Sleep is a finicky mistress*

I hereby declare that I have the most delicate sleep cycle ever. Ok maybe not ever, but it's pretty darn sensitive. If I drink caffeine after noon, I don't sleep. If I'm stressed, I don't sleep. If stressful events have just passed and I am filled with relief, I don't sleep. If I take a nap, I don't sleep. The list of things that disturb my slumber go on and on. If any of the afore mentioned things happen, instead of sleep I lie in bed for ages trying to fall asleep whilst my mind zips about at a bafrillion miles an hour. (How British was that sentence?) And then if I do get to sleep it's that weird half sleep where you wake up after every dream and have to repeat the whole process all over again. It is not an enjoyable experience. Even worse is the experience the day after one of these nights of no sleep. See without enough sleep I turn into kind of a bitch. And by kind of a bitch I mean I turn into a super bitch. It's not happy. I basically want to punch everyone in the face, with a chair. I'm grumpy, I'm short, I'm emotional and irrational. It's not a pleasant experience for anyone. And as I'm being a totally horrible person to everyone around me I hate myself, but I can't stop myself. I don't know why I feel the need to share this besides the fact that I had one of those night/days today. And it was awful. And if I hurt anyone reading this with my sharp tones and unpleasant scowls I apologize. It's not you, it's my lack of deep sleep.

*Credit for the title of this post go to Charles Burnett

The Dark Side of the Social Media

In the past few weeks I have discovered, and fallen in love with, Pinterest. Seriously it's as if someone wrapped up a present and said "here Jessica, here is a web sight that will allow you to waste huge amounts of time while feeling like you are wasting absolutely no time. Unwrap this and do what you will." And oh boy have I. I am a pinning fiend. It really is a great. And the best part is that people like my pins, and repin my pins, and make me feel like I am just as cool as I think I am. This morning, however, I discovered that pinterest has a dark side. Let me explain.

For those of you who don't know me, I'm filled with a delightful jubilee of oddities. By that I mean that there are certain things that drive me crazy and make me want to hit something, and other things that just make me want to vomit, but you know, in a fun way. There isn't a good reason behind it, that's just the way it is. So, on pinterest I created a board that would allow me to show the world all the things that bug me. Because if I'm willing to admit my social ineptitudes that makes them ok. One of the peculiar things that bothers me is naked pregnant bellies, especially in picture form. I just think its gross and weird. I mean normally, and not in a"these are art shots" situation you hire a photographer and you get cute. You wear adorable clothing, that covers all the major parts of you. So why, when you have a huge belly and stretch marks do you take off clothes for the photographer? It doesn't not make sense to me. I don't think it's classy and it kinda disturbs me. And of course because I'm me, and don't think people really pay attention to anything I do on any social medium, I find some pictures of naked pregnant bellies and post them with pithy captions like "why do people do this, it's just gross" and "please do us all a favor and cover up your bulging belly." And apparently a bunch of people were not ok with this personal decision. Seriously I woke in the morning with a text from my cousin explaining what was going on, and an apology for having commented. Her exact phrase was "it won't end, they're out for you." I thought she must have been joking, or exaggerating. She was not. A bunch of people I don't know in any way had gotten on and basically ripped me a new one because I had the audacity to not appreciate the beautiful pregnant human form in all it's glory. People called me ignorant and repressed and wrong and all this stuff. It was kind of ridiculous.

This brings me to the first problem that I have with social media. It makes it so easy for people to be rude. It is so much easier to say blunt, unkind things via facebook or twitter than it is to say them face to face. These people who were commenting on my blog didn't know me. They are never going to see me, or meet me, or listen to my thoughts on what makes a sandwich perfect (it's all in the ratios). They are free to declare their opinions on my opinions in any way they choose with no consequences. Facebook is the same way. You can rip someone's status apart just like that, but it would probably be a lot harder to say it to their face. We all do it too. I can get super snarky on facebook and twitter. I blog about things that I would never have the balls to say to someone's face. I guess that's what anonymity does. It makes common courtesy and politeness go out the window, and replaces them with rudeness and unchecked anger. That saddens me. I wish we could go back to a day where you had to sit down and talk to someone about there opinion. For days when you couldn't just blurt out your thoughts, post them, and then be done with them. My new goal is to try not to say anything on a social medium that I wouldn't say in real life. I probably won't succeed, especially not in my blog, but I'm going to try.

I eventually deleted the offensive prego pictures. But I almost didn't. All morning as I was getting ready I kept thinking to myself, "they don't have to like it. It's my pinterest and I'll do what I want. Its my opinion who cares what they think?" Those pictures were all about me. My rights to post what my opinions however I want. If other people don't like it then they don't have to look. So there ha!

This brings me to my second issue with social media. It is makes everyone terribly self-centered. What you post is all about you. I bet most of us don't even pause before posting a crass status, or an embarrassing photo. It's my facebook/twitter/pinterest/blog/etc, I can do what I want. And it's true you can. But is it doing whatever just because you can really the right thing to do? I think that's why I took those pictures down. Do I have every right to find pictures of future dads hugging naked pregnant bellies while the mom's face is nowhere in sight, creepy? I do. And I always will. But maybe it's best that I don't share those feelings with the internet-ing world. Maybe sharing my opinion isn't worth upsetting others. It's easy to share whatever comes into your head, just ask the people who were calling me ignorant without ever having had a conversation with me, because you can and you want to. What's harder is thinking about others before you rip on something others find beautiful, or post mean words about someone's opinion. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad to have dissenting opinions. That's healthy and good and makes the world go round. But maybe putting a little thought into what we post instead of just letting the brain juices flow would go a long way.

This post is super long and a little rambly. Sorry. I guess my point is that while social media is awesome, and fun and amusing, it can also be dangerous, and hurtful. And now that I've blogged about it I hope I can keep the bad in mind along with the fun and try not to do more harm then good.

The Pleasure of Your Company

When I was younger I was one of those people who was too cool for a best friend. Back in 3rd and 4th grade people didn't ask you who your boyfriend was, they asked you who your best friend was. And in response to that question I always said, "oh you know, I don't really have a best friend, I just have a group of really good friends." Psh, I was such a liar. Or maybe I wasn't but if I said that now I would be. If someone asks me now who my best friend is, and sometimes even if they don't ask, I say that my best friend is Heather Williams. I'm going to try to not get overly sentimental here, but tis true, Heather is my bff. I've known her since I was four and she is one of the very few people I can be totally myself with. I don't have to worry about what I'm saying and who's going to think I'm a bad person or any of that. See, Heather knows I'm a bad person, and is going to join me at my party in hell. What brings about this sudden gush of feeling towards a person who I very rarely hug? Probably the fact that I spent most of the weekend doing nerdy things with her. Nerdiness binds two people together in a way hugs just can't. Which is probably why we don't hug. It's just weird. We do salute though. Anyway, back to the point. This weekend was awesome. I came home after the Utah-UCLA game (weird for me to watch) and called Heather to inform her that I was home and my mom had purchased HP 7.2. Five minutes, 2 doorbell dings and 2 knocks (sorry Header) later my family, Heather and I were curled up watching the movie, laughing and crying at mostly appropriate times. The fun did not stop there. Sunday we went to the homecoming of the fabulous Allen Warner, which was fun, but not nerdy. Then we watched "The Two Towers" extended version, skipping all the gross boring Sam and Frodo stuff. Yeah, in one weekend we watched both HP and LOTR. And we wonder why we don't have boyfriends. Spending this weekend in nerdom with my bestie made me feel super grateful that I have someone who is willing to accept me for me because she is just like me. I love Heather, and am totally alright with the idea of never marrying and living with her and some pit bulls. So yeah, that's my rave review of Heather. She's fantastic and I wish she would leave the UC bubble and live with me in Salt Lake. It would make my life a lot better. It would also provide me with a social life that I am seriously lacking. It would also also mean that I wouldn't have to get and give all life updates via facebook. It would also also also make me very happy, and eliminate any more rando horrible roommates.

Grand Canyon Adventure+Halloween Adventure

So I have been super lax in updating my blog of late. Something my father told me I needed to fix. So here I am, fixing it. As you may recall from one of recent-ish posts, I decided that I wanted to have more adventures in my life! And the good news is, I HAVE! Yeah for accomplishing what I set out to do! Here now for your enjoyment is a recap of my great adventurous life.

ADVETURE 1: THE GRAND CANYON

Yeah that's right, I went to a national park that isn't in the state

of Utah. What now? Here's the story. My dad, and my alternate parents Jen and Wayne Pullman decided that for UEA they wanted to hike across the Grand Canyon, from the north rim to the south rim, in one day. Are you shaking your head thinking "you crazy fools"? Cuz that's what I did. But they needed another driver, so I said I would drive. And drive I did. 3 day, 20 hours of driving, 5 1/2 of those with no one but my self and the music playing off my iPhone speakers in the car. That part was just as fun as it sounds, not very. A quick side note if any of you ever find yourself thinking, you know what I think I'm going to move to the middle of nowhere Arizona and sell Native American craft items out of a road side stand, reconsider, immediatly. Because that is some bleak bleak land out there. The Grand Canyon itself though was absolutely spectacular. Everyone should see it at least once in their life, if not more. Pictures below.

