RMH, This is Your Life!

Wow, what a whirlwind. I've had several blogworthy insights in the past few weeks, yet have not had the luxury of recording them (the irony of bloggerdom: if you have the time to blog, you often have nothing to blog about; if you have lots to say, you don't have the time to write it out). C'est la vie. My brilliant insights would have carried titles like "What's in a name?" or "An ounce of Preparation" or "Fast Friends." They would have been really good posts. You'd have loved them. But, those insights are probably lost forever: a testament to the fact that being busy isn't always what it's cracked up to be.

Mainly, I just can't believe I'm really and truly at this point in my life. I'm a graduate student. I'm a TA. I'm in my mid-twenties. I'm getting married in just over two months!

I had my first dress fitting on Monday, and it was kind of surreal. There I was, in the store, all dressed in white, being fitted for a WEDDING gown. Crazy. However, though I have been excited all along, I think after four months of engaged-ness, reality is finally beginning to set in. I picked up the invitations today, and it's all starting to look more and more like real life.

And my life is awesome right now. Exceedingly.

Rachel . . .

Rachel is . . .
*inconsistent
*engaged to the most wonderful boy in the world
*a lover, not a fighter
*100% biodegradable
*somewhat flaky
*a respecter of the written word
*unsure of her dreams
*selfish
*much more eloquent on paper than in person

Rachel is not . . .
*who she would like to be
*a pro-wrestler
*a polyglot, much as she would like to be
*humble
*Grace Kelly
*a good liar

Rachel likes . . .
*Andrew K. Richardson
*Johannes Brahms
*cooking and baking
*really good hugs
*snuggling
*handwritten expressions of appreciation
*fall weather
*sunsets
*animals


Rachel does not like . . .
*herself, a lot of times
*inappropriate use of windshield wipers
*the vacuum created when only one car window is open
*neon colors
*radio commercials
*olives
*driving
*dirty socks
*waking up

In poor form.

This week has not been a good one for me. In fact, I have been pretty miserable the whole time. I feel like I have not done a single thing right all week. I am like Midas, only backwards: everything I touch turns to [expletive deleted]. I feel disconnected from everyone and everything that is important to me. I feel lonely. I feel like a dismal failure who will never amount to anything because I cannot figure out how to progress and overcome the weaknesses that I have already diagnosed and treated. It frustrates me to no end that I can't just learn the lesson and move on.

It occurred to me today that this lack of progress is a function of pride. I suppose all along that has been the missing link: humility. After all, why would I bother trying to make improvements upon a lesson I've "already learned?" Alas, I haven't ever really learned anything, and that's why I'm still here, wiggling around with the other worms, not living up to my potential.

I hate it. I hate it so much that I just want to shake myself and say, "Enough already! Let's get on with it!" Unfortunately, it's not that easy. I have a lot of stuff I need to work through. I feel completely overburdened right now, and the fact of the matter is that I have no one on earth that I can blame for my burdens other than myself--this, in turn, leads to more guilt and more weight on my load. Since everything has been sub-par this week, it all stands as a testament to how I cannot do anything right, and I am reassured of my destiny as a colossal failure.

In reality, I know that the things that have been going wrong this week are actually pretty small things in the grand scheme. I suppose that's not the point. It's a mental and emotional thing. I have spent this week convincing myself that I am a failure, and these little things were just evidence supporting my case. This is (and, I fear, will continue to be) a recurring theme in my life. I go through these phases where everything in my sight is colored by the lens of self-deprecation, and life seems to spiral downward from there. Irrational as I know it is, that haunting little voice inside of me is always the first one there to let me know when I've messed up, and to help me assess the damage to my worth. And irrational as I know it is, I almost always believe that little voice.

Again, let me be clear about a few things: I know I don't exactly have a hard life. I have a wonderful, supportive family and a dear, loving fiance who are rooting for me and are there for me. I know that God loves me and has a plan for me, and His plan is bigger than my character flaws. I have been so blessed that I can't even begin to list; I know I have a lot to be grateful for. However, none of this diminishes the fact that I am not where I need to be--nor that I don't even know where that is.

I don't believe that I have ever, in my LIFE, lived up to my potential. I came closest when I was very young, but even then I was limited in my view. I had high standards for myself and my own performance, but those standards were defined by my environment and not by my own ability. I never really tried to be my best, only enough to be better than anybody else (if it was something I was really good at), or to fall somewhere comfortably in the middle of the pack (if it was something I was not so good at). I've been aware of this fact for a while, so I wonder why I don't try to do something about it. Something is holding me back, something that is really crippling me. Or am I crippling myself?

It's a long way down to rock bottom, but there's also an intimidatingly large gap between my current position and the top. And after all these years of trying, I have no idea how to climb . . .

