after the Birds And The Bees

It's Christmas time, which, in the Dial home, is always the same. There's  Mom reminding us all that "this Christmas" is going to be a "scaled down gift receiving year" and we should all expect "one thing", and it needs to be "under $5", and then Christmas morning we come out to each of the little boys having shiny new matching Mercedes Benz's and everyone with like a bajillion electronics. It's also the time when you will find 15 children and 10 adults dressed in our best Bethlehem garb displaying the birth of our Savior and acting like barnyard animals. This always ends up looking like a dress-up party where Osama Bin Laden was the muse for everyone's costume considering our version of Bethlehem style clothing equates to turbans and robes. 

About every three years one of the children has reached that golden age of childhood ruining when it become requisite to tell them the TRUTH. About mmm-hmm-mmm. The talk in between the "when a man loves and woman..." talk, "well, what are your intentions with her?". 

This year it was Joseph's turn. I asked my mom if Joseph had had THE TALK yet.

"Yeah, I'm sure we told him."

This didn't make sense considering THE TALK usually looks much more like an intervention where Kyria is holding a box of Kleenex and mom is giving the history of Santa Claus saying, "There really WAS a guy named Santa Claus in Switzerland who gave out presents to children, so NO you're parents haven't been lying to you." All the older kids get to stand by and watch the poor innocent child have their first of many difficult talks about how things aren't perfect and no, magic men don't come into your life and give you presents (they are still trying to teach me that one). We as the older children get some sick thrill out of this because we remember being talked to about the same thing and how it felt like a part of your heart had just been taken away.

"Are you sure, Mom? I would have remembered."

"Ya. He knows."

Well, this was disappointing. Nikka and I had already planned to tell him so we could be those cool older sisters that tell the younger siblings the truth about something childish; their introduction to sadness and disappointment. Kind of like the sister who lets her sibling try pot or alcohol under her watchful eye. Except I do not condone either of those things, so I will stick to telling my parent's secrets to gain popularity.

Despite my mom insisting that she had already spoiled the surprise, we pulled Joseph aside and asked if he knew.

"Yes."

"Did Mom and Dad tell you?"

"No."

"What?! How do you know?"

"I don't know."

"It was public school wasn't it?"

"Ya. Plus common sense. I mean if I was a reindeer and I could fly I would have better things to do than carry around 42 tons of presents for a fat man."

Children today are too smart. I believed in Santa until I was 12 years old. And that was even after a year when my dad came into my room in the middle of the night Christmas eve and said, "Whatever you do, don't come out of here. I know you hear banging around but that's just because there are elves outside your room and they are working." I came out the next morning to a life size dollhouse and was really glad those elves stayed at our house that long. Really,  12 year old Elyse? Are you really that gullible? I have to give him props though. Reindeer really aren't believable. We need to tell the next generation a different story. I vote Helicopters.

And now, no children will be allowed to read my blog again. I have successfully made this a censored site!

Nostalgia

Houston, TX. 7:13 a.m. two days before Christmas. Such a beautiful fog filled city. I will miss this place.

just a few things

1. i love mentha lip gloss. especially the spearmint that always disappears when kyria is in town
   
2. i love to shop. and when i run out of room in my closet or i can't justify a purchase, i just shop for other people. nikka usually benefits.
   
3. i rip the tags off of bed linens, pillows, and comforters. i can't stand the thought of there being a tag on something in my bed. 
   
4. my favorite adult food is Sushi. i say adult food because i feel like it's an adult food and i feel like an adult when i eat it. also, my love for sushi has grown as i have become older, therefore i think it is an adult food. in comparison, childish foods are things like wendy's, taco bell, and pizza. i used to like all of these but now i only crave Sushi and Chipotle (another adult food).
   
5. i say this about nearly every cd but i REALLY, HONESTLY think that A Rush Of Blood To The Head by Coldplay is the best album ever made. i don't even listen to it anymore but i think you'd be lying if you said it didn't fill some void in your life at one point.

21 is the loneliest number

So here's what it is:

Go Ahead by Alicia Keys

Oh, the weather outside is frightful

Yesterday. It was 80 degrees. And then today. This magical thing happened where I needed to wear Ugg boots and I saw my breath and Starbucks was packed with jolly coffee fiends who subsequently needed to get warm. Nikka and I got all dressed up and people complimented our coats but she would be all, "It's hers," point to me, but she doesn't have to do that because she's wearing the coat and it looks good on her so therefore the compliment is for her. It's so cold that I forgot that if you wake up and put in a disc of Gilmore Girls sooner than you know it you'll be on the next disc and then Lorelai and Luke break up. How did I forget that? It's really sad and I'm never going to do that or be stupid like she was. Especially after this weekend. But it's cold outside and I like it and I crave sushi and tea and cookie dough. And all summer I bought these boots and coats and now I can wear them without looking like I just walked into Texas from the North Pole where I would assume it is boot and coat weather year round.  

Amos Lee, San Diego and the ability to look forward with optimism

My room is a disaster and as I envision the prospect of opening that door that awaits me with those piles of clothes and handbags that never seem to end I start biting my nails and reaching for the refined sugar. Except then I realize that I have slept in my bed about 5 times in the past month and even then it was likely not much sleep because I sleep with one eye open in case my phone rings. So then I went to St. George and San Diego and vacationed myself to no end and then I came back to Houston and it snowed so that means that anything can happen which I like the prospect of. 

And I'm moving to the cold and getting away and I like that too.

How to annoy me...

There's this part in Mean Girls where Queen Bee Regina George is obsessed with losing 3 pounds. She tries a variety of weight loss regimens that are proposterous and ineffective and always ends by saying "I really want to lose 3 pounds." We all laugh cause it's funny to watch someone be so unneccesarily centered around their weight loss. The curious thing about Mean Girls, and the reason it is so commonly loved is because of it's direct application to the female gender. Someday I will be in a Psychology class and I will opt to do a paper called "What We Learn About Ourselves From Mean Girls". That would require going back to school, so for now I will stick to the blog.

I decided that pet peeve # 345,789,001 of mine is the permadieters in my life. I am going to get heat for this and probably make people feel like idiots but it's on my mind. This isn't to say I don't understand. I've had my share of issues with the way my body was made and I don't know why I was lucky enough to grow out of this. The reality of the matter is that you won't be happy until you're content. And that means abandoning the stupid thoughts in your head. I won't tell y'all my secret but I will say that when you say the words, "I want to lose __ pounds", I won't be listening.

thank goodness for YouTube

sitting in the Las Vegas airport with Joseph.

Joseph: Elyse, don't look now but it's Charlie. Like, you know, "Charlie Bit Me", Charlie? Right behind us.

Me: How do you know, Joseph?

Joseph: Cause his name is Charlie and his brother has an accent.

I turn around to look and see two very American boys squabbling on the chair behind us.

Me: That is not them.

Joseph: Yes it is.

Me: Okay, ask for their autographs.

Joseph: No.

Me: Well, they don't have accents.

Joseph: They sound like they COULD have had accents. People loose their accents. I'm TELLING YOU. IT'S CHARLIE!

By this point we were pretty loud and Charlie, the rambunctious 3 year-old turns around to see who's talking about him. I pointed to Joseph and said "Charlie bit him." I have never felt so inadequate in front of a 3 and 7 year old. They looked at us like we were special, therefore proving they were not who we had presumed. Classy, Dials, real classy.

Someday We'll Make Dreams Come True..

Last year, when I worked at the Law Firm, I had the opportunity to come in contact with many wealthy people on a daily basis. I saw people who used their money to buy great things and lead luxurious, yet unfulfilling, lives with cars and trips and houses. I also saw people who used their money to help people, whether it be their families, their community or the world. 

One day I met a couple who had made a lot of money in some business or another. It seemed they needed an outlet for their wealth and it was at this time that they devoted little time to the company and started a charity. I don't recall the details of the foundation they ran or if their family was involved, in fact, I remember little about this exchange except that the wife was one of those ladies you would judge as high maintenance just from looking at her; blonde hair, big boobs, the works, but once I learned more about them (via google) I found her endearing. It got me to start thinking about what I wanted to use my ambition for. I was raised knowing that I could do great things, due in large part to my parent's who do great things daily and due in part to my above ordinary vision of myself and my potential. 

Ever since my exchange with The Blonde and Her Man, I began dreaming about helping people in an entrepreneurial way, like a foundation. This dream will fulfill many of my dreams. It will fulfill my desire to serve, my desire to work, my desire to start something big from scratch, my desire to not be the bread winner for my family, my desire to not have spoiled children, and my desire to be on Oprah. I have tossed around hundred of ideas and most nights I pull out my iPhone and write ideas in my half asleep state (everything real comes out when I'm half asleep, as many people can attest to). I've thought about building schools in South America, India, Africa, or Mexico. I've thought about organizing a clothing donation for children in these countries. I've tossed around the idea of different scholarship foundations (thank you Choose To Give!). I think I've run myself half crazy knowing that I have so many things I could and want to do, all I need is the means. 

