Genki Gold

"A  man . . . should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?" (The Importance of Being Earnest, 2002). I, twenty-three-year-old Jenny, know nothing. That's not to say I don't have moments were I do think I know everything.  Like when Rob asked me out to the movies this week. He asked me if I wanted to see "The Hate U Give." I'd seen an ad, and I knew vaguely it was about a black teenage girl who witnesses an unarmed black friend of hers get shot. I was pretty excited that Rob wanted to see such a progressive movie. A kid from my high school was shot by police. He was black. He was unarmed. One fortunate but also unfortunate thing was that the cops who shot him were wearing body cameras. I have seen the final moments of my friend's life. I did not know him well; If I saw him in the hall, I would say hi, but we weren't much closer than that. His name was Elijah and he had an outstanding traffic violation fine against h

Monday was an exciting day. My boss sent me out with a journalist to interview people myself. They wanted to do a story on tourists and it was up to me to interview them in English. We went into town and had an hour to interview as many people as possible. I struggled to differentiate between natives and tourists, but my fellow journalist was a native who guided me. We were able to interview about six people in that hour. What was hard for me was how different these public surveys are in Italy than America. Typically, I would take someone's full name, and make sure it was spelled correctly, to put in a caption on the show while they talk. Maybe it was laziness, but the lead journalist with me had no desire to take their names; it would have been up to him during the interview process to add the captions. It was interesting to me to see how many people rejected an interview. I could not help but think back to my mission and all the rejection I experienced in Tokyo. Some people

This was the first week without the Italian high school interns. This meant that I was all my boss had; an outgoing, loud, American girl with stumbling Italian. It was my chance to shine. And shine I did when I approached my boss and proposed projects I could do for the newsroom. I proposed four. I presented them all in under three minutes because I know he is very busy. He had something else to do immediately after my presentation, but as he was showing me out of his office he said: "I like those last two you talked about-do those." That is how I ended up picking up two projects for the station. But it is a good thing I did because otherwise, I would not have much to do outside of teaching English on the radio every day. My lessons have still seen improvement this week; I started basing my lessons off of popular songs. Since I am teaching live on the radio, I smartened up and starting using all of my resources. Now, we listen to a song in English, and I teach them

For my history class this last winter semester, I had an assignment to interview someone who had lived through a historical event, and ask them what it was like to live through it. As soon as I learned of the assignment, a widow in my ward came to mind. I thought it would be nice to interview her, but I was a little disappointed. The woman was eighty years old. She had lived through the near impeachment of a president, the resignation of another, two international wars, a cold war with Russia, a missile crisis, the sending of LDS missionaries to South America, the relinquishment of the priesthood and temple blessings to black members, Civil Right movements, abortion movements, and so much more. I could not wait to pick her brain. I let her pick the topic. She decided she wanted to talk about 9/11. Now, granted I was six, but even I  lived through 9/11. She had so much more exposure to historical events, but only picked the one that everyone already loves to talk about. I could not

The nightmare I'd dreaded for an entire week became my reality my first day at work: I arrived earlier than my boss, and nobody else knew who I was. At this point, let's laugh at the irony of an American student who studies Communications suddenly becoming an intern at an Italian radio and TV station without the ability to communicate perfectly in Italian. I had no ideas what my duties would be, but I was happy to be in a field that I love, even if I am in a foreign land, speaking a foreign language. This city is a small one, but its crew of broadcast journalists and disc jockeys is even smaller. Everybody is stretched really thin here. So I don't hold anything against my boss for forgetting about my first day. Luckily, the disc jockey on shift that morning was very welcoming. She didn't have any other guests on for the morning so she brought me on as one. Day one, and I am live on the air speaking Italian. It was a whirlwind already, and then she asked me what I

Today, June 3, 2018, I was a witness to two religious ordinances. Thanks to video messaging, I was able to see my friend in Tokyo, Japan get baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After that, I went to Mass here in Sienna where eighteen children had their first communion. Naturally, there are some doctrinal differences between an LDS baptism and a Catholic communion, but the two have the same purpose: helping people feel like they belong to something. I recognized how my own religious rites gave me my sense of belonging. My testimony of my Church influences the way I dress everyday, the way I talk, and the food I eat. My Church attendance gave me friends, confidants, and role models. This week was the fortieth anniversary of the 1978 Revelation; those of African descent were extended the blessings of the temple and Priesthood. It was appropriately titled: "Be One." In the April 2018 General Conference session, this was said: "You are a

How to Eat in Italy I could have used this blog post before I left for Italy. It is one thing to eat as a tourist in Italy, but it is an entirely different thing to eat food prepared by an Italian. The first thing you have to know is that what you see is not always what you get. The kitchen and the dining room are totally separate rooms in most Italian homes. You will likely never see the food that has been prepared until it is right in front of you. Italian tables are small, you see. In America, for dinner the food is all out on the table. This is not the Italian way. They will keep food in the kitchen until the next course. Some people have enough dishes for the world and will set out individual plates for every course. This is a pretty clear clue to Americans that there will be several rounds of food. But not everybody has that kind of dishware. Know that even if there are not several plates in front of you that there will be several courses.  Yes, that's right: &q

