On and on and on and on and

on and on and on and on and imma be rocking like this. WHAT.

 

 

 

We can't help that we POPulah and all these folks wanna FLOCK to us.

And that is what we do round he-uh.  The clean version.  Of the song, of course.

You Two, You Too, U2, and Bono

So, just in case you were wondering who I have been living with for the last 3 months, let me tell you.

Apartment U2 consists of four fabulous Sophomores with a love for life and all things happy.  We get along so well and living with each other is more natural than putting pb and j on two pieces of wheat bread.

On Friday we went on a roommate date by going to Cafe Rio and then chillin at our apartment watching Newsies.  Then we played in the snow and made our first legit snowmen of this winter season. It was so splendid!

And btw, this is the first picture of all of us together.  Presh.

On Sundays we take turns making Sunday dinner for each other.  This last Sunday it was H's turn.  We all helped in the production of the most delicious ski country pasta I have ever digested.  Yes it was soaked in bacon grease and probably clogged a whole artery and a half, but that is beside the point.

So every Sunday night we sit around the dinner table together and talk and eat and it's just great.  There is nothing like roommate bonding over a good meal.  Then we clean the kitchen like the perfect American family would -- everyone is cheerful and willing to help -- and, of course, you cannot forget the endless stream of Christmas music playing in the background.

If this doesn't sound like Heaven, just wait, it gets better.

Yesterday was a tad special and here is why:  Our apartment had to introduce ourselves at ward prayer.

Let me share with you what exactly this introduction entails.

Well, every Sunday at ward prayer, one apartment is in charge of leading it, like providing the song, thought and prayer, and along with all the that, the apartment has to come up with some creative way to help the rest of the ward get to know them.  There have been some pretty creative apartments so far, let me tell you.

One group of guys did a rap/song/thing about them that was so beyond funny.

One group of girls made a movie that was also quite entertaining.

One group of girls each brought in a shoe that described them.  Meh.

So anyway, we've been at this for months now, so we knew it would eventually get to us and that our intro had to be epic.

So we thought.  And we planned.  And we came up with the perfect idea.  And then, at about 4:45 p.m. yesterday evening, I heard a knock at the door.  It was the ward prayer coordinator saying our day had arrived.  I promptly slammed the door and ran screaming up the stairs,

"BIG BIG NEWS!!! IT IS OUR TURN, WE ARE PRESENTING TODAY!!!!!  WE HAVE TO PRAAACCCTIICCE!!!!!!!!"

And here is how it went:  Each of us took on the roll of someone else in the room. So I was T, T was K, K was H, and H was me.  After deciding who was who, we then told a story from our past just how we would tell it in real life.  The person acting as us would then repeat the story exaclty how that person just told it, to practice and whatnot.  After all the stories were told/practiced/memorized, we added the costume.  Each of us wore the clothes of the person we were acting as and let me just say, that sold it right there.

T has this crazily distinct personality and a style of clothing to match.  I wore this lacey shirt of hers with a vest over it and her jewelry and she did my make-up, complete with dark lipstick, and a head band on top.  I looked just like her.

H was me, which is so great because just the other day I was looking through my clothes and I found this adorable shirt that just doesn't fit me quite right, so I gave it to her.  So she wore that.  And my Mexico ring that I wear everyday.  And my glasses.  So that was obvious.

T was K and K has pretty much the opposite style and personality of T so that was ridiculously hilarious.  T wore just a big t-shirt and K's big Norway jacket and jeans.  She just looked chill.  Also, the thing about T is that she actually acts so she has been studying K's mannerisms, like posture and way of walking and whatnot, so when she did her impression of K, it was sooo good and sooo hilarious.

K was H so she wore this scarf that H is obsessed with.

Thus we were both mentally and physically prepared.

When the time came, we all exited apartment U2 feeling ridiculously nervous.  Seriously, I was like shaking out of my whits almost.  It was kind of pathetic.

The ward prayer room filled with our fellow ward members and then we began and let me just say....

SUCCESS!!!

H (as me) led the discussion by telling the audience what we were doing and that they would have to guess who each of us was acting as at the end of our intros.  She started by saying where I am from, what my major is, and then telling a story from my past life, all exactly how I would have done it had I been speaking.  It was awesome.

Then K went (as H) introducing herself using facts about H and H's childhood story as if it were her own.  So good.

Then T went and wow.  That was about the funniest thing I have ever seen.  She looked EXACTLY like K which was NOTHING like herself and everyone was laughing their heads off the entire time.

Then I went.  Wow.  Again.  Since T's personality is so dominant and well-known in the ward, it was easy to act like her and I just over exaggerated every single thing about her and everyone loved it.  When I was done, H said, "Okay so who was B acting as?"

T!!!!!!!!!!!

