a weird kind of luck...

I do most of my thinking, worrying, and crying at the office.

That may sound like the craziest, dumbest thing ever. But when you work where I do, meaning I work alone almost every single day for six or more hours at a time, tears just sort of come naturally.

In some ways, I'm lucky for that. No one to bother me. Nobody to judge or ask what's wrong. No need to hold it all back.

The downside? There's nothing to distract me.

now leaving Mordor...

And when I leave the testing center and turn in all of my papers, I feel like this:

Yes. I do use Lord of the Rings to explain and understand my life.

Spring term 2013 -- good riddance. And now to take a week long nap.

May Day...

First day of May.

Wake up and think, 'my face is frozen'.

Follow me to the bathroom and experience a bewildering sensation that the tile has suddenly turned into an ice rink. I forgot my skates, so my toes were not very happy.

Turn on the faucet to 'HOT' and find that even after running it for 30 seconds, the water won't come out warm.

Look out the window and see ice on the bushes, slowly becoming water as the sun forces itself through the clouds.

Walk outside and realize that the sweater isn't going to be enough, and it's time to pull out the winter coat. Again.

May Day, anyone?

For real. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday -- get me outta here!

death looks good on me...

Actually, that's false. Death does not look good on me, and so I cannot wait for the day (hopefully tomorrow) that my skin is not pasty white, my eyes are not glazed and dilated, my lips are not a greyish blue color, and the circles of black beneath my lashes disappear.

Seriously. I don't think I've been this violently sick since I was a kid. Whatever this particular strain of stomach bug is, it's a doozy. Last night was the worst -- in the past when I've had a norovirus, I'll only empty my stomach three or four times over 24 hours. Not so with this bout -- 9 times in 8 hours. OUCH.

I am so done with this. Beyond looking like death, I've felt like dying, rather than going through this anymore. It's much, MUCH better at this point, but last night...wow. WOW. SO. FREAKING. SICK.

Poor Adam has it, too. And his sisters. And two of his brothers. And six of his cousins (so far). And his dad. And my roommate.

It's like the plague!

But really. I'm about ready to be done. Because, death does not look good on me (nor does it feel good) -- yet, I'm too exhausted to put on make-up to cover it up. Probably wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway.

Adam, however, disagrees with the "look like death" thing. Honestly, I never thought I'd find a man who would tell me I was beautiful when I, in my opinion, clearly look awful; who'd cuddle me up close to help me feel better; who'd kiss me despite my dry, dehydrated lips; who'd spend an entire afternoon watching Lord of the Rings on a cushion bed in the living room with me; who'd be so sweet and kind no matter how I look or feel.

I am the luckiest sick girl in the world.

Best sick day ever.

no, I am not drunk...

Did you know that going without sleep for more than 16 hours impairs functioning in ways similar to having a blood alcohol content of 0.08? Long periods of time without sleeping has the same side effects as being legally drunk.

According to these studies and statistics, I'm drunk. I never thought that would happen. But, after 34 hours without sleep (one hour of sleep last night due to the ER adventure and staying up to finish my last term paper), I think it's affecting me. Sleep deprived drunk.

And I'm not even 21 yet. Way to get the party started early.

hurr...

I was in bed for 12 hours.

Kid you not. I went to bed at 10:15 last night, and didn't get out again until 10:15 this morning. Sleeping pills are magic. When they work. And it for sure worked this time!

My first look in the mirror, however, was not magical. The face looked fine, the circles under my eyes a light gray color instead of the usual almost black. And the eyes were brighter, too. But the hair...

Good heavens. Now, I often wake up with a head of curls, because that's what happens when a girl has curly hair. This particular morning, though, was less pretty and/or cute curls, but a Medusa-like tangle of twisting, twining springs.

No way am I brushing that beast out. It'll frizz up like a Pomeranian in the Amazon.

Curly hair problems: it does what it wants.

salt of the oats...

After two minutes of wondering where I went wrong with breakfast, my taste buds figured it out.

I put too much salt in the oatmeal.

Now I have a joke for you:

How much brown sugar does it take to eliminate the taste of salt in oatmeal?

When I find out, I'll let you know -- if I don't end up in a sugar coma first.

