20 great things about my 20s

It's the last day of my 20s. Such a strange feeling. I've spent the last year reconciling myself with this inevitable reality, and you know what? There's no need to be so dramatic about it.

But I'm not quite done reflecting yet. I tried to put these 20 things in a special order, but that was turning out to be impossible, so, know that the order isn't important. And that this post is really long. Don't say I didn't warn you.

1. All the pampering

Once I graduated from the starving student period of life, I slowly slid into a whole new world: a world that included non-essential but delightful things. I bought a queen-size bed so I can sprawl out as much as I want to when I sleep. I discovered how amazing pedicures are. I found a hair stylist who gets my hair and has helped me figure out how to manage it. I spent too much money on clothes, movies, books, and music. I didn't get to do these types of things much during the first 22 years of my life, and the novelty of being able to casually cough up money for temporary pleasures still hasn't worn off. Sure, I've had to relearn how to stick to a budget—it's a lot harder when I'm not punished with a shortage on food every time I splurge—but I really, really enjoy having the time and the means to relax about finances every now and then and enjoy some of the frivolous things.

2. Hobbies

I'm a hobby person. Cross stitching, crocheting, photography, reading, design projects, piano, and journaling helped make my free time—when I had it—more meaningful. Even cooking got to be more enjoyable. It's quite an indulgence to invest in so many hobbies, some of which I've been developing for a lifetime, some of which are new. My twenties were great like that.

3. Piano

One of the hardest things about college was not having my own piano. Sure, I could run down to the basement of Miller Apartments or to virtually any classroom on BYU's campus, but it wasn't the same as having one in your own home, waiting for you whenever you needed it. I've made other major purchases in my 20s, but buying a piano was the most important. I don't use it as consistently as I used to, but having one at my disposal at all times has played a large role in helping me de-stress, sort through my muddled thoughts, and find joy during rough stretches.

4. Walks

I started taking regular evening walks soon after moving to Midvale, and it's often my favorite part of the day. It's my time to enjoy being outside, to think, to listen to podcasts, or simply to just move around for an hour. Walking may not be the best workout, but it's the only one I've been able to stick to, and it does more for my overall well-being than anything else does. They've pretty much become a non-negotiable part of my life.

5. Roommates

I learned a lot from four years of roommates. Like, how to (finally) make my bed consistently. And how to make do with a small amount of space. Having roommates helped me come out of my shell more, and we did a lot of fun things together. Those were good years, for the most part; I'm really grateful for those memories.

6. College—BYU

I loved being a BYU student. Those years are among my fondest memories of the past decade, and it's not just because of the social life. I just really loved being a student on such a beautiful campus, no matter how grueling it was at times.

7. My "no studying on Friday nights" rule

Not long into my freshman year at BYU I made a personal pact: I would never do homework on Friday nights. Even if I had a ton of work to do. Even if I was bored. The only time I broke this rule was when I had a test on Saturday morning (or when it was fun homework like reading a novel), but the rest of the time I guarded this precious homework-free time. I almost always had too much work to do, but I desperately needed this block of time to allow myself to relax. It saved me from many a meltdown. I've continued to follow this stricture, not doing freelance work or any other brain work if I can avoid it. I am beyond spent by Fridays, and often the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that I have an evening of nothing to look forward to. I wholeheartedly recommend following a similar practice if you aren't already—it's one of the best decisions I ever made.

8. Grad school—SNHU

Grad school was not part of my master plan until it happened. And it ended up being the least stressful part of my academic life. The fact that I wasn't expected to pursue this degree, and that I was concentrating entirely on things that I liked (except for that dang teaching class), made it a luxurious experience most of the time. I've often said that the journey of completing my MFA was more important than the actual diploma or any monetary rewards, but it actually has helped in my career, too. I spent 18 months living the life of a writer, and while I eventually decided that writing full time was not something that would make me happy, it did give me some valuable insight into how writers' minds work. It was a treasure trove of information that I've drawn from heavily as I edit other people's writing, reminding me what sort of feedback is actually helpful and keeping me humble—because the writers have the harder job. And since the entire program was online, it opened my eyes to the many ways to keep learning that don't require a traditional classroom environment. Which is a good thing; otherwise, I may have had to go get another master's degree, just to keep myself entertained.

