Among the greatest experiences of my life was the time about 5 weeks ago when I successfully completely every square in the NYT crossword.
I do not know how to spell 'weird', and just about 2 years ago I learned how to spell 'awesome'.
I think about exactly three things all day- going to the gym, reading my scriptures, and if I'm going to spend or save money. As far as priorities go, you could say mine don't suck.
Another high point of my life was 2 Christmas' ago when I was lost and confused but after a 4 month hiatus from Chocolate, I ate half of a Special Edition Reese's Christmas Tree. The joy can only compare to that which came from the white fruit in Lehi's Dream.
I love my mom, I love my blonde hair and I love my religion- but I take no offense to jokes about either because anyone ignorant enough to tell them doesn't deserve attention
Masochism is not a strong enough word for the faith I put in undeserving men.
For my 22nd birthday I gave myself the gift of anti-aging serum and skin overnight skin repair. I use both religiously.
Every night I have a different weird dream that I can never remember. I only remember the way they made me feel and that feeling makes me want to stay awake forever.
I know I said New Moon gave me perspective but clearly I was being dramatic. The book has the worst of happy endings where she realizes her grief was unnecessary because he only left her because he loved her. Meow. Lame. I need a new mourning muse.
I resorted to the one thing that will never fail to give me perspective. Spending the afternoon in an orphanage in Mexico. How can you be less happy than children who have nothing? You can't. How about that for looking at the bigger picture. . .
Makeup is a band-aid fix. If I choose to eat miniature reeses for lunch on Friday, I will wake up on Saturday with new friends on my face only concealable with copius amounts of bare minerals. The makeup doesn't take away the redness or the pain, it just hides it for a while. I'm all about those band-aid fixes. Distractions that keep you from thinking about the one thing you want to think about. The fact of the matter is that eventually you get sick of the distractions, you take off the bandaid, you remove the makeup. What remains is the same sore that was there before. It has been strategically ignored but is ready to hurt you until you pay attention to it.
-Michael Buble. -Finishing the New York Times crossword for the first time in my life. Yes I am one of those outdated people who still reads the newspaper and lives for Ken Ken and the Crossword. You laugh now but when you retire and don't know how to act like a 70-year-old you'll come crying for advice. -College graduation is around the corner plus 7 months. -On Saturday I start working out with my personal trainer for three weeks. The goals is to look like Dara Torres at the end. -As if I need another reason to love my new car, it totally kicks butt in the cold. Warms up completely in about 45 seconds. So thankful. -Purple tights. -Jay-Z and Kyria. Who on Saturday will be one in the same. -PAM JOHNSON'S MAGIC HANDS. -The best solution to any problem being found on my knees. -New Moon. Perspective. Seriously, at least my blood sucking soul mate didn't leave me alone in a town with no department stores.
I just bought the new Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson CD, Break-Up. I'm going to be real honest, it's weirding me out that they gave her a mic with a such a legend as Mr. Pete Yorn himself. Nonetheless, I'm enjoying it.
In case I really hate it, I also bought a Lil' Wayne Leak from 2007 I didn't have, and then there is always Jay-Z and Ingrid, which haven't gotten old.
Today, as I was walking around to 4, count em F-O-U-R, different buildings on campus to find a vending machine with a Gala apple, I was obviously frazzled. I was being my usual easily perterbed self and as I was entering my 3rd building a guy breezed pass me and opened the door, I expected Him to at least give the door a shove to make way for the girl at his heels but was startled to find he completely ignored me and practically slammed the door in my face. Already annoyed because BYU wasn't supporting my diet challenge attempt, I nearly snapped, but realized acknowledging his behavior would be stooping. And then, as though to restore my faith in chivalry as fast as it had just been squashed, I spotted a tall man dressed like an obvious member of the Army enter the same building with a tall, stalwart look and a pleasant smile on his face. I saw him do what I've only seen one other man do in my life. He walked into the building and took off his hat. Perhaps his head had an inch but I blissfully assumed he was showing respect.
The experience reminded me of my respect of and desire to surround myself with gentlemen. Men who get your door and call you ma'am or dear and pick up the tab and ask your opinion and pull out your chair and wear a button up shirt to dinner and compliment a new hair style or pair of shoes. It may be that I am old fashioned and hold a higher standard than I should, but I think any woman who makes excuses for their men who treat women like pals have been conditioned to expect less. I refuse to expect less. Because of this I am considered high maintenance or unproductively critical, which are labels I will take if it means I don't have to pay for food or open my door.
I HAVE two blogs. I have this blog that you're reading because for whatever reason you've made it a site that you visit when boredom attacks. And then there's another one. It's private so that only I (or as I have painfully learned in the past, someone who is snooping on my computer) can read it. This blog holds my public thoughts. That blog holds everything else. Basically, I moved around so many times that carrying a journal was not realistic, so the blog is as personal as a journal. When I get the desire to blog about something real I have to decide where I'm going to publish it. Do I want the internet to know my deepest thoughts? Do I feel comfortable letting people see a glimpse of the real me? Regrettably, that answer is "no" more often than not. I get especially coy when I'm deciding to blog about someone.
Point is, I have something to say about someone but I'm too embarrassed to say it here. Guess you'll have to break into my computer to read it.
I found this picture the other day and seeing it brings back a flood of emotion from the day that everyone in my generation will never forget. We won't ever forget where we were at or how it made us feel. This particular picture is of him at Joseph Smith's birth-site. I do miss that jovial smile.