Everyone shouted it out so loud and started laughing their faces off.

And then on down the line announcing who each person was acting as and, of course, they got all of them right because we are such great actors/costume artists.

It was sooo great.

And besides the great memory, we talked about it after it was all over and we realized that this whole experience made us appreciate each other even more.  Because seriously, it was so hard to be the other person and none of us could do it quite right, you know?  Each of us is so different and unique and our personalities compliment each others' and no one can replicate or replace us.


So ya.  We wanted epic.  We got epic.  These girls are awesome.

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?

Okay.  Watch this and tell me it is not THE CUTEST thing you have ever seen. I watched three times in a row without stopping and every single time I could not stop squealing with delight.  It's just so fabulous!

Ah.

Can't get enough.

Just a boy.*

I went on a date on Thursday, with that guy I was telling you about last time we talked.
We went rock climbing, and it was great. Like, really great.
That's all I'm going to say about him right now.

Have you heard Florence and the Machine's new album yet? Basically, I love every song, but this is my favorite. I didn't actually watch the video, so if it's weird don't blame me.

Happy Saturday.

For fun*

Well, I was about to grace your eyes with various pictures of hot male models, but for some reason they just won't upload, so this'll have to do instead:

Auf wiedersehen.

I Totally Just Got Pulled Over Like 10 Minutes Ago

I was on my way home from work.

I was going 35 in a 25 and here is why:

"It Girl" -- ONLY MY FAV SONG OF THE MONTH -- was on so I was blasting it and not paying an ounce of attention to the speedometer on my lil baby kia.

I was so so so nice to that police officer and I didn't cry and I said sorry and I did everything he told me to.  And I was so sincere about it.

And guess what.

He could totally tell.

He told me four things:

1.  Get a current insurance card......cuz mine expired in September......2010......ya, I'm a little behind I guess.  Mom?  A little help on that one, por favor?

2.  Shred my old expired crap.

3.  Drive slower.

4.  HAVE A NICE EVENING!!!!

And then he drove away.  Boo yes.

First pull over:  SUCCESS.

Oh Preschool, How I Love Thee

You may be aware of the fact that I am now a legitimate assistant preschool teacher and it is awesome.  The kiddos flippin crack me up on a daily basis.

Por ejemplo, the following two quotes were to be heard yesterday morning:

As we were talking about the fact that it was picture day (which I was fully unaware of so I came to school looking like poo and now I'm disgusted), one little boy said, "I'm not going to get my picture taken because my daddy takes better pictures."

And this week's letter is F.  So we talked about family.  I asked the little girl sitting to my right if she had a family and she said yes.  So the girl to the left of me then announced that she had a family.  So then I said, "Me too!  We all have a family."  And the girl to my right said, "Even teachers?!?"  She was totally shocked, and then pleased with this discovery and it was so hilarious.  Like she thinks we spend our whole lives at the school or something.  I guess it makes sense since we are there every time she arrives and we bid her adieu as she walks out the door.

Anyway, they are so cute!  And Mexico totally prepared me for this, in some ways.  Like snack time.  They all get in line to go to the bathroom and wash their hands and things and as they take their turn, they go sit down at the table in front of a snack.  And what 3 slash 4 year old child can just sit there in front of food and not eat it?  But they are not allowed to eat until every last child is sitting at the table.  So I spend like five minutes talking to them about the snack and it's so cool to have them completely wrapped around my finger.  Completely wrapped, I tell you.

Last week we had honeycomb (the cereal) for our snack.  As a few of them were beginning to sit down, I started my distraction process:

Me:  Do you see what is on your napkin?  What is that?!

Them:  Uummmm.

Me:  Is it an apple?

Them:  No!!!!!  (Then they giggle)

Me:  No?  Well, then, what is it?

Them:  (Silent/deep in thought at my truly thought provoking question, because, in fact, they had no idea what it possibly could be)

Me:  Touch it.  Does it feel warm?  Does it feel warm like soup?  Do you think this is soup?

Them:  NO!!!! (Giggle their little faces off)

Me:  No, soup is wet.  Is this wet?

Them:  No!

Me:  No, it's dry.

Them:  It's dry!

Me:  Well, why don't you tell me what it is then?

Them:  It's an apple!  (Giggle because they think they are so funny)

Me:  No!  We already discovered it's not an apple.  What color are apples?

Them:  RED!!!

Me:  And what color is our snack?

Them:  Yellow!

Me:  So it can't be an apple.  It can't be soup.  How about you smell it.

Them:  (Smell it to death)

Me:  Do you smell that?  What does it smell like?  Does it smell like honey?

Them:  (They're eyes light up because that is EXACTLY what it smells like!)  YAA!  IT SMELLS LIKE HONEY!!!!

Me:  Hmmmm.  What makes honey?

Them:  Bees!

