Breaking up is haaaaaaard to doo!

Yeah I was totally singing that cheesy 80s ballad when I typed that.

But let's not be mistaken and panic and stand up and scream " For the love of garbage! I didn't know she was even dating anyone and now she's blogging about her break up! REBELLION."

Don't do that because that would be ridiculous, and also really really unnecessary. I am keeping all of my secret relationships secret...obviously.


I am breaking up with my overgrown unattractive hair. It needs some life breathed back into it. BIG time. Its so lifeless and flat and sad. Sometimes at night I can hear it crying for some love and attention.

I just need to find a trustworthy stylist. Like obviously duh I have one in my very own family. Except she's kinda in Montana. And I'm just not willing to drive the distance. :)

But seriously I'm like 97% hobo 3% chic. This is clearly a problem.

In other news. Missionaries are fantastic. You totally know that they're like super heroes and amazing when your a kid, but they seem so out of reach and unobtainable. And then all of a sudden the older you get the more personal it becomes because you actually know the missionaries that are leaving. Then BOOM. Those missionaries are your friends.

My home boys as pictured above, (Robert-Craig, Me, Ronald) have recently got their mission calls. Robert is going to Korea. Don't ask me where or like which Korea because I can't remember which one is communist and scary and which is not communist and still scary. And Ronald is going to some unpronounceable part of Russia.

Sippy Cup Confessional

I'm only 18 years young. Its weird enough moving away from my posse.

Its almost unbearable to have them go to scary foreign countries for 2 years.

They're going to be the best missionaries ever. I totally cried when they got their

calls and you better believe I'm going to cry when they leave!

Growing up is kind of nerve-wracking. Which I'm fairly certain I say that at least 30 times in every post. But I'm just the Peter Pan child ok? I am not down with this grown up stuff. I did not win 'Senior most likely to never grow up' for nothin!

Ok, now I just need to share a kind of adorable story. About Dave, my adopted brother. 

Remember him? Yeah adorable I know. The other day, whilst I waited for a completely different boy to text me ( why must they be such retards? haha) I got a text from Dave. The conversation went something like this

David- Hey! I need a favor!

Me-...as long as its not illegal I think the answer is yes

David-I need you to tell Poppa Heap  that mm=100

Me- Excellent! Super proud bro!

David- Thanks love.

In case your sitting there thinking...'what the beep was that' let me explain. mm stands for Mission Meter. As in David is 100% going :D Kinda thrills me, especially considering it was pretty iffy for a while if he even wanted to go. I'm proud of that young man quite a lot. 

Aaaaaand....I just really like this guy. 

Surprise!

SURPRISE! Post Graduation blues are over.

I know that was pretty fast. I assume if I were a person of more depth I would've taken my depression much more seriously and religiously devoted at least a month to it. However, I'm wishy-washy and I get bored with things easily. Thusly, my blues are over.

I think its safe to say that I'm almost over my desire to grow a mustache. Although, it still would be an adventure I'm sure.


Today was not very productive. Unfortunately die-cuts and paper is slow in coming to Storytellers. So no work today. Isn't that great? I'm only practically job-less and desperate for money and UPS doesn't have the good manners to deliver things on time. Rude. Rude Rude Rude.

So I went to Wal-Mart to buy hair dye. Because I'm super classy like that. And because I'm super classy I went in running shorts and a t-shirt. With mildly disgusting hair. And little to no make-up. But I am not going to apologize for that.

Anyway. first I ran into a boy who said 'ERIN!' and came up and hugged me. We engaged in brief polite conversation and then he left. I have no idea who that kid is. Clearly he knows me. Obviously we went to school together. But I really don't know who he is. I'm thinking my brief state of post graduation stress/depression has left me with no facial recognition skills for anyone who is even remotely connected to Cedar High School. That's no bueno, I believe.

After the episode with the boy who i don't know but knows me, I wandered through the make-up aisle. I know there are a lot of people who think make-up is frivolous and largely unnecessary in a semi-feminist and anti-objectification of women and people who just really don't like wearing make-up. But I am here to proudly say I love it. I love the shiny containers, colors, sparkles, different brands and names. I just really love it. I remember how magically out of reach make-up seemed when I was a kid. It was practically the ticket to true womanhood to me. Is that shallow? Probably. So what.

While  admiring some pretty ballin' lip-glosses ( who knew purple was a valid choice of gloss for people over the age of 4?) I glanced over and who did I see? Cayley Lourie Grant smiling at me! ( If you wanted you could attempt to put that last phrase to "popcorn popping on the apricot tree" just a suggestion folks)
You better believe there was some girlish squealing going on in the lip-gloss aisle.
We walked around Wal-Mart with all the other recent graduates who have frankly nothing better to do with their lives and chatted. Because I am a very good chatter.