7 Weeks ago I entered into an agreement with my mother, Kyria, and Nikka. The agreement is what we, and 20 other women in Texas, refer to as Diet Challenge. I did it in the support of my sisters who did it in the support of my mom who did it in the support of her friends. That last sentenced should be read WE ARE A BUNCH OF SUCKERS. Kyria and I are having fun with it. Like for fun we go to the gym for 3 hours, or for fun we eat 500 calorie lunches and pretend we are satisfied. Last weekend Eli was in town and took us out to eat like 5 times and although we were satiated for the first time since June, we would cringe at every meal knowing it just meant we had more work to do. I can't complain considering with my senior year being surprisingly stress-free and surprisingly single, I need something besides keeping my apartment clean to fill my time. Despite my quasi-optimism, I will be grateful come October when it is all over.
don't want to invest that much dough? download Just In Time by Elizabeth & The Catapult, Off That feat. Drake by Jay-Z, and Swan Song by A Fine Frenzy. If you want me to pick a favorite Ingrid song, you're trippin.
She is what happens to people when they stay in the same place for too long. Her eyes are tired. She is sick of answering the same questions. This place gets to you if you don't leave it. She's trapped doing the same thing. Every September and January she sits and listens to professors say the same thing and tries to laugh as they take themselves too seriously. Her glazed over eyes scream something deeper than boredom. At any point she might start yelling and run from the room. She will escape. She will get out of here if it kills her. Why did she come? All the reasons have escaped her. I remember first meeting her, freshman year. She had so much energy and zest for life. She was motivated and excited and scared because of the novelty of the place. That energy is gone. She's not present in conversations. Her mental capacity is limited to anything beyond thoughts of a different place, a better time. A time where she is not stuck. A time where she lives in a house that she owns. A time when college is a memory. A time when the only kind of tests she will encounter are the ones that tell you if you're expecting. She will sleep 8 hours and go to a job she loves and wearing an apron when she comes home.
She is not alone. Everyone is pretending they want to be here. Everyone says it's the best time of their life. Everyone looks her in the eye and fakes a smile and asks how her day is. Everyone is really dreaming of the same thing she is. Everyone is lying.
rain is everyone's excuse to be sad. people stay inside and sleep longer and watch more movies and stop doing their homework and spend more money. are we sad because of the rain? is it raining because we are sad? maybe it's someone's way of creating tears when we don't know how. because where did crying ever get anyone?
i'm sitting in my bed listening to A Fine Frenzy and the rain and eating grapes because of diet challenge and i hesistate to write anything sad because i don't want nikka to cry but i will go ahead and blame it on the rain. my indecisiveness has served me wrong yet again forcing me to sit here painting my nails for the 5th time, dreaming about moving to seattle, putting off my homework, and playing the swan song on repeat. and i'm pretending that it is the rain's fault.
I am happy. And I thought it would be a good time to blog because I typically blog when I'm depressed so the internet thinks I am not the chipper person that I am. I am happy because the sun is shining, and the weather is pretty and I live with my sister and best friend and yesterday we walked 8 miles around Provo because we thought it'd be fun (we were right). I am happy because I don't believe in being sad. Also because I am listening to Ingrid Michaelson's new cd which is MAGNIFICENT. I am happy because yesterday I bought a plane ticket to my favorite place ever and I like to travel! I am back at school and it's pretty weird to think I keep on moving around and I really don't like it but that it doesn't effect me anymore. Sometimes I think and am told that this is because I am numb but I think it is because I really have just learned to deal with uncommon amounts of change with internal consistency. You're jealous, right? That's because it's admirable. I can't even complain though because I love my life and all the opportunities and fun that I have. I love looking forward to things that are must like school and work and church. I love my sisters. Both my sister that I live with and watch movies all the time with and drive 45 minutes just to go to the gym with and laugh my head off with when other people would like us to be quiet. I also love my sister at home who dates and drives and texts me on a friday night because she put on a cute outfit and went to the movies by herself which just means she's a replica of me and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing but all I know is that she's going to be okay.
I have this perception of how things will be. I believe in signs and tingling feelings in the pit of your stomach and people being in your life for a reason and holding onto to slightest glimmer of hope that used to be there but left. I believed way too many boys who apologized and said they loved me and I got too close to my Dad who is like the world's most admirable man and also believes in everyone. More powerful than either of those, however, was that I watched the movie Serendipity way too many times for any average 17 year old girl. Why do you think I crave NYC so frequently? Is it because of the larger than life Bergdorf & Goodman? No. It is because Mr. Right is there and he wants to trace my freckles and ice skate with me.
I also believe in hope. I believe in it not only as a religious necessity but as a way to maintain sanity amid times of gloom. I am rude and prideful and unforgiving, unless you happen to be one of three people in which case you can do pretty much whatever you want and I will still be there tomorrow.
All I kept thinking about was how they didn't know anything different. For the most part, they didn't know what it felt like to be held by a mother and father at the same time who are both vying for your attention and telling you they love you. They don't know what it's like to work all week and get a pay check and blow it on a pair of Tory Burch wedges because they are perfect. They have never experienced a mall or shopping or wakeboarding or eating at a nice restaurant or any of the other things we think are regular necessities; Any of the things we think make life fulfilling. They get fulfillment out of making craft from scraps people have brought by, or joking with the other children or learning how to sing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" in English. Initially they watched in awe, as though they'd never been served by anyone. Once they felt more comfortable, they were uneasy standing aside and tried to pitch in where they were needed.
Last week I went to the mall because I was bored and I bought a dress because I thought it would change my life and sure enough I had forgotten about it the next day. Then I watch as these children wear clothes someone had dropped off in a box and they weren't given choices of size or color and they hand wash them because that's the only option. They wake up knowing that if the Americans come today they might get a Capri Sun and if it's the blonde one handing them out, they will get two. They laugh as I try to speak their language. They ask for my hat because they have never had one. They sleep on plastic mattresses with dozens of other children. They cry themselves to sleep because they know something is missing but it's not something they've seen so it confuses them. They have never dreamed of anything beyond what they have because they weren't raised to have high expectations.