In Loving Memory

Harold Takeo Higa
(23 February 1922 - 14 September 2008)



Thanks for all your prayers on behalf of me and my family. We have felt the love so deeply in this time of mourning, and know that Grandpa Higa was well loved. I know it's silly, but I thought I should do a little post to memorialize my Grandpa. This little plot of cyberspace is nothing much, and certainly cannot hold a candle to his legacy, but it's one of the few venues in my life where I can take a selfish moment if I want to. So, here are the remarks I gave at his memorial service on Thursday, September 25. (The first prose cited is John Donne's "Meditation." The quote about the second Donne poem comes from "Wit," a movie starring Emma Thompson, which happens to be one of my favorite films of all time.)


“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were. Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

Each of us is a product of the people in our lives: every person we meet changes us to some degree, and we carry this influence with us ever after. We have gathered here today to celebrate a legacy we all share—of a man who has touched our hearts and played a significant role in shaping our lives. Indeed, when our dear ones leave us, as we recognize today, it is natural to feel sorrow. We will feel it untimely, and we will sense the world around us is diminished as the result of the loss. These feelings are nearly inevitable, but with open hearts, we begin to realize that our life here on earth is finite by definition. In a plan that is much larger than each of us as individuals, we see that “to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1), and that “life” has a broader definition than a breath or a heartbeat.

I feel blessed to be a part of the ripple of family in Grandpa’s sphere of influence. Family was important to my Grandpa, and I never saw him happier than when he was surrounded by his nearest and dearest. I remember one summer when all of us—Grandma, Grandpa, their daughters and sons-in-law, and all us cousins—gathered for a family reunion in Laie. This gathering meant a lot to Grandpa, who would bring it up at least daily during each of our subsequent visits. You could see in his sparkling eyes and hear in his tender voice as he reminisced about that reunion, even years later, that it meant the world to him to be with his family. When Grandpa passed away, he did so surrounded by his family, those who are present here today in person as well as those in spirit. He was blessed to have loved ones to bid him a temporary farewell from this life, but also to have others welcome him to his new chapter in the life beyond. We can all take comfort in the fact that his deep love for his family and friends is certainly strong enough to transcend this momentary separation.

Imagine the joyous reunion that took place when Grandpa joined his parents and other loved ones gone before him who had touched his life just as he has touched each of ours. Freed from the burden of pain and of other physical limitations, Grandpa is now in a place of peace and respite. He is certainly beaming at least as much now amongst his family and friends as he did with all of us at Laie. While surely he misses us, as we miss him, he can feel the love we send to him and can watch over us and send us his love in return. Love cannot be restrained by distance or separation, even if the separation is across the border of mortality.

Times like this give us pause to reflect upon our existence, and to gain a greater perspective on life and all its forms—from mortality to life everlasting. As we ponder, we realize that this is not the final chapter, but rather a transitory one, which marks not the end of a life, but the beginning of a life everlasting. John Donne emphasizes how temporary it is in one of his Holy Sonnets:

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure—then, from thee much more must flow;
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep passed, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.

Through this poem, we see that “[n]othing but a breath, a comma separates life from life everlasting. Life, death, soul, God, past present. Not insuperable barriers. Not semi-colons. Just a comma.” What seems to us in our limited view as an insurmountable hurdle is actually no more than a moment, nothing greater than a breath. Beyond that breath are so many of our dear ones that have gone before us, awaiting the opportunity to be with us once again. We can celebrate the influence of our loved ones as it resonates in our own lives, and we can be assured that they are enjoying life everlasting with so many others who have touched their lives. These bonds extend forever in both directions, and the end of this mortal life is nothing but a comma in the midst of a volume so magnificent that we can find neither end nor beginning.

Put another way by Rossiter Worthington Raymond (1840-1918), we can see that “life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.”

Tag, I'm it!

I used to love these surveys--they were all over my xanga (remember xanga?). So, I'll happily oblige you, Tally.

Did you date someone from your school?
I had a "boyfriend" for about a week or so in 9th grade, but it was super-awkward and I broke up with him when he hugged another girl in front of me in the hallway--real mature, I know. After that, I only went on a handful of dates (very few of them repeat dates), and fell in love a few thousand times.


What kind of car did you drive?
1991 Nissan Stanza, maroon: "Stanley." He was a good car--standard transmission, which made me feel pretty slick.


High School Memories

Were you a party animal?
My weekends consisted mostly of saran-wrapping, documentary-making, and Disney-channel-watching. Party hearty.

Were you considered a flirt?
Not a flirt, but definitely boy-crazy. And a cuddle-slut.

Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
Or-chest-ra

Were you a nerd?
Probably a lot.

Were you on any varsity teams?
I lettered in orchestra. And PALS (Peer Assistance Leadership Skills)

Did you ever get suspended or expelled?
I used to get early-morning detentions all the time for being tardy to first block. I never understood how they thought I could make it to an early detention at 7:55 (or whenever it was) if I couldn't make it to my class at 8:40.