"there's an app for that..."

It's an average day in your typical doctor's office. People are coming and going, some walking in looking sick, others walking out looking sicker. Each one has had their turn with the iDoctor -- and I don't mean the doctor who checks your eyes.

What's an iDoctor, you ask?

Well! An iDoctor is much like an electronic device, similar to an iPad, iPod, or iPhone. No, he or she isn't a robot or droid, or even a cyborg (heaven forbid the medical field takes that route), but they have a similar function: providing you with applications -- or pills -- for anything and everything you can imagine.

Stomach ache?

There's a pill for that.

Head pounding and throbbing incessantly?

There's a pill for that, too.

What about emotional or mental disorders?

Oh, sure. There are several pills for those -- which one would you like? How about trying one out to see if you like it? If it's not a good match you can cancel and try a new one.

See, like an iPad, iPod, or iPhone, the iDoctor has an easy solution for any problem you may have. That solution comes in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and functions, each in a different bottle with a different label. So simple! iDoctor gives you a pill, sends you on your way, and you're set to go! Whether curing boredom or curing a cold, the iDoctor can find any "app" you desire with the touch of a button -- he or she checks the proper "app" from the list and it's on its way, where it will arrive for your use in less than two hours after you swipe your plastic money card at the "app store," or in this case, your neighborhood pharmacy. AND -- you get refills.

Yep. No matter what you have, there's a pill for that.

Huzzah.

Although I may have outsmarted the iDoctor -- I don't think he has anything that can cure smart-aleck.

someday we'll know...

Love is something that I don't get. There are so many definitions of love -- I, however, can't seem to define it. There are so many ways that people show love -- sometimes it's hard for me to recognize those ways. And sometimes, it's hard for me to grasp that someone actually loves me.

Take physical touch. I don't know what it is about me and physical touch. I go for days and days without it, and I start to forget that it even happens. No hugs, no high fives, no nothing, and it's no big deal. I rarely miss it or seek it out. I just tend to forget about it.

Then out of nowhere someone will scoop me up in a hug or place a gentle kiss on my cheek. It often shocks me, and I'm left standing there looking surprised. Like today -- a family friend who I've known since I was a baby came into PartyLand tonight. She asked me how my dad and my family are doing, and then she asked about me. I gave the usual "I'm fine" answer. All of the sudden she leaned over the counter and gave me a hug, then kissed me on the cheek and told me she loves me.

I was completely thrown off guard, so much so that I could hardly respond. Standing there behind the counter, I felt tears come to my eyes and a voice in my head said, "Oh, yes. That's what it feels like to be loved. That was kind of her."

And then I felt all funny inside, and vulnerable. Lately I've been trying to keep a sort of protective shell around myself when I'm among coworkers and friends (close friends and room mates excluded -- they've figured out how to get through the shell). But I'm beginning to notice that when I'm offered verbal and physical affection from someone, especially someone I don't know very well or see very often, the shell starts to crack.

Knowing that someone loves you is a strange thing -- for me, it's one of the most astounding sensations in the world. I often worry that the people I love don't love me as much as I love them, and that they'll go away (still working on that one). Realizing that someone really cares about me and loves me hits me like a lightning bolt -- the lady at the store literally left me speechless.

Love is a hard thing for me to understand. It's hard for me to explain why -- I'm not even sure that I know. I only know that it's a tricky thing for me, slippery and hard to grasp in my mind. It frightens me -- it keeps me up at night, or wakes me up.

Like last night -- I know I was having a good dream, and that I was with someone who made me happy. I know it was a man, and that we were laughing and having a good time and were happy together. Then, I lost him. He was there one second, and then he was gone. I couldn't find him -- he was just lost. I woke up crying, not really sure why because the details of the dream faded very quickly -- but I felt so scared and so alone. I do remember that it was 4:15 in the morning, and that I haven't felt that devastated in a very long time.

I think I loved the person in the dream. I don't remember who it was. I don't even know if the man was a person that I knew. Losing him, though, was the worst thing ever.

Love. I don't get it. Not just romantic love, either. The dream is just an example of one of the things that worries me. The other loves, like sister, parent, daughter, brother, friend, neighbor, and all of the others -- those worry me, too.