There is no way for me to believe that I deserve the privileges that I have become accustomed to. There is no way I will ever be able to describe the love that I have for them. There is nothing different about us on the inside. We are all trying to make the best of the situation we were dealt, and after seeing another man's cross, making the best of my load is a lot easier.
Have you ever thought how horrible the gym is? You all thought it was a place for self improvement and lifestyle changes. Wrong. The gym is a forum of people gathered together so they can look at the themselves in oversized mirrors and pretend they hate what they see. It's like you pluck all the nonjudgmental people out of the world and pull together the men and women who take a second glance at everyone they walk by to see if their thighs are bigger, regardless of gender and always leads to awkward eye contact because why would you be at the gym if not for the same purpose as the rest of them?
Don't even get me started about a Lifetime Fitness. Due to the high rates we pay for monthly dues, you not only take out the nonjudgmental group, you also knock out the lower class resulting in a group of wealthy, narcissists who have fake books and die their hair to look like mine and could handle a cheeseburger every once in a while.
I don't share my childhood with very many people. It's not because I am ashamed or because I don't have stories, because I do. It is because I can't figure it out. I can't figure out how I got from there to here in one piece. Let me explain.
Most of my childhood memories can be separated into two parts. "Rich" days and poor days.
Poor days were spent in our smallish house in Austin, Texas entertaining ourselves because my dad had decided to start another company and so we were living off cream of wheat and beans. We pitched tents in our back yard instead of staying in hotels, froze orange juice to make popsicles, and played in the sprinklers at the elementary school instead of getting pool passes. A family outing meant going to Goodwill and playing a version of the grocery game where everyone gets 3 dollars to find the coolest treasure and at the end the cash register attendant chooses a winner. Any money we could spare would be used toward road trips where my mom would come into our room and say "You guys want to go to San Diego tomorrow?" We would say, "Sure," and continue playing with our homemade toys. We'd drive to San Diego to visit my grandma and on the way make up games like "see how many people can wave to us" and "whoever is the most quiet gets a piece of candy" (I always won that one because I will do ANYTHING for candy.)
The other days are the "rich" days. These were the off years when my dad would be working for a software company, you know, "The Man." In these years, I got a barbie jeep, I had baby sitters, I went to Chuck-ee Cheese, I shopped at the Limited Too, we went to Hawaii, and we moved to the Pepper Rock house. The rich days weren't as much fun because we weren't forced to make up games or entertain ourselves. We started going to Target instead of garage sales and getting clothes for school instead of hand-me-downs. (Don't get me started on hand-me-downs. I have one older siblings and he's a boy so needless to say I dressed like a boy for the formidable years of my life.)
This whole random memory was prompted by a conversation with my mom. I always give my mom a hard time because it seemed like the minute Rodney and I moved out, everything in the Dial home changed. I don't say the 4 younger siblings are spoiled but only because it makes my mom mad.
My mom is buying a new car. Not just a car, a Cadillac. Escalade. She looked at one today that was perfect color, perfect mileage, good price, and right amount of seats.
"The only problem is that there is no DVD player." "Mom, why is that a problem?" "Well we are going to California this month and the boys will be upset if they aren't able to watch movies to entertain them." "Mother, we drove to California every summer growing up and we didn't even think to be able to watch movies. I think they'll manage."
Luckily my brothers are the greatest things that ever happened to this world otherwise I'd smack them upside the head. It will be interesting to see if they are any different than Rodney and I who were raised under very different circumstances. Thinking about the way I was brought up makes me grateful. I know those days added a lot to my character. Right, I spend money like it's nobody's business, but I know that deep down there is a part of me that enjoyed not having, and you never know when that will come in handy.
Ky picked great colors. The variety of flowers were my favorite. You will notice all the bridesmaids look like infants. That's because the avarage age of the 10 of us was 18. At the ripe old age of 21 I was at outlier, statistically speaking.
Rodney got married which kind of, almost, maybe makes me think I could follow suite. I usually do whatever he does like that time I was 10 and he was 11 and he bought this 90's hooded t-shirt at target and so I bought it as well. And wore it to family pictures so it was like I was wearing boy clothes because so was he. Marriage is kind of like that shirt. Also, I'm going to be 22 this summer so it's a good age to get married because no one will ever say I was too young. Only problem is I don't pull the trigger. And I get extremely bored extremely quick. But I am ecstatic for my brother and his new little bride. They were truly happy and now they get to make my mom truly happy with grand-babies. The wedding was in Chicago which is one of my favorite cities to travel to because of my ability to forget about how much money I've spent on Michigan Avenue the minute it's gone. It is like magic. Pictures forthcoming. xoxo
A couple of days ago I had this really great experience where I thought I was never going to want to shop again. You all read about it. It was a breakthrough. Monumental. Seriously the strangest thing ever. I bet everyone was all worried I was going to get really boring to read about because what kind of Elyse doesn't buy jewerly without thinking about the fact that prices on earrings theoretically should not include a comma, and then blog about how fulfilling it is? A boring Elyse that is.
No worries, friends, old habits die hard. I made the mistake of going to the Galleria this week and darnet, the smell of Louis Vuitton still makes my head spin. So disregard all that growing up and habit breaking, because I'm back!
Because of my recent daily traveling and my 2001 cd and cassestte-less work truck, I have the not so pleasant experience of listening to the radio. All. Day. I don't know what I did pre- iPod, I really don't. This adventure has inspired me to create one of my infamous lists.