Me:  Where do bees live?

Them:  In a beehive!

Me:  Yes!  In a beehive.  Have any of you ever been stung by a bee?

Them:  (All raising their hands, and one child proceeds to tell the story of his stinging with eveyone else  in rapture)

Me:  Ouch!  That doesn't feel good to get stung by a bee, does it?

Them:  (All cringing) No!  It hurts!

Me:  So this snack is called honeycomb.  Can you all say honeycomb?

Them:  Honeycomb!

And by that time, it's snacking begin and I have successfully distracted 13 preschoolers from putting their food in their mouths for five whole mintues.  It is awesome.  Love it.

Newman

Tell me this is not precious:

Not twenty minutes ago I was walking home from la escuela in the beautiful sunshine, feeling good about life and looking forward to a long evening of writing a partial research paper.  About 40 feet ahead of me was an army dude.  About twenty feet ahead of him was a dude in a wheelchair.  We were all walking/rolling home from campus.  At the same time.  In a linear fashion.

Some time passed and I noticed that the army dude was still about the same distance ahead of me, but in his normal walking pace, he naturally came upon the slower moving wheelchair man.  So, when the time came for army dude to pass wheelchair dude, I saw something really great.

Army dude began to walk alongside wheelchair dude and make conversation.  After a few moments, army dude made his way behind wheelchair dude, took the handles, and began the descent down 800 East.  Now, if you don't know, that hill is a beast.  A typically (let's be politically correct, now) walking human has trouble enough walking down that thing, but try wheeling a chair down it!

Well this army dude had the heart to make a new friend and do a little service by "pushing" wheelchair man down the hill - which actually required holding him back so he wouldn't go flying out of control.

I, of course, caught up to them in no time, only to hear them having pleasant conversation.

I smiled.

And then I took a pic.

And then I walked behind them all the way down the hill.

Working hard or hardly working?*

Pictured above is my uniform for work. Isn't it super cute? It's huge on me, even though it's a small. When they (my superiors) were handing them out, the lady was like, "I think you should probably get a medium." What? Is that a fat joke?

In the end, I went with my heart and got a small, if only to preserve my dignity.

Even though the uniform is fugly and I get paid like an illegal immigrant, I still really like my job. Mostly, I just scan tickets as people enter the stadium gates, and say "Enjoy the game." One of the girls who's on my gate (Gate 9, represent.) is super cool and we're basically like this now: X. When the mass of patrons thins out, we pass the time by scoping out hot guys and rating them on our 1-10 scale. Occasionally we also break the rules and sit on the table, because it's reaaally hard to stand up for seven hours strait (uh, HELLO supervisor).

Tonight's game starts at 8:15, which means I won't get home til the ungodly hour of like, 1:00 A.M. That might not sound so ungodly, because we're in college now right?, but it's pretty sketchy to be walking a mile and a half home ALONE at that time. So pray for me.

Isn't this adorable?

I got an email from my sister mexicana!  I know I told you I was done being obsessed, but then I opened my email, and my obsession came right back.  

This is her, me, and a primo se llama Paco:

And this is the email:


hi!!! brittan I miss you much and all my family too.you are my sister favorite, sorry  I couldn´t write before because I had a lot  work and  yes,understand!!!!!my sister evelia told that when you come back a mexico you will have the same room. kisses SONRIE!!! I LOVE YOU BRITTAN

    
 
                                 3  L  V  I  S  

Do you see why I loved this life so much?  Man!  Everyone needs to have a Mexican fam so you can all know what I am going through.  This is awesome.

Fav line:  you are my sister favorite.

Ha.  Haha.  So cute.

Dirty Dash

We Mexican teachers decided to hold our one month reunion this past weekend at the Dirty Dash in Midway.  It was legit.

So, good news.  I think I am at least half way over my whole Mexican brain.  I mean, I'm still obsessed, and every time I hear it mentioned, my heart beat soars and my mind floats back to the good old days.  But I'm passed the stage of looking at my pics and watching my vids every single night.  I did that literally for the whole first month home.  So it's been like a week and a half since I got over it.  But anyway.

The reunion was totally fun.  We are all still friends and I'm pretty sure it will stay that way. They are really all so great and I love hanging out with them.  Sigh.  Good times.

Guess what.  I just went to Cafe Rio with my former roomies whose names I will now use outright, partially because I don't feel like clouding them over, and partially because I don't quite remember their fake ones.  So anyway, we went to Cafe Rio and the workers were speaking Spanish and I loved it.  Then we went to this little restaraunt from El Salvador, which basically equals Mexico.  It was exactly like a Mexican restaraunt and I loved every second of it.  Beca bought me some delish food from there and it was only like 2 dollars and it was so good.  I loved it.  So ya, I'm over my non-stop thinking/talking about it, but I'm still obsessed and I can't get enough of all the little legit Mexican/Latin American places in Logan.  I had no idea there were so many, but it makes me so so happy.