ADVENTURE 2: Halloween

So Halloween is hands down my favorite holiday. I love it more than Christmas. To me Halloween is a holiday that everyone can enjoy. All you have to do is dress up and have fun. Also there are pumpkins to be carved. So this year I had a pretty great costume. I was the Grapes of Wrath. The picture, will hopefully do it justice. I went out, I had fun. I even won some money at work. But the real fun was making the costue. My mom and I had a really superb time coming up with how we wanted to make the grapes and make me look angry, and gangster. All in all I love halloween.

Insights given to me by songs of yesteryear

Listening to the golden oldies while writing a paper or studying is just how I roll. In between focusing on doing my actual work I have been able to pick up some real gems and insights into what living in the past must have been like.

"If you want to be happy for the rest of your life never make a pretty woman your wife... get an ugly girl to marry you." Amen brother.

"I walked her home, she held my hand, I knew this couldn't be a one night stand." Times, they have a-changed.

However guys still want girls to "sta-a-ay just a little bit longer." So things haven't changed that much.

And finally, because I have to stop listening to the hits of the past and go to class with my hastily written 5 page paper of suck....

Aretha Franklin is a total bad ass. End of story.

Quest for Awesome

Looking at my life from the outside it might seem like I've got things all figured out. I have a job,I get good grades, and depending on the day I have some really great friends. However after doing some soul searching and self reflection and other deep and meaningful stuff this week I've come to realize that my life is missing something. It's missing awesomeness. I'm 21 years old and my life has already fallen into a predictable and ever repeating cycle. I go to school, I go to work, I do my homework, I sleep. Everyday, endlessly. It's not like there is anything inherently wrong about this. The people I work with are wonderful, classes are good, but I feel like I personally am failing to do awesome things Things that I will look back on with fondness when I'm old and morbidly obese. But all that is changing RIGHT NOW! From yesterday onward I have decided that at least once a week I am going to do something at least mildly spectacular, something that will shake up my routine. Since I like to strike while the iron is hot my first adventure took place yesterday. On the recommendation of a friend I got up this morning and hiked myself up to "the living room."

As you can see from my horribly placed photos the living room is a ledge that over looks the whole Salt Lake Valley where people have used slates of rock to set up furniture. It's pretty sweet, and surprisingly comfortable. The hike up was beautiful, the set up was perfect for a sitting and thinking, the sky was perfectly blue and basically cloudless and the view was breath taking. In a word it was awesome. This hike has set quest for awesome off to a smashing start. Check back in next week when I will hopefully be posting more of the awesome things I've done.

Oh! I also cleaned my room, and my car, which is spectacularly impressive, especially if you know me.

The Worst Thing about Missions

The worst thing about missions isn't not being able to see or directly communicate with your best (male) friend for 2 years. The worst thing about missions not being able to see or directly communicate with your best friend for 2 years and then having them come home and realizing that your best friend is gone. That the hilarious, inappropriate guy who just two years ago was pushing your buttons and the envelope right along with you has been replaced by a shell of that same person. A person who can't even talk to you. A person who no longer laughs at your jokes. A person who is shocked when you say the same kind of things that used to have them on the ground laughing. A person who can make you feel more judged in one sentence then you ever did growing up in Utah county. Its hard to imagine lose a friend for two years while they go off and serve for something they feel is important, but you adjust. It's impossible for me me to think that I might never get to talk to that person again. It hurts to see them go, but it kills when they return. Sometimes the worst thing about a mission is the returned missionary.

Schooooools Back From Summer!

Ladies and gentlemen, it's that time of year again. The time of year when yellow buses once again block our driving paths. The time of year when school supplies go on super sale and my mom gets really excited about it. The time of year when I remember all the things I love about getting an education and all the things I hate. Since this time around I am not stuck in a moving-away-from-California funk I can really appreciate, and loathe all the little details of school being back. And since I have a blog I have a place to list all the things I love and hate. I think I'll alternate.

Thing that I love: New class schedule

Close your eyes everybody, my nerd is showing. I love confess I love putting together my schedule for the new semester. Trying to figure out how things will fit together, struggling to get the classes you want, without having 7 am classes or 8 hours on friday. It's a rush. And when you finally get everything perfect. It's a pretty great feeling.

Thing that I hate: New professors that are like all other professors.

I know that all professors are different. Some are men, some are women, some are young, some are old, some speak english, some really don't, but on one thing that most all professors have in common is that they seem to think that theirs is the only class you're taking. As such they feel justified in assigning insane amounts of homework from the get go. There is no easing into it, you have 3 physics assignments, 2 papers, and 200 pages of reading due by the end of week 1. Thanks guys.

Thing that I love: New classmates

New classes mean a whole new set of classmates to learn and grow with. Who knows you might actually meet some new friends. Or if you're me you might actually find some people whom you enjoy watching and eavesdropping with in order to creepily make up their life stories. Either way good times are had.

Thing that I hate: New classmates

No matter how many students are in the class I always end up sitting next to the worst ones. The two sorority girls who continue to giggle and talk even after lecture has started. Then when they finally quiet down one of them pulls out the worlds biggest Red Delicious and starts chowing down, with her mouth open and the sound of apple chewing mere inches from my ear while the other pulls out and starts texting on her phone that still has the sound on in the buttons whilst nibbling on crackers that crunch so loud children in Africa are getting even hungrier. Meanwhile instead of focusing on my professors explanation of the laws of physics I am focused on not going all Kill Bill on the Bobsy Twins' asses.

Things I love: Having a job

Haha suckers! I have a job! I can pay my rent! I don't have to add the stress of finding a way to financially support myself to the list of other stressful first week of school things! Ha!

Things I hate: Having a job

The first week of class is the busiest week at the campus store. This translates to me working 8-9 hours a day everyday of the first 2 weeks on top of class. That's too much work for Jessica. I go a little crazy, and get a little grumpy

I think that does it for my explanation of my love hate relationship with school. Let me know if I miss anything. And for all of you who are back in school yourselves, try and enjoy yourself.

My Social Demise

Today is Saturday. Thus far I have slept in, showered, gone to a dollar movie, seen ten minutes of said dollar movie, left the dollar movie with a voucher because the theater broke, studied for the GRE, cleaned my bathroom, gone to Target to get a hand towel. Yeah. That is my day, and I expect the rest of my night to go like this, study for the GRE and watch "Clueless." I don't feel like this is what I should be doing on a Saturday night, but its what I'm going to do. I think I have figured out what my social problem is and to validate my thoughts I'm going to break it down, and maybe come up with a solution. But probably not.

1. My first problem is I lack motivation. Sure I could call a friend and we could do something. But then I would have to know who I wanted to play with and what I wanted to do. I hate planning. Multiple years in the young woman's presidency and one year as IWA president at UCLA have basically ruined me. I never want to plan anything ever again. I am done feeling responsible for making sure everyone is having a good time. And if I call people and want to do something I feel like I have to make sure everyone has fun. It's just not worth it. Basically the only way to solve this is for me to get motivated; I don't think that is going to happen this late in life. Hopefully I used that semicolon right; I'm trying to practice semicolon use for the GRE.
2. A majority of my friends live at home in Sandy, or California, or Mapleton, and as such always want to do stuff in Sandy, or Murray or wherever. I'm not saying I'm unwilling to drive down there, but I always go to them, always. They never come up here,and gas is expensive,and I am not made of money. I mean sure I could drive 20 minutes to see a movie in Murray or I could see a movie closer to home and save money. Basically I need to move or find closer friends. Both could help me in the future, but neither of those help me tonight.
3. A lot of my friends have a significant others; it sucks. Because when someone gets an opposite-sex-friend they are no longer interested in spending time with their single friends. Or if they do invite you someplace its with the bf/gf. I get that you're in love but could you separate yourself for one night and just hang out with me? No? Ok well could you get me a boyfriend or something? No? Ok, well then this seems like an impossible problem then.

So as you can see because I am single, living in not Sandy and unwilling to plan something that makes everyone happy I am destined to be alone, with my roommates stack of movies tonight. Maybe one day I'll be social again, until then I have Paul Rudd movies to watch.

I LARP you

Every Wednesday at Sugarhouse Park a group of like minded individuals come together and spend an hour or so LARPing. For those of you who have been living under rocks LARP stands for Live Action Role Play. Basically it means that a bevy of people dress up in actual armor and beat on each other with fake swords. Every week, weather permitting, this happens, and every week I sit and watch. I don't watch them because I want to mock them or belittle there passion like so many passerby's who stop and gawk. I don't watch them because I secretly want to construct and then wear my own chain mail and whack others with a foam spear. I watch because I love watching; I think it's supremely interesting and quite cool. Not cool like Freddie Prince Jr. in any teen movie ever cool. Cool because I feel like if I asked any of them why they were there, in the 90 degree July weather every week their answers would be something like this.