Top 6 Worst, Most Annoying, Most Redundant Songs On The Radio
1. HALO by Beyonce. Kyria is going to kill me for this one but seriously it is not even up to par with ANY of Beyonce's songs
2. BOOM BOOM POW by Bep's. I tolerate it because Nikka likes it and I support Fergie. Other than that- gross.
3. KISS ME THROUGH THE PHONE- Sweet beat. That's it. I feel like a nerd listening to it. I feel like an even bigger nerd when it is stuck in my head because it is a ridiculous.
4. P-P-POKER-FACE-P-O-OKER FACE.
5. SOMETHING STUPID by Miley Cyrus. I don't even know the name of the song. All I know is she performed it on the CMA's and I haven't stopped hating it.
6. BIRTHDAY SEX by Jeremiah. Jeremiah came to San Antonio and Austin last weekend and so to promote this event, his song was blowing up the radio. It's title alone is why people have a bad perception of hip-hop.
Generally, my life is governed by a feeling of want. I go to the mall because I want a better wardrobe. I eat chocolate because I am a variation of hungry. I fly to places that aren't my home because I feel like belonging somewhere else. I look to the future hoping it will provide hope for the presence. Day after day, month after month I wait for something else, something new. Yesterday, I had a feeling of honest contentment.
I lay in bed last night thinking about the rest of the week and the things I have to get done and I was trying to plan a reward for myself. I considered a splurge to Half Yearly, that Chanel bracelet I've been eying, maybe a new pair of glasses. I couldn't latch onto anything that really made my heart pump it's usual pattern when I am dream-shopping. All I could think was how hard I've been working and how it feels good. I wanted for nothing.
In an effort to become a more communicative family, my mother has instituted a new sunday night pain ritual centered around talking about our feelings. She came up with a series of prompts that are drawn out of a hat one-by-one and everyone (that means EVERYONE under the roof(s), which, last night, included three non-members of our family) has to respond to. For an hour and a half. This is where the pain part comes in. The questions are far from innocent; for instance, "What's your favorite color?" was not included. An example of a fair question for this exercise is "What is the worst thing that has happened to you in the last year?", or "What did you cry about the last time your cried?". You can imagine the horror this would cause on a select number of Dials who do not talk about their feelings, plus a select group of friends of the Dials who once thought we were normal. Boy did we squash that reputation. In fact, as I'm watching The Hills right now and watching Audrina yell at Jayde for no reason I think to myself that we could entertain America better than them. And I'll play Lauren, because I love Chanel, too.
There was a point when I actually let out a yelp of happiness, simply because I couldn't keep it in any longer. I made a point to only interact when it was necessary. I didn't think about school or work or money or the decisions in my life. I stopped to notice the weather. I thought about how blessed I was to be able to travel to places most girls only dreamed of. I thought about how long it'd taken me to get to a point where I could let myself be truly happy, even for a moment. I thought about the satisfaction I would feel when I could share this experience with someone. That was the only feeling of longing I had. The feeling that someone else would love this day as much as I did. Other than that, the only feelings were freedom, endless possibilities, and money well spent. I said whatever I wanted and did whatever I wanted. I slept in a hotel bed next to an incadescant fireplace and a window with a view of the ocean. I shaved my legs because I could and ran for miles and took 2 hours to get ready. I pretended I was a queen. I pretended I was a CEO. I pretended I was important. For 5 days I was whatever I wanted to be.
In the past year I have moved a lot. Each time it's to embark on some new adventure way beyond my maturity level. Typically, moving leaves me with feelings of anxiety, sadness, and uncertainty. Strangely, this time is completely different. I don't know exactly what it is. The pessimist in me would suggest that I am too calloused to feel these feelings anymore. That's not it though because I am only 21 and I lead a relatively charmed life. It might be because I am sick and the only emotions that accompany illness for me are perpetual lethargy and the desire to heave my phone into oncoming traffic when it rings. It also might be that I am leaving to go to Aruba and then Texas which could possibly be my first and second places on earth. Who feels anxiety when they live like this?
Reminds me of one my favorite Rod Dial quotes, which also happens to be my goal in life:
"When I go out of town I have to call it a trip because my entire life is a vacation."
Ever thought about how weird getting dressed is. It's like you have this closet full of clothes and shoes and a chest full of jewelry and everyday you have to pick something to wear. Everyday. Over. And Over. And then you wash all your clothes and repeat the cycle. And sometimes you go shopping and add new things to the mass of articles just making the decision harder. And you know you'll look good in about 85% of the things you put on but still you act like it's this big decision and you wonder when the last time was your wore something and will people notice. Mostly, however, you end up wearing the same things. You have that favorite pair of jean and that favorite top that look great together so you end up wearing them often. And no one notices, but of course you think they notice. You are narcissistic enough to believe that people are memorizing your outfits. But who has time for that? No one. So why do we all do it?
I used to get really excited for summer because I wore the same thing everyday. My swimsuit. Sometimes I would change coverups but ultimately I was wearing the same thing. I still get excited for summer but not in the same way. Because really the older you get the more the months blend together and it's either school or it's work but there is always something stressing you out. When really, all you want to do is wear your swim suit, day in and day out.
Kyria is in the process of applying for Utah residency so that her tuition will be cheaper. This weekend my mom was gently reminding her of the things she had left to do.
Mom: "You have to send them your tax forms, which is easy because you don't have a job. You have to register your vehicle here, which is easy because you don't have a car. Remember, Kyria, if you don't do this you won't be going to school next semester you're going to have to take online classes and work-"
Me: "Hold on a second, Mom, do we have a new family joke...?"