El fin.

This is the way I live*

Welcome to Apartment B~26!

We're a happy family. 92% of the time.

This is our kitchen, which we strive to keep clean.

And this is our living room, which is patriotic in all the wrong ways.

Right now, half of us are sick (and the other half are on the verge), including me, even though I've been popping vitamin c tablets like narcotics and stealing UK's echinacea. And the above pictures might be worth a thousand words, but they're lying words, because those photographs were taken a few weeks ago, and our apartment definitely does not look like that anymore. We're sick guys, give us a break.

Anyway, the point is, B~26 is usually the happenin' place around here, but it hasn't been so happenin' of late.

So catch us next week!

Guess What

I just got back from my very first real college date.

I'm all grown up now.

Twas great.

P.S.  I suck at dating.  No wonder I haven't done it.  Or is it the other way around?

Whatevs.

I Feel A Change Coming On

I've always been one against having your life plan set in stone.  Because I figure, what's the point?  God is just going to teach you a lesson sometime in the middle of all your plans that will change everything and you really have no control over that.

Let me try to make this short...

Basically, this theory of mine was taken a little too far in that I essentially had no plan, and one day in September/Octoberish of last year I was like, "What the freak, I'm going nowhere with my life."

So I sat down at my desk and wrote out some things I wanted to do, like goals and things, and one of those things was study abroad.  After searching it out and learning of my optinons, I decided upon ILP and as we all know, I just got back from a summer in Mexico that CHANGED MY LIFE FOREVER.

Most of those consequential changes were to be expected, but there was one that was really unexpected, and it's still in the process.  I am speaking about UVU.

I was just sitting there in my Mexican life at the end of Juneish when the thought came to me, "What if I transfer to UVU after next year?"

Uh, WHAT?!??  Why would I just think that?  That thought would NEVER cross my mind.  Buuuut it just did, so I guess I was wrong.

So then I thought about it.  What if I did transfer?  What would my life be like?  What would be different?

After thinking on that for some time, I determined that not only was I not completely opposed to the idea, but it actually sounded rather good.  And the more and more I think about it, the more I decide that that is what I am really going to do.  It's shocking, really.

So I prayed about it.  I haven't had like an "Aaahhhhh" sent-from-Heaven moment of the Spirit saying directly, "Brittan, get thee hence to UVU."  But I just continue to feel like that's what I should do, you know?  So as of now, that's what I'm doing.  And if it's wrong, I'm sure God will stop me.

But the change does not end there.

The other day, I was sitting in my Communication Disorders class and we were talking about bilingualism and cultural differences in language and what not, and guess what.  I was sooooo absolutely fascinated.  I LOVE learning about different cultures, and specifically about the language.  Living in Mexico, I was always totally enthralled with how we say things in English verses how you would in Spanish.  When my host sister would ask me questions about why/how we say certain things, it made me really think a lot about the English language and how we do it and it was soooo interesting. And remember on my blog how I said that there are words in each language that are not in the other that you sometimes just need?  That is so fascinating to me!

I walked home after class deep in thought.  What can I do with other cultures and language?  I thought and thought and then I talked to a girl who speaks Mandarin and she said she is majoring in International Business.  So that got me thinking, maybe I should change my major.

And then my life fell apart.

I did not notice until that very moment that I was one of those people after all.  One who had a life plan that was set in stone.  I was going to graduate from USU with a degree in FCHD and "work with kids."  That was the plan, but one thought in Mexico and one lesson on bilingualism later, and everything had quite possibly changed.

So now what?  I have no experience with this!  Now I know how every other normal college student feels, not knowing what they are going to do with their life.  It kinds of sucks.  But it's also kind of exciting.  Because now I'm all interested to know what I'm going to do.

What am I going to do?  The possibilities are basically endless.  What shall it be?  Any suggestions?

The New Plan:

1.  Research.  Study.  Look up majors and things that have to do with my interests in communication and language and culture and things and see what exactly there is out there in this area. Because I have no idea.

2.  Read my scrips.  Because you can't go astray with those babies, now can you.

3.  Pray my little heart out.

4.  Then I will pick something and go with it.

This is exciting.

One more thing.  The other day, I was reading my scrips and I had this overwhelming desire to choose the right.  I haven't had that in like years.  It was really great.  I don't know what it is, but now I just want to keep the commandments and do God's will.  Like, a lot.  It's cool.

The end.

But what would an end be without a blurry Mexican memory?  It just wouldn't be right.  Entonces, the following:

Doing the MJ at my birthday fiesta.

This is me in 70 years...

Bahahahahahahahahahahaha.

LOVE IT.

Change of Plans*

My new major.