9. Podcasts

Podcasts are the number one reason I haven't been tempted to go back to school. They don't replace taking an actual class entirely, but they do fill the void, the one that must be filled with learning. And some of them are just plain fun. My podcast addiction has only gotten worse since I gave Alohomora! a chance 3–4 years ago, but I try not to let that bother me. Having too much to listen to is a problem I enjoy having, for now.

Podcasts I'm especially loving right now: the Legendarium, Literary Disco, and Annotated. If you want some non-book recommendations, try 99% Invisible, Lexicon Valley, Gastropod, Myths and Legends, and BackStory.

10. Career

Sometimes career advancement hinges on appearing in dorky promotional videos.

My career is not the most important part of my 20s, but let's be real—I spent too much time at work for it to not be one of the most important things in my life. I've worked with a lot of words and wordsmiths over the years. You'll just have to read this post again if you need a refresher, because, ironically, I can't put together an assembly of words I'm happy with. Something about this subject is just hard for me to write about.

11. BYU basketball

I was at this game. It was the most awesome sporting event I've ever attended.

I didn't get into college sports until after I graduated from college, but now I'm really dedicated. Jimmermania is to blame. Some years have been better than others, and some years I was unhealthily obsessed, but it's something I look forward to every year now and that brightens up the dreariest part of winter. Call sports pointless if you want, but reigniting my love for basketball has made my life better.

12. Stake softball

Pretend that's a softball field in the background, not my apartment. I am terrible at taking pictures in the moment. When I have to be in them, anyway.

Of the many times I've tried to get some sort social life going post college, stake softball is the only area I really succeeded. I have a much higher success rate when the activity involves, well, an activity ("show up and eat and mingle" themes are usually a bust for me), and when it's an activity I enjoy, it becomes more than just another opportunity to step out of my comfort zone. I played all six summers I've been in Midvale, and it's provided much needed balance—and fun—to my summers. Again, sports play an important role in my life. I did not expect that to be one of the takeaways from my 20s.

13. Books

The great 2016 book cull. These are the books that made it through the screening process. I alphabetized them.

I wish I had joined Goodreads a few years earlier so I could give you an exact count of the books I've read in my 20s. I'm very sad about this. But I'll try to get over it. Since I opened my Goodreads account at the end of August 2009 (just before I turned 22), I've read 509 different books. Many of which were re-read. In college I didn't have time to read for fun, but I read for homework. This was when I finally started to appreciate the classics, although I still don't consider classics "fun" reading. Good for when I need some brain stretching, though. And since getting my master's, I've become the textbook definition of a voracious reader. It's been a wonderful luxury to have the freedom to devote so much time to chipping away at my endless TBR pile. I've become a more active part of the reading community (mostly through podcasts and Twitter), and books are more important to me than ever—as evidenced by my growing book collection at home. If there's one thing that will finally give me the courage to buy a house, it will be the fact that I need more room for my books.

14. Travel

I still haven't stepped foot out of the country, but I've visited a lot of the states (thanks to the many vacations made possible by my dad's Frequent Flier Miles/Marriott Rewards Points and the ACES conference my work pays for). I've seen most of the Western U.S. now and have even made it east of Utah a few times. I am not a seasoned traveler by any means—I leave Utah maybe two times a year, and never for longer than a week and a half—but I'm grateful for any chance I get to explore another piece of this great country. But I think returning home is my favorite part. One quick adventure is all I need to fully appreciate my boring life again.

15. Alone time

If I ever get married, you'll know it's true love because that's just about the only thing I'm willing to sacrifice my alone time for.

16. Being single

This was "the" trial of my 20s, but I eventually came to not only appreciate, but love, the single life. The dating (or lack of) part of being single sucks, but pretty much everything else is great. The freedom. The independence. The money. The not having to plan around others. Honestly, if there ever was a decade to enjoy being single, the 20s would be it. This is no big revelation because that's what the world is always shouting at us, but I needed to experience it myself to believe it. These "me" years have been a gift.

17. YSA wards

This picture was taken so long ago it feels like it was another age. This was the year my roommate was one of the relief society presidents and she made me teach relief society.

