even mad

when I broke her blender.

Jess and me when we went to the rodeo.

Then Jess went on a mission.

Jon and I didn't see each other much

and I didn't write Jess much

but we were all still friends.

No question about that.

When Jessica came home,

she and Jon started dating,

and I knew they would get married.

They're both goofy

and they're both serious.

They both love to have good chats

and they both have

an insane amount of love in their hearts

to give.

There's something about

when best friends

marry best friends.

I love him.

And I love her.

And I love them together.

And I love their love.

And they both love me separately.

And they both love me together.

It's a blessed thing.

True Story Girl.

This is Megan.

With her cute fiance, Eric.

As you can tell from this picture alone,

she's basically an angel.

When I think about her,

there's a smile on my lips,

a kind word on

the tip of my tongue,

and a squeal in my throat

all fighting to get out

at once.

When I think about what I like about her,

words don't exactly come to mind,

just a lot of exclamation points.

Megan goes on adventures

to Uganda and Washington, D.C.

She wears chevrons

and the prettiest earrings.

She always introduces herself to people

and makes them her friends.

She loves cheesy chick flicks,

which looks so charming on her.

And maybe most of all,

she makes me feel

like one of the most special,

most interesting,

most worthwhile people around

because she wants to be my friend.

She's the Jam.

This is Julianna.

That's jew-lee-ann-uh,

not

jew-lee-on-uh.

She's my sister-in-law.

Before her,

I didn't have anything-in-law.

I like her because

she says it like it is.

She'll add to the conversation

the very thing that makes sense

or needs to be said.

I love how much she cares about

the things she cares about.

Like animals

and Miyazaki.

Also, she's pretty

(duh)

and I like her Delaware accent.

But even if there weren't all these reasons,

I'd still love her.

Because she loves my brother

and my brother loves her.

And she belongs.

And it makes sense.

And it feels right.

Because she's the jam.

Eve.

There is a tremendous nobility to Eve,

the first woman on this earth.

I. God "formed man

from the dust of the ground"

(Genesis 2:7).

But He did not form woman

from dust.

He formed her

from the best thing

He had made thus far--

from man.

II. God made woman

as "an help meet" for Adam

(Genesis 2:18).

Meet means proper, suitable.

In Mormon doctrine,

we believe that Adam is Michael,

the archangel 

(Revelation 12:7; Daniel 12:1),

who helped create the earth.

What kind of companion

would be suitable for

one so glorious?

A baby?

A weak and timid creature?

A lesser version of Adam himself,

without the same power

of reasoning

and judgment?

No.

A complementary partner,

with as much power as he.

Only such a companion

would be meet for him.

III. She was beguiled

only insofar as she believed a lie

that Satan told her--

that if she ate the fruit,

she would not surely die.

But she knew it would make her wise,

and so she wanted to eat it,

no matter the cost

(Genesis 3:6).

She was not beguiled in that.

IV. Her name was Eve,

a name that sounds like

a sigh of relief

when you speak it aloud.

Her name was Eve

because she was

the mother of all living

(Genesis 3:20).

Her creative power

was unparalleled--

the power to bring all of us

to life.

V. Latter-day Saints believe that

there are more scriptures

than just the Bible.

In the Book of Moses,

we hear Eve's voice.

Eve said,

"Were it not for our transgression

we never should have had seed,

and never should have known good and evil,

and the joy of our redemption,

and the eternal life

which God giveth

unto all the obedient"

(Moses 5:11).

She made the gravest error possible,

but she didn't have to be ashamed,

because her experience

made her more

than what she could have been before.

.

.

.

As a daughter of Eve,

I can't think of anyone better

to model myself after.

Adam & Eve, Brian Kershisnik

I can't even.

As I said,

ma sister just got married!

My only sister.

My boon companion.

When she got engaged,

I posted a status:

Congratulations to my sister

on her engagement.

I'm glad you found someone

that you want to spend

the rest of your life with

besides me.

Only part of that is a joke.

She has always been the one

who always wants to dress alike

who always wants to share a bed

who always wants us to touch foreheads

like Heinrich Harrer

and the Dalai Lama do

in Seven Years in Tibet.

When I saw these two pictures

from her bridal shower,

I just thought,

"I can't even."

And that's all there is to say about

how I feel about her.

She's not Polynesian; she's Finnish.

Yesterday was my one year friendship anniversary

with Erin.

This here is Erin.

Besides talking to birds,

she is always making things beautiful.

Her fingernails, for instance.

And it's because of an exquisite meal

she made for dinner group last year

that I  now like brussels sprouts.

She listens to me talk

all the time.

For so long.

She tells me when I'm being dumb

and should be kinder to myself.

And she'll do anything with me

that I think sounds fun.

I remember when I was newly obsessed with

The National Parks

and I took her to a show with me.

Even though I remember her

not liking it that much,

I saw the ticket stub

on the wall of her bedroom

half a year later.

I can't count how many times

I've heard her offer

to accompany someone to the doctor

or to take their car to get fixed.

Just so they don't have to do it alone.

She wants to be a good friend to people,

she wants to be a contributing member

of any group of people she's a part of,

and she wants to be a better version

of herself.

And she's all those things.

The Happy Pig.

Today at Katie's birthday party,

I suggested that we go around

and tell our favorite memories of her.

