i always deliver

a smattering of notes i found in my room from jr. high all the way through college.

my tornado of a room
This thursday being Valentine's, i thought i would write about love and sometimes the lack there of. Where is there a lack of love you ask? Jr. High, the hell hole of all hell holes.  A few many months ago i was cleaning out my apartment in provo getting ready for my move to the big apple. As i poured over everything that i owned trying to decide what needed to never be seen by my eyes again, i found a box containing basically all paper proof of my public education. It was full of photos, school assignments, notes, letters, and trinkets (i might have a slight problem of keeping almost everything along those lines...)

Among the many treasures i found this note that i wrote to myself. 



My freshmen english teacher made each of us write a letter to ourselves that we would get back when we graduated high school. The first sentence pretty much summed up how i felt about jr. high (and high school later)--"Where can you start about junior high? It pretty much is the worst of all worlds." (I then go on about how irritated i was with my best friend stephen because he had a crush on this girl and stopped giving me the attention i deserved. i was so dramatic. I probably should have just told him i had a crush on him instead of annoying him to death with my whining about this other girl...)

When i found this note i started to think, what made jr. high so bad? Then i found the following note:


Apparently for me, junior high was full of me picking fights over little things like "the accidental pencil stabbing incident."

I can't remember what i did to make this girl think that i deserved a pencil to the head, but i do remember one incident with her. 

This girl always thought that she was the best at everything. She played sports, was smart, and wasn't an awkward looking pubescent so really she did have a lot going for her. However, she liked to tell everyone how right she was about everything in this nasally nerd voice that made even the nicest (which is hard to come by in junior high) kid want to punch kittens. During one of these rants, probably at lunch or in some classroom when i was confined to the same God forsaken corner as her, she punched me in the arm.
Now this punch wasn't the most forceful--i mean she played basketball and made sure that everyone knew, she had to have had some upper body strength--and i am sure that it didn't leave me with bodily harm but it made my blood boil. First this girl was going to get in my face and now she had the gaul to touch me?!
Calmly i turned to her and said, "you know i will get you back, right?"

She of course shrugged it off and went on to talk about me and how much i sucked and what not and how i would never do anything to her.

i spent most of jr high apparently looking nervous
Now we fast forward to lunch a few days later if not a week. I was standing in a small group of people; this unfortunate creature was across from me and two boys were on each side of us. As calmly as i had delivered the threat of getting her back but with the quick reflexes of a cat (if you have ever been of of the fools that tried to tickle me you know what reflexes i speak of...) i delivered one sound punch directly to her left arm. This was not a weak sauce encounter like the one she gave me, but a decent--if it was a math test i would have hung it on the home fridge in pride--punch. For the first, and quite possibly only, time in my life i felt slightly bad-ass.

As she grabbed her arm with her other hand and stared at me dumbfounded, trying to come up with some snide come back, i calmly said, "i told you i would get you back."

Needless to say the boys were more than a little confused and probably think to this day that i have anger issues.

at least in high school i pretended to be cool by being in the
Homecoming court and stuff
The girl and i had to interact at least a little for the next 5 or so years of school as we both went through the accelerated, AP, church seminary and choir classes. Did we ever make up? Never. In fact she drove me up the wall. the. entire. time. And for the record, i was not the only one bothered by her, just ask anyone from my sophomore chemistry class. She ruined our prefectly sound plan of only reminding the teacher to check our homework on the days that we all actually did it "Mr. Jacobsmeyer, you forgot to check our homework!"--but remember to say it like a girl Steve Urkle and imagine her waving her perfectly done homework in front of her face...

I saw her once in college. I was walking out of my apartment complex back in 2008 when her mom stopped me to ask me how i liked living there. I am pretty sure that she noticed who i was, but just like how i didn't admit to knowing her or her mom, i quickly answered her question and went on my way.

Ironically i have had two friends mention that they ran into her lately and both mentioned that i came up in conversation. One told me that she admitted to feeling horrible for how she treated me all those years ago.

And all these years i thought i was the only one that remembered.

And why would i post this for Valentine's Day you ask? Because not hating someone is almost like loving them and it turns out that after hearing--even if it was not from her--that she is sorry i don't hate her anymore. It is also good to know that no one is the same person as they were in public school.


This proves to me that there really is a God. He might have a twisted sense of humor for letting public school exist, but at least he fixes us in time for our ten year reunion. 


all my Valentine's also get sealed with wax
(like most of my letters...)