I've spent a third of my life going to singles wards. That kind of boggles my mind. But they've become the norm for me. During my BYU days I longed to graduate into a family ward, but now you'd have to drag me—death glare and all—into one. Part of the reason for that is that I don't feel like I have a place in a family ward as a young single adult. Some singles integrate just fine into a ward that focuses on already established families, but I need to be somewhere I'm not an anomaly. But even if I was properly married with kids and fit the mold for a regular ward, I would miss the energy of YSA wards. The absolute silence during the sacrament. The fun. I know a lot of YSA wards have problems, but most of my wards have operated the way they're supposed to. So well that I don't want to leave.

18. Temple/endowments

It's been a huge source of comfort to me to not have to wait for marriage—something I seem to have no control over—to enjoy the blessings of the temple. I would not have made it through the last six years without it.

19. Family relationships

Your relationship with your family changes as you get older. In most cases, you either become each other's obligations or each other's closest friends. I see my family much less than I did when I was living at home, obviously, but those family bonds are strong. Not unbreakable—even the relationships with your favorite people require work if you want them to last—but strong. It's cool that we're all in the adult stage of life now and can relate to each other on more equal planes, without the pointless bickering mucking things up.

20. Niece/nephews

I saved the best for last. I spent many years being envious of all my friends and cousins who got an early start at aunthood, but my turn finally came five years ago (coming up on six, actually). Being an aunt has lived up to the hype. I adore those little tykes.

So for this section, you get four pictures. One for each unique little person. Narrowing it down to just one favorite for each was a tragic exercise.

Jaxson is a precocious kid who wants to be an adult RIGHT NOW. I love this picture because he manages to look both grown up and perfectly childlike.

BRONX'S FACE. This is the oldest picture of the bunch. I've been gushing over it for five years.

Not quite a typical Avonlea smile, but it's a pretty good portrayal of her personality. A little bit sassy, always ready to pose, exuding adorableness.

Noah is a little daredevil who's always looking for an excuse to giggle about something. Such a funny kid.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: Boredom and progression

My aversion to bedtimes started as soon as I was old enough to climb out of bed on my own. Maybe even before then. I was convinced that the party started after the kids were in bed, and I was on a mission to catch the action. Night after night, I would sneak into the living room where my parents were watching TV and wait for the excitement to start. Night after night, my parents found me curled up on the floor behind the couch or next to the garage door, having failed once again to gather any proof that I was missing out on something.

But if you really want to annoy your dad, fall asleep in his chair. All the time.

Eventually I got bored with my little game and started staying in my room, but I still had to check in occasionally. (This would have been a much more productive activity if I could actually hear what was going on.) I spied on card games, caught my dad jumping on the trampoline after dark, and became pretty familiar with the TV shows and movies my parents liked to watch without us. (I remember lots of Star Trek. Maybe it was a ploy to get me to quickly lose interest and go back to bed.)

Slowly I acquired later bedtimes, and it wasn't too much longer before I was staying up later than my parents (or at least my mom). I had still found no evidence of parties, yet I couldn't shake the thought that life had to be so much more exciting when you were free to do whatever you wanted at night besides get more boring sleep.

It wasn't so much the night life I wanted to be a part of; it was the apparent freedom adults had in every facet of their lives. Staying up past the kids' bedtime was just the beginning.

And then suddenly, I was in college. No one cared what time I went to bed as long as I didn't keep them up. I could take naps between classes. Some of my lunch breaks were long enough to allow me to actually leave campus in search of something edible (but alas, my budget still forced me to get by on homemade sandwiches and carrot sticks). I could coordinate work and school however I wanted.

The structure that had held me back all my childhood was gone. Now I got to set the rules.

Finally I was part of the free-adult club. Nothing could be more exciting.

But as I moved on from college life to the career life, I finally started to see reality: there was a reason I fell asleep spying on the adults, and it wasn't because I was tired. There is no secret fun club to join when you enter adulthood. In fact, a lot of the time, adulthood is actually pretty boring.

The side of me that craves a routine and just wants stability had no trouble accepting that. But we humans are hardwired to need progression in our lives, and for the first time ever, I couldn't rely on a new grade or new classes to automatically provide that for me. I didn't have a marriage or my own growing children to keep me on my toes. Life wasn't as much of a journey anymore; I was stuck at a destination.