The reality is that who knows at what point in my life I will be able to not only not have to work, but will also be able to devote money to a cause like this. All I know right now is that I can't wait for this day, and I will continue to loose sleep over it because it's better than thinking about relationships, or school, or whatever else people my age lose sleep over.

coats, boots, and other important things

Because I'm moving to Utah I've taken it upon myself to purchase hundreds of pairs of coats, boots, scarves, and gloves. Winter is always a reason to be extremely stylish because you have more chances to wear more clothes that exhibit your feeling, style, and mood and thus increase you chance of looking good. I will be taking every opportunity to look good. Currently I have a room that looks like it was hit by Hurricane Ike. And yet, I feel proud that come January I will pack up the boots and coats and take the snow by storm. Unintentional pun, not intended. 

Winter is also a reason to be extremely depressed, which is why this pre-winter preparation retail therapy seems to be helping cure the depression of knowing that I will be in the cold. Plus, I will have the sibs (minus the sane one, who must still go through high school, danget) and I will not work. I promised myself I wasn't going to work next semester. I tend to be a workaholic of sorts and in promising myself that I won't work it's like promising myself 4 months of 21-year-old-hood. 21 year-olds are not supposed to be workaholics, they are supposed to be alcoholics. Granted, I do not plan on taking up drinking, but I do plan on taking up napping, studying, watching Television again perhaps (!?) and trying to enjoy my education rather than speeding through it. I tend to go stir crazy without a job. Actually, I don't know how I act without a job considering the only time I haven't been employed in the past 6 years was Freshman year. If Freshman year is an indication of next semester can you can be prepared to hear about sleeping and partying. My guess? I'll have a job by February. But, maybe I will go and shock myself. 

Wait, wasn't I talking about boots and coats? Anyhow

I'd be lying if I said this wasn't a typical mother/daughter exchange for us

-Did that man just buy you a smoothie?

Yes.

-And you just stood there and talked to him so he would buy you a 

smoothie?

Yes.

-So you basically just whored yourself. For Food.

Mom, it's a really good smoothie.

Elyse The Betrothed

The other day, over dinner, my mother explained to me, my little brother, and Eli that the reason I shouldn't be so adverse to marriage is because my "eggs expire". Apparently, since I am not a man I don't have time to wait like they do. Well, I thought about this, and for a brief moment, we're talking a miniscule glimpse in time, I pictured my life as Elyse The Betrothed. It started in my black and white IKEA kitchen, you know, the one you see on that commercial. I had all these great accessories from Pottery Barn and Williams and Sonoma and an apron to match. I imagined a day without deadlines, except when the timer goes off telling me that the dinner I've been carefully cooking is ready. Time to set the table now. But, at my leisure because dinnertime is on my watch. And no one says when dinner is ready except me. Because I am the boss of the kitchen. And the next day, say, I'd like to sleep until 10 a.m., I can. Because the bacon is going to brought home whether or not I wake up early. And I will have a husband (on an outside note, the actual word sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to hit all men upside the head, but I will continue) who will come home and ask me how my day was and I will recount to him the baking and television watching and laundry folding and the running. OH THERE WILL BE RUNNING. Whenever I want. I won't have to squeeze a run in before my shower in the morning. I could run in the middle of the day, like when I was sixteen and had no responsibilities and I ran in the middle of the day. And it was great. I will also tell him about all the great shopping I did with HIS money. See that? Not my money. No dents on my bank account. I will be like, "Oh, honey, by the way, that charge on the Nordstrom card needs to be paid if you wouldn't mind." And, he won't mind. Because I cooked dinner! And that's what he needed from me. Well, that and something else, which I will do willingly. As long as he pays for my shopping! 

That is about where my stream of consciousness stopped. And I caught my breathe, chilled out, and realized that I had complete control over this and that I didn't have to have that lifestyle. Although, if my mom has her way I will, which is why I can't stay at Martin's Cove forever. Because, little 5 second visions like this one can only be attributed to one influence and that is Mamma Dial. 

be heard, man.

Movies I could watch over and over

the way we were

prime

the little mermaid

21

Clothes I could wear over and over

dark wash "A" Pockets

black turtle neck

the grey boots

the black cowboy boots

Activities that never get old

running

dancing

waking up early

making out

laying in bed

eating sushi

anything involving my mother, my father, and their mothers

people who undeniably have my best interest at heart

grandma

alanis morissette

cecil o. samuelson

purses i will buy when the time is right

eeny meeny miney mo, pick a President by the toe.

It's that time again, and boy am I ready. Because, really? does arguing over something change people's opinion? Are we all lacking a backbone so much that we half heartedly listen to CNN and then blurt out whatever we heard Wolf Blitzer say last night just so we can sound interesting and educated to our friends? Really? There comes a point where everyone needs to decide for themselves what matters to them. There comes a point when this electionitis needs to be cured and we need to face our fate as Americans. Oh, but it will never end. Because what's next? Whoever is elected is bound to screw something up, and then the radicals will blame it on the democracy or demand that popular vote was not followed and then we'll have another JFK incident and then we will self destruct as a world power. You can quote me on that, because I'd love to be given credit for jinxing the optimism of the American people. 

A few brief anecdotes I've been saving for y'all;

Me: Joseph, who are you voting for?

Joseph: I can't vote.

Me: Well, if you could...?

Luke chimes in: OBAMA!

Joseph: Doesn't matter to me.

Luke chimed in again: OBAMA!!!

Me: Joseph, what about the economy? The recession? 

Joseph: I am not the person to talk to about this.

Luke: OBAMA!!!!

Me: What about the war?

Joseph: I am REALLY not the person to talk to about this.

Luke: Nicktoons said everyone's voting for OBAMA!!!!!

and another

A couple weeks ago, I went down to meet the parents of a certain friend of mine who happens to be a boy and who meeting his parents happens to be a kind of big deal (sorry, i'm not big into details. or titles). They, with the rest of Texas (minus Austin) are (understandably) conservative. Ultra conservative. Would probably move out of the country to protest liberals, conservative. Wonder why people have agency on the matter, conservative. Would like to have as many guns in their house as they want and don't care who knows it GOSHDARNET!, conservative. I usually avoid political talks with these sort of people, not because I don't agree with them, but because I follow a strict "live and let live" policy. Meaning I don't care what you want to do. Some call it apathy, I call it saving myself from many awkward moments, like this one.

Father of the house was telling some joke about black people, and he turns to me to apologize if he offended me or anything. I shrugged it off because, again, live and let live. His son turns to him and says, "Oh, don't worry Dad, she likes black people. In fact, she's voting for one." Screeeeeeech. All of a sudden, all of these judging conservative eyes were ON ME. I felt my instinctive Gilmore Girls voice coming on in which I would say a million unrelated things at a speed faster than lightning in an attempt to undo the previous comment. I resisted the urge, and dug deep down inside for my ability to shut the heck up. Due, in part, to my silence I think everyone just assumed it was a joke so they wouldn't have to get up on their soap boxes about GUNS and EDUCATION and the need for WAR. But, really, they hated my guts and wondered why I was allowed to step on the property. Great first impression, I know.

And lastly:

Kyria: Did you vote?

Me: No, I don't believe in early voting

Kyria: I didn't register, so I can't vote. Who are you voting for?

Me: I haven't decided (obviously lying)

Kyria: Well, if I could vote, I would vote for Obama. Heaven knows we need more niggas in the white house.

Me: KYRIA!

Kyria: what? it's true. 

prompted by food, obviously

In a couple of months I will be returning to the great state of Utah. Last week I was dreading it, but about a day ago I got excited for the adventure. The excitement was spurred by an intense craving for Cafe Rio and J-Dawgs (simultaneously). We're talking one of those cravings that takes over and it's all you think about until you got to HEB and buy a pint of ice cream and realize it won't satisfy the craving so you throw the ice cream away on your way out of the store. If you've ever had J-Dawgs, and then been deprived for any amount of time, you understand the feeling. I also thought about Kyria on those tables at a party at the APX building and realized that at some point she's going to need a sister. Some point. Who knows when that will be.

I also thought about my career life and realized that it's pretty glamorous and ambitious but I still have so much growing up to do. I still have a lot of party in me. I don't want to go to bed at 11. I want to stay up late with hot strangers and worry about school and not have people take me so seriously. I don't want calls about about deadlines and color samples and a plethora of problems. And I miss Wendy's. I mean, I know we have Wendy's here, but I don't eat it ever. I haven't been on a budget in such a long time, since Provo, in fact and I want one.