Surprised?

Me too.

But it's gonna be great.

Sophomore Year

Hola. I'm a sophomore in college right now, and you know what? I actually feel like one. I feel old enough slash mature enough for my new status at this here university. It's pretty legit.

And can I just say, being a sophomore is like 17 times better than being a freshman. And that's saying something because I sure did love being a freshman.

But I don't know, freshmen are so young and immature and they don't know anything. And that's okay, because that's just the stage they are in. That was okay with me last year.

But this year, I don't know. Like I said above, I'm a sophomore and I can totally tell and I love it.

I love walking to my classes and seeing people I know left and right. What the what? Who knew I met that many people last year? I had no idea.

I went to the bank like 2 weeks ago and the banker totally remembered my name the second I pulled up even though I hadn't been there in four months. It was awesome.

I went to a random ward prayer with my former roomie, The Rock, and an institute teacher I had over a year ago recognized me and we talked for a bit.

And can you believe I seriously had an institute class OVER A YEAR AGO?!

What I'm getting at here is I'm one year older and wiser too and I love it. I feel more grounded as a college student and as an adult. I'm growing up!

So. Not that this post wasn't inspiring and informational enough, but I think it could end on a happy, Mexican note:

Hannah, me, and Paige on our last day of Mexican church, not even one month ago.

Ob.Sessed.

It has been 20 whole entire days since last I stepped foot in this fabulous country:

More specifically the state of Puebla in the country of Mexico. Most specifically the city of Tehuacán in the state of Puebla in the country of Mexico.

I just looked it up on Yahoo maps and guess what. There are 71 items on the list of directions for how to make the 2187.28 mile trip in about 38 and a half hours from Salt Lake to Tehuacán.

Oh my gosh. That last one?

71. Arrive at the center of Tehuacán, Pue.

It's like it's commanding me and my heart just wants to obey so so badly. I've been to the center of Tehuacán, Pue. countless times. I remember exactly what it looks like. I remember exactly how it sounds and smells. I remember where the fabric stores are that we used to go to all the time. I remember the movie stand we used to buy all our pirated D.V.D.'s from. I remember the ice cream shop we bought ice cream from two weeks before I left, and the market just to the left of it that smells like warm, raw meat. I remember the sound the tires of our little, red Ford Platina made as we drove across the cobblestone streets.

I miss it ALL more than I can bear.

My students. I watch my videos of them like every other day. They just finished their 13th day with their new teacher. I wish I was there.

My fam. I think about them daily.

You know what I'm really good at? Asking all the right questions to get people to talk and talk and talk and talk. And the great thing is I actually care about the answer and love listening to them, so it's a win-win. But I myself won't really talk unless prompted, and even then, I don't often give a lot of information. But this Mexico biz? It's CONSTANTLY on my mind. I don't bring it up every five seconds because I feel like that would be super awkward and boring for everyone else. But deep down, I really do want to explode on everyone my immense love for all things Mexico. What I really want is someone to play me in the conversation for once. I just want someone to ask me question after question and be genuinely interested because trust me, I would talk, and I would love it.

I just wrote my first paper of Sophomore year. Guess what it was about. Mexico.

I CAN'T GET ENOUGH.

If I could go back right now, I would.

Sigh.

I LOVE seeing Mexican families in Walmart.

I LOVE hearing the little Spanish parts of songs on the radio and actually understanding what they are saying.

I LOVE that there are two legit Mexican grocery stores, and like three Mexican radio stations in Logan. I feel right at home.

Okay, one more thing. In my history class, we are learning about when Columbus and his crew landed in the Americas, which was actually Mexico come to find out, so then we had to have a brief history on Mexico and he showed legit pics and everything and I loved every second. All the places he talked about were places I've totally been and all the pics he showed I recognized immediately.

AAAHHHHHHHH. MEXICO! How I miss thee.

Alright, voy a dormir. Hasta mañana.

Sophty*

Before we get started, let me just make a little announcement. After this post, I am boycotting this blog until BRITTAN gets her rear in gear and takes some responsibility, because this is still, after all, her blog.

Anyway, so far, Sophomore year is going just great. Even though I was a little concerned with the inevitable influx of RMs in our ward, it turns out my concerns were misplaced. They actually aren't as mature as I was thinking they'd be. Go figure.

I'm taking seven classes, which somehow only adds up to 15.5 credits. I had a mini-crisis the other day about switching my major and consequentially switching my classes around. But everything worked out, and I am proud to claim my current major as Humanities, with an emphasis in English, and minors in editing and political science. Don't get too excited though, it's very subject to change.

Uuuuuuuuhhh. Yeah. That's life in a nutshell these days.

Peace.

Until next time (which is entirely up to a certain someone).

