Where have you been, where are you going?

(Please note: I've been have trouble formatting the last few blog posts--all my paragraphs just mesh into one. I'll try to avoid that, but I really don't think there's anything I can do) Last night, as a break from horror stories and paper writing, I went tunnel singing with Debbie, Julie and their respective men. Tunnel singing is a unique BYU phenomenon where we all huddle together in the chilly weather in the tunnel outside the Marriot Center and sign hymns for an hour on Sunday nights. During my freshman year, I was a tunnel singing pro. I went almost every week by the end the semester and I pretty much thought I was the cat's pajamas. Going back as a second semester junior gives your a different perspective on things. I watched circles of freshman students interact. I watched girls chatter and text and share things on their cell phones with each other. I watched boys insert loud cheers ("Let's baptize!") into church hymns. I watched the ebb and flow that is freshman interaction at the end of the year. And I realized something about myself: Two years ago, I was an idiot. For some of you, this probably isn't a surprised. I mean, most eighteen year olds are going to be idiots. I think I was a particular breed of idiot, though. I used tunnel singing as a means of posturing and looking good. I went and I memorized hymns so my friends (particulalry the attractive male ones) would think I was extra spiritual. I got caught up in my petty and shallow need for attention and would stand off to the side of the circle, a pious tear in my eye, waiting for on my friends (hopefully one of the attractive male friends) to usher me back into the fold. I jostled for position at the end of tunnel singing so I'd be next to who I wanted when you all join arms and sing "I Need Thee Every Hour." I didn't want to be practically hugging those two people, so I'd shift around (leave to take a phone call or say hello to someone else I spotted or move across the circle because I "couldn't see" in the dim light where I was) until I was wedged in between two people who (I desperately hope) were completely oblivious of my shamelessness. Two years later, I realize how stupid and shallow and petty I was. Don't get me wrong, I had a lot of really great things going for me then too, but hopefully now I'm just a bit better. I've stopped trying to appear pious and righteous like I used to. Perhaps it's a result of having gone through some trials and learning to bear burdens. Perhaps it's a result of seeing the Atonement work in my life and the lives of those I care about, but I look back on that "look at me, I'm so holy" attitude with something akin to mortification. I've grown in these last two years. I've learned how to stand on my own, to not change who I am to vie for attention. I've learned that it's more important to love myself for who I am and who I have the potential to be rather than wait for some boy to come along and sweep me off my feet. I'm still a romantic at heart. I do daydream about wild fantasies (wild in the sense of unlikely, not in the sense of untamed or unbridled), but I know it's far more important for me to be who I am and work on improving myself. Everything else will fall into place. So, to my younger self, I shake my head. Perhaps we can blame it all on the fact that I know I wasn't getting much more than five hours of sleep on the average night. That's bound to make you a little crazy. To my present self, kudos. At the very least I can recognize that I've learned something. To my future self, please forgive me if you look back at this in a few years and feel the need to smack your hand to your forehead. I'm trying, okay?