I'm sure this will pass, and come tomorrow I will want to stay here forever and live without a budget and be with who I've grown accustomed to spending my nights with. I will enjoy being treated like an adult and acting like one and waking up early and taking care of business. Going to Utah just means facing a lot of things I have been avoiding for the past couple of months, but it might all be worth it for the Pork Burrito. 

good morning internet

I don't have time to write one of my famous frivolous rants. Reason being: I feel really sick and I have a lot to do and the sooner I leave and do those things, the sooner I will be checking out of my hotel and the sooner I will be driving to Austin and so my mom can hold me. I've been in this pattern were every night before I fall asleep I think about what would happen if I just stayed right in the slumbering state for a whole day, or week or something. Would the world still go on? Would I fail at life? Would I be fired? Wound they find a cure for cancer? Would they let McCain move into the White House? But then 7:55 rolls around and I realize that sleeping for more than 5 hours is just NOT something I'm capable of anymore. See, I thought that the older I got the more I would sleep- probably because I spend so much time with my grandma and she tricked me into thinking that she enjoys the 16 hours of sleep per night that she gets? What's the opposite of insomnia, because she has it. Maybe that's why she has to take all those pills, because she gets too much sleep. Or maybe she's just old and that's what we all have to look forward to. Pills and sleep. So far I'm sold.

this was a waste of time

8 TV Shows I Like to Watch:

1. Grey's Anatomy
2. Gossip Girl
3. Colbert Report
4. 24
5. Prison Break
6. Anderson Cooper 360
7. the O.C.
8. -

8 Things That Happened Today:

1. Submitted my first Proposal for a builder
2. Drove a LOT
3. Went to the Galleria, and broke my no shopping policy
4. Slept in. again.
5. bought an adorable high-waist silk embroidered skirt,
6. talked to Tim
7. supressed my desire to sleep with work!
8. missed summer

8 Favorite Places to Eat:

1. Chuy's
2. Cafe Rio
3. Jason's Deli
4. Mimi's
5. Taco Cabana
6. Cafe Rio
7. Martin's Cove
8. Tucano's

8 Things I am Looking Forward To:

1. The next time I do something good so I can rationalize buying myself the new Macbook
2. Wearing the aforementioned skirt somewhere!
3. My shows coming online so I can watch them
4. Christmas- scarves, hot chocolate, fires, cuddling, etc.
5. kicking butt and taking names at work tomorrow
6. moving into the cold again
7. sleeping! alone!
8. dancinggg

8 Things I am Passionate About:

1. my family
2. the sun
3. my friends- new and old
4. the gospel
5. shopping
6. walking around with a smile on my face
7. boyfriends
8. sleeping until 10

it's been a good week

Highlights

1.) Discovered The Houston Galleria. Picture this, the Forum Shops at Cesar's Palace - prostitutes + NORDSTROM .
2.) I found a Juicy Couture Outlet. I don't think you understand how much these two words shouldn't go together, but they do, and it was amazing.
3.) While at the outlet mall with the aforementioned Juicy store I found a True Religion outlet. Rodney and I have already planned a trip there when he comes back in December. We have chosen to not talk about the plane trip and the three hour drive that getting to our paradise will entail, we've only dwelt on the positives, like the fact that it's a True Religion OUTLET!!
4.) While at The Galleria, the boy and I managed to spend $40 on candy at Dylan's Candy Bar. Now, I thought that spending over $10 on refined sugar was a talent only Dials were born with, but clearly he picked that up somewhere along the way. The other highlight of this endeavour was that all the candy was gone within 24 hours.
5.) Spent a good amount of time with the oldest 4 Dial children. If I had to make a pie chart outlining how our time was divided, the categories would be trying on jeans, sitting at Del Taco, eating frozen yogurt, and dancing. Oh and dancing on tables would take up a small percentage of one very strange evening that I hope was not photographed.

typical

i fell for consumerism once again. now if only it was my birthday....

Prepare to fall in love, as I have.

Spotlight

i had all these great stories to write about today but, as usual, i ended up talking about myself. so predictable.

i whisper when i want to be heard and shout when i don't want to be. and it works.
i drive farther than i need to because it feels good to do what i want.
i like my jeans very tight. maybe i like my body that much, or maybe i just need some kind of restriction.
i play confused even when i know full well what is going on. i always know what is going on.
i don't give chances. not even first ones.
i am stubborn. so stubborn, in fact, that i purposefully forget how stubborn i am.
i ignore rejection and hang onto hope.
i like when people make me laugh.
i don't like when people try to make me laugh.
i have an easy time spending money if it's mine.
i buy things knowing full well that i am going to return them.
i love the smell of soap on airlines.
i talk about others, not because i'm selfless but because talking about myself is not an option.

Call me old fashion, but...

I used to hate dating. I used to take frequent breaks from this age old ritual by saying I was going to be un-boy crazy for a month or a semester or a season. The last time I took one of these self inflicted sabbaticals was in May. I moved to Texas and decided that with a new city I would live by a new set of rules. No more random boys, no more making out, no more of the drama associated with Saturday nights out with boys whose sole purpose was to entertain me and pick up the tab at The Cheesecake Factory. I thought I was really going to make it. I pondered about all the great things I could do when the only man in my life was my dad. I decided I wanted to knit and work a ton and eat more salad. I had this whole plan ready to set in motion... Then I went to church. And work. And the mall. And everywhere else where there were men looking at me the way I want and asking to buy me dinner. It became increasingly difficult to stick to my guns. Because you want to know what?! I love dating!I love attention and dinner and when they watch you walk and meet the family and get the door and look at you the right way. There's something exhilarating about it all.

Obviously my sabbatical ended about a week after it started, and since then I've contemplated taking a break. Contemplated taking a break and then shortly thereafter realized it is Saturday night and I am hungry for Sushi with a side of light, suggestive banter. Unfortunately, light suggestive banter is just not something my grandma offers. So I snap out of it, like a really stable cocaine addict.

i'll go inside someday

my desire for a Seattle trip has resurfaced. consider this fair warning that if you can't find me one day the first place to look might just be the Space Needle.

Another post prompted by Sonic

Here I am in my hotel room eating a banana pie shake (because they advertised for them on The Hills. I buy into consumerism), listening to Cute Is What We Aim For (navigate me through your body, duh), waiting for my phone call (it always comes), happy as a little school girl. Other news of the day 1.) got my hotel room free- proof that talking a lot really does get you places in life, 2.) love my job, 3.) love not selling pest control, 4.) kind of miss selling pest control. Ok... I know... but I was just so good at it! 5.) I'm in a really good mood, probably because of this banana pie shake. Seriously it is the best thing I've eaten all week, which isn't saying much cause it's Monday, but ask me on friday and I'm sure it'll be the same story, unless of course I get a caramel apple from Rocky Mountain Chocolate factory between now and then in which case this shake will be the second best thing I've eaten all week, 6.) Dial girls will all be back together this weekend, 7.) I bought Sense and Sensibility!, 8.) WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR TOMORRROW?!?!, 9.) I haven't been on facebook in a while? 10.) did you hear I don't shop anymore? This is BIG news, it's like making headlines. How long will it last? I don't know. Probably only for tonight because my Internet isn't working enough for a proper nordstrom.com connection.

You know you love me. xoxo.

just some thoughts for the day

"I wonder if we can ever really fathom the immense power of prayer until we encounter an overpowering, urgent problem and realize that we are powerless to resolve it. Then we will turn to our Father in humble recognition of our total dependence on Him." Richard G. Scott, "Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer," Ensign, May 2007, 8

Everyday I receive little quotes to my phone, like this one. It's this program on LDS.org called Daily Gems. So, I have an outlet for my religious ideas, and this is not it, but this quote was compelling enough for me to want to write about it. This came on a day when my snow balling life came to a screeching hault. I had all these realizations; why I'm here in Texas, why we're not together, and what I'm doing with my life (hint: nothing). I also realized that I am powerless without the Lord, which seems to be a reoccuring and profound discovery for me. Profound because I like to have complete control, I don't like surprises or authority or really anything that affects me adversely. Reoccuring because I seem to have to repeat this process, this total concession of my will and power each time I face a new chapter. I used to beat myself up about it wishing I would just get the message, but now I realize that as long as I eventually submit, it's okay to be a little slow because of all the great things I learn along the way. This time I learned that life doesn't wait for you to be ready. It just moves along and your readiness is completely up to you. Ultimately, there are two choices, do what you can to move along and learn and love and choose to be happy, or don't. Luckily, we have help and something to fall back on and He knows the exact outcome.

"I wonder if we can ever really fathom the immense power of prayer until we encounter an overpowering, urgent problem and realize that we are powerless to resolve it. Then we will turn to our Father in humble recognition of our total dependence on Him." Richard G. Scott, "Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer," Ensign, May 2007, 8

like the little spoiled girl on Charlie and The Chocolate Factory with the golden eggs

We all want things to last forever. We all want to be trusted. We all wish things could be how they were when life was simpler, even if it was just a month ago. We all want to believe in love. We all want to give everyone a second chance. We want to be happy and successful and hopeful and smart and talented.

But me?