This shift in worldview helped trigger what I like to call my quarter-life crisis. I had achieved what I had spent my whole life preparing for—independence—but it wasn't the bright, happy, glamorous place I had envisioned all those nights I was plowing through massive amounts of reading after getting home from my shift at Domino's. Oftentimes, it was dull enough that I wanted to sleep through it.

After weeks of becoming more and more unhappy with my lot in life, I found myself stuck on the side of the freeway in American Fork—halfway between my two homes—in a car that was overheated. Somewhere between being stranded on the freeway to when I was able to coax my car to safety at Thanksgiving Point, I resolved that I was going to start going to the temple every week. I didn't know how it would help, exactly; all I had was my hope that putting God's priorities first would help me sort out my troubles.

It turns out God was several steps ahead of me, as usual. I had gone through the temple about six months before, much sooner than I had planned to go. But it felt right at the time, and once I started going to the temple every week I understood why it was the right time for me to take that step. Over the next six months, the temple filled all the holes in my life. It made up for my lack of dating prospects and my inability to establish close friendships. It gave me something useful to do with my abundance of free time. It filled my need for a purpose in life and helped me grow in a vacuum.

After trying out all the temples in the valley, the Draper Temple became my temple.

This wasn't the one-and-done solution to the rest of my adult problems. But it did help me gain a better understanding that it was my job to make sure I was always progressing in some way, always working toward something, and now I was better equipped to handle it.

So I got a master's degree. I delved into hobbies. I landed in a more satisfying career. I got better at having a social life. I delighted in all the perks of being a childless aunt. I studied the scriptures more diligently.

I spent a lot of time on meaningless things too, but eventually I found a comfortable balance between contentment and progression. We're not meant to coast through life, but we can't really be awesome all the time, either. The key, at least during my 20s, was to embrace change when it was needed and to be grateful always.

And to let the childlike excitement take over from time to time. If you can't let the little child in you out every now and then, then adulthood has no choice but to be boring.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: Career stuff

This post has been sitting in my queue for weeks, and I've lost track of how many times I've rewritten it. The primary pursuit of my 20s has been establishing a career, so I can't just not talk about it. But the problem is, I have no idea how to concisely say everything I want to.

I could start with a timeline of significant career happenings. Too boring? Fine.

Or I could write a "20 Things I Learned While Starting My Career" post. But that's been written about 8 million times already—no one wants to read that again.

Perhaps I could do a Q&A. Answer all those questions people ask when they find out what I do. Ugh, even I have no interest in reading that.

Maybe I should just get the words down and see where they take me (career lesson #15).

The lucky ones start showing signs of what they'll be when they grow up at a young age. Looking back, I can totally see that I was one of them. I beat my classmates at all the reading challenges in first grade. I subconsciously started editing signs by fifth grade. I wrote a bunch of terrible stories in elementary school and junior high (many of which starred my celebrity crushes, from Lance Bass to Chad Michael Murray).

I had other passions—music and sports, mainly—and even dabbled in other fields (like accounting—weird), but I was destined to work with words. That's what I was drawn to. That's what brought me the most satisfaction (career lesson #4). It wasn't about the money, the status, or the glamour. All I needed was words. (And punctuation.)

Career path: all set.*

*Although it did take me a while to stop hoping for the "marry rich" solution to adulthood (career lesson #436).

But the weird thing is, there's more to a career than deciding what you want to do. I grew up in a world where a job is something you have so you can get money so you can eat and take hot showers and wear clothes and all that fun stuff. Perhaps that, combined with my greater desire to be a wife and mother, is why it took me so long to grasp that a job can be more than a means to an end or a necessary evil (career lesson #53). It can be a good and meaningful part of your life.

For starters, adults aren't great at making friends, so chances are, your workplace is where most of your friends are (career lesson #28).

My first business trip. I was still green enough to think that was what adults actually called them.

A field trip to Top Golf. My family thinks working for USANA means you just play all the time. If only that were true. Let me just say, there's a reason my blogging frequency has dropped drastically over the last six months. 

