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.