Mom: "No. Elyse. Be nice."
Me: "First no basketball,"
Me: "now no car, no job, soon enough no education. Wow, Kyria you have truly outdone yourself."
See, the significance of this is that I was in first place for a while what with 2007 and 2008 being the years that I broke up with every boy my parent's like, dropped out of college, and started getting my own opinions. Looks like I've been dethrowned. Now, if we could only find something wrong with Rodney and then we can all get a good laugh.
9 lasts: Last dollar spent: Nordstrom Last cigarette: gross Last beverage: water Last movie: He's Just Not That Into You Last phone call: Matt Pepper waaaah!! Last song played: Makin' Dat Doe. On repeat. Last bubble bath: Martin's Cove in the summer. Every friday morning after Yoga Last time you cried: Thursday night Last thing you ate: Christian's gum
8 have you evers: Have you ever dated a best friend: no. Have you ever skinny dipped: i did nothing else from 1999-2002 Have you ever kissed somebody and regretted it: 2006-2007 Have you ever lost someone you loved: in different ways Have you ever been dumped: 2008. Have you ever been drunk and threw up: no Have you ever ran away: 1993. but my barbie jeep ran out of battery so i decided to go back home
7 states you've been to: 1. Washington 2. New York 3. Illinois 4. Kentucky 5. Colorado 6. Texas 7. Florida
6 things you've done today: 1. Church 2. Derek's graduation party 3. Saw Christian for the first time in 3 weeks 4. talked to Matt for the first time in over 2 years 5. snuck onto Osmond Lane with my mom 6. thought about the beach
5 of your favorite things: 1. Waking up in a hotel room knowing that you're in a different place and that you can do anything you want for a whole day or week or whatever 2. Exercising 3. Working 4. Spending money. for some reason it gives me a sick thrill 5. Eating candy for breakfast
4 people you can tell [almost] anything to: 1. Kyria 2. Nikka 3. - 4. -
3 things that make you smile: 1. the gospel 2. being in love 3. Friends. the television show, not mine.
2 things you want to do before you die: 1. Raise kids who don't resent me 2. move overseas with my husband
went to campus to take my media ethics final- mistake number one, school? saturday?- during the test i kept having that feeling that there was something i'd rather be doing. what is it? what would i rather be doing right now? i can't exactly figure it out... oh my gosh! i know! i would rather be trying on shoes and swim suits at the mall. okay... A, C, C, D, A, yes, no, true, true, true, true, fill in the blank with random crap, gave my test to my professor with a pleading smile and went to the mall. so when i said that school wasn't my first priority, what i meant was that school is not my first priority.
My life has followed such a consistent pattern for the past 3 years that sometimes when I meet someone new I want to introduce myself followed by an, "Okay but don't get too attached. In 6 months this will be beyond complicated and one or both of us won't be talking to the other. But I'm flattered. And for the record, you're really attractive. Bye."
I am an optimistic person. I realize that anyone reading my blog probably thinks I am CRAZY but in reality I am generally one of the happier people walking around. I don't worry about what's going to happen. I don't freak out if people don't do what I want. I let life happen to me. I have extreme faith that everything happens for a reason and that the things that are happening in my life right now are happening exactly how they are supposed to. I blame this (a) on my religion and (b) on my hope that I have learned from those days when everything seems like it's going wrong but a week or month or year later I realize that a bad test grade or a break-up or a lost friendship was supposed to happen and that my world is IN FACT not over. This week has been an interesting week but I know that I have experienced difficulties far worse than any of this and so it's all going to be okay.
Ever had that feeling of not wanting to do anything? At all. And then you look in your calender and you have to do everything. All at once. And you also realize that your life is confusing and you don't know what's going on and things happen that are good but also bad and then it's finals week so you should be really motivated but you can't so you really just want to online shop? And then you're in the back of the library sitting down and some security guard on a power trip comes up to you and tells you that sitting on the ground in the library is a fire hazard and that they designed chairs for the library. And you say that if there is a fire I won't be sitting here, but I will be evacuating the library with everyone else, and he says that you can't sit here. And you say I want to sit on the floor so where should I go. And he says you can't sit on the floor and you say okay and act like you're packing up your stuff but as soon as he rounds the corner you sit right back down. And you feel like 3rd grade all over again. Ever experienced that?
Well, I have found the eternal cure for this predicament. And SURPRISE it does not require spending massive amounts of money. It's called laying bed. Laying in bed under the covers and turning your phone and brain off and just laying there. Sometimes, if it is really bad, I lay there under the covers with my phone off and brain off and put three songs on repeat.
Happy Birthday Luke! Today is your birthday and that's wierd because I wish I was there so you could wipe the lip gloss off your cheek after I gave you a big birthday kiss and made fun of you because you don't like girls. You are the greatest younger brother a girl could ask for. I still remember that time in San Diego when we on the beach and I was supposed to be watching you but I fell asleep so you wandered off and somehow got yourself extremely muddy and when you came back you woke me up and I looked at those board shorts that you wore sagging down half your butt and I just laughed at you because of course you're mischievous enough to somehow find the only mud in California, but, true to character, you came back because you wouldn't have the mind to run away or anything. That's you, never trying to cause any stress for people, but sometimes you can't deny your childish ways.
I called you today to wish you happy birthday and you proceeded to give me a list of your "Top Three Boy I've Dated". I thought this was a fitting present because, if I can be honest, the way I judge if a boy is worth my time is if he will pass the Lucas test. Newsflash to any prospects, Luke can be bought at the cheap price of a wakeboard and a basketball.
