20 for 20

In honor of it being May, and my birthday month, I thought we'd celebrate with 20 things about me in honor of me living on this planet for 20 years.

1. As a kid I thought 16 was the pinnacle of a human beings existence. Because prom, duh. What more could you possibly get out of life? So, pretty much anything beyond 16 was downhill. Thankfully (like can I get a hallelujuh up in here?) that is not the case. 
2. Because my mom got married at 19, I really thought I would too, because obviously you always follow exactly in your parents footsteps. ;) If that's actually a thing though...I'm very behind schedule. 
3. I've spent 19 and a half years thinking that gogurt was special yogurt, or at least different than yogurt in some way. It's not guys. It's seriously just yogurt in a tube. 
4. I think dark nail polish is beautiful and classy...until it chips. After that, it looks like a middle school-er going through their 'emo' phase. 
5. Thought Catalog is a huge guilty pleasure for me. Reading pointless humor or advice articles is like  cocaine to me.
6. I love that getting older has allowed me to have more of a friend relationship with my parents. That Mike and Connie, they're real cool cats. (Parents..sorry I called you Mike and Connie on the internet. I'm not sure if we're close enough for that yet)
7. Texting has ruined my ability to type on keyboards. What do you mean you can't double-space to put a period?
8. I have a nearly constant monologue going on in my head. I'm convinced it's a blessing that only I can hear my thoughts. 
9. If I find a song I like, I will play it repeatedly, until I hate it. (I have ruined Love is Blindness by Jack White this week, and I am not sorry.)
10. I refuse to be ashamed that pink is my favorite color. 
11. Cat jokes, mullets, beards, any meme with Leonardo DiCaprio, and The Mindy Project are pretty solid reasons for happiness in my existence. 
12. I kept my hair short for years, because of one girl who told me 'my face was like totally too round for long hair'. (jokes on you random girl. Jokes. On. You)
13. I refer to almost everyone as my best friend. It seems mean to categorize people into friends and best friends. I throw around the friend word the way Oprah gives out cars to her audience, everybody gets a car. 
14. I'm highly opinionated, but I hate arguing or debating with people. 
15. Regularly, I get embarrassed for other people when they do something embarrassing. I still can't watch Anne of Green Gables without feeling highly mortified the entire time. That girl seriously is too much for me to handle
16. The best book I have ever read in my life is Life of Pi. It's the most different and unique book I've ever encountered, and not at all predictable.
17. I think love triangles in books, tv shows, or movies are highly annoying.
18. I'm relatively stubborn. Generally speaking, once my mind is made up, it's pointless to try to sway me one way or the other. 
19. I live with clinical depression and struggle with anxiety, usually in the form of obsessive and compulsive behavior. It's difficult,and it's been a major game changer for me. It's caused me to put everything in perspective and decide what's important and what's not. I hate that it makes me have to work harder than others to function on a 'normal' level, but I love that it forces me to constantly actively look for good and positive things around me. 
20. I'm a religious person. I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. I don't talk about that aspect of my life nearly enough. I love the gospel completely. It has changed me and shaped me into a better person. I completely respect, that other may not feel the same way as I do, and whole-heartedly believe that whatever believe system a person chooses, is a good thing so long as it makes them fulfilled and happy. 

But first, a story.

I think, or at least I assume, everyone had that dream as a kid that you showed up to school in your underwear. There's no logical reason why you would ever go to a public place in your underoos and your mother most likely would've noticed your lack of apparel and stopped you if you tried, nevertheless the underwear dream was still a scary idea.
I don't really have the fear of going anywhere in my underwear so much anymore, but I do have a lot of other equally irrational fears. I know for a fact, that behind the weird and disturbing face paint of a clown there is a completely normal human being. But that doesn't stop me from believing that every clown is a manic serial killer. I'm a well adjusted adult, obviously.
Perhaps you will recall my last grocery shopping experience. Where I successfully wooed the crap out of a stranger and I'm sure he has been pining after me ever since.  If you forgot, you can read about the embarrassing experience here . To quickly recap, a gentleman with a sweater that was knitted when someone was on acid, hit on me with the pickup like "Haven't we talked before", and instead of behaving like a normal human being I panicked and blurted that I only talk to my cat. There's been the misunderstanding that I meant to say I only talk to my cat as a snarky answer to make him go away. I really wanna pretend like that's true, but just for the sake of honesty, I didn't even know those words were coming out of my mouth until it was too late and he thought I was a crazed cat lady.
Aaannnyway, ever since the harrowing experience I've lived with a slight sense of paranoia that I would run into him again. I mean, after all, Cedar isn't terribly large. You're bound to see people sooner or later.
I just sorta figured I would've moved or like died before that ever happened.

More than that, I had resolved in my mind what I would do if we ever ran into each other again. Ya know, to avoid another verbal vomit situation. I had firmly decided that if I ever ran into him again and he recognized me that either,
A) I would play it cool and laugh like I had totally meant to embarrass myself.
B) Be a stuck up priss and pretend like I didn't know who the heck he was. Which in my defense is kinda true

I just knew, that should the occasion arise, I would take it like a man and face it head on.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha NOPE.