But on to real Valentine's Day, i love it. I don't care that i have never been on a hot and steamy date or had a boyfriend during the holiday--it is a holiday where i get to be all crafty and gushy and no one can think it is weird! I crafted it up this year and repurposed my three favorite books, All My Friends Are Dead, I Like You, and The History of Love that met their demise in my recent flood into one-of-a-kind valentine's. The only thing you have to watch out for is when you are making a valentine for your mother and the page that you ripped from The History of Love happens to have a not so good word very prominently placed on the page--we almost had a very inappropriate Valentine fail.

up up down down left right B A start

Sometimes i feel like my life is a video game--things seem to be at the mercy of snotty nosed teenager that is too busy trying to get my avatar to jump over magical rainbows to snatch lofty gold coins that might add up to a free life than actually get me to the next level of the game--one step forward and two steps back. (Maybe I shouldn't have said a snotty-nosed teenager--i doubt God would like being compared to such a creature...)
"hot dogs can last up to 20 years in landfills"
(and obviously i meant 'expiration'...)

I have been working on a number of blog posts over the past few weeks with amazing titles like: 50lbs, 10 miles & 20 flights of stairs (what it was like moving every 1-6 weeks in Manhattan), Dress Pants or was it Dress & Pants? (my response to 'wear pants to church day' and correct misunderstandings of my post about the subject), 6 ways to eat 6 hotdogs in 6 days (cleaning out my fridge in new york made me eat worse than when i was in college), Pin This! (how Pintrest got me a job offer, even though my personal account only has zero followers),  and last but not least--Diplomas, Old People Jobs & Shoebox Living (how 2013 is going to be my year with a move to NYC to live in my own studio and go to a big person job with benefits and everything).

But alas none of those have graced the blogsphere.

Three weeks ago i was sure this was going to be my year. My NYC boss sat me down the day before i left and offered me a full time job because she liked how i handled the business's Pintrest account and she found me very resilient from all my bouncing around the city. Needless to say she was impressed with me. The next week i was back in Utah and successfully cleaning out my closet and getting ready to move. The New Year came and i made one resolution: to spend the 12 months of the year getting back into prime shape so that i can be 125 while i'm 25. Things were looking good, i was going to look good and my career/living were looking good.

Then three weeks went by without the boss calling me to give me the official offer,
       weeks thinking i was moving next month so most of my things stayed in boxes,
              with my boxes staying the photo lab that is detached from my brother's house where i am squatting...
reunited after 4 months.

Now fast-forward to this past Wednesday.

Milo loves that i live with levi because, well, Milo and i love the same thing: sleep (i have always been that weird kid that gets 8-10 hours of sleep every single night). We went to bed around 10 but then at midnight, after a series of attempts by Milo to wake me up, i took him out to pee. In my delirious state i let him out, talked to levi for a minute, and then went back to bed. Levi then yells up at me "You need to come outside right now." To someone who loves sleep as much as me this was one of the worst sentences.

Turns out the next sentence was going to be even more awful...

"The photo lab is full of water, you need to come out now!"

This, is of course, the same photo lab where i have been storing a majority of my belongings in anticipation of moving 3,000 miles. I put on some shoes and a sweatshirt and ran out of the house to fish out my boxes of belonging. The night was abnormally warm, turns out the teens feel like 40 when it has been in the negatives, and all i saw was water cascading from the lab over the driveway--I failed to notice sheets of ice that lined the driveway under the newly formed puddles. As i deliriously ran towards the open door of the lab i hit a sheet of ice and instantly was on the ground wallowing in inches of ice cold water. Spinning like a turtle i turned my body towards the door and kept going.

Within a matter of minutes levi and i were wet from mid calf down and were tossing boxes to each other from my side of the lab. Soon the garage was filled with every towel from the house sprawled out along the floor with the contents of my boxes strewn on them. For the most part all the boxes that were sitting in 5 inches of water contained books which swelled so much that it was impossible to pull the books from the box and instead we had to rip and cut the boxes apart. When levi had first gone into the lab he had fumbled to turn on the lights (they were behind my boxes with a space for your arm to fit which wasn't so hard to do when water wasn't pouring out the door...) and knocked a few things down in the process but at least he was able to grab the top box which was full of the only full set of magazines that my dad was in.

all my friends are dead
For the next few hours we ripped boxes apart, moved stacks of boxes from the lab to the garage, found all spare towels in the house, changed our icy socks and shoes, washed a load of clothes from a suitcase that filled with water, and levi put the wet/dry vac to work. By 4am both of us were thoroughly exhausted.                                    
my dad built this airplane which landed him on
the cover of numerous magazines.
The next morning i was able to asess the damage and start the claim with insurance.

50+ kids books
30+ novels
20 cookbooks
20+ cooking magazines
1 Kate Spade purse
1 vintage suitcase
a few textbooks
a couple antique books
and a dozen irreplaceable books (mostly stuff from my dad) met their demise in a cold watery grave.