And secondly, if your job is the most important part of your life, then you'd better make sure it's a good one (career lesson #41). That you're doing something you enjoy, that excites you, with people you can easily tolerate. Because if you don't like your job and you don't have something pretty significant to make up for it, then you'll find yourself constantly wishing for something to fill the void (career lesson #40).

Editors are a bit of a dying breed, so I had to fight for the right to be one (career lesson #42). Not all of my editing peers get that chance, even if their skills are seriously impressive. But somehow I found a way to make a living using the skills I want to use. (And I don't have to teach! I'll forever be grateful for that.) I've been very fortunate.

There's no way to say this without sounding cheesy, so maybe read this part really fast, before you have a chance to roll your eyes: I found my "calling." Editing is what I was meant to do, and I have zero regrets about choosing this career.

And, I think that's all I really need to say. Hooray. I'm kicking this thing off my queue.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: The book that changed my life

I've read 500+ books in my twenties. Many of them had a powerful effect on me, but one stands out as being the most formative: Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World that Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (which came out five years ago today).

In every personality quiz I've taken, my introvert rating has been at least 95 percent. I've always known I was more of an introvert than an extrovert, but it wasn't until I read this book that I really understood what that meant.

We live in a society that favors extrovert traits. We're told to be assertive if we want to be promoted, to be friendly if we want to be liked, to be charismatic if we want to be remembered.

For years, I tried to develop these traits. I made goals to smile at least once every hour in hopes that it would make it easier to be nice to people (or at least give them an incentive to approach me so I wouldn't have to reach out to them). I worried endlessly about the shy image I was portraying to all but those who knew me best. I worked myself to exhaustion just trying to fake my way through a party. Oftentimes the effort of getting myself out the door would drain what little storage I had for social energy.

Try as I might, I never morphed into what American society deemed an ideal personality type. I made significant improvements in overcoming my shyness, but I was essentially still me. The one who wasn't quite right in the head because she just wanted to hang out at home every Friday night.

Then I read this book.

Gradually, I stopped feeling like I needed to "fix" my introvert flaws. I quit wasting precious energy on becoming something I'm not. I finally learned how to fully embrace the person I am.

Once I understood why I am the way I am, I started paying attention to the things that energized and drained me. I figured out what my limits were, which helped me know when I needed to push myself and when I needed a quiet night at home more. I allowed myself to gravitate toward activities I felt more comfortable in (sports and games rather than whatever the "cool kids" were doing) to make the most of my social time.

Finding that unique balance I needed did more to strengthen me as a person than almost anything else has. I found myself in Quiet, and I've been much happier in my own skin ever since.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: Cracking the independence illusion

You may have noticed that adulting is hard. All it takes is a trip to Jiffy Lube for a routine oil change to make you want to go home and hide under the bed for two years. (Why are you asking me if I want to replace the air filter? Do I actually need all these services you are trying to sell to me? Oh my gosh, is my car going to explode because of my negligence? I'M NOT READY TO MAKE SUCH DIFFICULT CHOICES DADDY SAVE ME.)

So you're not immune to the crushing realities of adulthood. But generally, you like to think you have a firm grasp on it. You figured out how to handle car challenges, survived college, and you're no stranger to the world it threw you out into.

But as you get closer and closer to being 100% independent, yet another one of the ideals you held about adulthood proves to be false. 

One hundred percent independence? Yeah, that's impossible.

You may pay for all of your wants and needs with your own money. You may have your own health insurance. You may be debt free. You may have complete control over where you live and how you live. You may answer to no one but yourself. But you will never be fully independent.

Don't believe me? Keep reading.

You will get sick. So sick, perhaps, that simple chores like laundry and dishes will temporarily be beyond your capabilities.

Your car will break down, or get totaled, and you will have to rely on others to get around, like a helpless teenager.

You will find yourself in situations you are not prepared to deal with. You could get an unexpected lay-off or promotion, someone close to you could die unexpectedly, you could become unsatisfied with your life, or a million other things could happen that will force you to acknowledge that what you have isn't enough to help you claw your way back to normalcy.

But when you swallow your pride and start asking for help, advice, and support, you will find that people would much rather jump in and save the day than allow you to be stranded at work because your car won't start. And while every "Call me if you need anything!" may sound insincere at first, people are genuinely happy when you cash in on their offer.

