Hey guys. You're now reading the blog of an official, for real, actual college grad. I've been kind of hovering in limbo for the past two months, but limbo time is over, my friends. I'm in real life now.
On Friday, I said goodbye to my coworkers and my BYUtv job. I knew it was going to be hard for me emotionally, but I didn't expect the huge wave of oh-my-lanta-what-is-happening-my-whole-life-is-a-dark-hazy-mist that overcame me as I (tearfully) left the building for my last time. It was just sad. I love that job. I love my coworkers. I love the weird inside jokes and sayings that induce crazy fits of laughter while onlookers debate as to whether they should call a psychiatrist for us. It was the perfect student job and it was the perfect job to make me fall even more in love with editing.
So I guess I should have realized that saying goodbye would be so hard.
Luckily, I had something amazing around the corner. I've been excited for my new internship for months now, but during the last couple of weeks, a lot of fear and trepidation crept in and almost squashed all the excitement out of me. I considered every single terrible thing that could happen in relation to the job (most of them involving public transportation. #travelanxiety) and convinced myself that I was going to be a huge disappointment and that they'd want to get rid of me pronto.
Well, after one day, I can safely say that (so far) none of my awful situations have come to pass. And thus far they seem pretty happy to have an intern, as the workload is pretty monumental right now. I guess I'll give them some time to decide if they are happy that the intern is me.
On my end, things are pretty peachy. I spent the majority of my day reading a dang good historical fiction novel and inputting edits for said novel. AND I GOT PAID FOR IT. I almost didn't want to go home, but then my stomach reminded me that I was hungry, and I remembered that the book would still be waiting for me to comb through it in the morning. So I left.
And public transportation isn't half bad, I've found. I'm pretty much a master at navigating Salt Lake City via Trax now. And by that, I mean that I can get from the FrontRunner station to work and back. Baby steps, my friends. Baby steps.
I'm not exactly an outgoing person, but after one day, I've already realized that commuting with a bunch of strangers introduces you to some goshdarn cool people. My morning FrontRunner ride up to Salt Lake taught me that a majority of folks traveling north from Utah County teeter precariously on the edge of spiffily well-dressed and hipster. And these people (spifsters?) come in all ages.
On the way home, a rather attractive guy about my age struck up a conversation with me, and I was like "SCORE!" Mostly because many of my friends have decided that I'm going to meet the man of my dreams on my commute, and I let that go to my head. Our conversation was going swimmingly until about 15 minutes into it when he dropped the F Word. NO NOT THAT ONE. Get your mind out of the gutter, people. Fiancee. He mentioned his fiancee.
I should have known it was too good to be true. But in all actuality, he was a pretty swell guy, and I appreciated the fact that he wasn't one of those guys who won't even have a commuter conversation with somebody because she happens to be a girl approximately his age. And he was a really cool person, and I truly enjoyed chatting with him as our train sped south. (Also he told me how he proposed, and it was so dang cute, and I'm just a sucker for a good proposal story)
But of all the people I met today—and between a new job, the sister missionaries at Temple Square, and public transportation, there were quite a few—my favorite was the elderly UTA employee who was on the FrontRunner on my way home. He was an Irish-born, German raised man who speaks English as a third language, although you'd never guess that. When he spoke, he sounded mostly German, but there was a curious lilt in his voice that I've never heard in the voice of a German before.
After World War II, he and his family were trapped under Communist rule in East Berlin, which was when he learned Russian (Russian being his second language after German). His family had converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just before the war, and after the war was over, the Church did its best to take care of the members suffering in East Germany. His father was the branch president, so he was on the receiving end of the clothes and food and other supplies the Church sent to the area. In the words of my Irish-German friend, "the Commies didn't like that." The local authorities got more and more frustrated with the influx of goods sent to the Mormons and repeatedly threatened to through his father in jail. When the threats got more serious and dangerous, the family made a run for it. The escaped safely into West Germany, where they tried to start a new life.
Soon, though, the missionaries who'd introduced the family to the gospel reconnected with them and urged them to move to America. Once again, they uprooted their lives and moved to the United States. I've never heard somebody express such sincere gratitude for the freedoms that Americans enjoy before. He acknowledged that the country has its problems, as all countries do, but that having been on the other side and having lived so many years in fear and oppression and terrible conditions, he is grateful for the freedom and peace he's enjoyed since moving to the United States.
"Every night," he told me, "I thank Heavenly Father for a warm bed to sleep in and clean water to drink and a nice breakfast waiting for me in the morning. So many people don't have those things, so I make sure that God knows I'm grateful that I do."
He excitedly told me about the sign he has hanging in his office at home that proclaims that Every Day Is a Gift From God. "Isn't it true, though?" He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up.
And it's true. Every day is a gift. And I, for one, am grateful for that reminder.
So that's where I am, friends. My new job is pretty dang sweet. I miss my old coworkers, and it's strange to be working so autonomously. At BYUtv I worked pretty independently, but there were always people around. I think that this seclusion is going to take some getting used to, but I think that if that's the most negative thing about my job thus far, I'll be just golden. It's not like I'm an introvert who enjoys alone time or anything. :)
Aaaand, I'm out.
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