I want more sugar in my cereal. I want to be able to run, really far and really fast. I want to wear boots and winter coats and drink hot chocolate. I want fall, not the psuedo Texas Fall that is really just a milder version of Summer, but the real Utah Fall where the leaves flee the trees and everything changes into a shade of red or orange and you can't help but love the mountains. I want for my Grandma to remember. I want to wear flats everyday. I want what I deserve. I want to be known by people who matter and to matter to the people who know me. I want to understand everything. I want a really, really big Burberry bag that will not only hold my lip gloss and my cell phone but also my secrets and my successes. In fact let's just throw everything in there so I don't have to hold onto anything.

My favorite things

Oprah did it, Nordstrom did it, and now I, too, have a Favorite Things Of The Season list.


1. Sonicare. I go through phases of brushing with the Sonicare that my mom bought me like 10 years ago when I was a young, chubby, brace faced girl. I didn't appreciate it back then because I wasn't fanatical about my teeth. But I am fanatical now. I love my Sonicare so much that I only brush with it every other day so I will appreciate it more.
Seriously.
My biggest accomplishment of the Summer was the day that I convinced Rex to buy a Sonicare. I would come to work and talk about how great my teeth felt, and then 5 hours later my teeth would still feel great and I was gush about it and finally during a Target trip Rex said, "Screw it, I'm buying one!" I am just that good of a saleswoman. Maybe they are hiring. I love my Sonicare and i don't care who knows!!

2. Cognac Boots. I couldn't find a picture on stevemadden.com and I am too lazy to go upstairs and take a picture of them so I will just write about it. I'm going through a boot phase this week. Grey, Brown, Black and now, my favorite, Cognac. The Cognac pair don't go with much of my wardrobe because they are a pretty brilliant color and I am more of a black girl, but, nonetheless, they are perfect. They have a minor, everyday heel, and they are extremely comfortable. My only beef is that I am not in Utah and it is still 90 degrees here so boots don't really mesh with the weather. Looks like I'm going to have to vacation to colder climate next weekend. I heard New York is supposed to have a storm?

3. Turq Ring. Last week I bought a ring for my middle finger, because my other two were getting lonely. This one is gaudy and huge and absolutely brilliant. I love it. I love the color. I love that it goes with everything. I love that I now pattern my outfits around what matches the ring. I love that I still buy myself jewelry when I feel like I deserve it. I love that I am the best gift buyer for myself cause I know exactly what I want. As far as jewelry is concerned, at least. Life can wait, accessories can't.


4. Swimming. So ever since I saw this and this, I knew I was in the wrong industry. No but really, much to the pleasing of every physical therapists who has ever X-rayed my poor knees I have decided to hang up my running shoes for the time being and work it out in the pool. So far so great. Seriously, imagine a cardio workout where you don't sweat and you also work your abs, triceps, deltoids, biceps, calves, and butt. Then go swim 20 laps. Feel the burn, baby. It seriously is a miracle. Plus, if I can look like that at age 40, there's nothing I can't do.

5. Rudys. Although yesterday I think I got sick from eating a beautiful lunch of Brisket, Turkey and Creamed Corn, it was worth it. I mention the Creamed Corn because until yesterday I didn't like Creamed Corn. Which is peculiar because I was raised on Rudy's and Creamed Corn to Rudy's in like the Kiss to Hershey's , real popular. And now I, because of a total taste bud change, like the Hershey Kiss and the Creamed Corn, am, like, real popular. Oh. My. Gosh.

6. Snow Patrol. I don't know if everyone is as crazy about their music as I am. I believe that we should all be crazy about music. I believe that we should let music change our mood. I believe it because I do. Some days I have this disease where I can't settle on a song and it drives me to the point of insanity. On these days I listen to Snow Patrol. It's so melancholy and lovely and calming. Like, no doubt Snow Patrol will be my future husband's secret weapon for when I am menstrual and bordering anxiety attacks and running around the house looking for chocolate and diet coke and yelling that I need to buy new jeans. Pump the jams, honey.

Logic.

I don't know where I decided that life was going to make sense. Because it doesn't. Doesn't make sense to be up at 2:30. I should be sleeping because why not? And why can't I work just one more day? And why do little things remind me of big things? None of this makes sense. It doesn't make sense that sad movies, and rearranging my room, and buying new boots can't distract me long enough to look in the other direction and move forward. I just keep thinking about things that don't make sense and really don't persuade me to accomplish anything. I keep thinking and thinking and then I don't sleep. Accomplishment comes from the cleaning and the blogging and the shopping, not from solving anything real. And it's 2:30 and I am not sleeping and that doesn't make sense.

Fuh-ng Sh-way

I've been putting off redecorating because I'm sort of in denial about living in Texas, not that I don't love it, I just didn't expect things to be how they are. Everyone left and I wanted to, too. But now I'm here and so I made it homey.

I'm still trying to tie everything in with my bed which is black, and my mirrors which are white. I'm super stoked about the photos. All the pictures are from my favorite catalouges of the season. I must say, having pictures on the wall sure cures my need for many of the clothes, handbags, and jewerly that I find myself wanting. Try it, and watch your bank account flourish!

Note: My first view had a few men in the photos but they set the whole theme off, so I cut them out. Girl Power baby!!!

just to make me realize how young I really am

10 years ago...

September of 1998. 6th grade. I had just started middle school. The only things I remember about 6th grade is that EVERYONE wore Doc Martin's, the ones that if you see someone wearing today you run in the other direction. I remember that they gave us 7 minutes to get to class and that was not enough for me. I remember that some very rude girls put a bunch of tampons and pads in a girl who's locker was next to me to make fun of her for starting her period. This was the year my family and my cousins went to Hawaii for our first time. I hung out with Cherie most of the time except for our occasional fights. I got a 'C' in a class and it was the first time (first of many I should say) when I realized I could talk my way out of just about anything, I didn't begin to use these powers of persuasion right then, though.

5 years ago...

September 2003. Junior year. Also know as the GREATEST year of my life. I think in September I had just started dating, and I loved it. I had a car and my own business (what? seems like a different life now). I was talking with Al who was still getting himself into trouble. One time Junior Year I wore overalls to school- not the hideous, embarassing, Walmart overalls, but, like, some, cute, only-Elyse-could-pull-those-off-overalls- I'd like to think that's when I got respect for doing what I want in High School, a trait that many, typical, crowd following teenagers didn't have. It was sometime around this time I met Kelsey and figured we'd be best friends forever, a hope I still actually have. I ran everyday and only ate food with little to no fat, I was blonde and fun-loving and had high-hope for myself.
The thing I remember most about this time was that I was still so innocent that I didn't let anything happen that I didn't have complete control over. I still remember the first time a boy tried to kiss me, and, because I'd been raised by Rod Dial himself, I didn't let him because I didn't think he deserved it. Sometimes I still wish I had that innocence.


5 months ago...

April. The first sign of Spring in Provo is fabulous. I was not so fabulous. I had just gotten out of a too-short fling with someone who did actually deserve me. Cami had just left for Europe and I was lost. I was days away from moving to Texas and was panicking because I didn't know why I was coming here. I kept trying to pack up my room but ended up hanging out with people from my past each night just to try and give me reasons to stay in Utah. I was scared and stressed and uncertain about selling. I gave up dating altogether and made a goal to not kiss, date, or even have a crush on anyone in Texas. You know how they say when you want something it doesn't happen and when you don't want something it happens? Well I got what I didn't want, and realized it's what I want, and five months ago if you would have told me I would have laughed in your face.

5 things on my to do list tomorrow...

1) Watch House, Season Two
2) Meet with Dad about schedule, pay, and time OFF!!! So I can plan trips!! and waste away my self-made inheritance!!
3) Sell? I guess.
4) Take Grandma somewhere special
5) Go to the Office and turn in contracts

p.s. with little variation, these are the 5 things on my to-do list everyday. eek.

5 things I would do if I was suddenly a billionaire...

1) Tithing
2) Create a scholarship foundation for children from South America or Nigeria, and send them all to BYU or Harvard or wherever
3) Set up my IRA, buy investment properties and stock
4) Take the family to Spain and Italy
5) Buy everone in my family and pair of True Religions, buy Rodney an Iphone, get at least 3 different handbags, get the Subaru I want, go to San Francisco with my Grandma, and get lazer hair removal

5 bad habits...

1) Checking my email constantly
2) Biting my nails
3) Picking at split-ends
4) Judging people
5) Being too hard on myself

5 places I've lived

1) Round Rock, TX (Cornerwood House, Pepper Rock House, Martin's Cove)
2) Spokane
3) Mesa, AZ
4) Provo (Deseret Towers, King Henry, Brigham Young's House)
5) Austin

the ice is getting thinner

Back to work today! Watch my optimism as I finish out the last week of my summer strong. I realize my issue with this current employment is that I went into this job thinking that on August 31 I'd be done. It's like if David Blaine was told he was going to be let go from hanging upside down at hour 60, and then at the end they said, "Surprise! three more weeks." And the worse part is HE AGREES and then one week into the torture he realizes he doesn't want to do it. Yeah, I'm just like that. Minus all the scars, magic and, well, there are not records in my name.