Every day I am more grateful that my major is in Communications Studies. I just love conversation. I love understanding and being understood. The Worst insult I can imagine receiving would be as follows: “You don’t understand [insert something previously communicated to me].” It’s the worst. I consider myself to be a good listener, and empathy is my number one characteristic. When someone instead tells me, “You don’t understand, you did not listen to me closely enough, and you are not empathetic to my situation,” it feels like I am being told that I am not being true to myself. I wish I didn’t take it so personally, but I do. To prevent this, I ask questions, I repeat what I have heard, and summarize to try and convey how hard I am trying to understand. Of course, I will never be perfectly empathetic, but I hope I can always understand what is verbally communicated to me. You can imagine how hard it is to meet this end when I don’t speak the language of the country I’m l

I loved social media. I loved having friends compliment me for how "real" my posts were and how I helped others' self-esteem. I really thought the good was overwhelmingly better than the bad. My husband Rob is not very active on social media, and often argued with me about how it could be a bad influence. I fiercely disagreed, but in the back of my mind, I knew there were tons of inappropriate posts constantly at my fingertips. Some of the content was provocative or triggering, or even induced jealousy in me. However, I argued, public life can be provocative, triggering, and covetous. Just because I was not seeing an image on social media did not mean that I would not see the same image in public. Likely, the same images are on the street. If one cannot handle what one sees on social media and control their lust and jealousy, the same cannot control those emotions when they see the same thing on the street. It is better to use social media and learn to control those emo

Louis C.K.: I can't imagine how hard it is to have all of your most private and personal experiences made public. Many other men and women have the same experiences but will never lose their career over it. If you are guilty by public opinion for the rest of your life, I am sad for you. My name is Jenny, and I'm a married university student. I watched your Netflix special earlier this year and laughed a lot. It was your joke on marriages that last forever that provoked this blog. You said that you "looked it up" and that "no religion teaches" that there is such a thing as a marriage that persists postmortem. I want you to know that you missed one religion in your research: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You might know us as the Mormons. Salt Lake City, Utah Temple My husband and I were married in an LDS temple. We believe that as long as we are faithful, our marriage will be eternal. We would agree with you when you said: "M

It has taken me years to tame my mane. This post is for those of you who are still in the heat of the struggle. I have separated each step of my hair care into four parts: 1.Washing  2.Style Prepping  3.Drying  4.Must Read How To's You can skip around to what you need.  Maybe you don't have curly hair, but feel free to read on. If more girls like you read this, you'll see what us curly haired girls have to go through and won't be so jealous anymore. FYI: My hair texture is as follows: I tend to have greasy roots and really dry ends. My curl is more kinky than wavy. 1. Washing Brushes I do not brush my hair dry. Ever. I only brush my hair when I shower. This type of brush, with holes behind the bristles is the best for brushing wet hair because the water has a place to go. It was introduced to me by a hairdresser friend of mine. I got this one from Wal-mart; they are available nearly everywhere. Price: $ Price: $ This is a comb yo

“Death, taxes and childbirth! There's never any convenient time for any of them.” -Gone with the Wind I felt as though I was finally becoming an adult. I was filing my taxes as an independent with my husband. It was a first for the both of us. We thought, as poor college students with a mortgage, we would be eligible for a small return or at least break even. We were wrong. As soon as our tax accountant crunched the number we still owed in taxes, I was doing the math in my head. We are already living on a strict budget. We have a big trip to Italy planned for this year. This big number would be a speed bump for sure.  I felt pretty angry to be honest. This felt like a punishment, and I did not understand why we deserved it. How could the US government demand more from university students? In my mind, I saw every unfair thing that had happened to us since getting married. I know life is unfair as is, but I felt that those that should be fair--namely the executive branch of t

I love traveling. Brigham Young University's class scheduling is not very conducive to my love. This winter semester of 2018, there are two holidays. Presidents' Day Weekend and a single day for Spring Break. Three days bestowed to me for Presidents' Day Weekend are enough to go anywhere. My spirit and flesh were willing. But I stayed in town instead. I maximized my time to study and do homework. I didn't sleep in. By Monday night, I felt accomplished because of all the school work I had done. Come Tuesday, and I get a less than perfect score on my Japanese midterm. I cried as soon as I knew. I wasn't crying over the less than perfect grade, but over the wasted travel opportunity. If all my hard work only added up to an average grade, the time I spent at home studying was a waste. I should have gone out of town this weekend, enjoyed myself, and I likely would have ended up with the same grade. Why am I studying Japanese? The department is small. The fu