Yet again it was at the grocery store, which really should've been a red flag looking back. Casually perusing the aisles I saw a gentleman, with a striking sweater. I say striking, but what I really mean is ratty. But let's go with striking just for the sake of being polite. Something about him felt so familiar. How did I know this good fellow? It hit me like a ton of bricks when he turned around. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I took a deep breath and did what seemed to be the best option. I casually turned around and walked away. (to be read, speed walked, borderline ran in the opposite direction.) I distinctly heard laughter as I was maturely strolling away (to be read, running like I was in a zombie apocalypse film), but hey that could've been any number of customers....right?

Lemme just say what everyone is thinking: how has no one snatched me up with my smooth smooth ways with men? I dunno, it's really quite a mystery.

An ending....but also a new begining

Today, December 5th we celebrate the death of a close friend. I'm actually not even talking about Nelson Mandela, although yes I was deeply saddened by his passing as well.
Nay, I refer to the death of Barbie. My former laptop. Oh the sweet sweet times we spent together. Writing papers, listening to music, perusing Netflix, and possibly indulging in some slight Facebook stalking. Oh Barbie, words cannot describe my love for all of your weird quirks. Like how sometimes randomly you close documents I was working on, you were right, I didn't actually wanna finish that English paper. I loved the way people stared at me and wondered if perhaps I was psychotic to have a neon pink laptop. And in your last days Barbie, I really loved how you decided to kill the enter key, it didn't complicate my life at all, only added adventure in trying to work around it.
But, one fateful day, Barbie was viciously attacked by a virus or something. (I'm not a computer genius guys, I dunno this tech-y lingo) And before my eyes, I watched as Barbie deleted everything and shut down. So much was lost that day. Pictures (true), music (true), dreams (semi true), hope (partial lie) and that great American novel I was writing (blatant lie).
Barbie's hard drive breathed it's last breath of life, and died.
*Respectful moment of silence*

So today I graduated into the grown up world of laptops. Ya know, the kind that work all of the time, and aren't obnoxiously pink, and actually have disk drives, and look like they do important work. It's bittersweet. Well not really. Although, now I feel like I should probably act more like an adult and only blog about adult things. Like 401k's, and insurance, and house payments, and how the youth of today are ungrateful little poops. But let's get real, I don't know about any of that stuff.

That one time I was literally too awkward to function...

If you weren't already aware, I suffer from a horrible disease. In fact, it's terminal. It's called awkward. I am a person living with constant awkward-ness. There really ought to be commercials to increase awareness of this illness, I bet Sarah McLachlan could sing for it and everything...                                                                Awkward has made me do a lot of things in my life, things I try to forget about. There was the time when I tripped, not once, but TWICE in front of the most attractive senior's truck. My freshmen heart shattered as he laughed so hard he choked on his gum. There was also the time where I hacked my hair off to short-as-a-man territory and thought it was a good idea, newsflash, it wasn't. That year is still considered a very dark time in my life, pictures from that era have been disposed of. Or there was the time when the Jehovah's Witnesses tried to talk to me and I didn't know what to say to get rid of them and I'm pretty sure I was well on my why to joining their church.
Yes my life has been a never ending string of awkward moments. None so awkward as my last trip to the grocery store. I hesitate even to share this story, as it was a borderline painful experience, and I may spend years in intense therapy trying to recover from this blunder.
It's no secret I love my cat. Lucifer and I spend serious quality time together. Partially because we like each other, but also because not currently being in school seriously slows your social life down. In fact as we speak she's sitting on my lap. She enjoys the warmth of a good laptop. I'm a cat lady and it's totally ok.
 With that preface, let me begin my story. This last week I went to the grocery story. I was pretty frazzled because it was slushy in the parking lot and there was suddenly Christmas decorations obstructing all of the aisles and PEOPLE EVERYWHERE. You woulda thought it was black Friday in that place or something. I have a big problem with situations where I find myself wedged between a plastic Santa and a geriatric in leopard leggings. So to say I wasn't on my A game would be an understatement.  I wandered in frantic desperation looking for tortillas. Which of course couldn't be on the aisle with Mexican food, the bread aisle or any other aisle that you would picture tortillas on. Nay, they were by the ice cream.Which makes no sense to me...but whatevs.
Out of no where a man tapped me on the shoulder. He was late twenties, early thirties, with a stunning sweater vest that Dr. Huxtable himself would've been jealous of. He smiled and did what I assume was supposed to be a sexy eyebrow wiggle....or maybe it was just a twitch. It was hard to discern which. He said,
 "Haven't we talked before?" 
 I froze. Did I know this man? Was I supposed to recognize him? If I don't know him what am I supposed to say? I don't want to make him feel uncomfortable when he realizes we don't know each other? All these questions buzzing through my mind caused a rather long and painfully awkward pause. So naturally I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"No, I only talk to my cat."
That's the best my brain could come up with. I only talk to my cat. Even the most dedicated and antisocial of cat ladies weep at my bumbling answer. His eyes got wide for a minute and he chuckled and said "Too bad, you're cute anyway."                                                                                                            

   

                         

Dirty little secret

Guys. I'm on fire with this blogging stuff. Who's impressed? Anyone?

This girl is on fire. Too old of a reference? Sorry.