It's not rocket science, just life; true independence is unachievable—we're meant to do this thing together.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: Aloneness

When I was in high school, a nostalgic adult said to a big group of us, "You'll never have as many friends as you do now; enjoy it while you can." I looked at my two friends sitting next to me and thought, "Boy, that's depressing."

My twenties have been my most social decade, but it's also the decade I've spent the most time by myself. I'm an introverted homebody, so the uptick in alone time wasn't as difficult for me as I'm guessing it is for other people. But even though as a kid I dreamed of living all by myself so I wouldn't have to share my ice cream with anyone (I could even eat it straight from the carton!), it came with a steep learning curve.

My experience isn't unique; most people in their 20s have to get acquainted with themselves real fast due to new environments and increased independence. When you're on your own, you learn things there wasn't time or space or reason to learn before.

With that extra time and space came challenges I didn't expect to have, especially considering my independent nature. Moving out of Utah County and living in an apartment that didn't look like it was built as a volunteer project in the 1970s was exciting at first, but once things settled down and a new routine was formed, I felt a little lost. Everything had changed: my environment, the way I spent my days, my safety net of people. I slowly realized that the real test to adulthood was just beginning: adjusting to relying on myself for everything. It wasn't the budgeting and the cooking and the keeping the apartment clean that tripped me up—I already knew how to do those things. It was the not having someone around who was obligated to notice when I'd had a bad day, the sudden lack of core people outside work, the long future ahead that I had to traverse on my own.

A hole had opened up in my life, one that I always assumed would be filled by default. But it was all up to me now; the emotional support, the Friday-night entertainment, the sounding board for making decisions. I, and I alone, was responsible for all of it.

Now, a normal person would use this life change as a chance to develop new friendships and to latch on to someone to journey through life with. And while I certainly tried this tactic, I've never been much of a team player. I learn and function best on my own; this hurdle was something I had to tackle by myself.

(Before you start thinking I was lonely and forgotten for six years, let me set the record straight. I wasn't. Moving on.)

Somewhere amidst the solitude I started to figure some things out. I learned how to pray more effectively. I learned to trust, and even rely on, my Heavenly Father. I learned that I can't do everything, but I can do more than I thought I could. I learned how to fill my time with meaningful hobbies and goals. I got to know myself really well and found peace with some of my more inconvenient personality quirks.

I'm not sure I would have learned some of these things if I wasn't forced to do it on my own. If someone else was always around, I wouldn't have put in the work required to become a better, more complete version of myself. I'm lazy, I have no trouble admitting it—if somebody else can pick up the slack, I'm all too happy to let them.

It's why I'm grateful for those difficult first months living in Midvale. It's why I'm grateful I didn't marry in my early 20s like I planned. I needed some time to myself first. A lot of time, because stubborn people are slow learners.

And if you haven't had a quality aloneness period yet, I hope that some day you do. Because as it turns out, aloneness is one of the best things that could have happened for me.

Pearls of 20-something wisdom: Roommates

Standing on Middle-Aged Adult's doorstep has me in a reflective mood these days. My trial run at adulthood is about to expire, and it's forced me to evaluate my progress. Have I met expectations? Will the Powers that Be recommend me for a promotion to "real" adulthood, scratching off the word "young" before my title? 

Perhaps the most important question of all: did I make the most of the last of my youth?

No doubt these questions are inspired in part by the end-of-year evaluations that are coming up at work, but it's also the first time I've entered another decade while being in a position to do a useful reflection on it. When I turned 10, I had fun telling people I was a decade old for a few weeks, but that wore off quickly and I moved on with my life. At age 20 I was still clinging to my teenage years—the years when I knew everything—and was too flustered to look too far forward or backward. 

But at 10.75 months away from 30, I have some thoughts. So for the next several months, I'm going to document some of the pearls of wisdom I've picked up during my 20s. It's been a formative decade, with unique experiences I think are worth getting down on paper in a way they haven't been recorded yet. (You know, because I'm not doing enough to document my life. And because people just can't get enough of millennials pontificating on their barely lived lives.)

I figured I'd start with a pretty universally 20s experience: roommates.