Now i sit in levi's family room surrounded by books that are still damp at the core and it turns out that while books possess one of my favorite smells--100 books drying in your family room posses a very terrible smell. This was not the worst thing to happen. Losing 100 books is better than losing a dozen magazines of my dads. Loosing 100 books is better than loosing my camera. Losing 100 books is better than loosing everything from all my boxes in storage. and the list goes on and on.

The thing that does suck is that i was only storing things in the lab because i thought i was moving cross country. Two days after staying up all night rescuing my belongings i finally received an email (not even a phone call) from my nyc boss saying that they have to pull their job offer because it turns out they can't afford to hire me.

i am pretty sure you should check such information before you offer a job.

Now i am almost 25 (this friday!), don't know where i am living (and might have to move in with my mom), am STILL living out of boxes/suitcases for the 6th month in a row, don't know how much of a job i have in utah, and am driving my nephew's car because i can't afford my own. i.am.awesome.

but on the plus side, i finally have the most expensive piece of paper of my life thus far, worth a whopping $32,971.58 (plus books and project cost of course) AND i haven't eaten any hot dogs in three weeks.

point of this story: if i told you i was moving to nyc next month and you could visit anytime because i was getting my own apartment, you might want to rethink your next vacation to visit.

second point of this story: i have been too preoccupied with life to think of something fun to do to celebrate my birthday. At this rate i will probably rent a car since that seems to be the only cool thing that comes with 25. BUT i am still accepting ideas for better options.

walk twice, speak once, zero diplomas


photos by Rachel Call

photo by Rachel Call

This one time, being today obviously, i spoke at my college's convocation ceremony. I felt pretty cool just being asked to do so, you might not know this, but i like public speaking. Oh and this is my second time walking (i walked in April before I knew they wanted me to speak in August) and I don't actually get my diploma until December, a whole two credits of internship are holding me back...

After two meetings with Paul, two lunch meetings and three regular type with Val, one review from the committee, a handful of revisions, a dress rehearsal, and about twenty hours of my time, here is my five minute speech in its entirety.  I had the images appearing on the screen as i talked so this obviously isn't as cool. (If you select one photo it will display all of them in a slideshow way at the bottom of your screen, that way you can see them larger--as you should.)




From Crayons to Diplomas---Always an Artist
Fine Arts & Communications Convocation
Brigham Young University
August 10th, 2012

I always knew that I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. In the beginning the medium wasn’t important, I bounced between oil paints, crayons, fabric, clay and when my mother would permit, I would commandeer the family camera and take the allotted three photos. Back then, in my eyes, it only took 3 things to mean I was an artist and therefore bound for fame and glory:


1. My work had to be hung for all to see
2. It had to receive praise from the most prestigious source
3. It had to produce an income.



Being an artist was easy at age 5. I would line the walls of our home with my one-of-a-kind creations and charge my family admission to the “museum.” I even convinced my mom to purchase one of my finer pieces, 'The Girl Turkey Mermaid,' when I threatened to rip it in half if it wasn’t procured. With that purchase I knew I had hit the big time, the most prestigious people in my life, my parents, had not only made my work profitable but had given my work praise.  It didn’t occur to me then that almost every kid in the nation had access to a 64 pack of crayons, parents that thought they were the cat’s pajamas, and the complete work of Dr. Seuss to borrow ideas from.


Though it has always been popular for children to gravitate towards the arts because of the creative nature and bold colors, these days it’s become increasingly more popular to use the same motives to claim one’s self as an artist in adulthood. Hipsters are cleaning out thrift stores of antique cameras and every smart phone user can access Instagram, the largest photo sharing social media app in the world. Some of us might have gotten into the arts for these hip reasons or to be an ‘individual’ but, it doesn’t really matter what got us here, just that we found a reason—within each of us—to stick out the long days and sleepless nightsto create, print, and frame our work.





With my weak argument about what it took to be an artist as a child, it is no surprise that it took me years in the program to finally understand my own need for art. In the beginning I stressed completing assignments with the correct methods and techniques. The ability to release the shutter at the correct moment wasn’t making me an artist; my work lacked a personal voice and motive. It wasn’t until I decided that I wanted to spend my last full year of school devoted to a personal project that I rediscovered the love for photography that I had gained as a thirteen year old when I spent every penny I had on my first camera. In 8 months I traveled to all 9 of my siblings’ homes to photograph them. I took over 7,000 images ranging from potty training their children, to carefree motorcycle rides, to giving birth, to Thanksgiving dinner. This project reminded me that I became a photographer to capture the moments in life that are ordinary but show personalities and evoke memories.  Part of my artist statement for that show read, “Most photographers spend more time working for clients than documenting the people and moments that mean most to them. To photographically neglect my family would be the greatest failure of my career.”