I mean, sure, this streak of blogging will die off, and we will go back to months between posts, but let's enjoy this while it lasts.
I'm going to confess a dirty secret of mine. Not all of my dirty secrets mind you, that would take all day, and I just do not have time for that.

To begin, I consider myself a mostly educated person. I can read. I can write. Most of the time I understand all of the jokes in the newspapers' comic strips. Occasionally I listen to NPR.
All of these facts, I use as a blanket of excuses to cover up my one dirty media secret.
I have a soft spot for crappy reality television.
I have literally seen every cycle of America's Next Top model. Heck, I even know to call them cycle's instead of seasons. Something about watching a bunch of type A personalities do photoshoots and try to scratch each other's eyes out is fascinating. I know nothing about the fashion industry, and I miss the height requirement for modeling by at least 8 inches. Yet there I sit, nodding my head agreeing with Tyra that a certain model was not "smizing" in her picture. Preach girl.

I feel so much better admitting that.

Now onto things of substance. Missionary pals :)

Elder Bishop/Bill reached his one year mark last week! I am so incredibly proud of that boy. He is doing such good work in Korea, and before I even know it he will be home!

Also he sent me this picture of Beauty and the Beast gum he purchased in Korea. I don't want to sound needy, and ungrateful, but why isn't this a bigger thing in America? We need this. I cannot be expected to chew mere regular gum. Happiness isn't good enough, I demand euphoria. Also Disney gum.

Regrettably, I do not have any pictures from Elder Passey, however he's doing awesome as always. I am, however, a little worried he will never come home. He is so incredibly in love with Russia, and the Russian people and culture! He is already planning to continue studying and speaking Russian when he comes home. What a great kid.

And last, but not least Elder Cardon. Recently Elder Cardon has been transferred from Brussels, Belgium to Nantes, France. I know he did wonderful work in Brussels, and loved it there, but I know for sure, he will do wonderfully in Nantes. And hopefully, I will do some research, and learn precisely where Nantes is. Yay for ignorance. I don't have much else to update you on with Elder Cardon. He sent me a few pictures.

I pretty much assume this means he's doing ok. Either that or there are some freaky Nacho Libre-esque things going down in France. 

Anyway. I think that's about it.

Thanks Ryan Gosling. You beautiful human you. 

Sometimes I think about Goldfish

I apologize. Because I really hate titles. But it's true in case you wondered, I do in fact think about goldfish. I think about goldfish quite often actually. Both the deliciously unhealthy snack cracker and the living creature.
I someday would like to own a goldfish of my own.

I remember as I child dying to have a fish, or a turtle, or a frog. But alas, I think my mother shot me down every time I asked for one. Which probably had something to do with the fact that I would've killed a fish/frog/turtle really fast. I'm a known killer. Of small animals.Occasionally large animals. And plants.
I would like to, however, point out that I am an absolute pro at pet rocks. They call me the rock whisperer. It's fine.

Anyway. Goldfish rant aside, life is going swimmingly (see what I did there? I know. So punny)

In good news, I have decided to spare the mail man's life, and call a truce on our unspoken war. In other words, I finally got the letter from Elder Cardon I have been waiting for. Turns out the mail man wasn't trying to ruin my life or test my patience at all, just that Elder Cardon wrote my address down wrong. I feel, in this situation, it would probably be appropriate for me to bake our mail man cookies, and perhaps write him a touching card, in which I will apologize for the malicious plots I had formed against him.

I love mail. I love mail more than Steve from Blues Clues loved mail. Albeit, I do not have a catchy song for when the mail comes, suffice it to say, I love mail. I'm pretty sure that's a consequence of our highly electronic society, because I could care less about how many emails I get. But snail mail? Even if it's a credit card company offering me who knows what, or bills, or wedding announcements, or even hate mail, I am filled with so much joy. Bless you whoever sends me mail, and may all your dreams come true.

There's a lot of things that are great about missionary mail. I mean they have wonderful gospel insight, hilarious stories, and good advice. But, probably what I love most about having missionaries, is the absolutely classic artwork.

We call this piece, "Close, but no Cigar", because, I have no idea what this picture is about. It is awe inspiring though...if you like demon cats and me as a missionary with a large scribble in the middle.
We appreciate the effort that went into this glorified doodle. Truly, we do. ( Let it be noted how much more intelligent one sounds when they use the term 'we')

In other news, I'm going to be an aunt. Which, obviously is going to be one of the greatest things to happen to me, that will probably only be topped when I finally get to hold a baby monkey. (It's a legitimate goal guys. And it's going to happen) Not that I've ever been an aunt before, but I can already tell you it's a wonderful job. Essentially, you get to spoil the crap out of a small human being, feed it sugary treats when you're not supposed to, and as soon as it sneezes/barfs/farts/cries you hand it back to it's rightful owners...I mean parents. All the joys of a baby, minus basically all of the responsibility. BRILLIANT.