"Well Jessica, we come out here and do this because this is what we love. Because for a few hours every week we get to connect with other people who share our interest. We get to connect with a time in history that is awesome but long since past. We come here because at this place in this time we can forget our worries and our day jobs and truly be ourselves. WE come here to embrace our passion instead of denying it. That is why we come here."

And to me the fact that they are willing to come, risk embarrassment, and bodily harm all to do something they really love doing is extremely cool.

Ben Folds and the Deathly Hallows part 2

Usually Thursdays aren't the highlight of my week. I mean to be honest Thursday is probably one of the most over looked days. Most weeks it's just the day before Friday. But not this week. This week Thursday was the highlight. This week on Thursday so many of my dreams came true. First I went to see Ben Folds live with my dad. It was awesome. Ben Folds is amazing live and he is witty and clever and he made a Ke$ha song classy. He also had a super hot bass player, with the moody hair and the slight awkwardness and musical skills and the yeah. All in all one of the best concerts I've been to. THEN I got to go see HP7.2 with my friends. Actually I wasn't actually with them because we bought our tickets separately and I ditched them to sit in the middle of the theater. Seriously I was in the exact middle of the theater. It was a thrilling experience. I laughed, I cried, I fell in love with Neville Longbottom. Basically my life is complete. And basically that was my Thursday. Feel Jealous that yours wasn't as cool as mine.

Bumps and bruises

Good news folks the upbeat piece promised after my last horribly depressing/long winded/soul searching crap-o-post is here. Thank heavens.

So I just impaled my second toe on a tooth pick. Yeah. I was trying to be all productive and clean my room, and I went to pick something up and BAM! Searing pain rushing through the pointer toe on my right foot. I look down to see half a toothpick looking up at me from said toe. WTF! I mean it's a tooth pick. And it wasn't even sharp end in, it was the splintered end of a broken toothpick. Who would have thought that possible? Yet here I am, a few minutes later bandaging my toe wondering if I still have remnants of tooth pick in my toe. That is when I realized that this is really just the latest in a recent string of bizarre self inflicted injuries. Seriously I don't know how I do it, and how my body has not just quit on me yet. Don't believe you, well here is a detailed list of all my the injuries I have acquired in the last month or two.

1. Burn on the inside of my right leg. I bumped the exhaust pipe on my dad's motorcycle, Stan, whilst trying not to spill milkshakes upon dismount. For the record I didn't spill a drop.
2. Parallel bruises on my left leg. The cause is still a mystery. I think it was from mowing the lawn, but I'm not entirely sure. How does one bruise ones thigh while mowing the lawn? What can I say, I guess I'm an aggressive mower.
3. Bruised shin. I know this doesn't sound that whacky, but I got it from tripping up the stairs. Yes, up them.
4. Scraped knee. I thought there was one more step in my basement and instead of just doing that weird trip thing like most people I ate it. Hard.
5. Scrapped up wrist. I found out my mirror had sharp edges the hard way.
6. Bruised cheek. I was bending into my car to get something and somehow rammed my face into the corner of the door with a large amount of force. People asked me if I was being abused, and if I won the fight. Yes, I am my cars bitch, and no my car won the fight won't let me forget it.
7. Thats all I can think of recently, but I also have scars on my leg from dropping an iron on my leg, on my elbows from tripping while playing fugitive and from trying long boarding. And am pretty much constantly discovering mystery bruises.

So the moral of this story is that I'm pretty sure that I'm either going to develop skin that can withstand bullets or I'm going to die young in a freak accident involving ice cubes, a very sharp spoon and an army of hummingbirds.

California, but sadder

*WARNING this blog goes from mild ridiculousness, to nostalgic wishfulness, to serious life appraisal. All those looking for witty banter about the worlds problems skip this post. If you don't care about my life's problems (which I don't expect you to) skip this post. Also it's all sort of stream of consciousness-y. Which is not the best or most understandable writing style, but the easiest for me to just do. So really don't feel that you have to read this. But you can. You have been warned*

If you're reading this I assume that you read my blog, which is weird to think about because apparently people do read this blog. However I'm going to keep pretending you don't read this blog so that I don't feel self conscious about ranting all the time and having the people who evidently read this blog think I'm an angry person, which I'm not, I just sometimes feel the need to rant about things that bug me and what better place to do it than on a blog that nobody reads. Right? Right. So back to my initial point, if you are reading this, which I'm assuming you're not, I'm assuming you've read my previous posts specifically the one about my spring break in California and its high levels of awesome. If you haven't read it do so now, or don't, I don't care. Anywho the moral of that story was that California is awesome and I had an epic time with no sadness involved.

This past weekish I went back to California for the marriage of Chris and Kristina. It was beautiful, but that's not the point. The point is that there was a lot more sadness this time around. Seriously even when I was happy I was sad. I really didn't understand it. I mean I was IN California, the state of my heart where I am meant to live forever. How could I be sad? I wasn't sad last time. Was Utah starting to brain wash me? There was some panic. Don't worry though I figured it out. Want to hear my conclusions? Well you get to. When I went back for Spring Break it was like a greatest hits reunion tour. Everyday was jam packed with awesomeness. Every waking hour was spent doing all the fun things that California has to offer. It was like a salve on my wounded Cali-sick heart. It showed me that all my friends still loved me, and that the state still loved me. It was perfect because thats what it was planned to be.

This time around it wasn't like that. Every minute wasn't planned. It was like I was living my old life again. Like I had spent the last year on pause and someone had finally gotten around to un-pausing me. I spent everyday just doing things that I did when I lived there. Going to campus, chilling with my old dorm buddies, chilling at an apartment, strolling through Westwood. And I realized that it felt so right doing all those things, but also kind of wrong. Because the thing about being paused for a year is that when the big hand from above hits play you don't feel like you missed anything, but you did. Everyone else has spent the last year living while you've been frozen. Things change, not drastically, but enough. Enough that I had to realize that LA California is not my life anymore. Everyone there who knew me still knows me, and loves me, and welcomes me back with open arms, and its great but not the same. I'm a visitor. To them I'm a temporary distraction and to me they're what I want my life to still be. It's no ones fault. It's just how life goes. I'm sure it's happened with some of my friends from high school. The difference is I don't care about my high school life. That ended, I was glad, I let go and moved on. I haven't moved on from California yet. My life in California is still something I want and crave. It's like that stupid ex you just can't get over because nothing else has measured up yet. You think you've gotten over it but everything is compared to that ideal. And then you realize that you're life has been in a holding pattern, but what can you do?

This weekend was the realization. And hopefully it will help me to get over California. Hopefully I will stop waiting for things to be just as good as they were in California. Things in Utah are always going to be different, but does that mean worse? Does that mean I have to just keep waiting for California style living? NO! No it does not. So from this day forward I start getting involved in my life. Or something like that. At the very least I hope that I can be ok with the fact that Utah is not California, and that California is not waiting for me.

Sorry that got a little heavy into the where my life is going, and all my problems and that. But this is something I had to work through, or some cheesy junk like that, and I promise that my next post will be both light and witty.

Driving Woes

Let me preface this airing of grievances by saying that this blog is not about my feelings toward my newly acquired car Joan Jetta (if you get why this name is incredibly clever let me know because you get an automatic spot on my awesome person list.) I love Joan and I like to think that she loves me. So don't think this is me being mad at my super cute car.

Shall we begin? Yes? Good. So I believe that there is a system for driving on highways in Utah, and by highways I mean I-15, because what else is there. I-15 has either three or four lanes. The right side lane is for the slow people, the left side lane is for people who think they are in the Indy-500. I like sticking to the middle lanes. I feel at home there going 5-10 miles over the 65 speed limit. So something that really gets me mad is when people don't respect this system.

Example number one, when someone decides to ride my tail when there is no traffic on either side of me. I'm cruising along between 70 an 77 miles an hour in my friendly middle lane and some car, usually either a ridiculously large truck or a shiny sports car come speeding up behind me and then slows down and continues cruising like 3 inches away from my bumper despite the fact that the left and right lanes are wide open. Seriously bro? Just change lanes. Your type belong in the left lane anyway. I'm going a respectable speed and if you don't like it move. I mean I try and be courteous, if I'm in the left lane and I see approaching cars I move over. So why can't these D-bags juts merge into the available space?

Next, if you have cruise control use it. I hate it when one minute a car going 85 races pulls in front of me and then 15 seconds later they've slowed down to 60 mph, and then when you start getting close to them they speed off in a huff. My speed ain't changing pal, its you, so there is no reason to get offended. Stay at a constant speed. Please.

If you merge unnecessarily into spaces where you have no business merging. I hate you. Everyone hates you. This isn't a spy movie, and I highly doubt that dangerous merging is going to get you anywhere much faster.On a similar note, use your friggin blinker. It's there for a reason. No one in Utah signals and it makes me want to hit a wall.