In one of my favorite books about creating art, Art & Fear, the authors, Bayles & Orland explain, “The desire to make art begins early. For some the desire persists, and sooner or later must be addressed. And with good reason: your desire to make art beautiful or meaningful or emotive art-is integral to your sense of who you are. Life and Art, once entwined, can quickly become inseparable; at age ninety Frank Lloyd Wright was still designing, Imogen Cunningham still photographing, Stravinsky still composing, Picasso still painting.”

Like me, the desire to create art persisted in my fellow classmates. The following images exemplify how they were able to push through the creative process and find their own voice. 


Having a career in photography means that we are competent enough at our medium to create an image for a client as they envisioned it, but being a photographer means that we spend our time—between jobs—working on the images that will sustain us as an artists and humans. One of our professors, Paul Adams, constantly says “if you can imagine yourself doing anything else, get out of photography now and do that thing instead.” He understands that being an artist isn’t a career choice; it’s who we are. There is a quote that we keep hung in the dark room that further illiterates this point “Artist don’t get down to work until the pain of working is exceeded by the pain of not working.”



We learned how to successfully execute our mediums in school, but it is in our hearts that we find our passion and use it to transform blank canvases. At times our friends and family won’t understand how we can always be thinking in terms of art, how when we look at a blank, boring, white wall we see color or artwork that should hang there. But we aren’t artist for them, we are artist for ourselves, because we really don’t have a choice. It is at this point that we begin to fear. We fear that we aren’t talented, that we will run out of creativity, that other people are better, that no one—not even our mom— will love our work, and lastly that we are just students and our life as artists will end with graduation.




When the fear sets in, I remember the personal projects. I remember that not all artwork is great, that usually it takes many failed attempts to have what I envisioned come to fruition. I remember that just owning a camera doesn’t make me an artist. But most importantly, I remember that first moment I knew I could not live without creating art.

Thank you.

the end is in sight

In case you didn't know, i am in the sixth year of my undergrad.

SIX YEARS. for what? that's right, a degree in art.

For some reason--unbeknownst to me--i decided to put off my worst G.E.s until the last possible semester. That means that this semester, when i should be out frolicking in the sunshine, i am taking English 312 and Civilization 202 along with my BFA final paper proposal. 9 credits of sheer essay hell.

I have 13 hours to write a 5 page paper on Christian art depicting the annunciation through the 15-20th centuries. Once I turn that in, I have 7 hours to write a four page paper on how Mormon movies are detrimental to our society (oh and sleep, eat and work).

and this is how i am going to survive the next 20 hours...




i think i have a coca cola problem. nothing beats
a cold coke zero with an entire fresh lime squeezed in it.
oh yeah, 8 cups of muddy buddies washed down with three types of coke. 

waiver has been approved

It is no secret that i loath the BYU Off Campus Housing Office. BYU has a lot of great things, i wouldn't be starting my 3rd senior year if that wasn't true, but the housing lacks even the most common sense.

A little background: this one time my terrible landlord did a slue of illegal things and then topped off my tenancy with threatening to ruin my credit and put a hold on my academic account at BYU (neither of which she had power to do anyway). I spoke with BYU OCH (Off Campus Housing) about my problems at least 4 times and they never helped me. Even though my landlord changed the locks without telling me, which left me locked out in the middle of the night with nowhere to go, the only thing BYU said was, 'well if you go to court and win let us know and then we will help you.'

Needless to say i went to court and won. It was glorious, my old landlord looked like a babbling fool. Her only defense was that: everyone hates Bethany so it was okay that i treated her like crap too. (don't worry, not everyone hated me, just those two roommates that i never care to see again if i live to be 107).

If you want the full story on housing issues at BYU and what I presented to the OCH, go to this blog post.

That was all a while ago. 

I had been to BYU OCH at least a dozen times since the beginning of my problems until last fall. After having a meeting with the entire OCH staff and telling them that said landlord even lost a master key to the complex and hadn't re keyed (the key was missing for 18 months before she recovered it, still she did not re-key the apartments), having a very candid phone conversation with Garry Briggs-where he pretended like he had no idea who i was even though i had been in his office less than a month ago presenting for an hour to his staff, talking to the rep over my old complex who said she wasn't sure of the laws regarding missing keys and therefore they weren't going to do anything, and then reading an article in the Daily Universe about housing, i decided to write a letter to the editor.

http://universe.byu.edu/node/15591


I thought that it was funny that on the same day this article was published i submitted my most recent housing waiver. I had forgotten about the letter since it was published almost two weeks after i wrote it, but it was very fitting that it was all the same day.


Meet my latest housing waiver that BYU approved today:


"Because of the many encounters I have had with the BYU Off Campus Housing office in the past two years and the lack of respect and due diligence on their part to keep me and my residential facility safe, I feel that I have no option but to not reside in housing that is affiliated with BYU, owned or accredited.