Those are my other favorite memories of you. Those days a couple summers ago when Rodney was gone and the Wakerats were gone and Dad and I would go on the boat and bring you along and you would take a run chilling behind the boat with your typical Dial Man stare. Then you would talk about going on the boat until the next time we took you out. You would also request going to McDonald's. Luckily that phase is over.
You are the best, Luke, and I love every minute I spend with you.
For some reason I get strongly defensive when things close to me are threatened. This extends to my family, my opinion, my religion, and my wardrobe.
The most prominent example is my family. For Example, Kyria has these shoes. She says she bought them at Footlocker, but I think she stole them from Rhianna's boyfriend. Granted, Kyria is a black woman, trapped in a pretty white girls body, however, these shoes could not have been designed for her. They were designed for a black man. I have this opinion. I don't share this opinion- except for on the internet, apparently. HOWEVER, if some ignorant third party fashion critic were to come to me and say "Kyria's shoes are strange," I would say, "What are you talking about? They are so her. She looks great in them. Those shoes were made for her." Forget the fact that I hold the same opinion as him. I would be offended and, in fact, upset, that he dare question her choice of footwear. Forget the fact that Kyria is confused about her pigmentation, and remember that he's a judgmental critic who hold the wrong opinion of her.
This flaw in my personality exhibited itself today over a comment I wrote on facebook. I was reading CNN and have lately been really frustrated by the articles of oppression rampant in the "Most Popular on CNN" column. Let me start off by saying I am not AGAINST hearing about the poor. I enjoy all of Anderson Cooper's documentaries about Mexico or Pakistan or even American hardship. My problem is that it is daily that these articles come up, and I don't feel it is appropriate to draw attention to these people. I believe in helping people, I believe in donating, I give to homeless men, I donate to Choose To Give, but I don't believe in people calling news stations and telling them about your brutal conditions to get publicity, remorse, or even a quick buck. WELL, I voiced this opinion on my facebook status and I swear it wasn't there more than and hour before I had half a dozen comments of people arguing, wondering how I could feel this way, and correcting me. It wasn't that I cared people commented, it's that they were threatening my opinion. I felt personal attacked. I felt like these people had no idea who I was or where I was coming from, but rather than they just wanted to denounce my opinion.
I don't know why this is an issue for me. I don't know why I'm so defensive about everything. I watch people take criticism with a shrug of a shoulder and I covet their submission. I suppose if I gave this up it would mean giving up my passion and opinions, so it might not be all bad, however, if I get in one more intellectual battle I might just lose start losing friends.
I don't have anything to say so whatever compelled you to read this, fight it. Saturday I laid outside in my new swim suit and then Monday it snowed and Tuesday I got sick and got an extension on a paper and got invited to Aruba and Wednesday I was still very sick and stayed in bed until now, because I had class. Biology- to be more exact. Biology 100. I don't know if any class has ever stressed me out more. My 400 level classes are fine but this 100 class is just not fine. And today we are learning about dung beetles. Important? no. But for some reason the stress isn't enough to get to me, but rather it is enough to make me think about the beach.
Also, if you have never been to Sephora and had the over-made-up women sell you any facial products by DDF, you should RUN there and buy whatever you can. DDF is a group of dermatologists that got together and created a skin care line. They have a lot of products that have seriously changed my life.
Being currently unemployed makes me think about work. This is the first time in a LONG time that I haven't had a job. In January, I set a goal to not work for 4 months and just focus on school. I tend to be somewhat of a workaholic when I do work, and the less I work, the less I want to. I know I am happiest when I put in a full days work in whatever I am doing, and yet somehow I lose that perspective in seasons like this where my only responsibilities are my classes and my gym attendance.
The problem is, there is no middle ground for me. There is no such this as a "Part-Time" job. No way for me to forget about working when I am working, and no way for me to think about working when I am not. I am a woman of extreme opposites. Love or Hate. Eat or Don't. Work or Sit At Home And Watch Prison Break Until My Eyes Fall Out.
My only advice to myself is to enjoy this time because this summer I will go back to working hard. And there is not a doubt in my mind that I will enjoy every minute of it.
One of my New Year's Resolutions was Less Nordstrom, more Target. So far this has been an okay resolve, if you take out the weekend I spent in Seattle, in which the only excuse for my actions is that they must have drugged me when I got in the story. AND they had a Chanel INSIDE Nordstrom. No three words are more detrimental to my sanity. Anyhow, it's spring time which means it's almost summer time which means SWIMSUITS! My first instinct was to go buy this: Owing it to my New Year's Resolution, the fact that I am buying a car, and that I already have that swimsuit in black- I decided not to. Instead, Kyria and I went to every Target from Balboa Island to Provo and cleaned them out. I'm so proud. I bought 3 tops and 2 bottoms all for less than what I spent on one swim suit last year. Here's what I found:
It was October. Nikka and I were at Martin's Cove bored one night. It was late. We decided to go for a drive that we knew would end us at the grocery store. We go downstairs to find a distressed Grandmother eating Ice Cream cones on the couch.
Me: Grandma, we are going to the store- can we get you anything? Grandma: Tequila. Thanks. Me: Um... Grandma: TEQUILA.
Here I am, laying in bed past 11 o'clock for the second time in a week. I feel like a complete waste becase there is nothing I detest more than sleeping in especially on busy weeks and especially when my room looks like it does. The thing is, I slept in because all I want to do is go to the mall. And I will, just as soon as I clean my room. Or maybe I'll clean my room after the mall. Or maybe I'll go to California. I'm frazzled, clearly, and asleep and my phone rings to wake me up. It's my sister. Shoot. I hate when she knows I'm sleeping in because it means she knows I'm being lazy and that I'm not in class and aren't I supposed to be a good example to her? I'm supposed to be the responsible one. I'm not supposed to be woken up by my younger sister because I slept in. What would Jennifer think. Crap. But, of course I answer it because hers are the only calls I don't screen. I fake my best "I've been awake since 7 a.m. and in fact if I sound tired it's because it is already nap time for me". The same voice my roommate and I used to fake freshman year when our parents would call us at 1 in the afternoon and we were still asleep.