Thats about it for now. I guess it boils down to this, if people would stop driving like they have a pregnant woman bleeding out from a gunshot wound in their front seat the highways would be a happier place for everyone.

Righteous Indignation

I am a Mormon. Many a time in recent years, especially since I've moved away from home I have found myself wondering if I'm LDS because I believe its the truest religion or if its because I was raised in Utah County and feel a strong sense of social pressure to be Mormon that I can't escape. For those of you scoffing right now try spending 18 years in Mapleton and the tell me you don't feel a little brain washed. For the most part however I have decided that I do believe in the church, most of the time. Sometimes the general authorities say things and I think, no, nope, no, I don't believe that, and I never will. I'm not a sheep, and if that sends me to hell so be it. I won't get into all the points where the church and I disagree. I don't like discussing religion, or politics. My beliefs is my beliefs and I don't need your approval, and you don't need mine. However, I got some church related news tonight and I feel the need to voice or more actually type my anger, cuz I be pissed.

So apparently the general authorities decided, with no warning by the way, to cancel the morority/fraternity program. In fact they got rid of the whole IWA/IMA program. And I am mad as hell. I know this might seem weird. I've always kind of mocked myself for joining the morority, and in the final months of my first year in I was kind of doubting my commitment to the whole thing. But now that it's gone I'm mad. Because if I'm completely honest with myself without Upsilon my year would have been a fatty mess. It was in the morority that I final found friends. It was after joining that I decided I didn't have to move back to California even if it meant being an exotic dancer to pay the bills. It shrunk the huge number of nameless faceless people at the University of Utah to a small group of girls who were a lot like me. And the connection was quick. It made finding a whole new group of friends far less intimidating. Basically, in the mushiest terms possible, the girls I met in Upsilon were my life preserver. Without them I might have drowned. And now the church has decided, with no clear reason, that this program isn't something they want around. And I am not ok with it.

I don't know why this happened, but I have my suspicions. The church just reorganized all the singles wards in Utah. They are expanding most of the wards and being very strict about everybody going to their ward and ONLY their ward. So basically what I've gathered is that the church wants all young adults to get married as soon as possible. But instead of giving us a lot of options that will allow really sort through all the candidates and find someone who is really right for us as an individual they want us to choose from one of the 150 guys in the one singles ward we are assigned to. Apparently they think if we just date our way through the singles ward we're bound to find someone we can put up with forever. To me it just seems hugely hypocritical. They are telling guys to date and girls to get out there and all this stuff and yet they are tearing apart an institution that helps people find each other in smaller settings. They want us married but only if we do it their way.

Which brings me another problem I have that is connected to this whole dating/sorority/singles ward thang. The general authorities need to get with the times. It's not 1950 anymore. I mean sure, it would be super keen if a guy would take me on a date to the movies in my poodle skirt, and then after three dates he would give me his class ring and we would be "going steady" and then 2 months later we would get married. But that just isn't how it works anymore. First I don't even know anybody with a class ring, or even a letterman's jacket for that matter. More importantly dating is expensive so I understand if a guy wants to get to know a girl and really decide if he is interested before taking her out. Also being friends is a great way to start a relationship, and the sororities/frats give the YSAs a great way to meet one another in a low pressure way. We make friends, some people find lovers, urbody leaves happy. Another thing I don't plan on being a housewife and I also don't plan on marrying a guy after three months of dating. No thanks, not my style, never going to happen. I'm not just going to marry the first dude who seems nice and can provide for me and my 2.5 kids and our dog Rover. Things have changed. The nation wide average age of marriage is 28. So maybe the head honchos should just chill the frak out, and let us single adults figure out our crap instead of trying to force us into an early and unhappy marriage.

In conclusion, I'm pissed, I want my sorority back, I'm writing this exceptionally tired and I want to hit something. Oh and if this doesn't get me sent straight to hell, well then I'm sitting pretty.

Gabby "Fat Dog" Swensen

Gabby "Fat Dog" Swensen

1998-2011

Gabby Swensen, known fondly as Fat Dog or Gabriotta Poop- a-Lotta, joined so many other good and faithful doggy companions at the great toilet bowl in the sky on May 28th 2011. She was freed from this word of arthritic pain, partial deafness, and breathing problems at the hands of a kind and gentle veterinarian. She lived to be a full 13 or 91 in dog years. She will be missed.

Some say that dog is man's best friend, but to the Swensen household, or at least me, she was so much more than that. She was family. She was always there, part of who we were. Hiking trips just weren't the same without her bounding along side you, sniffing out all the interesting smells. The back yard wasn't the backyard with out countless mounds of her doggy doo and discarded tennis balls worn down from hours of fetch. Watching TV just didn't seem right if she wasn't there sniffing around, begging for attention. Latter in her life a night in front of the tv wasn't the same without her rather loud, human-like snoring. For the last 13 years Gabby has always been there to poke her nose at guests where guests usually don't want dog noses poked, to lick all the cuts on my hands, and to try and sneak out the front door if you opened it more than about 3 inches. She was there to see me laugh and to see me cry. She really was an extrodinary animal and I'm going to miss her so so much.

Knowing that it was her time to go, that she was in too much pain for life to be good, and that she's in a better place doesn't make this easier. It never makes things easier. It still feels like something important is missing, like something is never going to be the same. It hurts. But she's in a better place (she's in a better place she's in a better place) and that shall be my mantra. I love her so I am ok with her going out of this world, but she'll never go out of my heart.

Rest in Peace Gabby, you'll always be my puppy.

Reasons I wasn't Raptured

So apparently I didn't make the first cut of people who were sucked into heaven through God's crazy straw. Quite honestly I wasn't at all surprised. But for those of you who are super shocked that an honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous being like me didn't get raptured, here's the reason I didn't get all raptured.

The Depraved Scrabble Society*

*For those of you not comfortable with horrible and/or racist and/or sexual words or who hold the rules of Scrabble as holy script please look no further. These images might be too much for you to bear.

Round 1, two bags of tile, and no rules.

Round 2, just the one bag, but the words were a little worse I think.

I mean if spelling out these horrible words and then laughing about it isn't enough to leave me earth bound I'm pretty sure that breaking the scared rules of scrabble definitely is. So thanks to my love of dirty words with horrible spellings on triple word score I am going to be here on earth for the end of days, and sent to hell for the post end of days. Unless of course that whole thing was a bust, in which case I hope to be long dead and happily situated in hell playing depraved scrabble with the devil for the actual end of days.

My Life Philosophy

Ladies and Gentlemen, after 20 years of living I finally have it. I have a life philosophy. I have a view, and guiding thought, that steers my actions and many aspects of my life. It's not wordy or flashy but (unlike this lead up) simple and clean. It is this: boys are stupid, girls are crazy. Now before you judge take a minute and let it sink in. Wait for it... BAM! It just hit you didn't it. The genius and utter truthiness just hit you like a ton of bricks I'm sure. Still uncertain? Well think back on all of your past relationships (as in the boyfriend girlfriend type) and then think about why they ended. I bet it was because the boy was stupid, the girl was crazy or some horrible combination of the two. Don't over analyze things, just be honest with yourself. Here, to help you out I'll do mine, in order, separated by commas. Stupid, it turns out I was dating a woman with a penis so his crazy stupidity, stupid with a sprinkle of crazy, crazy, stupid, and crazy with a liberal dash of stupid. Ok, now think of fights you've had with friends of both the same and opposite sexes, and I bet you find at their root crazy or stupid accordingly.

You're still not convinced? Fine, here are some actual situational examples. Girls how often have you sat watching a movie next to the guy you like and spent the entire movie sitting with your hand awkwardly sitting three inches away from your thigh land not had the guy hold your hand even though his friend told your friend who told you that he totally digs you? Your information chain isn't flawed, he's just a guy and therefore stupid. Guys how many times has a lady been mad at you, but she won't tell you why and then later you find out its because you didn't notice she cut her hair 1/8 of an inch? Or something equally ridiculous. It's just cuz she's crazy. There are countless numbers of things that prove my point. Take a minute and you'll see I'm right.

I'm sure you're all now thinking "Jessica if you've figured this whole thing out does that mean you're free and you're relationship pathway is now clear and problem free?" The answer is, yes and no. It's yes because I don't get as upset anymore. A guy doesn't hold my hand or realize that I'm just not interested after several terse text messages with horribly vague excuses? Well he's a male, and thus stupid, so I'll keep on keeping on and hold off my Ben and Jerry's binge a bit longer. Instead of being crazy and thinking if my blank was just blank I'm sure he would like me, I can tell myself he's stupid and move on. I can also objectively see my actions and try and put a lid on my crazy. The answer is no because I'm still a female and sadly still crazy. For example say I'm thinking of maybe liking a guy, even though he lives about an hour and a half away most of the time, and I haven't heard from him in a couple days. Rationally I know that he was going camping some time soon and that's probably where he is, and he's not blowing me off or anything, and yet... there's this stupid crazy little voice in the back of my mind that is absolutely sure that despite throwing boulder sized hints of his interest at me he's just a player and a flirt who's used me ill and I should head for the freezer section of the grocery store. Yeah, it's ridiculous. I'm a little disgusted at myself, but I'm still a female and so this crazy nagging is just something I must live with.