I have talked to every member of the OCH permanent staff, including attending and presenting at one of their weekly meetings. Though I brought a number of legitimate concerns and student complaints to them, they neglected to ever contact my landlord or follow up in any way to the allegations.

Once when speaking to Craig Thomas about my lackluster view of BYU Housing and that I did not feel safe living there and never would again, he simply replied, "I don't blame you."

And with that, I assume that there are no intentions of fixing any of the problems that students present, even when like me, they bring a court verdict in their favor from a recent law suit against their 'BYU Accredited' landlord. Because of this, I trust my own decision making skills over where I should reside and the safety of my residential unit, than that of BYU and an unit that they have not visited or reviewed in no one knows how many years.

In short: In the past I did not feel safe in my BYU Accredited unit and due to the lack of concern from the BYU OCH office, I feel that I cannot trust OCH opinion of which units provide appropriate living and safety standards."



I wonder if Craig Thomas or Garry Briggs saw either my letter to the editor or my waiver...


packing minimalist


Lets go over my last few hours, shall we?

6:15pm rush home from the dog park with Milo to make it to ward temple night
6:30 decide the line is too long at the provo temple so we drive to the mt. timpanogoes temple.
6:50 arrive at timp to find out they are randomly closed. EPIC FAIL.
7:00 start writing my research paper on Robert Capa (who i may or may not be totally in love with, only if you were still alive, young, and tweezed your eye brows, this could be a beautiful love affair)
8:00 bake cookies to keep me awake
10:00 shower (third day in a row, this is a record. seriously.)
10:30 take a cat nap
11:20 back to Capa
1:00am eat more cookies, drink more coke
3:30 FINISHED my paper
3:31 second cat nap
5:03 edit my Communal
6:45 get dressed/ready?
7:00 finish packing
7:25 go to the library to print off my paper 
7:59 turn in my paper, before the 8am deadline
8:03 go the print lab, print Communal images
8:45 edit Harley Davidson images
9:00 turn in prints and edits
9:30 go to work
11:00 leave for airport

and that is why when i first started packing my suitcase looked like this:


I mean who wants to actually pack after a hellish night like that?!

I have the necesities. 
      Camera (actually two with a few lens etc)
                                                         underwear
                                                                    passport
yup, got it all covered.

Okay, so i did pack a little more. I did add a few shirts, one skirt, my trusty Chacos, running attire, and toiletries. BUT i am still a packing minimalist. When i got to the airport i realized that my bag has tons of extra space, like a lot, like i could fit a small child in there too. does this mean i am forgetting something important?

oh well. i guess that is why God put stores in New Zealand too.

on a different note:


please admire this image that is on the inside of my super industrial camera bag.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

I, unfortunately, do not have any whitey tighties that are hot and steamy, right out of the drier to pack.



well that about sums up my: paper, photography, editing, blogging, working, coke drinking, cookie baking, temple going, dog chasing- day.

now i am off to L.A. (currently i am in Denver), then Auckland, and then Wellington. good think i just recently became one of those people that is dead to the world 15 minutes before take off. (but the flight from SLC to Denver scared the living daylights out of me, i was so out of it that when the plane took off i couldn't remember where I was and about crapped my pants when the plane shot in the air...)

vigilante justice

In 2006, a survey of nearly 2,000 BYU students revealed the following percentages relating to different problems in their BYU Off-Campus Housing

Today I met with BYU Housing for about the billionth time about issues I had with my landlord a couple years back. They actually liked what I said and want me to work with their office to create a document that will be handed to every student when they move into a BYU approved unit. (my description of it is near the end).

Here is what my 15 minutes of fame in the Housing Department meeting consisted of:

Thank you for letting me come and talk to you today. Since I have not met many of you let me briefly introduce myself. My name is Bethany Davis and I am from Boise Idaho and the youngest of ten. My parents met at BYU in the sixties and all of my siblings have attended BYU over the last 22 years. I am a BFA student in the Photography department and will be graduating in 2012.
Craig Thomas asked me to come in today to describe my experience with living in off campus housing and how this housing’s office failures to enforce and oversee housing concerns between students and landlords forced me to seek vindication in court.
In May of 2007 I moved into a fairly large complex with around 120 units, each with 4 tenants. I knew that when I moved in that the complex was large and the involvement of management would be different than with a small complex or house, but I had never anticipated the problems that arose.
Early on in my tenancy I began to be frustrated with the way management ran the complex and voiced my concerns to them. It was not uncommon for the management to violate the terms of our housing contracts and in effect trespass by coming into our apartment without proper notice or no notice at all. When we did request maintenance it could take weeks, if they ever came, and the work that was done was shotty to say the least. The apartment was not cleaned thoroughly before my roommates and I moved in, leaving us to clean copious amounts of hair out of our carpet and take a load of items that were not ours to DI. My landlord was also abrasive from the beginning and once called me just to tell me that my roommates would hate me when they moved in. As time went on the problems only escalated.
In August of 2008 I returned from a vacation to find that my front door lock had been changed. There had been a notice placed on my door that said, “stop by the office today to pick up a new key, we are changing the locks.” I called the office to see if they could let me in but they were closed and the automated message said that if you are locked out it is not an emergency and not to contact the emergency number, because of this I had to frantically find a place to sleep at 1:30 in the morning. It was between semesters and many people were out of town. I did not know any girls in my complex so my only option was to sleep on my brother’s floor even though that is against housing rules.
The next morning I went to the office to confront Donnetta Knight, the manager, about the lack of notice for changing the locks. I knew that Utah mandates that the tenants are given written or verbal notice at least 24 hours before such maintenance is done. Donnetta did not seem bothered at all that she had rekeyed a building full of 20-year-old girls without warning them. This being the same summer that a rapist was on the loose in my neighborhood and we had a police officer constantly watching the area, I was even more disheartened by her actions. Seeing that she did not regard the safety of her tenants I sought help through BYU’s Housing Office.
I went to the Housing Office assuming that something could be done but instead I was asked to back down. I was told that if I filed a complaint at BYU Housing against the complex and it led to Carriage Cove losing their accreditation with the University, I would be solely responsible for making around 400 students that currently resided at Carriage Cove find new housing. The Housing Representative also informed me of what a caring person Donnetta was since they were longtime friends.
A few months later I attended the Off Campus Housing Q&A where I voiced my concerns about my landlord still feeling entitled to come into my apartment with no notice whenever she deemed fit. The representatives present asked me to speak with them after the meeting where they collected my information and informed me that they would contact the complex and call me to let me know that something had been done. After trying to follow up a few weeks later with them, they still had not contacted the complex or notified them of my complaint.
In April of 2009 I tried contacting BYU Housing one more time when things had escalated with Donnetta. She started singling me out of my roommates, blaming me for damages in common areas of the apartment and charging me alone to fix them. She also informed one of my roommates that “I don’t know who Bethany thinks she is, she has no rights. If she doesn’t fix this (regarding the ‘damage’ in the apartment) I will ruin her credit and put a hold on her academic account at BYU.” I had never paid my rent late, I was a quiet tenant and left my apartment much cleaner than I found it, and had, in my estimation, lived up to my end of our written housing contract, had respected the rights and property of Carriage Cove and had been a complying and high-caliber tenant and did not deserve this treatment. I told Craig Thomas about this encounter and the things that she said. I knew that Donnetta did not have the power to do either of the things she threatened but I do not take kindly to being threatened. While I was in his office I filed a formal complaint with BYU about the many violations Carriage Cove had committed ranging from harassment to trespassing, to endangering tenants. I then told Mr. Thomas that I would never live in a BYU approved space again because I felt that the landlords were given unlimited power by BYU and were held in higher regard than the students. To my comment he replied, “I don’t blame you,” this left me feeling even more hopeless that the situation had not and would not be being taken seriously. I then asked him what I was supposed to do about the situation and he said, “Well you can try mediation but I can already tell you Donnetta will not go, you could also take them to court. If you win, come back and let us know and we will file it as a claim being validated.”
After being left with no options from BYU other than pursuing vindication and justice via a court of law, I sued Carriage Cove on November 6th, 2009 for violating my privacy and disregarding the wellbeing and safety of their tenants. The Fourth District Court of Provo found my accusations to have merit and a judgment in my favor was awarded me. Carriage Cove was forced to pay my court fees and I was awarded punitive damages in the amount of $200.
Preparing for and going to court was an enlightening experience for me. It was much easier to file in the small claims court than I had anticipated and if you go in with proper documentation of your allegations you have nothing to fear. When I went to court I had a copy of my contract and the BYU Off Campus Housing Guide that had the many infractions I witnessed highlighted, a receipt that showed the actual cost of an item Donnetta claimed I broke and charged me an outrageous amount to replace, notices I had received from Carriage Cove that showed the improper amount of notice for entry given, and past and current tenants who participated on my behalf as witnesses.
Prior to having a judge hear your case you are asked to go to mediation to see if you can work out a solution without the courts. In this meeting Donnetta did not want to discuss any solution other than me dropping the case. She also claimed that she had never, in all her years, received a complaint through BYU and that she had every right to treat me like she did. While I was in the mediation room alone with the mediator, she told me that they usually do not handle cases that involve punitive damage and if the judge listened to my case instead of throwing it out I would be lucky. Apparently the judge saw my claims as substantial and choose to hear our case. In court it became apparent that Donnetta did not document anything at the complex other than contracts that are being signed. She quickly became flustered when she could not back up the answers that she gave the judge and her only defense slowly became trying to convince the judge that I was a terrible, unlikeable person that did not deserve to be treated properly. Her defense was one that had no merit, was strictly based on unsubstantiated personal option and not upon fact, nor was it corroborated by the testimony of others.
Although I found vindication in a court of law, I am not quite sure it was worth my time and energy if significant and meaningful changes are not made here within BYU’s Housing office to help support honor-code-abiding students who are mistreated by the property owners and management companies who do not follow the policies that they have signed on to as BYU-approved landlords.
Though prior to going to court I was told that this was the only way BYU would act upon my complaints, when I turned in my court verdict to this office, I was told that it would be looked into to see if they needed to do anything. From a student’s standpoint, I had assumed the time to investigate such claims were when they were happening and a court verdict means they have been deems valid by a judge and therefore merit action.