On the homefront of anyone wondering what's going on in my daily life, allow me to update you. I am taking the semester off. Which is either the greatest, or stupidest decision of my life, results of this decision to be evaluated at a later date. I was answering phones part time at Heaton Financial, very proficiently I might add. However, his intern has come back from summer break and has resumed their rightful place in the office. So, basically what I'm getting at, is I'm unemployed again.
Ummm, I'm very poor, having a reasonable amount of money in my savings account would be an absolute honor, I'm a writer, I'm writing a unicorn zombie thriller novel (No I'm not. That's a lie), I'm still terrible at whistling, I'm a slow runner, and I'm obsessed with sleeping.
That's the truth of my life right now, and I'm not sorry about it. I'm 19 years old. I'm fairly certain, it's 100% ok not to have your life completely figured out by now. At least, that's what I tell myself. If you feel otherwise, please don't burst my bubble. Ignorance is bliss.
To sum up, here is an accurate depiction of how on top of this whole 'adult life' stuff I am.

We should just eat.

Oh hey friend. It's July. I don't know how that happened. I mean, I don't know how to explain why I have been not blogging. Because I've obviously been up to a lot.

I started a business. Although it has yet to take off for unknown reasons.

Umm and crafting. I have been doing a lot of crafting. 

I've done some work on my resume. Because unemployment is starting to eat my brain.

OK maybe I haven't quite done these exact things. If we're being honest this is probably a lot closer to what I've been up to.

And I'm not even embarrassed to admit that.

The fact of the matter is my skill set is pretty limited. I can't craft. Unless you want a pre-school art project done, I'm not your girl. I look at the wonderful crafts and projects people do and the only thing I can think is how screwed up it would be if I tried to do it.
I'm also not a photographer. I have a lot of appreciation for people who have that talent, but that's something I do not excel at whatsoever.

Basically my skill set includes; breathing, occasionally tweeting funny things, matchmaking, and eating.

Say what you want, but eating is great. However, in order to eat delicious food, you have to cook delicious food. As I've addressed in past posts, I'm not a fantastic cook. 75% of the time, I'm not sure I want to eat what I've made. But every once in a while. It is edible. And sort of tasty.
Yestarday I embarked on the adventure of what is known as Cajun Chicken Pasta. (insert drool).
The recipe is based on the pioneer woman's recipe, I've altered it slightly however.
If you don't trust me as a human being enough to use my recipe, that's cool, you're tacky and I hate you, but that's cool. No, but seriously, her version is also delicious and I have made it that way before, this is just my lighter interpretation of it.
Here's what you're going to need.

• 3 to 4 boneless skinless chicken breast.
• 1 medium red pepper
• 1 medium yellow pepper
• And heck if you're feelin crazy have a green pepper too.
• 1 small red onion
• 1 small package of mushrooms. Unless you hate mushrooms. Then you should probably just weep over the deliciousness you are missing out on.
• 1 tub of Greek yogurt, or heavy cream (I will guilt trip you into choosing greek yogurt though)
• 1 lemon
• Salt 
• Pepper
• A sense of adventure
• Cajun seasoning.

A thought to address, you can buy Cajun seasoning and be fine and dandy, however they usually are full of a lot of salt, so just be conscious of that.

Begin by cutting your chicken up into strips and then season the crap out of it with cajun seasoning. Like really, don't be shy. If you are too shy, have someone assist you. Take half of your lemon and squeeze the delicious juice all over it.  I should've taken a picture to indicate how much seasoning I used, but looking at pictures of raw chicken freaks me out. Sorry. It's gross.
Leave your chicken chillin in a bowl soaking up all the deliciousness you have introduced it to while you chop  your veggies.

Veggies are good for you friend. You should have more vegetables in this dish than chicken. Slice your peppers and onions into pretty thin strips. If you have the same issues chopping onions as I do, I suggest playing emotional music at this point. Like almost anything from the Les Miserables soundtrack. That way, people think you are simply touched by the classic story of Val Jean and not that you are a wimp at cutting onions. Take the other half of your lemon and squeeze it's wonderfulness all over your veggies. If you love love love spice then season your veggie's with cajun seasoning, there are those in my household who prefer things on the milder side so my veggie's are seasoned with garlic salt.

Get your skillet out and put it on medium to high heat. Put a little bit of olive oil in the bottom of the pan. Not too much obviously because oily food is nasty food. Place your chicken in and listen to the satisfying sizzle.

Please oh please oh please do not crowd your chicken! Lay it out one layer deep. It may take you two rounds to cook all of your chicken. But if you just dump all of it in there at once it won't get crispy. And you will be sad. When the chicken is cooked all the way through remove it and place it on a plate. You'll most likely notice lots of brown bits in the bottom of your pan. You might think you have burnt and ruined everything. Whoa there friend. Relax. Don't touch those bits of goodness. They're what's going to make your sauce taste like sweet baby angels. 

Next put your peppers and onions in the skillet. There should be enough left over oil in the pan from the chicken that you shouldn't need more, but if you do, please add a little more in. Are you wondering where the mushrooms are? Obviously peppers and onions take more time to cook, so if you are choosing to put mushrooms in, wait until your peppers and onions are almost done cooking. Otherwise your mushrooms are gonna be really mushy and soggy. That's just not delicious.

Add your mushrooms. It'll look like you have waaaaay too many and that they are taking over the pan. Just keep in mind that mushrooms shrink significantly as they cook. So it's all good buddy.

See I told you. They shrink as they cook and it looks like you have a more balanced array of vegetables.