The moral of the story? You can't change the fact that you are crazy or stupid. You can however be aware of your fault and try to keep away from the chocolate syrup or whatever the male equivalent of ice cream is. Living by this philosophy also eliminates a lot of the frustration I feel towards people. A few deep breaths while repeating the mantra, girls are crazy, guys are stupid and I'm right as rain. So my friends take this information, use it, and be at peace, for you too now know the secret of life.

Think of the Children

Growing up in Utah has provided me with a unique perspective on child bearing and rearing. Basically, I don't know how babies are made, but I do know that if I don't start making them by age 21 my inside parts explode and God frowns upon me. Not really, but kind of. Anyway the point of this is not to frown upon Utah's lack of sex education program, which I do, or to comment on the Utah County Mormon ideology that women are baby factories. Instead I would like to judge another horrible Utah County-ism which is ridiculous baby names. I don't know who people think they are but during my 18 years there, and my mothers years of being a teacher I have heard of some pretty whacky and by whacky I mean horrible, names. So I've come up with some guidelines for naming your baby.

1. Do not name your child after your things found in nature. Examples: Rainy (her last name was Peirson pronounced person, poor child), Echo, River, Forest (all in the same family), ChiaDee( pronounced shady, last name Woods, middle name Lane), and Boulder, just to name a few. They started in nature and thats where they should stay.
2. Do not name your child after anything that is your favorite. For instance math function- Matrix, Movie title-Matrix(I don't know where it fits), car- Hummer, animal-Bronco, article of clothing- Fedora and Capri, both went to my high school, fabric pattern-Paisley. Put it on a bumper sticker and save your child the humiliation that comes from being named after something people wear on their heads.
3. If you think it sounds like something a movie star would name their child, just say no. The world only needs one Apple that's not edible.
4. City names are bad. They already have a whole city, they don't need your child too. Examples, Denver, Boston, Capri(a double whammy), London, Aspen. Also it will lead to awkward questions about conception later on in life that could and should be avoided.
5. Really weird spellings are just out. And I don't mean adding two e's where a y should be like Bailee or Courtnee, or flopping/deleting letters. I mean naming your kid Alison and spelling it Alycesun. Yeah, that really happened. Or Kwincy, Q's aren't well represented enough for you to replace it with a Kw.
6. Don't put punctuation in your child's name, just don't. Alex-andra is going to have to repeat kindergarten because she couldn't spell her name and her hatred of you, her parent, will grow after every state test.

So basically if you are thinking of a name for your child and it falls into one of these categories think again. I mean seriously, this kid is going to have this name for the rest of his or her life. Be kind, and never name your child rewind.

Laudry List of Qualities

So if you're a girl you'll know about this, if you're a boy you might. Most girls have a list of desirable qualities they want their future love partner to have. You make them bimonthly in Young Woman's. They've made movies about it. It has many different names, but the most common is the check list. I've always thought they were kind of dumb. I mean how many guys are there out there who are well traveled, well read, have a foreign accent, can cook, are hillarious, spontaneous, respectful, never get mad and look like a mix between Brad Pitt and David Beckham? Not too many. I mean have standards and what not, but not falling in love with someone because he doesn't play a musical instrument or speak three different languages is just dumb. None the less I have a few things that any future domestic partner of mine must already do, or be molded to do. (See, I'm willing to train them, not being hypocritical here.)

1. If they tinkle when the sprinkle they must be neat and wipe the seat. The toilet seat up thing doesn't bug me so much. I'd much rather have that in the middle of the night than to sit down in a pile of urine that is not my own. It's gross, and years of experience with two brothers has not made it better.
2. In other bathroom related news there will be no leaving empty rolls of toilet paper. Just freaking pull a new one out and set it within reach of the toilet. PLEASE. Also it there are only two squares left and they're all thin and sticking to the roll, replace that too.
3. No leaving hair of any kind on the wall of the shower. I don't care where it comes from, it freaks me out. It also means I have to spend 5 minutes trying to gather water enough in my hands and wash it down the drain without touching the foreign hair.
4. And clean out the drain. If I mistake your hair for a dead rodent, we have an issue.
5. No talking to me while I am using the bathroom. Unless someone is dead, it can wait. And even if someone is dead maybe just tell me to hurry, because who wants to hear death related news on the potty?
6. Be ok with all my bathroom related oddities.
7. Don't ask me if I remembered to get milk when a) you never asked me to get milk and b) I TAKE THE FRIGGIN BUS AND YOU HAVE A CAR. Milk is heavy ya ho, so no I didn't get it, haul it to the bus station and then lug it home.
8. If I'm watching a movie, don't ask me nonrelated, nonessential questions. Also, don't ask me stupid plot related questions. If you shut up and watch the movie you'll find out, and I won't have to tell you/hit you.
9. My bidness, is my bidness. If I don't elaborate, or I dodge your questions I don't want you to know.
10. Conversely, your bidness is YOUR bidness. If I didn't ask, you decide to tell me anyway, and I am now answering in one syllable words and grunts and have gone back to surfing the internet or reading it means I'm busy not caring and you should scurry away.

Looking at this list I realize it's not just a guide for future domestic partners or lovers its a list for anyone I live with. And personally I really don't think I'm asking too much here. Am I?

Done-a-saurus Rex!

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, readers of ALL ages I would just like to let you know that I am 4 burned DVDs, 2 layers cookie dough brownies, and 1 night of frivolity and merriment away from being free. Free from what? From being and officer in my morority. And I am so frakking happy. I'm not saying I regret joining Upsilon. I don't. I met some great people, and some great times, and was forced to be out of my apartment at least once a week. What I didn't like was being an officer. Not because it was bad, it wasn't, I had some good times at those meetings. I didn't like it because morority became less of an optional, come and have fun if you want to thing, and more of a you're an officer and you must be there always or else thing. And that ain't coo' wit me. Maybe it was growing up in Utah county or maybe it's just my stubborn nature but the minute someone tells me I MUST do something, I don't want to do it. I had the same problem with mutual. As soon as my leaders started to try and make me feel bad about not showing up every week I pretty much stopped going.

The good news is after tonight I'm not an officer anymore. Eventually I will get Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine" out of my head and the feelings of rebelling against obligation with fade. Then I can go back to enjoying things like exchanges and end of year parties with slideshows because it won't be me who's in charge.

Olfactory Orgasm

Today was a great day for my nose. Seriously, it's like the god of good smells picked my nose to win the lottery. You don't believe me? Well then, let me throw down of list of all the smells I smelled and then I'll let you try and tell me it wasn't a fantastic day to be my nose.

• This morning I had a physiology test and upon finishing said test I did not smell the horrible reek of failure. You may be saying "but Jessica, isn't it the scent of victory you want?" Nope, I'm not that picky. I didn't fail, life is good.
• Next I walk into work and there are cinnamon nuts cooking. So despite the fact that I had to work at the candy counter with the incompetent boss in charge again, my nose was still happy.
• I decided to take my self to a movie today. As I was walking down to the Trax station to get to said movie my nostrils picked up the delightful aroma of fresh mown grass. It's only April, and we're in Utah, but someone was mowing their lawn and I got to sniff it. Bless you kind stranger
• I went to The Broadway to see "Jane Eyre." Buttered popcorn. Need I say more?
• Also the The Broadway just smells indie, is that possible? What I'm saying is that even my scent receptors feel hip in that place.
• On the way home it began to sprinkle, which of course led to everything smelling like it was raining. Funny how that works out. That in combination with the wind gently blowing the smell of blooming daffodils and tulips up my schnoz made my nose smile. Really I think it grew lips and smiled.

And that dear people is why I'm having a olfactory orgasm. Don't be too jealous. Maybe one day it will happen to you. Maybe.

Mormon Dating

> : ( Those right there, those are my angry eyebrows. I only use them on very special occasions, but I am using them now. What, you may ask could bring on such an angry and hateful emoticon? Let me tell you a story that will eventually devolve into a diatribe.

Last night I went to a dating panel put on by my one of my bestest friends Tawni. I didn't go because I have so many burning questions about dating. I don't. I also didn't go because I feel like it could help me solve any dating problems I might have. I knew it couldn't. I'm antisocial, apathetic, and was fed up with dating at a very early age. A panel isn't going to help that. I went because Tawni was nervous about it and thought it was going to tank, and because that's what good friends do. I showed up less than enthused and left two and a half HOURS later feeling awkward, angry, and disgusted with how dating works in Utah. What happened in those two and a half hours? Nothing particularly unusual for a dating panel. Three dudes answered our questions and gave us "advice." I guess it was timing or something but it finally hit me just how messed up Mormon dating in Utah is. For those of you who don't know, it's really really messed up.