Prior to this meeting today, I had met with different members of this office at least five times detailing the problems I had witnessed at my complex and each time I was not taken seriously and left feeling frustrated with the system. I documented everything I was told to and even went the extra mile by going court. In one of those meeting I was asked if the main reason I kept coming back was because of a violation of privacy, my answer was, no, this has become something much more than lack of privacy, this is now about the rights of students. The last time I came in it was also to inform this office that Carriage Cove has made the news recently because of numerous apartments being broken into. Even worse is the fact that if you ask Carriage Cove they won’t deny that they lost a master key to the complex over a year ago and never rekeyed the buildings. This, like when I reported being locked out, comes at a time when this area of Provo was the scene to a horrendous crime where a girl was brutally raped and left for dead on the river trail only a short distance away.
I, sadly, am not an isolated case at BYU. Over the last three years, since I have been more aware of my rights as a tenant, I have heard students talk about the following things happening to them: two students never received a deposit or itemized receipt from the same landlord, one student came home to find a random maintenance man in his apartment and when he confronted the office they told him not to worry about it and blew him off, one student was charged recheck fees for cleaning checks when her apartment was cleaner than when she moved in, one student was charged $100 to replace carpet that was damaged after she moved out-by a can of gasoline that her landlord neglected to remove from the outside storage of the apartment prior to her ever living there, a landlord tried to evict a student for not paying rent when he had-they felt justified because they wanted him to pay the next months rent early, another student had his landlord burst into his apartment without knocking for cleaning checks-he was only in a towel and the people ran around him and did not even give him time or ask if he wanted to put on clothes, 4 girls were each charged over $600 each when they moved out for damages that did not exist and for storage of items that were in there apartment before they moved in.
These instances were not all at one complex but at different areas of Provo showing it happens everywhere. Though these instances were all since 2007, problems like these have been going on for years. In my family alone, this is not the first time we have had major problems with management. In 2003 my brother came to BYU to seek help after his landlord tried to evict him and his roommates without cause. They had been in constant confrontations over a number of things; his landlord came into his apartment without notice many times, vandalized my brothers property and for vengeance only lied to the honor code office that my brother was doing drugs. Though this landlord had the police called on him after he got into an altercation with a tenant and was charged with assault, this office still chose the side of the landlord who was older over my brothers despite the facts at hand.
Some of these students, like my brother, came into this office and others did not. Some of the students that have come to BYU to get resolution for problems told me that they felt more like they were coming to a counselor, a good listener, rather than someone that would enforce housing guidelines. Others said that their concerns were listened to but the person they talked with tried to get them to change their mind about the complaint because they personally knew the landlord and/or alluded to having personal financial interest in the property. Others felt that because there is no form for complaints that when they turn in a concern typed out on normal paper that it is more like a comment for a suggestion box rather than a formal document to a large organization that demands and should enforce high standards.
Students that did not come in to voice their concerns told me that they either didn’t know how since there are no forms available or that they had heard of other students not getting their problems resolved. At this point they would rather move than try to get the problems resolved through BYU. Others also did not feel comfortable complaining since they assume that BYU is constantly checking up on the complexes enforcing standards and that they must be mistaken about their landlord treating them in such a un-church-like way. Many more are choosing to completely avoid the Off Campus scene by applying for housing waivers.
I understand why this system was created. It was created to give students an environment that would uplift them spiritually and academically. It creates housing where all of the tenants have similar beliefs, are living by the same standards, and are in the same social station of life. In theory, this system is flawless. It also extends the comfort students feel in their classes at BYU into their home life. I feel that many students come to BYU with the view that BYU checks out every aspect of their college life for them. They make sure the professors are upstanding saints, that the students are abiding by the Honor Code, and that the housing has been found to also employ the standards of BYU. Unfortunately housing is only a shell; on your website it says: “The university cannot guarantee that owners and managers are employing their best efforts to maintain our standards, that all residents are complying with BYU standards, or that contracted living units meet our physical criteria.I think it is ironic that students can be kicked out of the university for an Honor Code violation at their home, yet the apartment that they live in is not held responsible to even maintain BYU’s standards. Because of this I feel that students do not realize that they need to be in charge and seek help though the city when they have problems. Once many of them do realize there is a problem, they would generally just move instead of going as far as I did. Many of them back down after confronting their landlord because they are told that their concerns are not important to the landlord and made to feel that they are in fact the ones that have made a mistake.
When I was here last week Craig Thomas and I had brainstormed different options for mass education of the students. One that I feel would be extremely easy to implement would be to create a document that landlords are required, by BYU Off Campus Housing, to give to their tenants when they move in. This document could have the top ten things tenants need to know whether this is their first or 20th apartment. Things that should be included would be landlord’s rights, like the right to enforce the Honor Code and Curfew at the complex etc. It should also include a number of rights of students that are currently and all too commonly violated such as when a landlord has the right to enter the premises to how long a landlord has to give back a deposit or itemized receipt. I feel that if landlords are forced to give a document with information that is worded in common terms vs. legal jargon like the contact, they would be less likely to violate those terms since many more students would realize the injustice and call them out on it earlier. If the form also had a BYU Off Campus Housing header students would feel that BYU is truly involved and if they have a problem they can contact the office. Other documents could also be mandated to be given to tenants such as a Utilities Contract should be given to every unit that does not have utilities included in rent. I, unfortunately did not know that this contract existed until I moved out of my last apartment and was still owed utilities payments by my roommates.
I understand that BYU is frustrated if students do not come to them with problems but students also get frustrated when they feel that they have to do so much to go to this university and are still not taken seriously as adults. Every time I get a new ecclesiastical endorsement I am reminded how there are fewer questions and stipulations to get a temple recommend. I only wish that my landlords also had to go through an equally rigorous interview or at least be required to follow all of the Housing Guidelines.
I thank you again for letting me come to your meeting today to voice my concerns as a student. I am more than happy to answer any questions and aid this office in any way that I can in order to resolve the concerns that fellow students and I have.