I do love selling, I really do. I'm just ready for something new. I'm ready to wake up without anxiety and come home earlier than 9 p.m. I also wish everyone hadn't left because we had so much fun. It was fun to drive out with the boys and take naps in the car or sit at Jack-In-The-Box for two hours (wups). It was fun to sell for 45 minutes and get 3 sales because it was hot and people couldn't help but to say yes to me. I loved coming home and playing Texas Hold 'Em for hours and then falling asleep too late and waking up too late and repeating the same day over, and over again. I loved story time and water breaks and lunches at Martin's Cove and praying for rain with everyone. We all hated what we were doing but we were competitive and we worked hard most of the time and so we enjoyed hating it, together. And now I enjoy hating it, alone.

But, because it's in my nature to do the exact opposite of what I want to do, I continue to work. And I will continue to work. And David Blaine and his record-setting self can tear a page out of my book because I am conquering the impossible, or so it seems.

Letter to You

We've always had something. You and me, we get each other. I've always been your favorite, and you mine. The first time I ever visited you I wanted to be just like you. I wanted to be friendly and respected and optimistic like you. I wanted to work hard and love my family like you. I know you made mistakes and you wish you would have spent more time with your kids. I also know you did the best you can. You make up for what you lack. You expect greatness from yourself.

You love everyone you come in contact with. You have learned not to judge or hurt or offend. Because of this you have friends everywhere you go. You have many people that don't understand you but this doesn't change your zeal towards them. It doesn't change your love for them. You genuinely care about everyone you come in contact with. You sometimes act strange, but you still care.

I forgive you. I forgive you when we're in a public place and you hit on people half your age. I forgive you when you say things you shouldn't to my parents. I forgive you when you change your mind. I forgive you when you bring up the sexual preferences of my Aunts and Uncle at dinner with strangers. I forgive you when you make a fool of us. I do. Because I love you. And because I respect that you are trying.

You are leaving today and I am sad because our time together this time has really been special. You've seen me through a rough patch, and really taught me so much about life and love and the ability to be happy no matter what I'm going through. You made allowances for me and let me slack off a little because you know I needed it. I hope you remember to come back. I hope you remember that this is your home. I hope you need me the way I need you.

chicks dig scars

Back in my young and impressionable days, my dad would come home from work, basketball, or his church calling, he'd take off his shoes and neurotically put them in his closet and then sit down and ask us about our days. I remember thinking how tired and happy he looked everyday, which to me seemed like strange, incompatible emotions. I didn't get it. One day I was making fun of the callouses on his hands and feet. He said, "When I get home, I know I've worked hard because of my callouses, my reminder of a successful day." I used to go to work and wonder when I would get my permanent reminder of a hard day's work. I don't know what I was expecting considering I was just a nanny for all those years.

Yesterday, I was painting my chipping toenails and I looked at the callouses on my feet and had never been so proud of such an imperfection on my body. "I WORK HARD!" I exclaimed to an empty bed room. It was relief to have a visual reminder of a job well done. I realized that I might have a lot missing but one thing I've never struggled with was a lack of hard work. Even in my worst times I find a way to work hard at something. The days I'm hardest on myself, I remember my redeeming quality. The days when I feel unneeded or unhappy or when my blogs are especially depressing I remind myself of my ability to work hard and am able to pep myself right back up. I always knew this, but hadn't realized until just yesterday that I was to that lucky age when proof of my hard work shows up on my precisely manicured feet.

relationships

I have spent the last four months developing relationships with people. They are strange relationships,though. They last between 10 and 30 minutes. I talk to a stranger, gain their trust, make them laugh, make them love me, and then have them sign over their life to me. I thought it was going to be difficult, but turns out I'm pretty good at faking this exchange. The key to this relationship for me is to get them to ask as few questions as possible. We focus mainly on them; their house, their family, their bug problem. The minute they start asking questions about where I'm from or what I do, I want to run in the opposite direction. Truth is, if I divulged my whole story they would have the same fleeing reaction.

This trend extends far beyond my door-to-door exchanges. I have found that, in general, I am an impossible person to get to know. I push people away to their utter exhaustion, and once they've given up I am finally ready. I ask plenty of personal questions, to keep conversation heavy and focused solely on the other person. I don't answer questions. Answering questions make you responsible for your actions. I prefer to relinquish responsibility, keep the relationship primarily their responsibility, with me just weighing in when I need to. If they are invested, they are responsible when it ends. Because, just like my 30 minute daily relationships with eager pest control purchasers, the relationship will come to an end. Unlike my 30 minute daily relationships with eager pest control purchasers, I will not come out with anything but a new coping strategy.

raised by a pack of well dressed wolves, perhaps?

While in Utah this weekend Kyria and I were at a friend's house and he inquired about our plans for the next day. Before I could respond with my usual evasive remark, Kyria said, "Retail therapy." Being the smart guy that he is, he didn't ask for an explanation.

Due to seemingly significant, short term painfully experiences, the kind her and I will look back on in 6 months and say "what the heck was our problem?" we deemed it necessary to take five, that's right, five, trips to the mall this weekend. A horrible endeavour for my bank account, but a fabulous undertaking for my pest-control-tshirt-filled wardrobe.

I don't understand retail therapy. I don't understand how spending my hard earned money makes me feel so good. It used to be that a deposit to the bank gave me this kind of high. Now, it is walking out of a store with a huge bag and an embarrassing charge on my credit card.

Regrettably, my necessity for retail therapy can be pin pointed down to one moment in time in the past month. It's like, in the matter of a half hour conversation I went from a thrifty, savings account, future thinking adult, to a spendy, fashioned, DON'T CARE! twenty-one year old. This moment keeps replaying in my head, and each time I forsake my rational thinking and curb the anxiety with more STUFF. I thought I rid my shopping habit when I left Provo. Turns out, I was just whole for a summer, but, void is back- therefore so is the STUFF. Unfortunately, this time I don't have my handy dandy shopping buddy to make me feel better about what I buy. Somehow when he is spending hundreds of dollars of jeans I feel better about doing so. Funny the effect siblings have on your rational thinking. Which is curious because we were both raised in the same family. We both ate Cream Of Wheat for breakfast every morning for 12 years. We both remember sneaking to our neighbors to watch television or, for him, to play video games. We remember the homemade gifts and made-up games. And yet, with all our humble beginnings, we somehow feel more at home in Nordstrom then in Martin's Cove.

Don't blame us though, because if you've ever been in Nordstrom you know those couches and soft, subtle piano music are very enticing...

hold onto your words. talk is cheap

losing too much sleep and having unexplainable anxiety and i have a whole lot to write about but i'm having writer's block and more anxiety and i owe it to myself to do something that isn't sell, and yet now i'm going to sell.

How Grey's Anatomy Ruined My Perception Of Love

I believe that things happen for a reason. I believe in perfection and happiness and growing old together. I believe that people make mistakes. I believe that they change their mind and come back and that if you stand in the rain long enough they will come out and rescue you. I believe in making out in elevators. I believe in working hard. I believe that time heals most wounds, but that some wounds shouldn't heal. I have flaws and scars and silly little quirks, and I believe that is okay. In fact, I believe that some people appreciate imperfection. I believe that shopping makes things 2% better (okay didn't learn that from TV, did learn that from recent experience. 2% momentary joy followed by intense pain again. And might I say, well worth the $700). I believe in seeing past regret and sorrow and the mound of used tissues by your bed and waking up in the morning. I believe in chocolate and treadmills and trips to Seattle and The Way We Were and spandex and tomorrow being a new day.

why I love her most of all

I recently purchased Flavors of Entaglement by Alanis Morissette. I have a tendency to buy CDs when things go wrong. If things are terribly wrong, i buy an Alanis album. A good CD is like a therapy session you can repeat day after day until you realize a) your problems could be worse or, b) someone knows how you feel. I'm all about the validation. I own each of Alanis's albums thanks to many CD Saturdays with Rachel. This two disk set is sure to be added to my favorite albums of all time, right up there with Snow Patrol's Final Straw and Deja Entendu by Brand New. What I love about Alanis is her ability to be completely sad and masochistic with upbeat songs. This is perfect because I have many MANY people who like to make fun of my music choice which is usually hood rap straight outa da ATL or somber slit my wrist music. To the naked music eye, Flavors of Entanglement is just your average jolly, teenie bopper album, belonging on the shelf next to Spice World and Blink 182.
But REALLY she is still the angry Alanis Morissette our parents prayed we wouldn't listen to. The one outside of Joey Gladstone's window peeking on him after he broke up with her. The Alanis with one hand in her pocket, and the other one flicking a cigarette.

Is it bad to have a hero with a nicotene habit? I hope not cause she changed my life.

one day at a time

Because I am suffocating. Because things end, and other things begin. Because pest control doesn't sell itself. Because tomorrow is too far away. Because sometimes, waking up is enough. Because I live out of a suitcase. Because all I can do is keep breathing. Because if you don't want me, you had better TELL me. Because everyone is gone. Because my usual coping methods aren't working. Because I need to be two places and they are 1544.33 miles apart.

one day at a time

How to annoy me

Be everything I want. For some reason it is infuriating.