Me: Hey babe Sis: Hey.... What are you doing Me: Nothing, you? Sis: Nothing
Okay. She's being sketchy. She probably wants something. Maybe she needs food or something. Maybe I can stop by on the way to the mall. Should I tell her I'm going to the mall? I don't want to be a bad example but I want her to come. Gosh I am SO frazzled.
Sis: So when do you have class?
Crap. Just tell the truth.
Me: Um... Right now, but I'm not going. Sis: Oh perfect. When's your next one? Me: 4. But I'm not going. Sis: Well.. Do you maybe want to drive to Salt Lake and go to the new Nordstrom and then Nordstrom Rack. Me: Yes! Sis: Pick me up in 30. Click.
I'm a horrible example. On the other hand, so is she. On the other hand, we are the same. Perfect. Dial girls: breaking the norm since 1990.
I look at her and where she is and how I remember being there. We are so similar it's pretty scary. So full of life and energy but still so thoughtful and passionate. Most of the time I feel excited for her journey that has just begun with moving away and figuring out life. Sometimes, like today, I feel a little bit of sadness knowing what the next couple of years hold. The heartbreak, the stress, the abandonment, the nights driving around deciding what she wants from life, the sleep and sleep deprivation and the trips to escape and the realizing her parents don't know everything and the time she will decide what she wants and have it ripped away from her and the day she decides not to care what anyone thinks and the day she wonders if it's all worth it and the day she realizes that it is and that she has become the woman she always dreamed she would be.
Today these sun is shining and when the weather exhibits uncharacteristic seasonal patterns it always give me uncharacteristic hope. It's like the time I was in Houston in October and it snowed and for some reason I just thought I could do anything because of the defiance of the weather. Well today I have that feeling and I just want to do everything. This is what got me to sell pest control last year. My boss took me out to lunch when the sun was shining and I just thought "Why not? I can do anything." We are going out to lunch this week, too so let's hope it's starts snowing again so I can enjoy my summer.
I can count on my 3 fingers the amount of times I have cried from television, and even then I don't know if it counts because most of the time I watch television to keep from crying and those three times it didn't work. So the tears either came from the Katie/huble breakup or the horrible life experience
Very often I dress up for school like it's a fashion show because I can't find a reason not to.
My friends find it weird that I haven't put any thought into my dream wedding. Actually, I have put thought, one thought: ELOPE.
I dream about being younger and I dream about being older but I don't dream about being here. Who does?
There's no way to swing it, Sourkraut is a STRANGE food.
I want for people to know how I feel but I am afraid to voice it.
I have HATED Blue's Clues since the beginning of that dumb cracked out homosexual running around singing redundant songs about Crack and San Francisco.
I would rather be over accessorized than the opposite.
Barack Obama is the man. It's possible that I'm single because I only have eyes for 1 man. And guess what? He's liberal. And guess what? He rocks America corrupted and debt-ridden socks off.
Where is your cell phone? HANDBAG Your hair? SCENTED Your father?AMAZING Your favorite thing?ATTENTION Your dream last night?WISHFUL Your favorite drink? WATER Your dream goal? FAMILY The room you are in? LIBRARY Your fear? FAILURE Where do you want to be in 6 years? MARRIED Muffins? BLUEBERRY One of wish list items? CHANEL Where did you grow up? TEXAS The last thing you did? CANDY What you are wearing? NORDSTROM Your t.v.? TINY Your pets? EW Your computer? PERFECT Your life? COMPLICATED Your mood? WHATEVER Missing someone? SURPRISINGLY Your car? UNBOUGHT Favorite store? NORDSTROM Your favorite color? BLUE The last time you laughed? FAKE Last time you cried? DUNNO Food? CHUYS Where would you rather be right now? SEATTLE
I would go to the Galleria and someone in every store would recognize me. Well, not every store, but the ones I hit weekly: Nordstrom, Aldo, Nine West, Bakers, Steve Madden, Godiva, Betsey Johnson, Juicy, Burberry, Dylan’s Candy Bar, Louis Vuitton, and Payless. I started watching Lipstick Jungle and dreamt about being Victory Ford and being totally beautiful and mysterious and down-to-earth and falling in love with someone who was coincidentally a billionaire and who’s idea of a date was a trip to Japan. Mon-Sun I went to bed before midnight and woke up early because I loved my job and I loved my boss and I loved my customers and I loved the challenge of the market and my learning curve and working in a Man’s World and my commute and my hotel bed. Nikka and I did everything together when I was not working. The receptionist at her school stopped asking questions after the tenth time of me showing up wanting to take her somewhere for “lunch” (The Mall). Gosh I shopped a lot. Mostly at The Domain if I was in Austin. Part of me dreaded coming back to school because Provo shopping sucks. Also because, I had experienced college life before and it was nothing like this. The other part of me craved my young-adulthood, it craved budgets and dysfunctional relationships and professors that don’t quite understand when you can’t make it to a Friday morning class because you got home at 4 a.m. after 80’s dancing. I did practical things like have double dates with my parents and make smoothies for breakfast. I didn’t have time to work out but I didn’t have time to eat either. When I did eat it was fancy: upscale Sushi joints and Steakhouses and restaurants with names like La Vita that are opulent and have personalized hand towels in the bathroom, 2 or 3 times a week. And that was just a perk of the relationship, the functional adult relationship, nothing like a college relationship. My brothers were my pride and joy. They were always there to make me laugh. I bought a Mac Book for fun so we could mess around on PhotoBooth. They loved making themselves look like they only had one eye. That’s all they ever did picture after picture of them looking like complete aliens. One time Nikka and I thought it would be completely hilarious to dress up like cowgirls and go down to the ranch. We ended up spending an hour and half taking a million pictures and didn’t even get on a horse the whole time we were down there because we’d spent so long on our outfits. It was the funniest thing we’ve ever done, the photo shoot that is, the rest was just details. Part of me felt a little incomplete without school but only because for 16 straight years in August or September I sharpened my pencils and bought binders and a new backpack and set off for a new year of school and a diversion from a custom I have always had is not something I typically enjoy. Looking back now I realize that semester was my way of not letting school get in the way of my education.