and the verdict is...


ACCEPTANCE!

After being in the photography program at BYU for three years I am finally on the BFA track.
I applied once before in April and didn't get in, so this is even more exciting.
So get ready 2012, for my BFA show.

Though the BA and BFA degrees are very similar, the BFA is just slightly more time consuming and instead of majoring in art with an emphasis in photography it is basically a degree in photography. Now besides just taking the normal photography classes I will have to do a final show and an internship.
(which for the time being, I am thinking Martha Stewart Studios is calling my name... :) )

anyway, I am SUPER excited to finally have my last grueling college application over with. That combined with my neighbor turning off her porch light at night (which shines directly into my window and is not stifled by the blackout curtains and three sheets over my window...) I have been sleeping like a baby.

the funny thing is, i still can't register for classes.
For the last year i have had to add classes on the first day because you have to be a BFA student to register online. Today i was relieved that i could finally register before the first day, then i found out i have a hold on my account.
stupid ecclesiastical endorsement interview i forgot to have...

cookie says...

Needless to say, lately i have been a stressed out basket case.
I have this great fear that i am a lazy person, then i think about my day and realize that is a crazy idea.
I have become somewhat of a workaholic the last year or so. It isn't rare for me to spend over 9 hours a day at work. Heck, last week I worked 9, 10, and 11 hour days plus my other two normal 8ish hour days and a few hours on saturday. Most likely that equals 50 hours of work.

i am a cosmetic selling rockstar.

But here is the dilemma, i have about a billion other things to do besides work. Among other things, i am applying to the bfa photography program in exactly 12 days and THAT should be my top priority. I have been somewhat frustrated with my portfolio and my major in general which has made this nearly impossible to work on. And what is my coping mechanism for stress? avoid it like the plaque, (hence all the work), and clean. Well, I have committed to working half days and my house is quite clean (there are even two fresh flower arrangements and my bathroom drawers and closest are organized and cleaned out) i guess that means that i don't have any excuses and i have to start creating.

i talked to my sister last week and vented about life, life-it kinda sucks at the moment, and she told me i needed some r&r and should fly out to the east coast (i have this great thing called a delta airlines voucher that is itching to be used). She also said that if i don't go on a vacation that i need to go to a spa or something and relax.

i guess the fortune cookie gods thought the same thing:

i texted this to jenny,

jenny: "listen to the cookie!"
me: "i always listen to cookies"
jenny: 'me too. they are the only tasty treats i trust. donuts always get me into trouble."

and that is why i call her when i am annoyed with life.

the end.

and by end i mean back to that portfolio that is looming over my head...