Here's my view of how things work in Mormonia and why its a horrible horrible system. Starting at age 12 in Young Woman's I, and many other Mormon lasses like me, endured I mean recieved countless lessons on the importance of marriage and how marriage should be our ultimate goal and how our aim in life should be to find a nice returned missionary with whom to settle down and start popping out munchkins. But no until we're 16. And then we graduate, the majority of the graduating class goes to a BYU or to UVU and does just that. They find a man whom is cute and charming. They date for a couple of months and get married. Then they start churning out child after child. 20 some odd years later when all their kids have left home they realize that they don't know one another, and never really did.

Ok, maybe that's too harsh, but I see it happening all around me. And I see girls who want that, and only that. And it makes me sad. Not because I feel like this is a horrible path to go down. For some people it works, they are happy and it's great. It makes me sad because of all the girls who base their happiness and self esteem on making that their life. Girls who cry themselves to sleep because they aren't getting asked out on dates. Girls who feel worthless because they are 21 and not married. Girls who hide their beautiful, and wonderful quirks under layered tees and long straight hair so that they pre-med guy in their institute will maybe ask them out on a date. Girls who are afraid to live because that's not what life is about.

Then there's people like me, acutally specifically me. I'm 20 years old and still feel years away from being ready to be married. I don't care that I haven't been asked out on a date months, or that I haven't had an actual boyfriend in... awhile. And I am absolutely fine because who I am doesn't depend on someone else. I mean sure, sometimes I think a boyfriend would be nice, but having one isn't essential. I can live my life without a hunk of burning man love in it. And maybe that's going to get me in trouble later on. Maybe I'll end up 35 living alone with a lot of cats. But I think I'd rather be there, having lived life, and found myself and done things my way then to be 35 with 6 kids and a husband I don't even know if I love.

Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe everyone else has it right. Maybe I'm just a bitter feminist man hater. But then again, maybe I'm on to something and this system is broken and needs fixing.

Spring Break Rewound

I think my mom hit the nail on the head when I was on the phone with her this week and she said "Jessica, you just need find a man with California residency and marry him, like now, so you can live in California forever." All I can say is that my mother obviously knows best. I can safely say that last week was the best spring break ever and I never wanted to go home. Alas, I am home and am now going to blog a highlight reel so that I can share my joyous week with you and remember it forever. Feel free to stop reading here, this is a really wordy post and as I still like to pretend I don't have readers sometimes I'm really doing this for my benefit and the benefit of my posterity and junk like that.

Saturday: What do you say we leave for California? I say ok. 11 hours of driving does things to a person. Specifically it makes Bridger( my travel companion) sing a metal song of his own creation. as we descend into the bowels of hell aka Vegas. I can't get into too many details but apparently Vegas feeds on the blood of homeless orphans. It also breeds the creative juices required to play gummy scrabble.

It's true. I've met quite a few Teradactals and none of them have been pleasant.

Sunday: Arrive in California at 1, stop and gaze longingly at the beach, go to Bridger's Grandpa's house, sleep. Wake up to a typoon. No joke, it was a typhoon. Go to the UCLA ward, where my axieties about being reunited with everyone shrinks and my overwhelming hatred for singles wards grows. Cook dinner with Biakahashi, tacos with a lovely purple squeeze it pairing. Watch a japanese movie. Eliminate pronouns from sentences. Back to Redondo Bridger and I go.

Monday: As per instructed I slept in and awoke to find Bridger up, fed and showered. Awesome. We walked down the to the beach, with awesome cocking umbrellas, and strolled to the pier, and then right past the peir to this delicious seafood place. I don't even know what I ate but there were clams and mussles and crab bits and fish and deliciousness. Then we walked back past all the afore mentioned places. Then we went on a bike ride down the beach. Beach biking is awesome because it's flat and you never get tired, although you can still get sore and bruised from the bike seat. After returning from the uber awesome pedal fest it was time for the beach. Now the water was way to cold to do much frolicking but just the right temperature for some skim boarding. I'm not good at this activity, I was bruised by this activity, but given my lack of success on any other sort of board (sans wake boarding) I also wasn't surprised. A day full of butt bruising was followed by a dinner at the Sizzler. It was payed for by Bridger's wealthy grandfather who has an unusual taste in restaurants. The night was ended by a viewing of "Unstoppable." I wouldn't recommend it.

Yeah, I ate all of that, and it only cost me $6.50.

Tuesday: Woke up early...ish so that Bridger and I could go to the farmers market in Torrance. It was pretty cool and I got delicious sinus clearing Thai curry at 10 am. What could be better? Walked down to the beach and just sat and talked about life, and how Bridger is going to woo his current prospect. According to him he's got it in the bag. After this next date she's going to be enamored. Confidence is key. We then drove to LA, westwood. We went to Chris Takahashi's place and played DJ hero, which is a little lame in comparison. Then it was off to K town with a bunch of my old UCLA peeps for delicious soon tofu and Karaoke! I rocked it, it was awesome. There were only a few awkward moments. It was grand.

Shell art by Bridger. Shells found by Jessica

Wednesday: Congrats reader you made it to hump day! If you're still reading my mindless recalling prattle pat yourself on the back. Slept in, it was glorious. Lazed about my old pad before catching the big blue bus down to UCLA, where I immediately stopped in to see my parking peeps. Besides the massive number of people who have been fired for no reason it's basically exactly the same. Leo's still ballin', Luis is still crazy,and Elroy is still creepy. Good times. Then Biakahashi, Bridger and I started our planned trip to Pomona to see a drive in movie. Three hours of LA traffic later and we get to the place, it's pouring rain, and closed. Well, thnks fr th mmrs I guess. Oh and the terrific burrito shack we stopped at.

Thursday: Slept in, again, and then excessively didn't shower because I was waiting for a maintenance guy to come. I love not showering. That's a lie, I love showering. I promise. Then I went to John Maritn's house with Aaron and watched BYU lose. Take that Jimmer! That's what you get for keeping the name Jimmer. It's a horrible name. After that it was more basketball paired with Fajitas at Aaron's place. We talked like old times. Scott put up with us for a short time and then disappeared, just like old times. Nick talked about weird stuff, just like old

times. I'm sensing a theme here. And then Kristina and I stayed up and talked, because we be adorbs like that.

Friday: Woke up early, expecting to go hike the Hollywood sign. That didn't happen until like 2. Also the Hollywood sign, not worth hiking to. Like at all. But hiking is worth doing. Go physical fitness. Once we (the 4 of us mention wednesday) got home the men got their domestic on and made delicious japanese noodle soup stuff. It was good. Then we drove to Orange County, to Chris' parent's place. We didn't go swimming. The pool in his gated community was closed.

Lame.

Saturday: BRIDAL SHOWER! For Moena. This event may cause a post later on about my hatred of bridal showers. They are dumb and go on FOREVER! Then it was on to some tide pools in Laguna Niguel. They were so super cool! I saw anemones! The were so super cool! I love sea life! and the ocean! and life! After that we actually got to swim in the gated communities pool. It was all salinated which means no chlorine which is good. I don't like hot tubs. Chris' mom cooked a totally bomb dinner that was absolutely delicious and faboulous and wow. I need to send a thank you gift. Memo to me. Then we drove back to LA and then Bridger and I drove back to Redondo Beach.

View from the top of the world

Sunday: Spring Break comes to an end with the long drive back to the beehive state which included a stop in Vegas to see an old mission comp, a stop in Kanosh to be fed and visit the grandfolk, and lots of deep conversation.

YOU MADE IT! Sorry this is so long. I really wrote this more for me because I type faster than I write and didn't want to find my journal. Sorry if you suffered, but as I might have said before this blog is for me, not for you. HAHA suckers.

CALIFORNIA!

So in a mere 3 ish hours I will be on the road to California. That means in a slightly less mere 14 ish hours I will be IN California once again. And I am SO FRAKKING EXCITED! Yes, I did just mentally yell that. But at the same time, I'm a little nervous. Why would I be nervous to go back to a city I love with people I love? Why would I be nervous to go back to the last place I was truly happy? I think it comes from the fact that I haven't been to California since August. That means that there are two quarters between me and the last time I've seen everybody, and people change. I guess I'm scared that they've been living their lives together, growing closer, changing, developing inside jokes, become BFsF and all that. And what have I been doing? Becoming more cynical and sarcastic, spending a lot of time reading books and watching movies alone, deciding that I'm going to watch my friends mary one by one and end up living alone with cats. What if we're too different? What if they hate me? They won't, but still, I worry about things like this. Welp, there's nothing I can do about it now. Love me or hate me I'm going to be in California for a week and that is really what matters.

Home sweet but temporary home.

This weekend I went home to Mapleton. I had some revelations. I will reveal them to you now. I'll call them my re-revelations.

1)I could not live at home again. I love my family, so much. I love my house, it's cool. But I love my freedom more. I love not doing chores. I love being able to say no when my dad jokingly tells me I should wash the dog. It's great, and I couldn't live happily without it.