Add your chicken back into the skillet. including all the juices and oil that was accumulated on the plate you put the chicken on. It's like liquid heaven. Now I'm about to try to guilt trip you with the sauce. You traditionally add heavy cream. And I will not lie to you, heavy cream is wonderful. But greek yogurt guys. Say it with me.GREEK YOGURT.  Why Greek Yogurt? It's very creamy, and super healthy and filling. Not to mention it's like half the calories of heavy cream. And essentially it tastes the same as if you had used the cream, although it is a little more tangy.

I'm not going to judge you if you don't use Greek Yogurt, I mean maybe a little bit, but this is America so you can do what you want.

If you do choose Greek Yogurt and want it to be a more similar consistency to cream add a little milk to dilute it. 

Add half of the tub of Greek yogurt to the skillet and stir all the wonderful juices from the chicken, and those wonderful brown bits you left in the pan. MMMMMMMM. Next add your pasta, (you have been cooking pasta throughout this right? I hope so pal) I prefer linguine. But whatevs.

Look at it. Delicious!

Next devour the whole pan...don't feel guilty about it. That's just unnecessary.

Welcome home

Hey y'all! I'm back in Ephraim baby!

Aren't long weekends fantastic? I think there is nothing better than a good long weekend. Weekends in and of themselves are wonderful, but then long weekends are like celestially beautiful.

You get to Sunday evening and you're feeling a little blue because you know that you'll have to go back to real life, but then EUREKA! You remember it's a long weekend and you don't have to go to school on Monday.

President's day in a lovely little surprise break I think. Hooray for presidents!

I think one of the best parts of going home and then coming back to my Ephraim home is the drive.

I absolutely love driving past the Manti Temple. Almost as soon as you're outside of Ephraim, you can see it, this beautiful white building up on the hill. The closer you get, the bigger and most magnificent it becomes. And then, by the time you drive past it, you can barely see it because it's so high up and big over you. 

I love driving through Gunnison and thinking about my sweet Grandparents serving their mission in the prison, and of course driving past the Malt Shop. (We did have pretty fantastic feasts there!)

Of course, driving through Salina makes me think about selling our cows. Burns Saddlery with my daddy, and Mom's Cafe will ALWAYS make me think about Grandpa.

I start to get so giddy when I get to Cedar.  Really, Southern Utah is such a beautiful area.

Talking with a friend today, who's going on his mission pretty soon, he's so excited to go, but he's really going to miss going up on the mountain. As we talked, I realized, pretty much everywhere I've been is beautiful in it's own way. 

Don't we live in a beautiful world?

I am so happy I chose to start my 'happiness project' this year for my 2013 goal. The more, I've opened myself up to happiness, the more I seem to find.

It's not the big huge stuff that makes me happy, it's the dumb little stuff that honestly fills me with joy.

Like, a text from someone you haven't heard from for a long time, or burning your favorite candle (Lime Cilantro, weird, but soooo yummy smelling) , or drinking sparkling pink grapefruit water because pink is your favorite.

I went to Wal-Mart today, because,

1. I like food, it is essential to life.

2. I live in Ephraim, and there is not many places to go.

I won't even lie to you, I started laughing more than was probably healthy. There were huge signs everywhere about all the Valentine's Day paraphernalia 75% off. Flowers, candy, cards, cheap jewlry, you name it.

I was pretty tempted to buy me some Transformers Valentines, you know, cause you just don't know when you might need one of those. Actually now that I think about it, I could just start passing out those bad boys out to everyone on campus. This feels like a really good idea.

But anyway, call me unromantic, but personally, I think if men were smart they'd buy their significant other's Valentine's gifts after Valentine's. Kills the romance completely, but it would save you lots of money. 

Just a thought.

Anywho. I'm going to take a  power nap. Which is actually when I lay in my blankets, hold a stuffed monkey, and squeeze my eyes tight and pretend like I'm going to fall asleep. 

Confession

I'm in the very tippy top of the library today. Because in the very tippy top level of the library there is what I like to call the dead zone. Because you aren't allowed to talk or play music out loud up here. So basically you just have to sit silently at your sad little desk and do your homework.
It's sort of like to adult version of time out I think. Except you chose to be there instead of your mommy sending you there.
And as much as I hate to admit it, you really do get a lot of work done in the library. I hate to admit it, because I actually really dislike getting my bum out of my lovely  little house and walking in the cold slush (Why do we not believe in shoveling sidewalks? I dunno) to the library. I'm a lazy bones. And more than that, I'm a cheapo bones. I can't bring myself to drive anywhere not completely necessary.

Sometimes I plot in my mind how I can possibly walk to Wal-Mart and not die carrying all of my groceries. I'm pretty sure, if I could find enough mindlessly obedient minions (to be read, men) to carry my groceries it would all work out just fine.

Anyway, the point is, it's really hard for me to get myself to the library. And the first 15-20 minutes are about as productive as clean up time in pre-school. It's shocking, and a little bit disgusting the things I will do, instead of just cracking open my books. Like I counted the ceiling tiles once. (234 so far in case you were dying to know) Today was especially bad.