I was sitting in Media Ethics, a Communications class centered on “good” and “bad” practices, and not in a Machiavellian sort of manner where we step on everyone to get on top, but in an actual, practical business situation where individuals in the industry are trained to think in terms of what is ethical for themselves and their clients. Here I am sitting discussing my opinions, which were vastly diverse from the rest of the eager hand-raisers, and I had a feeling of personal intelligence, a feeling that is typically muted by the grades and competitiveness of my school. I don’t mean this in a hoity-toity manner, neither do I feel above any of my peers. I do feel, however, that I was taught from my infancy to do something that many people are just now learning: How to think for myself. This principle, which I considered a hindrance until just recently, is the reason I am the way the that I am. It is the reason I don’t feel all that comfortable in a classroom setting. It is the reason I laugh when students ask questions like, “Is this going to be on the test?” and “I didn’t find that in the syllabus, where is it?” Everything I do is in an effort to expand my mind, not impress professors. I seek to impress those that matter, for instance the two shining souls who taught me this strange way of doing things, my parents. I seek to impress myself and push myself and be the best I can be. I can’t help but to pity those around me who are worried about public opinion and who, for fear of standing out, do everything exactly how they were asked to.
Granted, my interesting learning technique would be better suited at a University that wasn’t so conservative, marriage driven, and full of carbon copies, however, I have decided that I add something new to the curriculum. A WOMAN who isn’t so much worried about GPA (although who isn’t a little worried about GPA, I mean I would like to be adorned with ropes when I graduate) as she is about expanding her horizons, doing something new, trying everything and becoming who I was born to become.
It’s the year that you buy you’re first car and you wear heels to work and your friends are married or going on missions. It’s the year that you start worrying about savings accounts and if you should have bought those groceries last night because do you really need another box of cereal? It’s the year where your brother is no longer a bullying little boy or a party animal but he has perfect attendance and studies and gets married and stuff like that. It's when you just want to be alone or be with the one but probably just alone. It's when relationships either end in sadness or in marriage. It's the year that people start wondering what you're plans are for your life and then it makes you start wondering the same thing. It's when you go to class to learn something, not just to get a good grade. It's when you watch Full House and get nostalgia about the 90's. It's when you make plans to go on trips to exotic places because it's the year when it might be your last time to do what you want without someone else to consider.
I've thought of a million good stories that would result in this tragedy. I dropped it from the 28th floor, someone dropped a dumbbell on it, there was a giant woodpecker that came in my bedroom and attacked it, I was talking on it and it just started cracking, I meant to reach for a hammer and accidentally grabbed my phone, etc. Because "I woke up and it was like that", is such a lame story. Then again, the truth is usually pretty lame. On the bright side, this phone lasted 1 month longer than my last one which I accidentally dropped in the toilet. This is progress.
And then I woke up two days in a row and it was snowing. But the positive part about all this is that I have so many articles of clothing that don't get worn because in Texas you only need one layer. One jean. One short sleeve shirt. One pair of heels. How boring! In Utah you need something under your jeans and long sleeve shirtS and boots with thick socks and hats and scarves and then One Coat. Except everyone here thinks I'm high maintenance which isn't a problem it's just that they associate "looking good" with being "high maintenance". It's like everyone is afraid of it because they are afraid of being labeled so they just wear what everyone else is wearing which is what we all saw on the mannequin at Forever 21 last week. Boring. Ever heard of Juicy?
Also, I always wear a ring on my magic ring finger except that is SO TABOO up here because it's PROVO and every girl wants to wear a ring on the MAGIC FINGER but doesn't because the moment you have that phalange occupied you don't get asked out in line at Cafe Rio. I, of course, don't care because any boy that really wants to ask me out will realize that it's just to accesorize and will do it even with that finger occupied and he would also offer to pay for my Cafe Rio and know my name without asking. I do think it's funny when every one's eyes go from my face to my jeans to my purse to my ring finger followed by an "are you engaged?" which is followed by the infinite time in which I have responded, "no."
i know how to shop. boy do i know how to shop. i know how to put a charge on my nordstrom card like it's nobody's business. i know how to run and sleep by myself or with whoever i want and wear outrageous clothes that you would think were hot and listen to sad music and sleep in and check my phone all the time. i know how to make myself dinner and watch gilmore girls and hang out with friends who won't ask to talk about it. i know how to move to a different city and act like i am fine and grow my hair out so you won't recognize me.
i don't know how to forget and not talk to you or get rid of the things you bought me and get new. i don't know how to hold a grudge or listen to people when they say to hate you. i don't know how to ignore your text messages. i don't know how to stop worrying about if you're sleeping well and who's next to you and wonder what you're thinking about. i didn't know what to do when i was walking away but didn't want to.