Frivolous*

There are plenty of more important things going on in my life right now, but I've deemed them inappropriate for this blog. But I knew you all wanted to hear about tomatoes today, because I'm intellectual like that, so here you go.

Tomatoes are officially both a fruit and a vegetable.

Don't believe me? Check out this article.

Personally, I've always stuck with the vegetable side, mostly for those occasions when people feel the need to pipe up: "GP hates vegetables," so then I could reply "PSYCH! I like tomatoes." Without fail, that brought on the fruit vs. veggie argument, so it wasn't really that great of a battle plan I guess, but whatev.

But now that argument has no foundation, so I propose we all go out and celebrate the dual categorization of the tomato! Even if you don't like them, go eat one!

Yay for transgender foods!

*PS: Welcome home Brittan!

The Home Crew*

Let's pretend it's Saturday

My home ward. Is. Awesome.
I've lived in it my entire life. Boundries have changed, people have moved out, people have moved in, but still it retains it's title of best ward ever.

We have a stellar group of young women, and I can honestly tell you that not one of them is that catty, vain, obnoxious type--they are ALL down to earth (with the exception of a few beehives, but who cares about them?). Our young men are pretty legit too.

About a month ago, I was called to be a leader for Trek and I was really not excited to go, but after we got back this past Friday I was so glad I went and my only issue was that it couldn't have lasted longer.

I don't know if you've ever been on Trek, but it was seriously a blast. See for yourself:

I loved dressing up like a pioneer (that was not sarcastic) and playing in the river and sleeping in a tent. I loved square dancing and eating dinner around the fire and messing around with the youth. I love that I got this last hoorah with my ward family before I have to go back to school, but I think it's gonna make me miss them even more.

Announcement*

I've reached page 100 on my story!!

Can you believe that?

I can. It's been exactly three YEARS yesterday in the making.

If I keep this pace up, it won't be done til like, 2020.

Nevertheless, I am quite proud of it.

Home*

On August 25th, 2010, I became a free woman. That was the day I moved away from home to experience life on my own. And boy did I experience life. I had so much fun and I couldn't believe that anyone would intentionally opt out and decide to stay home from college, for any reason.

But then I moved back. School was out, it was summer, all my other plans had fallen through, and everyone else was doing it--so I just kind of went with the flow. But I decided that I was justified in doing so, because there were things that needed to get done and things that I wanted to get done, to get done. So, I packed up my borrowed SUV with all of my belongings and took my life back to my little old house in my (not so) little old town.

And at first I was miserable; because people, life at home with the fam is just soooo boring compared with life abroad (yes, I considered myself abroad, okay?) with the roomies.

But I cheered myself up by saying to myself, "self, look on the bright side! You are going to get to completely revamp your room!"

And I did.
Isn't it so cute? I LOVE it.


And I said to myself, "self, you are going to get to babysit these adorable kids all summer long!"

And I did.


Aren't they so cute? I LOVE them.


And I said to myself, "self, you're going to go to California for two weeks for a wedding and various other adventures!"

And I did.

Aren't we so cute? I LOVE us.

I said I would paint pictures, and write to page 100 on my story, and get out the old bow and arrow and brush up on my archery, and learn new songs on the guitar, and read dozens of books, and see Harry Potter, and go to Costco, and lay out on my deck and get tan, and learn how to drive a stick shift, and take my sister running, and snuggle up and watch movies by myself in my awesome new room, and enjoy the sunsets from the view on my deck every evening...

And I did. I did, I did, I did, I did.


And I learned that sometimes, a summer back home is exactly what you need.

Changing the world, clearly*

What I've been eating lately:

{They're back!}

What I've been reading lately:

What I've been watching lately:

{Yum}

And of course...

Yep, lots of important things happening in my life right now.