I told a silly story

about her as a three-year-old.

But on my way home,

I started thinking.

What good memory

of my teenage years

doesn't have Katie in it?

Katie is

the first time I learned to sing alto

by sitting next to her in choir.

Katie is

the courage to actually dance

at dances.

Katie is

leaving intricately folded notes

in each other's lockers.

Katie is

mix cds.

Katie is

making her collages

because I loved her so much.

Katie is

watching Project Runway at her house.

Katie is

trying new recipes

that don't work out

because we substitute too many ingredients.

Katie is

making movies in her backyard

about trees named Landon.

Katie is

dancing crazy in her bedroom

while the rest of my classmates

are at Homecoming.

Katie is

a text message on my first day

of college

from her in Delaware.

And,

ever and always,

Katie is singing camp songs,

wearing pioneer dresses,

playing Big Booty,

and being the most positive one

in every adventure.

Hiking for days

without one complaint

leaving her lips.

The one who makes you want

to be the you

that you want to be.

Katie is

The Happy Pig.

And without her,

I wouldn't have been

nearly as happy

as I was.

Sundance the Kid.

This is Justin.

We could talk about how

it took us a few months to become friends

because I didn't like him at first.

We could also talk about

how devastatingly handsome he is.

But let's not talk about either of those things.

Instead,

let's talk about how

his Instagram is an artistic masterpiece.

Let's talk about how

you are one lucky human

if you ever get the privilege

of hearing him sing along to the radio

while he drives.

Let's talk about how

being around him

makes you remember 

how much you love

to look at the mountains

and how much you love America.

And that you want to be

an inherently kinder person,

like he is.

Not being his friend

sounds like a bad idea now,

doesn't it?

Almost Famous.

It's been almost two months

since I moved into the Almost Famous house.

And they've been almost perfect months.

I love the quiet little street I live on.

Timpanogos looms over it 

in all her splendor.

I love the humans that live here.

Ellie makes me laugh

40% more often

than the average human.

She does everything

and does it all well.

I love when Brooke and I

meet up in the living room

and talk about boys.

I love when she practices singing.

She thinks it's annoying,

but it's not.

Emma makes the world around her

a more beautiful place.

I want to dress like her

and dream like her

and be like her.

Betsy sends the best texts

and writes the best tweets.

I love it every time

she emerges from the basement

and we have talks in the kitchen.

Kaitlin is friends with

over half of the humans in Provo.

When you meet her, you know why.

She is as kind as can be

and as crazy as can be.

It's such a blessing

that I moved in with 5 strangers

and it turned out so well.

They're just what I needed.

Almost.

You are my sunshine.

This is Lizzie.

My dear, dear Lizzie.

She's in a tree

because she's the most adventurous girl

you could ever dream of knowing.

It was because of her

that we skipped work and class

and left at 11 p.m. 

to drive through the night to San Diego.

And I saw palm trees for the first time.

Knowing her is an adventure, too,

because she is spectacularly interesting.

And you get to learn that 

a piece at a time,

one secret special bit at a time.

Here is the condensed version:

She's a bohemian cowgirl,

a maker of stunning meals,

a first-rate hugger,

a teller of hilarious bad date stories.

She wants to do everything

and I'm sure she could

if only she had five lives' worth of hours

to do it all in.

When I think of her,

I think of someone who spends her time well,

who improves herself,

who has good things to say about people,

and includes them.

Her hair is sunshine

and her smile is sunshine

and her life is sunshine.

And I love her.

One of the best things about her

is how modest she is.

She blushes and giggles

if you say anything nice about her.

Which is an extra perk

of writing this blog post.

Kati Dear.

This is Katilynn.

Not Kaitlyn.

She wears soccer bruises as a badge of honor.

She wears high heels like it's nobody's business.

The color of her hair is always changing

and it's always beautiful.

She was there the first time I gave blood.

I recognize her handwriting no sweat,

because she's written me about 200 nice notes in her life.

Before I even knew we were friends,

she was always telling me

that she loved me

and was happy to see me.

She's always doing that

to someone or other.

Miss Pardee.

This is Amy.

And this is my favorite
picture of her.
And I love borrowing
that headband.

Today,

this girl put on her teacher pants,

walked into the second grade

and

taught

children.

She's not some student teacher.

She has her very own class.

For the whole year.

And today was just day one.

I know. 

I'm speechless too.

Whenever I think about doing that,

I get the hives.

Basically.

I mean,

what do you teach them

all

day

long?

Every.

Day.

How did any of us

make it through elementary school?

(To all my elementary school teachers:

Thank you.)

Anyway.

The thing is,

she's gonna make those kids

love second grade.

When you're around her,

she'll make ya laugh.

She'll make ya cry

(only in the good way).

She'll make ya learn stuff.

I used to take notes

when we would have our girl talks

because they were always so insightful.

True story.

Way to go, Miss Pardee!

You're a real woman.

You don't get to meet Amys too often.

This is Amy.

I met her at work.

I don't know her that well,

but I do know

that she's always kind to people.

She lets you know

that you're a special person

to her.

She always tries her very best at things.

I can't imagine her quitting

or giving up.

If she did,

she would be sure

to learn a lesson from it

and do better next time.

It sure is something

to know a girl like her.

You don't get to meet Amys

too often.

So when you do,

you should take a moment to appreciate it.