I don't believe in shooting stars. I believe in Shoes and Cars.

I knew it was a problem when I went into Burberry with my mother this weekend to look at a handbag I want. I knew how much it cost but, to make the saleswoman feel less stupid for lurking, and because of that look on her face that they all have that is just begging for someone to test them on their useless knowledge they spent six months of training acquiring, I asked price.

Over Zealous Saleswoman gave me the look of a proud third grader reciting her multiplication tables, as if she were saying, "Easy, now give me a hard one next time." I averted eye contact and smiled politely so she would know I only wanted my answer and after that her turn to speak was over.

"Thirteen-Hundred."

I half-intentionally averted eye contact with Mom as well. She didn't need to say anything for me to know she was in shock that her thrifty daughter would hold such a purchase in her hand. What she didn't realize was that not only was I coveting this beige and red piece of heaven, I was recalculating my budget for next month's grocery list, once again, so I don't have to dip into savings. I take the phrase "starving student" to a whole new level.

I rationalize it like this. Why spend twenty bucks on a purse you will have to replace once a month when you can buy one that will last forever and you won't get sick of for at least 3 months? Plus it's FABULOUS. And CLASSY.

Many people have told me that when I get married I'm going to have to face a harsh reality when I have to share my bank account and run all purchases by the other half. Even more reason to never wed.

Just kidding.

Even more reason to stock up now. Plus, how grateful will a husband be when he finds out that his wife has an amazing ability to set aside a couple extra hundred dollars each month and purchase things with NO Buyers Remorse. That, my friends, is a trait worthy of my domestic housewife resume. I'm always looking for bullet points to add to that short list. So far I have two and both involve doing household chores in my underwear.

can't sleep

I sat next to Erin in church today. Erin is this pleasant, optimistic, kind girl who just moved to Chicago (where I am on vacation for the extended weekend) on a whim to pursue a job she had found. She was short spoken, but bold, very insightful (as you will see in just a minute), and just an all around sweetheart. She recently returned from her mission and enjoyed me asking the normal, perhaps too intrusive questions from a stranger that I ask to all return missionary women in attempt to understand their decision to serve and what they learned. After Relief Society I bid her farewell, told her it was good to talk with her, and instead of the "you too," I expected she said, "good luck with all those decisions you have to make." Now let me try and explain the strangeness of this comment. We spent our entire conversation talking about her. Really the only thing we said about me was my sabbatical from school (a topic that everyone likes to bring up). Nothing about decisions. As I was picking apart this strange exchange with Nikka I said, "Well, I must just have indecision written on my forehead." Seriously, besides divine inspiration, how else would a stranger know to say that to me?


Whether I deserve it or not (I don't), I seem to have reached the point in my life that everyone worthy of giving any advice in the past 3 years have been referring to when they talk about The Time In Your Life When You Make The Most Important Decisions. It seems like everything I choose to do or not do will dramatically effect my future. Lucky Charms or Raisin Bran? I dunno, let me get on my knees for that one.


Decisions are strange things. For someone like me, who would rather eat string cheese than make decisions (and I would rather die than eat string cheese) it's like a daily mystery of what I am going to do. I've been known to pack an entire suitcase, realize I don't want to wear those outfits anymore, unpack that entire suitcase, and start the process all over again. I mean, we're talking indecisive, man. There's a certain sense of peace that comes from making a decision, a feeling I have only felt twice in my life. Both times I wrote a 5-page entry in my journal describing the feeling, because I didn't want to forget it. In fact, I read those journal pages often in attempt to relive that euphoria. A euphoria close to the feeling of falling in love for the first time, or having a baby (i can imagine), or finding that handbag that you have wanted for months is on sale!


And yet, knowing what it feels like to make a decision, I still find myself at a standstill, sifting through idea after idea of how I should chart my life, praying that Cleo is going to call me in the morning and tell me to avoid this path, or watch out for this person. I suppose most girls my age dream of their wedding day or building their first house. Not me, I dream in week periods, praying that maybe I will be able to pick out an outfit for church without ripping all my hair out.

Uh Oh

"We rented a car!"
"What kind of car did you get?"
"An Avenger" (uh-ven-ger)
"Say that again."
"Avenger" (uh-ven-ger)
"Read the car name, and say it again"
"Uh Ven Ger"
"Ah Ven Ger"
"No, Uh Ven Ger"

Cue all those hours I've spend on dictionary.com when I realized that if I was driving an Uh-Ven-Ger I would be driving a verb to take vengeance or exact satisfaction for. Maybe I should go back to college.

let us die young or let us live forever

Weird day today. Mostly because I woke up thinking I was going to be moving to Utah in three weeks, and will go to bed knowing differently. Also, because tomorrow I'm going to wake up at 6 a.m. That in and of itself is quite strange, but the real shocker is that I will be teaching a group of teenagers whose main motive, if I remember high school well enough, and I'd like to think that I do, is to talk to all the hot boys and girls IMMEDIATELY because maybe, just maybe he is your soul mate. For 50 minutes I will attempt, in any way possible, to get them to not talk to their neighbors, not pass notes, not text in class and to maybe listen to me and feel the Spirit. I might resort to getting on my hands and knees with lots and lots of candy begging, if that's what it takes. I would like to not have to do that because I don't pay money for clothes so I can ruin them.

As I've gotten older, I've learned to hate teenagers. Mostly because I was such a selfish teenager that living 6 years with myself was more than enough. I also remember how confused and subsequently euphoric I was in that phase of life. Part of me wishes someone would have hit me upside the head and explained to me what real life was like (actually I suppose He tried, but I was too selfish, confused, and euphoric to listen). The whole 'ignorance is bliss' mentality got pretty old as soon as I got pretty old and realized that people don't stop the bus when you're running late, you can't bat your eyelashes and get what you want (okay that's not true), you can't romanticise those relationships that deep down you know won't see it a day past Sunday, and you can't expect to have the same best friends forever. My stark realization that reality bites came sometime around winter 2005, and then again in winter 2006, oh and in late winter 2008 as well. Probably all that dang snow. Having lived through this horrible, reoccurring, white-blanket covered transition makes me want to share it with everyone I meet. I fear, however, that if I started walking up to teenagers in the street saying "SOMEDAY ALL THAT CHOCOLATE YOU ARE EATING IS GOING TO SHOW UP IN PLACES YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HAD FAT GLANDS AND PROBABLY WITHIN THE SAME MONTH YOUR PARENTS WILL NO LONGER GIVE YOU MONEY!!" people might not want to walk around with me anymore. So instead I have become one of those adults that pretends to enjoy the responsibility.

Which is why, tomorrow, when I stand in front of those pimple faced teens I will recount my good experiences from those years and spend 50 minutes encouraging them to work a little harder and do a little better because it only goes downhill from here.

We're adults. When did that happen, and how do we make it stop?

Laur got married this weekend. The ceremony was beautiful, she looked beautiful, everything was perfect. Everything except that fact that yesterday we were 18 years old sitting in our dorm room at 5 in the evening realized we'd been in there for a full 24 hours, laughing about how we hadn't gone to class in 3 weeks, and today we're 21 and getting married and having real jobs and tomorrow we'll have hot flashes and rely on life alert and Metamucil.

It is worth mentioning that everyone in this above picture is married, but me. I seem to remember a list that was passed around our ward freshman year listing us girls in order of Most Likely To Wed In The Next Five Years to Most Likely To Be An Old, Saggy Spinster. On said list Liz, Rachel and Lauren were far ahead of me. Not hard to accomplish seeing as how I was pulling of the rear on the spinster side. Did we call it, or did we call it?

It is evident that, at this point, the only real control I have over my life is what kind of animal I will become obsessed with. Old spinsters always have an animal to keep them company. Regrettably, the idea of living with a smelly dog or annoying cat send shrills down my spine. Maybe I'll just get a garden. Then again I'm not a fan of eating healthy when I'm lonely. Where do they make ice cream? Wherever it is, that's where I'm going to retire. The Ben and Jerry headquarters.

I thought seriously just now about deleting that extremely depressing stream of conscience. I didn't though because I wouldn't be me if I wasn't complete estranged from reality and how life really works. Congratulation, Lauren. I hope my detachment doesn't take any of the joy from your big day.

the iPhone changed my life.

literally.

can you give a shout out to a blog on said blog?

I love my blog. I love the fact that at any time and anywhere, thanks to my PDA, and the world wide web, I can get online and write about my feelings, or some menial occurance, or create a stupid list about myself, and that my blog will listen to me. He won't try and solve my problems, he won't tell me what I'm doing wrong, he won't eat the last bite of cheesecake, he will just listen.

The only way that I am able to talk about anything the least bit meaninful to Mr. Blog is by pretending that no one I know, or write about, will read it. As I let go of this denial and realize that not only did I choose to make this site public, but I also provided a link on my facebook, as well as bring it up daily in common conversation (the phrase that most often escapes my mouth besides "Sorry, to bother you, are you the homeowner?" is "I need to blog about that!"). But okay, back to denial.