36 Things I Learned: California Edition*

1. If Nor Cal=Northern California, then So Cal=Southern California. Duh.
2. Climbing to the top of a waterfall in flip-flops is doable, but only just.
3. Hollywood Boulevard is a tacky tourist trap.
4. Rodeo Drive is where it's at. Except our attempt at trying to pretend we weren't tourists was kind of a failure. You need designer shades and a Gucci hand bag to pull that off.
5. The little trees on top of the yellow hills in Northern Cali are so cute.
6. Some relatives of mine aren't who I thought they were, in a good way.
7. Some relatives of mine aren't who I thought they were, in a bad way.
8. If you want a sample of every language on the planet, visit Yosemite.
9. Sometimes, the good times are in the car rides.
10. I'm not a fan of excessive, successive, roller-coaster riding.
11. My wedding is going to be small.
12. Nobody really cares that you're in a bikini, but you. (Yep, I just said that)
13. It's okay to think your cousin's bf is attractive.
14. Running on the beach at 1 foot above sea level is waaay easier than running in Utah at 6 cajillion feet above sea level.
15. Demolition derbies are a lot more exciting than I would have guessed.
16. Elephants are a lot smaller than I thought.
17. Touring the little towns is just as good, if not better, than touring the big cities.
18. There is a little place in California called Twain Harte. Isn't that cute?
19. Sometimes it's not worth it to get your hair styled by a professional.
20. It doesn't matter if your bridesmaids toenails are bright blue.
21. It's really unfortunate we don't have an H & M in Utah.
22. So You Think You Can Dance is occasionally worth watching.
23. Slumdog Millionaire is an excellent movie.
24. Celebrities actually have body guards, even when they're just chillin' with their bf by a lamp post.
25. Beverly Hills homes are ridiculous.
26. Beverly Hills cars are ridiculous.
27. Every person in those BH cars is either a catty blonde woman primping in the rearview mirror or a movie producer in a suit. It's ridiculous.
28. My hair is untamable in the humidity.
29. Going sans-computer for a couple weeks does excellent things for one's character.
30. I do get sunburned, afterall.
31. It's a small world.
32. The HOLLYWOOD sign isn't really even visible in the LA smog. Lame.
33. I don't want a photographer at my wedding.
34. My late cat's daughter hates me. WTF?
35. I'm prone to eye infections due to contact lenses.
36. Tyra Banks likes the White Chocolate Raspberry flavor at Bennett's Icecream Shop.

Dear Jenna,

Long time no hear/read from you. Donde estas? Living? Working? Eating? Getting ready for the day?

Well, in honor of your last post and the fact that you don't like animals anymore, here's a pic of a dog on a roof:

And here's a pic of the love of my life, just in case you still like cowboys:

Peace out.

Recent self-discoveries*

• I don't like animals.



• I don't care about what I look like anymore. At all.

The first discovery, I'm sure you're astonished by, as I've always been the advocate of our little furry friends in this world. But something has happened, and now I can't stand it when a dog licks my hand or a cat brushes up against my leg. I can't stand the fur that I find EVERYWHERE in my house, the smell of dog-food, or the incessant barking anymore. I have even resolved to never own a dog when I'm older--they're just too much work for too little in return. Wow. I know you are shocked right now. I was when I finally realized this, but I got over it.

The second discovery I'm sure is only temporary, and most likely stems from transitioning from a place where run-ins with attractive dating prospects occur frequently to a place where I see so few boys my age that I've actually begun to size-up the deacons in my ward. Don't worry, I am not a pedophile. But seriously, I look gross. My wardrobe basically consists of dirty over-sized t-shirts (of which I am in no short supply due to my enrollment at a university that believes if it's going to charge an arm and a leg for tuition, it should at least make sure it's students are clothed--if not out of kindness than out of revery for the honor code) and boxer shorts. I don't wear makeup anymore, I don't brush my hair (you think I'm kidding? I'm not). My mother has stopped asking me if "I'm really going out in public like that" and I'm pretty sure I've been mistaken for a bum more than once.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!*

Well folks, guess what day it is?
That's right! It's the day that the dear author of this blog (not me. Remember this post?) was born, 19 long years ago.
Unfortunately, we've yet to agree upon a suitable pseudonym for her, so I'm just going to revert back to GB. Don't like it? Get over it.

Okay, GB, the rest of this post is addressed to YOU.

A few weeks ago, when I was going through all my stuff, getting ready to move from my old room to my current room (pictures to come when it's finished), I found a bunch of old junk, as you can imagine.
But in that pile of junk, there was a letter addressed to you that I'd been planning on giving you after graduation.

Well, obviously graduation was last year, and obviously you don't have the letter, because guess what? I have it. But because it's just too good to be thrown out and also because it's your birthday, I'm going to type it up, right here and now on this blog, just for you. It goes a little something like this:

First of all, congratulations on graduating. That's like, huge. Almost like winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Anyway, I figured that we should enter our new lives with a clean slate, so I've searched my soul and decided to forgive you for the grievous wrongs you've committed against me.

• I forgive you for making that hideous blue mark across the back of my yearbook Junior Year



• I forgive you for falling asleep during our LOTR marathon



• I forgive you for taking that hideous picture of me sleeping at EFY



• I forgive you for popping your zits in front of me



• I forgive you for saying that my Grandma is strange



• I forgive you for refusing to eat lunch with me Senior Year



• I forgive you for leaving me alone with Ms. Newby and her bf that one day when we stayed late working on baby ads



• I forgive you for shoving all your memorabilia of me in a box. Under your bed.



• I forgive you for throwing away the acorn I brought you all the way from Gettysburg



• I forgive you for not wearing purple eye shadow even though I tell you to all the time



• I forgive you for hating animals



• I forgive you for forgetting to wear deodorant



• I forgive you for laughing at me when I fell playing dodge ball at BBBS that one time



• I forgive you for wrecking my social life

Wow, what a list. But don't let that stress you out, because I believe thanks are also in order...