I got all settled into my little prison cell  and opened up my pretty pink lap top. Stared at my background of Lil Wayne for a while and pondered how long it would take me to grow my hair out and get dreads like that. And then I pulled out my notebook. My brain was like,
"Hey! Do you know what we should  do instead of starting math homework? Origami. We should totally do that right now"

For the record, I don't know how to do origami at all. Maybe once or twice in my elementary school career they tried to teach us, and every single time I handed my piece of paper to the child next to me and made them do it for me. Yeah, I was that kid. The ugly truth comes out at last. I cheated at origami in elementary school. That, and heads up seven up, but I think everybody cheats in that game.
So, I looked up some instructions and before I knew it I had made the most beautiful piece of artwork you have ever laid eyes on.

Yes. Feast your eyes. I think I found my calling in life.

After that artistic experience, I admired the carpet design. It's really quite hypnotizing. Then one of campus police came upstairs and took a boy from his desk away. That piqued my curiosity quite a bit. Which lead my brain to thinking about being pulled over. And you know how like in TV and Movies they pull people over and make them say the alphabet backwards? It occurred to me that....I can't do that.
Not that I'm ever going to be drunk, or pulled over, but it's very concerning news to me. So I tried to learn how to say the alphabet backwards. It didn't work. I can't do it.

So I gave up. It seemed like the best idea. Then I did some more artwork.

And then after that, I pretty much had run out of things to do. I mean I thought about performing Les Mis live for everyone in the room, but like I said, it's the dead zone. And I don't think anyone is quite ready to see a one woman show like that. It's a tear jerker though. And the barricade scene is powerful.
Someday I may perform it, video it, and make millions of dollars.

So after all of my nonsense, I finally did my homework.

Wintery Wonderland. Once again!

Oh happy day! Yet again, the lovely village of Ephraim, Utah has been covered in snow! They don't call it Snow College for nothing kids. There is plenty of snow to go around.

But I am not complaining about the snow, no sir, I am not. I feel like cold weather is only justifiable if there is snow. So now I have freezing cold weather AND snow. I always get what I wish for. Except for a baby monkey. No matter how much I wish, I do not have a baby monkey. It's a tragedy really.

Does anyone really actually enjoy the singles ward? Not the cheesy movie...the actual real deal thing. Because, I really kind of don't. Sometimes it feels like we've thrust a bunch of clueless young adults with  minimal adult support and leadership and ask them to run things smoothly, and find their eternal companion in the process. Oh wait, that IS what a singles ward is. There are really wonderful people in my ward, don't get me wrong, they are great. But there is a serious male deficiency in our ward with  sort of causes the ladies to turn into vicious piranhas. You walk into Relief Society in your boho skirt and ankle boots looking like a lazy hobo who found religion, and everyone else is dressed like they're attending the Oscars. That's one thing I will never understand about girls. With church bright and early at 9:30 how is it that they get up shower, blow dry, and curl their extremely long hair into perfect 1" ringlets. How does that happen? Am I the only woman on earth who values sleep? Because if I were to do that, it would require me waking up VERY VERY early. And guys, that just isn't going to happen. It just isn't. There is nothing to do to motivate me to even want to do that.
The next thing I don't particularly love is the activities. Everything is turned into a get to know you game. It's like our leaders don't think we're capable of socializing on our own. (which sadly most of us are not) For example this Monday they told us that they wanted to feed us a lovely dinner. That's it. Just a lovely dinner. I happen to be pretty much poor beyond all reason, so if you're offering to feed me, I'm going to take you up on that offer. So naturally I showed up. But ladies and gentlemen this was NOT just a lovely dinner. This was a lot less of a ward activity and a lot more of a warm humiliation. They sat us randomly at a long table. And then they tied our hands to the people sitting next to us.
So eating involved tugging some one's arm with you and bringing your hand AND their hand to your face.
It was really fun. I have never seen so many distressed and grouchy college students before. Although I'm not sure what the motivation to do this activity was.
I mean " Hey I'm sorry I just put half your hand in my mouth when I was trying to shove my roll in my face" isn't exactly the best way to start a conversation. Although I will tell you this. I have learned which boys are the polite boys in the ward are.
Oh goodness. Never again please.

Today I have had a most perplexing problem on my mind. I really like seafood. It's delicious. And I would eat it all the time if I had the choice. But also, if I were to be a mythical creature I would be a mermaid. Not like a rebellious redheaded mermaid who isn't content with her awesome mer-life. Like a legit mermaid. With the singing, and the swimming and the underwater shenanigans. BUT, if a mermaid  eats seafood does that make her a half cannibal? I mean she would be consuming her fishy relatives.
It's a complex issue right? I asked pretty much everyone I could think of. And the general consensus is that I probably am too old to be thinking about mermaids. Also that yes, it probably would be half cannibalism for a mermaid to eat seafood.
However not to fear, Shannon told me that "its a dilemma we've been fighting for years. There's a 5K tomorrow to support it and you may purchase t-shirts and other supportive paraphernalia."
You guys all thought that Matt and Shannon were a good productive couple already, and now you know that they are trying to solve the mermaid cannibalism problems of the world. Truly they are an inspiration to us all.
What do you think? Cannibalism? Or just delicious diet choice?

Lifeishardmoveon

Being that I am young, relatively good looking and  single, I love dating advice. Really. I love nothing more than when people give me unnecessary and frankly unwanted advice on how to find, snag, and keep a man.