I am always surprised when someone says "oh, I read your blog," or when I go on my Mom's computer and this website is open, or, as happened on Sunday night, Joseph begins to quote, from memory, something I had written about that day. I immediately think in my mind of everything I've written and wonder if they'll be offended.

I suppose this blog could be part of my new resolve to be honest. Due in part to the many instances in the past year when I've been called out for being less than truthful, as well as a very persuasive Pep-Talk from the Pep-Talker Champion himself, I am now a newly honest woman.

As far as this website is concerned, I write for myself. I realize people are going to read, I deal with it. But I am honest. And it's very refreshing.

i have at least 1 avid reader

The children stayed the night tonight. They are ridiculous and jovial and spontaneous. First of all, it was a hilarious Sunday, as is requisite when the Dial children are all together under the same roof. While Kyria (18) is getting called easy via text, and Luke (8) is reading a book on how to avoid being sexually abused, and Nikka (14.99987) is complaining about getting her braces off in 3 weeks rather than two, and creating plans to take matters into her own hands with pliers, Mom (41) is trying get us to sit down to eat and Dad (grey fox) is trying to promote "real conversation." We eat, and do everything we can to avoid this exchange because it always comes back to what more we could be doing in our lives. Like, making 50 grand and teaching gospel doctrine isn't enough. But oh I hope he doesn't read that cause he wouldn't want me making a jest of myself. I know you're proud of me, Dad. And that I can always improve.

I deter.
So, the boys came home with me. The fun started on the drive home when a song came on my iPod. I was about to change it for sentimental reasons until I heard them both singing along. It would make sense if the song was like "I Am A Child Of God." But, no, no, it was Fall For You by Secondhand Serenade. WORD FOR WORD.

Then we were getting ready for bed and Joseph comes into my room with a half a cup of toothpaste IN the palm of his hand.

"What are you doing weirdo?"
"Brushing my teeth."
"What?"
"Brushing my teeth."

Apparently he has 700 more teeth to brush than the rest of us.

Also-

"Elyse I have a TINY bladder, but Kyria's is probably smaller."
-Luke

"Can you guys be done saying your prayers cause I'm lonely."
-Luke
(undeniable resemblance to something his eldest sister would say)

"I love this entry."
Joseph while on intowhatyousay.blogspot.com. He then proceeded to read my blog, my inner most thoughts, aloud. let me crawl under a rock.

I am blessed to have these boys with all their knowledge, simplicity and perspective. They are everything that is missing in the world.

think of me on the drive home

I don't blog about my real feelings because I'm afraid of the internet seeing the real me
I associate crying with needing people and I don't like doing either
I have an incredibly hidden talent to be the kindest, most generous person you'll ever meet
I love comfort and being with people who make me feel comfortable
I miss places I've never been
I love pancakes in the middle of the night
I am blessed beyond measure and beyond anything I deserve
There's a corner of my heart permanently reserved for Collin Farrell
I work hard for what I want and pray that someone somewhere will work that hard for me
I get in bed each night with no regrets from the day.

TGIF

I don't know why I:

-go to Target when I don't have any money
-give up things that are good for me
-eat when i'm not hungry
-procrastinate
-hold myself at an impossible standard
-don't spend more time with my family
-let him leave.

one year older, and dumber, too

I have in my head a vision of what one's blog should read on their birthday. I feel as though a normal human being, on this, a monumental day, would blog about how great life is and how happy they are to have a day all about them.

Normal being the operative word.

I am blogging, so there is a hint of normality somewhere in my old body. And I will try to keep it positive because of all the generous acts and phonecalls and text messages and blogs (Thanks, Mom!) and iphones that have been abundant, and very appreciated. The last thing I want is for anyone to think I am ungrateful. Because I'm not. I just hate August 14.

Let me try to explain.

2005- I won't go into much detail about my 18th birthday. It included many tears. about moving out. going to college. being cheated on. being fat. having a lot of attention. etc.

2006- Nineteen was interesting. My day consisted of working. (Working!) And going to dinner with my family. Its the working part that did it for me. Being an adult blows because you work on your birthday. And presents are null because, as adults, if we need something we buy it (we can afford it because we work all the time) and if we don't need it, we convince ourselves we don't want it.

2007- Last year I had the joy of spending my birthday with my sister, who knew about my relationship with birthdays, so she flew up to be with me. The boy I was dating at the time did not feel obligated to give up much of MY time on MY birthday to spend with MY sister/ best friend/ other half/ significant other for life/ confidante etc. I was like a Cherry Twizzler Pull-In-Peel just coming apart and being pulled, twisted, and eaten alive. I spent the majority of the night curled up on a Lovesac with Kyria bawling my eyes out. Thank goodness for her.

Year by year, my measure of a good birthday has decreased. Currently, a good birthday is one in which I do not cry. So far so good for today. Although I did feel a tear come along as I read my mother's "Ode to Mo" earlier. Thanks again, Mom.

sore

I started running again and boy does it feel good. Okay, I'm lying. It feels like each of my appendages will all fall off in the next 24 hours. Seriously, I was on the treadmill for like 15 minutes and I wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Here I am at Gold's Gym with all these total meat-heads suffocating me with their .2% body fat, running like there's no tomorrow pointing at the blond girl who is moving like Edward Scissorhands. I always feel like that at the gym. No matter how good of shape I get in I know they are staring at me. Like there is this secret plot to make me feel horrible about myself. Like they only let the women with textbook butts work out next to me. Or everyone is told to take all the normal mirrors as soon as Elyse comes in, forcing me to stand in front of the one mirror in the whole gym that makes my torso look more wide than long.

I really do love running. I love the feeling of pushing myself and accomplishing something all on my own. In fact, if I could avoid the gym and just run on an empty street without any meat-heads, or perfectly proportioned women, I would. The problem is that this is a scary world we live in full of homeless people and rapists and people walking around with baseball bats just waiting to attack the first innocent girl they see. No thank you. I will take judgement, and steroid-ridden 5-foot-tall Mexicans, little Asians with boob jobs and a gym full of people trying to test my confidence any day over the man with the bat.

18 hours

9 times out of the 10 times I call Cami in a week it usually goes like this:

Me: Hi. How are you
Cami: Good. How are you
Me: Good. What are you doing
Cami: Laying in my bed. You.
Me: Just selling. Wishing I was laying in my bed...

Moral of the story, we like to just lay in bed. Usually when we're together we spend half the time at a restaurant sitting, wasting our waiter's time and chewing the fat, and the other half is spent laying in a bed talking or sulking or whatever. It is this really great relationship we have.

This summer, I haven't really been laying in bed. I've been, like, selling a lot of pest control and, like, other unimportant things. I made up for lost time this week. I got home from work at about 10 on Thursday night. I immediately got into bed. Got up to wash my face. Got back in bed. I watched the episode of Grey's Anatomy that was in the dvd player 3 times over because I didn't want to get up. This lasting 14 hours. I migrated to the bath tub and read and layed and washed. Then got back in my bed for 4 more hours, until it was time to work again. 18 hours.

And when Rex came to pick me up for work and asked what I'd been doing, I, for once, wasn't lying when I said, "Nothing."

my drug of choice

It's 8:55 and mostly dark outside. I've already had two people say to me, "its kind of late, why are you out here so late?" I know I should stop but I just keep going. Keep knocking. Gotta. Get. One. More. Sell. Can't. Stop.

Rex pulls up in the car as to signalize he wants me to come with him. I express my urgency to just knocked a few more doors. He rolls his eyes and begins to drive away. He rolls down the window and shouts, "YOURE ADDICTED TO PEST CONTROL!!!"

To prove a point I said "No, I will get in the car right now."

"Prove it."

"Okay.. Well, let me just knock one more door."

He drove away before I could see his eyes roll.

realization

Top indicators I am old.

-asked for a plane ticket for my birthday (to a wedding, nonetheless. weddings are for old people.)

But, really- let me focus on this for a minute. A plane ticket? Aren't birthdays time for fluffy gifts that you forget about after a week like polly pockets or a set of Lisa Frank stationary or a pony (we all know we would never get one, and yet we still asked)? Where's my pink barbie cake with the yellow frosting and the 7 candles? Where are all my friends who have to be home by 8?

-my idea of 'solitude' is a 30 minute hot bath.

-Scenario:

It's saturday day night and The Boy and I flirted with ideas such as seeing a movie, going downtown, or shopping. And then somehow found ourselves taking a nap.

-Scenario:

Youth- procrastinate. don't accomplish. talk your way out of the mess. bystanders blame your actions on your youth and forgive you.

Now- procrastinate. hope to accomplish at last possible minute. no one to blame anything on.

-i understand my parent's rules.

-i apologize first because i realize life is too short to be stubborn.

-i'm listening to country. NOOO!!!! NOT THE CUHHH-NNN-TREEEE!!