We talked about our cutesy batootsy house in Ephraim which I still have not had the pleasure of seeing. I just have to use my imagination and pretend like I know how adorable it is. But I shall not have to imagine for long! We are going to drive up next weekend hopefully and do a little work on the yard. Because those boys who lived there this year did not know how to water or mow their lawn. Men. (sigh)

In other news I might be working part-time with Janet with stinky tourists. If you love the idea of pesky tourist stories from me raise your hand! Its not set in stone, but I do have to admit it would be a fantastic opportunity money-wise. So, if you would pray for me to get the job I would probably love you significantly more than I already do.

Sippy Cup Confessional

Life is less than ideal at times folks.

In fact its pretty safe to say that every

assumption, dream, frivolous wish I've had

about this stage of life has pretty much fell 

through. And sometimes saying "life isn't fair"

doesn't quite cover it. Clearly I'm not mature 

enough to smile and be happy about disappointment.

Either life sucks, or I'm just gonna have to believe

that someone upstairs is working things out for me

in a different way than I want. I think adults are supposed

to roll with the punches or somehow magically make

all of their dreams come true. Obviously I am not 

adult in this aspect. Or any aspect. Except in age.

Age is relevant. In other words, I'm still functioning

on the politics of fairness of a 7 year old.

Sippy Cup Confessional

I feel so inadequate for my upcoming adult-hood. So I thought up the phrase "Sippy Cup Confessional" for when I feel the need to ramble on about my clear lack of maturity. Also I do happen to own a princess sippy cup. Which is bomb. And makes everything much more delicious.

So here goes.

Sippy Cup Confessional- Naivety only works for so long...

I'm pretty certain I'm spoiled. I know you shouldn't admit that you're spoiled, but I cannot deny the truth before me any longer. I am nearly 18, and I have gassed up my car, Bueller, 3 times in my entire existence. That's rather pathetic. I would much rather send my momma or my poppa to gas it up and take the money out of my account than do it by myself. 

But guess what? Ephraim is 2 hours away, and I'm certain poppa Heap doesn't want to visit me every time I need to gas up.

Yestarday, I gassed up by myself, at possibly the most ghetto gas station in Cedar City, Utah.

I stared at the pump for a good 5 minutes before I could think of how I was going to do this gassing up business. Being naive only works for so long my friends. You need to know how to do all these adult-y things in order function in society as an adult-to-be.

In other news, last night was the Senior night at the Institute, which I attended practically. Well, I skipped the food and the devotional. But I did show up for 45 minutes of solid socializing. I am a good socializer, because I talk to strangers. (Learned that from my poppa) I think I am going to enjoy this awkward Institute business of socializing. One of the Institute teachers came up to me and whispered, " What's your name?" I told him and he promptly brought 3 young men over and said to them, " This is my good friend Erin. Erin theses are my good friends Nate, Brandon and Darla. (yeah a boy named Darla, lets hope its a nickname) Now MINGLE!" And then he walked away.

I am loving the awkward forceful mingling business. Its hilarious.

Whaaaa?

How old am I? Like 7 1/2 right? I'm guessing not because I just registered for my college classes. By myself.
Ok with a Snow College counselor. But without other adult supervision (my mommy!!) .

I cannot even lie it was a little intimidating, because it made everything real. College isn't just that magical land of fun that I will visit someday, no, its that place of adult-ness that I will live in come August. Overwhelming, why yes, yes it is.

The counselor dude I talked to...well he was an interesting fellow. I would just like to take a minute to say something to him.

Sir, you aren't fooling anyone about your obviously thinning hair

by over-gelling it and combing it all over crazy. Also, the good

lord intended us to have TWO eyebrows. Not one. Also 

thank you so much for disregarding 80% of what I said

and putting me in whatever class you wanted.

So here's what I ended up with. 

English 2010

English 2240-Intro to Poetry

COMM 2110- Interpersonal Communication

Biology 1010 and 1015 lab

Sociology 1010

Don't worry I'm pretty much taking English and Psychology classes with a splash of Biology and Institute.

No big deal. I kind of wanted to take a Political Science class and Intro to Philosophy. But no Mr. Counselor said no.

You might wonder why I'm not in a Math class... excellent question. I don't know.

So here's the plan. Let's get rich. And buy our parents homes in the south of France. Give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance.  Deal? Deal

(guess that reference? Janet you're out of the contest since you totally already know)

So....

Telling time is an important rudimentary skill that all who wish to function in our society need to possess.
Clearly I do  not have this skill.

I wake up at 6:00 this morning, which quite frankly is uncharacteristically early. I slave in front of the mirror getting ready ( to be read:  swiped some mascara on while I was half asleep). Put the clothes on that seemed to kind of sort of match if you squint a little bit. And looked at my clock. There was 3 minutes until school.

there was a big fat panic attack in my head. So I ran like a crazy woman out the door to Bueller and drove like the wind.

Only to realize... it was 6:47 Not 7:47.


I need to learn how to tell time guys.