Being in college, has only escalated this blessing (to be read problem). Why? Because I have been ignorantly dropped into a dating pool of sharks. Marriage sharks to be exact. Also known as Returned Missionaries. Wonderful creatures rm's are. Funny, smart, good looking. But always on the hunt for their eternal companion.

To be fair, I am too. But rm's are in the marriage express lane, while I'm still wandering around on immaturity street. You follow what I'm saying?

There is nothing wrong with the college dating pool, really there isn't. If you are unhappy with it, you always have the option of getting out of the college dating pool. Of course there are only 2 fool proof ways to get out of the pool:

1. Death
2. Marriage

Naturally you probably want to shoot for number 2. Those who take this route of leaving the pool are generally the advice givers. Due to the fact that dead men tell no tales (wow did I sound like a pirate right there?)

I'm not saying you survivors shouldn't share your joy in leaving the pool, really you should. But when you're my Wal-Mart checker and you're asking me why I don't have a boyfriend. We have a problem.

Here is the dating advice I am holding FIRM to these days.

This kid is brilliant.
Life lesson learned Alec.

Life is hard move on.
:)

Time doth fly

Its November and time is flying ladies and gentlemen!
Ronald (missionary numero 2) is havin his mission farewell this very Sunday and then will be whisked off the the wintery wonderland of Russia. Ok, false, first he'll be whisked away to the MTC, then the wintery wonderland.
Crrrraaaazzzzzzy.


Full on congratulations to everyone who is surviving life. Because, seriously, that is an accomplishment. Think of all the people working at fast-food restaurants who secretly long to be famous artists, or big bad lawyers, or youtube sensations that can squirt milk out of their eye (I'm just sayin its a valid dream ok?)

Lately my body has been like, what? sleep? You only need limited amounts of it. You should wake up every two hours and stuff. So I do.
Thusly I found myself at 4:00 in the morning staring outside my window. This is a pretty accurate picture of what I saw. (No its not)

After such a wonderful view before me, I rolled over and stared at the wall and slowly drifted off into madness.

Whether the moon believes in me or not though, life continues to truck on.
I believe I'm turning into a hypochondriac these days because being around sick people, makes me overwhelmingly paranoid that I am going to be sick. I honestly thought about purchasing some cold medicine today.
No joke. I found myself, a perfectly healthy and relatively normal individual, standing in the medicine aisle, eyeing up a bottle of grape flavored cold medicine. I pondered deeply if I truly needed it, after all, I'm not entirely sick right now. But being prepared is the boy scout motto. And if there is one thing I am good at its scouting for boys. Which is practically the same thing as being a boy scout. Minus the merit badges and do gooding activities.
In the end, I decided that I would not buy the cold medicine. Largely because medicine companies have  no idea what grape really tastes like. Grapes taste juicy and happy and wondeful. Cough medicine grapes taste like unhappiness and the tears of small children.

On another note, I cannot even believe that Thanksgiving is coming up. I mean I knew it was, because all the Christmas decorations are up in Wal-Mart. Once I see Halloween candy for sale at like 99.9% off and plastic Santas floating about, I know its time for Thanksgiving.


For the record, this is NOT an accurate depiction of Thanksgiving.


Also let me share this. Because I really feel for this kid.

This kid knows what's up.

And while I'm on a sharing kick

I don't know Darla...I just don't know.

(kidding. I don't actually feel like boys are jerks)

The Red Wheel barrow.

I love poetry. Really, I do. Its fantastic honestly, even if you aren't analyzing it every Monday Wednesday and Friday at 11:30 you can enjoy it. Read some, and it will be enjoyable. Especially if it's Dr. Suess because that man had it goin' ON! But I digress.

Poetry is food for the soul. (unless your soul isn't hungry right Marissa?)

But there is one poem that has been plaguing me. Bringing me anxiety and stress and inner turmoil and pressure! It's an extremely famous poem. A poem that has had many papers and interpretations put into it.

The Red Wheelbarrow

By: William Carlos Williams

So much depends

upon

A red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens.

Yeah that's it. Read that sucker a few times. Now pretend you have a huge test on it, where you have to w rite a paper on the symbolic meaning of this poem. Please tell me you feel as lost as I do?

But apparently, I am the only one who feels that there is NOTHING going on in this poem other than some rain on a wheel barrow and some chickens chillin' next to it?

Alas, I fear I am.

Let me share the various interpretations I have heard.

Hipster Jeff

Oh Hipster Jeff, how I love that deranged yet incredibly attractive child. Hipster Jeff read through that gem of a poem, and turned it into an analogy of the cold war. The flippin cold war people! 16 words and 2 minutes later he comes up with the Cold War. Obviously the red wheel barrow is a symbol of communism, because red...Russia...Communism... You know? The white chickens are a symbol of democracy and America. ( Which personally I find to be an insult to America, because chickens are not exactly a shining example of brains and wit) The rain water is a symbol of the Cold war itself. Pretty deep right? Oh, it doesn't end there ladies and gents. Hipster Jeff took it a step further. He extrapolated from that analogy to make yet another brilliant point. What with all the rain that is going on, eventually the wheel barrow is going to rust over and become useless, whereas the chickens aren't going to be harmed by the rain (unless they drown...which is another story). SO! Communism is going to be defeated somewhat by the Cold War and Democracy and America is going to survive.