2) I like being self sufficient. Sure working all the time blows. I would love to have more free time. But I also love not having to turn to my parents for every little thing. It gives me peace of mind for some strange reason. I don't feel like a leech which is nice because leeches are gross.

3) Despite all this I like having parents that don't expect me to cover all of my needs all the time. Especially when we go on little mini shopping sprees, and I get new clothes and shoes. And when they have delicious food that I like but can't afford. It's nice having a cushion that I can fall back on.

4) If I could have a free, no consequences or eternal damnation, one night stand with anyone it would be Daniel Tosh. He's too crass to date or marry, but also really attractive and hilarious. Basically he is hit it and quit it material.

So those are my revelations that I just revealed to you. It should be obvious that when I go home I have very deep thoughts.

Second Place Loser

Before I get to the real meat of this blog I feel I need a sort of pre blog statement slash warning, so here it is. I have great self esteem. I love me. Also I am cute. I have a nice face, good body, great brain and sense of humor and on more than one occasion I have caught a man "checking me out." I don't want to sound smug or braggy. I just want to inform you all that I am 100% ok with me, and this blog is not a way for me to pick up compliments. So you know, don't pity compliment me or anything. That being said, here goes the actual blog part of the evening.

I have noticed a weird phenomena since I have moved back to Utah. I think it has to do with the fact that I am no longer hanging out with a lot of dudes like I was at UCLA. Now that I'm in Utah I hang out with a lot more females. There are two females in particular that I hang out with a lot because well I like them a lot. We, and by that I mean I, will call them the Janes. Why am I calling two people by one name? Because they are very similar. They are both what you might call "knock outs." They have long hair that's always styled, perky chests that are always well displayed, they dress well in clothes that are both super fashionable and super flattering, they know how to accessorize and they always have perfect makeup. They are also very flirty, not in the bad way, just in the can't help it sort of way. Hanging out with the Janes is always fun, but I have noticed something happening when I hang out with the Janes in a setting where men are involved. Mostly it's that men gravitate to them. If it's the me, a Jane and one guy (or two or three or more) the guy(s) will talk to both of us, but hit on the Jane. It's funny. I mean it's not like I'm a grenade or anything, I'm just second place. It doesn't matter if the male in question and I listen to the same music, laugh at all of my witty comments and seem to have similar tastes in life, it's never me they want. The men are Tarzan and they want Jane.

I don't really know where I'm going from here, because I don't mind it. I can't flirt, or socially interact well at all, I know this, I move on. I just have found it happening over and over again and felt the need to recognize and express my feelings. I won't change, males won't change, life won't change, but at least now I have a name for my self when it happens. I am the second place loser. Rock on.

Mother dear I love you so!!!

I walked down the drive way, anticipation filling my heart and resonating through my every step. The rap music could no longer keep my thoughts from drifting to the endless possibilities that my doorstep held. I walked down the side walk, and rounded the corner to my front door. "That's odd," I thought, "the screen door isn't even sticking out. Oh well, maybe it' small." I opened the screen door, peering expectantly at the ground. Nothing. My heart sunk like a rock, and not the very small kind that float. It hadn't come. It was supposed to come, but it hadn't. Dejectedly I pulled the key from my wallet and stuck it into the lock, turned it and gave the door a half hearted push. It didn't open. I jiggled the handle and pushed a little harder. Nothing. The deadbolt was turned. That means my roommate is home! That meant that there was still a chance! I hastily raised my key to the deadbolt. Turned it hard to get it past the stick. Heard the click and turned the knob, excitement coming for the possibility of what might lie within. I opened the door and...

Actually maybe I should explain first. This week, which I'm saying started on sunday so deal with it, started out long and got longer. Sunday I was at church for eight hours. Eight. And so to relieve my stress, and get some advice on a medical issue (my hands and feet go numb and tingle) I've been having I called my mom. We talked about the possibility of my impending doom and then other stuff. Like the tax stuff she is sending me with my stuffed hippo pillow pet Horatio. Then she gasped and told me I had to check the mail on Wednesday. I didn't know whether to be concerned or not. She told me not to be, just check for a package on Wednesday. Needless to say my expectancy levels had been climbing steadily. The only thing that got me through today was the joy at having a mystery package waiting for me when I got off work. That being said I will now return to my story.

... There it was. In all it's brown, cubeish glory. Sitting on the arm of our love seat reclining lazy boy thing of ugliness. I snatched the scissors off the coffee table, because who doesn't have scissors sitting on their coffee table and began work on the tape. It could be anything inside this box. A bunch of candy, some educational supplies, a car. The possibilities were endless asI could see them all laid before me in my minds eye ripe. As I sliced through the final taped up tab and peered into the box I could not believe my eyes. Sitting side by side, curled together like they are already best friends was a pink hippo and a mini stuffed mono. My mom, beautiful and wonderful woman that she is not only read my blog about my four year old wants she indulged me. She searched high and low and found me not one but two, and kind of three cuz the hippos isn't purple, of the things on my list. And she's looking for a cactus.

So I guess I just wanted to give my mom the public props she deserves. Not only does she help self diagnose me AND listen to my rants AND offer great life advice, she gets me all the stupid crap I could ever want. So if you're reading this, I LOVE YOU MOMMY! Don't ever change. Ever. And dad, if you're reading this and/or helped in the picking out of this gift replace the word mom in the previous post with the word dad. Actually even if you didn't pick Henrietta and Mono out this still applies to you. And I promise to devote a post to you at a later date. I love you guys.

Bitches man...(prepare for a rant)

Oh yeah I typed the word bitch. Bitch bitch bitch. Ha. It's the one swear my mom says, so that means that I can say it. Take your judgement and eyes elsewhere if it bugs you because that word is the theme of this post. I'm mad and I'm cursing. Deal. Back to the topic at hand. Bitches, can't live with them, can't live without them. Actually since I'm a female and not a horny male I probably could live without them. Seriously. I have never gotten chicks. I've basically always hung out with dudes and Heather my BFF forever, who is about as girly as me. Why you ask would I want to hang out with smelly males all the time? Because dudes while not entirely without their moments are far less bitchy than females. It's true. They have a code, and they usually live by it. I respect that. There is no code for females. It's madness. Hormone driven drama, all the time, and I am done with it. Don't believe me, well then let me present you with some excellent example of why I HATE estrogen havers.

Lets start with the motivation for this blog, and lets start at the beginning. I am single, and fine with it, and not man hunting. Next, my roommate is single, and sort of looking and a huntress to the core. Thirdly I have a friend whom is just a friend and whom my roommate thinks I would be "super cute with" because apparently we have "great chemistry." She is very stuck on this idea despite the fact that I don't like him and he doesn't like me and we are friends and its good. Even if I did like him she would be the last person I would a) tell and b) turn to for advice and help in snaring this man. Anywho she came up with this invite him and his roommates to dinner scheme to try and hook us up. This scheme was put into action before I knew her true intentions and could stop it. That made me mad. Seriously? You aren't and old jewish lady, your name isn't Yente, and therefore you don't get to be the matchmaker, matchmaker who makes me a match. Does she stop there? NO! Every time I say his name she raises her eyebrows and makes some comment like "buddies can only be buddies for so long". Whatever, I can handle that. Sure it's kinda bitchy, but not like girl I will cut you bitchy. Until tonight. Tonight said friend came over because we are planning a trip to California for spring break as we both have peeps at UCLA and love sunshine and driving with two is cheaper. The entire evening she is poking her head in and making comments and raising her eyebrows at us. And then AND THEN she asks me, in front of him if I have a date for a big morority event. Yeah. And dwells on the subject for awhile. In front of him. GAH! Seriously I am ready to bitch slap her back to her hometown. Bitch move. I am literally trembling from rage. Butt the frakk out! It was awkward for him, it was awkward for me and she gloats and feels pleased with her work.

Another bitchy things girls do. They play with males. All the time. I have a rule, I will go on one date with most anyone, I feel like if a man has the balls to ask me out I can say yes to one date. But if I'm not interested I won't go on more. But I know of girls who do this for the free dinner. Bitch move.

Hated female trait three, the fairy tale mindset. I have a friend, who is a little crazy and is dating a really great guy. He listens to her talk, which she can do for hours. But whenever she talks about him she says she doesn't think it will last. Why you, and I, ask? Because he has some things that bug her about him and when she met him she just didn't feel like he was the one. I'm sorry say what? Were you expecting a shower of light and fairy dust with singing angels? You're not perfect either. This guy is great to you, great for you, and not bad looking. But no, without some sort of instantaneous gut swooping head spinning moment he couldn't possibly be the one. Get over yourself and realize a good thing when you have it. Don't count him out because he didn't ride up to you on a white horse.

There are plenty more bitchy things that girls do that include but are not limited to backstabbing, gossiping, boyfriend stealing, back handed complementing and inducing hellish amounts of drama. I am sick of it and I am done. I am seriously thinking of taking over Will Ferrell's job as Bitch Hunter.

I want!