• Thank you for discovering the air conditioning in my car



• Thank you for driving me around when I was too afraid to drive myself around



• Thank you for picking me up all the way in Logan when I went to see another friend



• Thank you for participating in my social norms project in 11th grade



• Thank you for bringing me cupcakes and magazines when I botched my hair



• Thank you for doing all the work in Physics



• Thank you for introducing me to BLTs and the awesomeness of cemeteries and the wonder of that green hair gel



• Thank you for the stellar quilt you made me for Christmas



• Thank you for the word "stellar"



• Thank you for bringing me cookies AND milk when I was having a bad day



• Thank you for not being (too) mad at me when I said the plane ticket prices would go down and they went up



• Thank you for supporting my aspirations to join the Peace Corps and marry an African



• Thank you for being such a good influence, such a genuine person, and finally, thank you for being my best friend!

Aren't you so glad I didn't throw that away? Me too. Lots of great memories I bet you forgot about, and possibly still don't remember.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GB!
But how could you NOT have a happy birthday? You're in Mexico!

Oh, I know. Maybe because I'M not there!!

The Book*

Well, I don't know where I was in my epic up-and-coming novel last time I talked to you about it, but, having absolutely NOTHING to do all day long these days, I've been working like crazy on it, and I'm proud to announce that I am currently up to a whopping 41,428 words. That's 92 and a quarter pages, 12 point font, 1.5 spacing, normal word margins. Don't be fooled though. 92 and a quarter pages on the computer is prolly like, 200+ pages in an actual book.
In case you don't know, and I know for a fact that you don't, the acceptable word count for a novel is between 40,000 and 80,000, words, give or take a few thousand depending on the publishing company. And if you're a brand new baby author like me, you can absolutely not go over 100,000 words.
I know you're prob. thinking, "Well, that's lovely GP. But I don't really give a &$!#."

Guess what though? You should, because it's kind of a problem considering I'm not even half-way done with the story yet. I mean, I thought I was, but then I got to thinking about the massive amount of detail that needs to go into the latter part of the storyline, and I was like "Whoa. No waaay I can keep this under 100,000 words!"

Anyway, I just thought you should be aware of my writing woes since you were going to be my manager once, remember?

Position's still open.

Judge not that ye be not judged*

Since today, May 21st, 2011, is the end of the world, I thought this post would be fitting. Save yourselves!

This is Jamie.

Normally, I wouldn't use his real name, but no pseudonym will do. Jamie is just thoroughly Jamie. The first time I met him, I definitely judged him. I even thought, "Wow, I am never going to be friends with that kid." I mean, you know my stipulations surrounding men. Well, first of all, they have to be manly. Second they have to be tall. Third, they have to be dark.

As you can see, Jamie is none of these things.

But let me tell you.

I LOVE Jamie. He is probably one of the best friends I made all year long, and once I got to know him I just couldn't get enough of him. We could just talk and talk and talk and talk forever and I would never get bored. And he's so dang funny. Here are a couple original quotes by none other than him that just cracked me up:

"Sometimes I wear toe spacers. They sell them at Walmart next to the eye patches."

"That tree's not with the program yet."

Anyway, the point is, I judged Jamie hard core and I almost prevented myself from knowing one of the best people I'll ever know. So don't judge based off looks. Seriously.

Here's another example from an earlier era of my life:

Remember Brother K? Our seminary teacher from last year. When I walked into his classroom for the first time and saw him standing up there at the front, I was like "I am sooo switching out of this class." I mean, take a look at him. Short. Like, short. Scrawny. White. I know, I judged him hard core. But for some reason that I don't remember, I stayed in his class, and I am SO GLAD that I did. He was beyond doubt my favorite seminary teacher of them all, and he made me laugh more than anyone has ever made me laugh in my life. And it was real laughing that I could not control. That doesn't happen to me very often.
The other day I was going through my old seminary stuff, and I came across my little notebook for that class, and in that little notebook were two pages of quotes from Brother K. that I'd written down. Okay, just sitting in my room reading those quotes off a piece of paper had me laughing out loud. I thought you'd like to reminisce with me:

"Hell is like school."

"Here's a sword. If you die, who cares?"

"I encourage my wife to wear makeup."

"He's kind of a senior boy with a sophomore approach to life."

"I grew up in front of a fire hydrant."

"No, I'm not sharing my Vodka."

"I will kill you Brother K! How dare you have us read scriptures in seminary!"

"His name is Roy and he's dead."

"Pretty much we're ugly scumbags. Thank you."

Bahaha! I love that guy. I'm glad I didn't let my judgments get in the way of enjoying his class .

Lesson, learned.