-August 14th is next week.

1, 2, 3- see ya there

this is happiness. gosh i miss my happiness.

i can bend and not break

Adults are messy and responsible and distant and busy and perfect and satisfied and committed. Adulthood is scary and full of W-9s and Atkins Diets and mortgages.

I'm afraid of all of those things- especially cutting out the carbs..

Adults see their siblings on holidays and see their parents even less often. Adults face rainy days without fear. They clear their head and make decisions. They raise children, and watch foodTV and go to bed at 9. I watch The Hills, don't make decisions and blog about it, and, since 2001, have made it a point to stay up til at least 1 a.m. Not to mention any child that turns out like me should fear for their sanity.

Somehow, despite my best avoidance techniques I find myself on the home stretch of the grey area in between teenhood and adulthood- filing taxes, paying bills, contemplating decisions I am nowhere near ready for and sacrificing my relationships for adult endeavours. I've surprised myself with the poise with which I've handled this gap.

Correction: I've surprised myself with the quasi-poise in which I've convinced everyone around me that I am a whole person with whole goals and desires. Really I am broken and estranged and an eagle in sheep's clothing. Just bend the pieces 'til they fit, baby.

I would never admit I'm currently listening to Miley Cyrus

I crave solitude, and once it is achieved I want my friends to come bridge the lonliness. I have exactly one pet peeve: liars. I have exactly one bad habit: lying. I go to the grocery store when I'm bored. I don't know what I want and desperately hope that when it comes along I will hold on for dear life. I have a strange relationship with my parents. It goes like this, I need/want/crave/seek for/ and constantly obtain their attention/approval/advice/comedy and goodliness. I also, however, have a learned need to do what people don't expect of me. I am usually able to fight this, but when I don't, all hell breaks loose. I currently sell pest control. It is the greatest, most stressful, most emotionally straining job I have ever had. I am judgmental. My largest inward battle has been to curve my judgments into something productive, like tolerance. I see things as they are. I have an ability to look past deceit, insecurity, and all that stupid crap people put off when they first meet you. Usually. Sometimes I'm just as fooled. People are flawed, and as soon as I realized that, I really started living. Unfortunately, that was just last week so I guess you could say I was born yesterday.

you are what you eat

Being back in provo reminds me that no matter how many hours I spend on the treadmill each day, I will still be delivered the fate of my eating choices as a college student. I would be remiss if I didn't thank everyone that has made it so easy for me to never eat salad, EVER again.

-Nestle Sugar Cookie dough (uncooked, obviously.)- Pillsbury comes in a close second but with Nestle, i can eat an entire tube in a matter of one, depressing, weekend

-

Honore Julien a belgium guy (i believe) who cooked French Fries for Thomas Jefferson therefore introducing them to the United States and therefore making their way into my life. Honorable Mention goes to Chick-fil-a and Wendy's for their ability to master this delicacy

-Whoever came up with cookies-and-cream ice cream- I am impartial to brand, size, or quantity- just put oreos in my vanilla ice cream and turn on an episode of The Hills and I'm set for a good 60 minutes

-Beto's California Burrito- it's only redeeming quality is that i don't like cheese so instead of lard, lard, and lard, it's just lard & lard.

-churros- again, impartial to brand. Maybe its the deep fried thing, maybe its the covered in sugar thing.

-the Wendy's value menu- Wendy's made it on the list twice, with good reason.

-the cute, probably 17-year-old, sandwich-preparer at Subway who gives me a free cookie if i smile at him the right way thus turning my healthy Club sandwich into an unhealthy meal because, naturally, a coke is requisite because free cookies make me thirsty and since i recently read an article about the damaging effects of aspartame (curse you Time Magazine for keeping me informed) i now drink regular soda and BAM cute, 17-year-old just added 500 calories to my meal all because of my smile

-chips. and salsa.

-snickers, twix, twix remix, fast break, 100 grand, junior mints, etc, etc...

Seriously though, what happened to the An-Apple-For-Every-Meal Elyse?

Flashback

He was different than anyone I'd ever involved myself with. He was quirky and funny and surprisingly realistic and upbeat. It took shorter than expected for me to fall. All my previous conceptions about dating and the overall human interaction were questioned and replaced with this euphoric life of sacrifice and love. He taught me by his example the genuine care one person can have for another. He saw me. And not the way the lady at the check-out counter sees me. The way a life long friend and confidante sees me; full of flaws but equally worth some one's affection.

The critics were impressed, but not convinced. Charmed but not smitten. I knew. I knew there was something to come of this different man.

He's gone now and there are lives and new loves and a different haircut and so many other changes. I learned from him to not be afraid of change. I learned to not shy away from being adored. Most of all I learned. For the first time in my life I took an experience and turned it into an instruction, a course on living life fully and loving whole-heartedly. A pivotal, steady, and unforgettable lesson.

nunya

I have three homes. Its a weird, unsettling, confusing fact. I have my apartment, where I rest my head and shower and hang out with my boyfriend and dance around in my underwear and watch movies. I have my parent's house (which for the sake of my mother's abandonment issues, I call home) where I eat dinner on sundays, where my parents hold me after a long day, where I go when I don't want to be alone or when I want to feel unconditional love coming out of my ears.

Then there's Utah. Utah has a special place in my heart because its where I learned to be Me. Its where I stopped caring what people thought and started living my life. Utah is where I made my adult mistakes and made my adult decisions and started eating fast food and sprained my wrist and kissed a whole lot of boys I didn't know and made friends I will never forget. Its home. And today, I'm going to go visit that place. And for 7 days I'm going to be home. And I'm going to miss home. And I'm going to be confused and happy and comfortable all in one week.

lovestruck

Likes: being really incredibly happy and being able to pinpoint the exact circumstance or individual that inspired that elation.

Dislikes: hearing "no, thank you" 326,524,008 times in one week

blame it on the purple dinosaur

Knowledge Gap Hypothesis states that although separated by socio-economic status, children across the spectrum may learn traits from the media, specifically child-targetted television shows and commercials. This phenonenon accounts for certain cross-spectrum trends: obesity, decrease in reading, and violence.

I submit that one thing we all picked up from the media is pain avoidance. How else can you explain such a common thread?

Being the sheltered child I was, I missed out on many seemingly necessary media experiences. Perhaps this will account for my strange relationship with pain.

I was that girl on the playground poking the bee's nest to see if they would bite me. I touched hot curling irons, stepped on poison ivy with my bare feet, and listened to my dad when he said to eat a piece of fruit he picked up off the ground in Hawaii (resulting in a swollen, numb tongue) or jump off that 40 foot cliff cause it wouldn't hurt. (Yeah right, Father. Ever heard of a belly flop? Still painful, 15 years later.)

That trend of pushing my limits carried into adulthood as I give up things because I know it will teach me some lesson (i.e. chocolate for 6 months. The consequence of that? DEPRESSION.)

Most of the time, I think I am just weird. A weird, pain loving masochist. BUT THEN (!) comes the emblazened Rod Dial in my mind searching for any benefit of the doubt to give myself. Here it is.

Pain is God's creation to remind us of our humanity. Pain isn't bad. Pain tells us when to stop. Pain has our back. He wants attention every once in a while, but not too much, and not for prolonged periods of time. Anywhere you are, pain has been there first. He understands that we will flee as soon as we've had enough. He ain't high maintanence. He's got plenty of beaus.

Pain is my freakin' boyfriend, and he's taught me a lot through the years. We're breaking up today because I'm turning over a new leaf. Its called pain-avoidance, a sport participated in by at 6 billion people, and I'm stepping into the ring.

Typical

Kyria stands up after dinner and says she has an announcement. She says that she has finally made a decision about where she's going to college and would like for everyone to listen to her. Cue that special sister ESP eye contact signaling that although she is trying to make a big deal and being all dramatic she has forgotten that earlier that morning, at approx. 5 a.m., while hopped up on energy drinks and hot boys, she had announced to a group of strangers where she was going to college, and I overheard. But, being the team player that I am, I played along.

"I was thinking about it and -blah blah blah- I'm going to Hawaii!"

Mom yips, the boys think that means we're all going to Hawaii so they're excited, Nikka begins calculating how many hours of babysitting equate one round-trip plane ticket. Grandma is confused about the excitement, and Dad stands up and hugs Kyria congratulating her for making a decision. See, my dad is all about decision making. As adults, the decisions we make are rarely criticized, instead we receive heat if we don't make a decision at all.

When all the hustle and bustle died down I said, "Now wait Dad, Kyria just got laude for deciding what she's doing in the fall. Where's my praise? Where's my hug?"

"Let me get this straight, you want a praise for dropping out of college?"

"Hey, its a decision."

"True."

He stands up, comes over to where I am and gives me a hug. He talks so only I can hear and says, "We all know how difficult it is for you to make decisions. Way to go darling."

And then, 5 minutes later, came Grandma's delayed reaction. "Who's going to Hawaii?!?!"