Let me just get this out of the way right now—most of my roommates were good ones. (Trust me—if you're reading this, you were not one of the bad roommates.) 

Most photoshoots end in pyramid attempts.

Counting both sisters who lived with me away from our parents' house, I've lived with 12 different girls. Those girls came to Utah from seven different states, bringing their own traditions, expectations, and emotional baggage. We were all LDS, which gave us a huge commonality to start from, but blending that many personalities—often with no prior roommate experience to make it easier—was always a challenge.

Amber (the person taking the picture) made us these aprons for Christmas, and we loved them so much we wore them to ward prayer. Yay for roommate bonding! On a completely unrelated note, I miss those pants I'm wearing. They were so comfortable.

Of course, I didn't understand the importance of most of these roommate-melding tips until after I learned the hard way, but I picked up some invaluable roommate rules to live by as the years went by (many of which, I confess, I learned by breaking):

1. Establish right away how you're going to handle chores, from who buys the milk to when the dishes will get done. Most roommate disputes will be eliminated if you follow this simple guideline.
2. Respect each others' boundaries. Especially in college, you're probably living in a space that is nowhere near big enough to handle you, your dreams, and several other people, and the only way to survive is to respect each others' space. If someone doesn't want you to eat their brownies, don't eat their brownies. If someone has to go to bed early because they're one of the poor unfortunate souls with a 4:00 a.m. toilet-cleaning job, keep it down after 10:00 p.m. If you have a boyfriend, remember that he still isn't your roommate and shouldn't always get couch and TV priority over those actually paying the rent.
3. Do fun things with each other, but don't forget to establish relationships with people outside your home, too.

I didn't have that many friends in high school, so some of my college roommate experiences were a shy girl's dream come true: staying up late talking about boys, always having someone to sit by at church, having adventurous people in your life who force you to try new things. At times I put way too much pressure on myself to be as comfortable around my roommates as I was around my sisters, and I never truly nailed that skill, but I learned enough to start knocking down those huge social barriers I had been hiding behind for most of my life.

Jumping pictures are a great way to loosen up.

It was also hard. Living in close quarters with the combined pressure of school, work, and a host of new adult responsibilities is hard on anybody, but doing this without having the solitude I needed was the hardest thing for me. It's the reason I had an emotional breakdown every semester—I could pretty much count on it happening either the first week of school or about three-quarters of the way through the semester. My car became a sacred space during that time; it allowed me to escape to Elk Ridge whenever I needed to and provided privacy when I couldn't get it anywhere else.

I was (am) a complete nerd who genuinely enjoys doing homework and takes "candid" pictures of myself when I'm having a good hair day.

I voluntarily put an end to the roommate phase of my life several years ago, but there are things I wish I had done differently. I wish I had gone to more football games. Gotten into college basketball when I was still a fellow student of Jimmer's. Spent less time hiding in my room. Tried harder at dating while I still had spies to help me and a humongous selection of dateable guys to choose from. Worked harder to repair awkward and contentious (not to mention stupid) situations. That I had spent less time looking forward to the day I would be roommate-free and more time appreciating how special the roommate experience is.

Some experiences are best shared with other starving college students. Such as gathering up your spare change and taking a quick walk in the snow so you can bask in the joy of 7-11 hot chocolate and Dunford donuts.

If I'm being entirely honest, the roommate saga of my life is pretty evenly split between the good and the bad. But the good memories mean so much more to me; I don't think about the hard times much anymore. It's become almost a mystical part of my past, a place where it was normal for people to knock on our door at 11:50 p.m., where Hamburger Helper was a feast for kings, when hang-outs seamlessly turned into dance parties, when grocery shopping and attending a singles ward was an adventure. 

Most of my roommate experiences ended in marriage. Also, this picture is proof that I could never be an actor/model; if someone tells me to look at these people I barely know (minus the woman in white) and giggle, the best I can manage is a "This is the stupidest thing ever" face. Which masks the "I want to kill you for making me do this" face.

I look back on those years fondly, so much so that sometimes I almost wish I could live in that world again, where roommates are your family and everything is fresh and new.

All was right in the world on this day.

But, I'm pretty happy where I'm at.