Who were your favorite teachers?
Sra. Parton (whom I had for all 4 years of Spanish and for some reason just loved me), Doc Edwards ("Don't be an intellectual pansy!" / "Read the WHOLE BOOK!"), Doc Bowman (for his impeccable taste in classic films), Maria "Mario Heffers" Jeffers ("Think of all the starving kids in Africa who don't get a chance to play the cello!"), Mr. Roth ('cause he used to throw erasers at people).

Could you still sing the fight song?
Not in the least.

Where did you sit during lunch?
"Instrumental Hall" (since we shared it with the band, we couldn't call it the band hall or the orchestra room and still be politically correct) or the Mormon Table

What was your school's full name?
Billy C. Ryan High School (named after the great football coach--ahh, Texas)

Did you go to Homecoming?
It was my first official date sophomore year, with Josh Terry. Junior year I went on a blind date with this totally adorable boy named Zack, I think. Senior year was one of the most uncomfortable dates I've ever been on with a kid in one of my classes to whom I'd scarcely ever spoken.

What do you remember most about graduation?
Ben Lynch's talk was way better than Donna Ean's, the orchestra sounded a lot worse from outside of it, and it was really hot outside.

Where did you go senior skip day?
We didn't have a senior skip day--we were too much of slackers to organize one!

Were you in any clubs?
Spanish Club, NHS, Spanish NHS, PALS, French Club, and (of course) The Clique

Have you gained some weight since then?
Depressingly large amounts of weight

Are you going to your 10 year reunion?
*shrug* It'll be fun to give people a chance to feel better about themselves when they see that I'm a starving artist and they're rich

System Overload!

There is so much going on right now I don't even know where to start. Never before have I been so blessed and so tried at the same time. I can already tell this year is going to be a huge learning experience for me.

I've started into my new job, TAing for the baroque orchestra. It's been really good so far, and I'm enjoying it very much. I still don't know how much I'll be making, but it's the perfect job for me right now. I've already got a few gigs lined up for this semester, which is also nice. Hooray for being gainfully employed! Wedding plans are crawling along, and I'm excited to delve deeper into those once I figure out when I have time to do so. I have the most wonderful fiancé in the world--he's such a blessing in my life, and it means the world to me to have his support and loving hand in such crazy times as this . . .

Today is my birthday: at 4:54 AM, I turned 24.

A few hours later, about 5 AM Hawai'i time (about 9 AM here), my grandfather passed away. He's been battling cancer for the past few months, and the last few weeks in particular have been rough. We've all been expecting it, but it's still a lot to process. He died peacefully, surrounded by family, and his physical suffering is now come to an end. It's really kind of a relief, actually, but it's always sad when someone you love leaves the planet.

To add to the pile of already conflicting emotions and stresses, I spoke in church today. For those unfamiliar with the LDS Church, our sermons are not given by preachers or priests, but instead by members of the congregation. My commission was to give a 15 minute talk on "Opening Our Hearts," based on a talk from our General Conference which was not itself any more than probably seven minutes long. I scarcely made it to the podium before I burst into tears, and only slightly regained composure after that.

Yet another dimension to this is the fact that I've been asked to speak at Grandpa's funeral. I'm to be the last speaker, and to speak on eternal families. In the LDS Church, we have a strong belief in eternal families, and the importance of the family in God's plan. Interestingly enough, though, I'm going to be speaking to an audience of people who are not themselves LDS. I really need some help to give this talk, because it's something so dear to my heart, and I know my emotions will be just barely below the surface. I need help to be able to deliver such an important, meaningful, and timely message with the dignity and clarity it requires.

All in all, my heart and my brain are both on overload. I just don't know where to place all this information (the hormones probably aren't helping--Thanks, Aunt Flo!), and I find myself completely at a loss as to how to react to anything. I guess all I can do is to continue to thank the Lord for all the blessings in my life and all the many opportunities. It will take a while for me to sort through all of this, but in the mean time I'm glad to have the support of a wonderful family and a great fiancé. I am so blessed.

The Juxtaposition Game

Lately, I've been thinking of how it's funny to put things that are different against one another and laugh at what separates them. Everybody likes to laugh at differences! Here're a few gems:




How the Democratic National Convention does cowboy hats. They look like pretty normal people, right?




How the G.O.P. Convention does cowboy hats. Now, I'm not making any political statements here, but I will say that I have a hard time taking people seriously who dress in matching cowboy hats if they're anyplace but a rodeo (or, y'know, my high school's Honor Guard).

Here's another one:



"Hi, I'm a Mac."




" . . . and I'm a PC." I particularly like how they're doing the same thing, but Steve Jobs just looks SO MUCH COOLER than ol' Bill Gates.

Then, of course, "it's like . . . "








There you go. Lots of fun, eh?