Everybody has wants. Some are grand and life size others are trivial. I am no exception. Since I am no longer 4 however I can't just say I want this and I want that. I no longer have a mommy to whine to about all the trivial things that catch my eye. I'm all growed up. But that doesn't mean I don't want trivial things. As it is no longer socially acceptable to declare my wants to the world at large I have decided to declare them here to the world at small. Read if you want, roll your eyes if you must. So here it is my list of mostly trivial wants.

1. I want to grow the size of my stuffed hippo collection. Right now I have four, but I'd like more.

2. I want to know why stuffed hippopotami are always purple and stuffed elephants are always blue. Seriously, look around if they're not grey they are purple or blue. But hippos are never blue and elephants are never purple. Doesn't make sense.

3. I want a pet cactus. Yes, if I had a cactus it wouldn't be a plant it would be a pet. I want one of the fuzzy looking ones that sometimes gets a red flower on top. I would name it Penelope.

4. I want my life to end up like a John Hughes film and/or a Jane Austen novel. This is the girl part of me coming out and I'm sorry. But if it ends up being like "Pretty in Pink" I am so choosing Duckie because he is super sweet and has always been there and Andrew McCarthy is a jerk and not even that cute. Seriously Molly Ringwald, what were you thinking?

5. I want to watch all the "Scream" movies, but not alone, because I tried that and got ten minutes into the first one before giving up.

6. I want to understand sloths. Think about it, sloths make absolutely no sense. They are slow enough that moss can grow on them, so if anything fast tried to eat them, they'd all be dead. So obviously nothing wants them, and they don't do much but sleep so why do they exist?

7. I want to have enough spare time to go to the movies. Yeah, I don't have spare time. The Broadway, which is a great theater that shows stuff the rest of Utah doesn't is rightish down the street. But I can't go to movies, because I have no time.

8. I want to be able to afford the ingredients and cookware for all the delicious food I want to make. Being a college student sucks

9. I want Mono. Not the actual disease. That sounds gross. I want the adopt a germ stuffed mono. It's purple and has eyelashes and is super cute.

10. I want a roommate that does her dishes. Strike that I want a roommate who does my dishes that she uses.

11. I want a roommate that doesn't try and set me up with people. Focus on your love life dear, I'll figure my own out.

12. I want an old house. They are beautiful.

Well that's all for now. If you got this far, congrats, and thanks for letting me be four again.

Valentine's Day Sux!

To answer your unasked questions...

1) Yes I did just spell sucks with an x. I thought about doing some sort of clever thing where I did suxoxo, but that is just confusing and not that clever so I didn't.

2) No this is not going to be a post about the horrible movie with a star studded cast including Anne Hathaway, Ashton Kutcher, Jessicas Alba and Beil and Mcdreamy. It is a horrible movie, I just don't feel it deserves it's own blog post.

3)No, this is not going to be another one of those blog posts where a single white girl (me) rants about how horrible it is to be single on Valentines Day and it should be called singles awareness day and all that.

Yeah, I bet you're shocked this isn't some horrible diatribe, but it's true. I actually kind of like the idea Valentines Day. It's cool that people in relationships have a day where they can be super lovey dovey and profess all their undying and mushy love to one another and not feel stupid. I mean of course it's been way over commercialized, but what isn't these days. And if Valentines Day is the only day a year that your significant other is actually nice and shows you love you might want to rethink the life decision that got you to this point. But on a whole, I don't mind the whole thing. So if you have someone in your life go nuts, buy them stuffed animals and flowers and chocolate and go out to dinner and blatantly display your affection publicly. The world is your heart shaped oyster.

The thing I hate about Valentines day is that it gives single people, specifically single females an excuse to wallow in self pity. Ok so this is a blog about the whole "singles awareness day" thing, but not in the way you think. Seriously I hate it when people are all mopey around Valentines day, because their friends have lovers and they do not an why is life so unfair etc. Really? Can you not be so selfish for one minute? Be happy for your friends, and look forward to when you can be so happy. Also the name, single awareness day, is just awful. The only people who are aware of being single is the person actually single, and all the people he/she complains to. And the only person who cares about the singleness is the single person. It's not like all the people who have sweethearts point at laugh at the single folks. Nope. So get over yourself.

This valentines day this single chick is going to go to school and work, eat dinner watch a movie and then congratulate myself on remaining single in Utah for so long and not following my fellow graduating classmates in early marriage, parenthood, financial hardship and potential misery.

Hairs cut

So today I walked into a salon thinking "hey, I'm over do for a hair cut, I'll just get a trim, some layers put in, you know something to spice up the whole straight flat hanging like blah down to my shoulders thing." I walked out of the salon with a chin length choppy bob. Yeah. That's what happens when I walk into a salon. I never really know what I'm doing, I let the hair stylist do whatever they want, and usually leave with a lot less hair then I came in with. And I love it. So many people, especially girls, and mormons are SO concerned with hair. I know girls that would probably rather loose limbs than cut their hair short. I don't get that. It's just hair, it's dead, feels no pain, and will grow back. Try something new, you might like it. But no. Long, straight, sometimes with some sort of side swept bang is all I see for miles and miles. And all my friends say it's because guys like longer hair. Is that really true? Does a guy really see a girl with short hair and think gross, can't go near THAT thing? If so I may have a problem. I just think that hair is one of the only things on your body that you can really go nuts with and not suffer long lasting consequences. I feel this about both guys and girls hair. I have no problem with guys having longer hair. But a lot of people, namely mormons, namely those mormons from Utah County seem to have a thing about boys with long hair. Exhibit A my brother, he used to have hair that was shoulder length, curly and beautiful, before he cut it for job purposes. But every week prior to the great shedding of the locks someone at church would make some comment about how he would look so handsome if he would just cut his hair, or how respectful it was to the lord to have short missionary style hair. Really? I mean really? One, Jesus had long hair. And two, if God is really going to be nit picky about stuff like hair length, well, I'm going to hell. Personally I think God loves all his children and likes them to show their personalities and individuality instead of being mindless drones in black suits and power ties. But I digress, and come near a soap box that is better saved for a later blog. Moral of this rambley story? It's just hair, so go nuts, cut it off, grow it out or die it green. It might surprise you how much you like it.

Hungry and Lonely

"If only, if only the woodpecker sighs,

the bark on the tree were as soft as the skies

As the wolf waits below, hungty and lonely,

and cries to the moon if only, if only."

Thank you Louis Sachar, for giving me a favorite poem in a favorite children's book. Seriously I love this poem. I think it is the perfect allegory for life. Especially my life this week. Everyday I get up, go to class, work, study, eat, laugh and smile (sometimes for real, and sometimes not so much) before falling into bed at night feeling worn out and worn thin, ready for a blissful escape from reality. But before slipping off into dream world I find myself thinking "if only, if only." It doesn't change anything, it doesn't mean things will or even can change. I'll still get up in the morning and repeat the whole cycle over again. School is still going to be stressful and confusion. Work is still going to be long and tedious. I'm still going to feel the often oppressive need to please everyone, like everything, do anything anyone needs, and never for a moment show how much I just want to give up sometimes. There are always going to be people who can make me really laugh and days that shouldn't end, and people who make me really want to scream and days that can't end too soon. I think though, that as long as I have those few moments every night where I can cry to the moon, if only, if only, things will be alright in the end.

Proof that I can get stuff done...eventually

Once upon a time, many months ago, I moved into my apartment in Salt Lake City. Something that moved in with me was my childhood dresser. It was given to me by my grandparents when I was very young. It was painted by my grandma during the 4 month period of my childhood where I was actually a girl and liked pink. Imagine 5 more drawers that look like the picutre below.

You see the problem? Just in case you don't let me spell it out for you. It was pretty much the ugliest effing dresser ever. And I hated it. So before I moved up to Salt Lake I decided that I was going to change it. Not with paint, that's messy, costly, and a very bad idea especially if you're me, which I am. What I decided to do was get crafty with my dresser. I stole a bottle of Modge Podge and all my mom's old magazines. Basically the idea was that I was going to make a giant collage like the kind made by kindergartners on my dresser. I think I got about 3 drawers done before my room fell into disrepair and general horrific messiness. So there sat my dresser, half done, and half ugly. UNTIL NOW! That's right ladies and gentlemen, all it took was a massive room cleaning and an equally massive desire not to study for my physiology test and BAM my dresser is finished. And isn't it grand? That's it below in case you were wondering.

I actually don't care if you think it's grand. You could side with my roommate and think its "interesting" by which she means horrible, tacky and trashy, or you can think it's the coolest thing ever. What matters is that I love it. And the bows and garlands are gone. That's also a very important aspect. It feels like me and it fits in my room and I can look at it without wanting to vomit. Also it fills me with great pride. I not only started a craft project, I finished a craft project. Martha Stewart can suck it! Next thing you know I'll be making breadsticks that look like dead presidents and making flowers out of used kleenex. It will be great. For now though I think I'll just be happy with my fantastical new dresser.