Yes, all this from that poem. Genius! Or madness!

My Bff Jill...who is actually named David Cardon.

Oh David. David david david david Harold David. That boy. Whatta goofball! Whilst I was trying to find some meaning in this wheel barrow rubbish I was textin Davie boy. And I will not even lie, I was bein a little bit of a brat. Because frustration breeds brattyness. And brattyness breeds hilarious voicemails from David. Can you tell he likes to leave voicemails? Yeah I don't actually know what why...but they are entertaining. So I texted him the poem and told him to figure out what it meant. In the most rude and snotty way possible. Why he puts up with me I do not know. SO! Here's what Dave had to say.

The poem is about a guy, who fell in love with a farm girl. And the first time he saw her she was pushing a red wheel barrow full of feed for her chickens in the rain. Their eyes met and there was a spark, a flame, a burning desire. And boom! They fell in love. So now whenever the man sees chickens and wheel barrows in the rain, he thinks of his farm girl.

Pretty impressive for such a goofy child right? I was blown away from that interpretation as well.

Which leads me to the point.

I'm pretty sure that William Carlos Williams, was writing about a red wheel barrow. In the rain. With chickens. No hidden agenda, no cold war symbolism, no love story.

I think he wrote it so that English majors would wrack their brains for some ridiculous deeper meaning, and he could laugh his face off. And so people like me would be utterly stumped for no good reason.

What do you think?

Thank you. That is all. 

Come on get happy!

First of all, welcome to October, month of bloodthirsty killings of deer and Halloween.

While Halloween has lost its luster for me, since apparently there is an age limit on trick or treating, (Oh the humanity! Or lack thereof that prevents me from dressing up like a princess and exploiting people for free candy) I can assure you the deer hunt just gets better with age. I apologize to those who believe running around the wilderness for the express purpose of killing an innocent animal is wrong.
You clearly are missing out.

But moving on. Today I am happy. Because well, actually MOST days I am happy. Except for on the rare occasion that I am not happy.


So, as you may have gathered from the title of this post, I am going to attempt to bring a ray of sunshine-y happiness of my life to you!

This is the poster of a party that occured on my street! Unfortunetly we did not attend. Although let the record show, that we are indeed, Superfly Honeys.

This is a sign I found on the bell tower while I went to visit Cayley at the library. I'm really not sure which made me happier, the fact that someone else out there shares my obsession with mustaches, or the fact that mustache duct tape exists.

I mean really? Mustache duct tape-mind blown.







Nextly I will share with you 23 ways to make your day better.
Personally I like #3 and #14 the best. Although really all of them are precious little gems in and of themselves.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/steps-to-instantly-make-your-day-better

Click on it ^^ You know you want to :)

Ain't life a funny thing?

I think so. In fact, I think life is downright hilarious.

Today I didn't wear make-up. Four people asked me if I was feeling ok....thanks for thinking my real face looks like I'm physically ill.

For a moment I felt a little hurt. Possibly offended. This is the face the good lord gave me, and y'all should appreciate it! But then I could only laugh. Because, laughing is really the best part about life. And if my real face looks like I'm sick, well I guess I'm just going to have to work with that.
And by work with that I mean take merciless advantage of that. :)

I had a wonderfully serendipitous moment in English 2010 today. I came in, not exactly feeling like I was going to be able to stay awake during the hour and 15 minutes. The professor came in, with a jaunty new hair cut might I add, and said that if we were on our best behavior that we could get out of class early.
Granted this felt like a somewhat elementary tactic to get children to participate, I was ALL OVER this idea. Twas just what I needed to hear :D

Today, I'm thankful for weird friend boys who text my roommate and tell her not to let me skip breakfast. (its the most important meal of the day duuuuh) It's totally ridiculous and ok, borderline creepy, but it's good to be cared about right? Although, if we were being honest, I don't think anyone, even Cayley, could force me to eat if I didn't want to.
Also I'm grateful for very silly friend boys who help me plan my imaginary family, for an assignment of course. (3 boys, 1 girl,6 dogs) Because imaginary family planning is extremely important you know? In case you were wondering I put down my husband as Diego. From Go Diego Go. He's Dora the explorers sexy cousin. Why Diego? Well,

1. He has beautiful brown eyes
2. He dedicates his life to saving people and creatures
3. Like his cousin Dora, the boy has EVERYTHING in his backpack. Oh you need car insurance? Got it in my backpack! Endless supply of happiness and a cure for world hunger? Check the side pocket.

While  an unconventional choice for a spouse he may be. Let's all take a step back and realize, that this was only my imaginary family.











This evening, while I read through my melancholy poetry assignment, I shall also be trying to come up with meals for this week. At the beginning of each week, Cayley and I try to figure out a meal plan for the week. Probably because we're super cool....or probably because otherwise we would just never eat anything. Suggestions are ALWAYS ALWAYS welcome!!!!

Can I just share something with you?

This makes me smile. Constantly. For really no apparent reason. I think it's because Zayn has a skunk stripe like mine. Obviously he knows who I am and is obsessed with me right?

Kind of like how Justin Bieber loves me and wants to call me.

No I am not delusional about these teen pop idols loving me. ;)