For what is it to love, and to be loved? What is it really?

Hopefully I'll begin to understand it someday.

in theory...

I put off my homework again. Surprised? I kind of am. I should know better by now.

I've been finishing up my readings for Theory tomorrow morning. This comic was used in the book. It is an exact description of how I've been thinking lately. Or almost exact...minus the tiger and the red wagon.

Really though. It's so true I could be Calvin.

PS Honestly, this makes me laugh so hard. I think I'll print it off and tape it to my mirror. DONE. After I buy ink for the printer, that is.

start of something new...

After 8 days off, school is back in session. Compared to last semester, there is almost no one on campus. It's a little bit weird...oh, and most of the enrolled students that I've seen are men. My classes have a guy-girl ratio that's insane. Like my first class today: 15 people, 4 girls, 9 guys. I haven't had a class that small since AP US History my junior year of high school. I don't remember what the ratio was for that class, though. I think there were 5 boys...I only remember 3 of them for sure because they were annoying. Always jabbering about something, or starting gender wars based on ability to wrestle or chop wood or something.

High school. So glad that's over.

My English Theory (yikes) class is going to be interesting...my professor is funny and seems pretty chill, but he's all about class participation. This will definitely push me out of my comfort zone. I hardly ever make comments in class because I'm of the opinion that most of the things I say cause people to question my acceptance into the university. But whatever. I'm here, and so are they, and "we're AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLL in THIIIIISSS toGEEEEEther," and yes I did just bust out a mid-sentence High School Musical. Which I've never actually seen, by the way.

British Literature 1 is going to be an adventure as well. I knew it the second the professor walked into the room: white and blue checkered button up shirt, lime green tie with light green polka dots, forest green dress pants with a brown belt and gold buckle, gray high top Converse, and when he put his foot on the chair his pants pulled up to reveal red and white striped socks. Add to it the small, pince-nez like glasses and presto! Doctor Hilariously Interesting has arrived.

The people in my class don't know what to do with me. They think I'm weird. I don't know what to do with the people in my class. If they think I'm weird, I think they're all crazy. Seriously...English majors are weird. Not in a bad way, just in a way I've never experienced before. This is a whole new sort of person for me to get used to...they don't get my humor at all, they've never seen any of the movies I quoted. Except for Lord of the Rings, which I mentioned as a joke when the teacher read us "The Finnesburg Fragment," but that turned into a whole class discussion on how Tolkien used his study of the English language to create a world similar to that of the Celts, Saxons, Angles, Jutes. I wasn't being serious. Turns out I hit the nail on the theoretical English head! It's going to be a fun class.

Then there's the internship. I'm thanking my lucky stars that the class has been scheduled for Mondays. It'll totally free up time for me to get hours at work. This internship will be work, too -- much like a part-time job, but I pay to do the work. 10 hours a week, 2 of which are class meetings and 8 of which are learning how to do the actual tutorials in the writing lab. Yay for grants to pay tuition for the credit hours.

PartyLand is still keeping me busy, too. I seriously like that job. Granted, I don't like helping with rentals because there are so many little things that have to be written down and taken care of, and rentals are a huge part of spring/summer business, but other than that it's great. Tracy just hired three new girls, so everything will run super smooth now. PartyLand...completely the opposite of enrollment on campus. While BYU has a prominent amount of testosterone, PartyLand is lacking in everything male. It'll be weird with no guys. Although...maybe we need to recover from Parker...ha, just kidding!

Any dang way, I'm looking forward to being busy. In all seriousness, I'd rather be busy than bored. As long as I can keep my head above water for the next 7-ish weeks, it'll all be just dandy. Bring on the madness! Even though I'm feeling tired just looking at my syllabi. So. Much. Reading.

And honestly, English theory is ridiculous. I'd rather take another stats class. But that's a post for another day when I'm really frustrated instead of just extremely mildly irritated.

PS I got an A- in stats, I'm reasonably sure that I got an A in Religion and an A in Choir, and I have no idea about English or Humanities. Stats grade = I'm buying myself Cafe Rio. Anyone want to go with me?

a comic...me?

I auditioned for a play today.
It was alright. They had groups of us auditionees go into the studio four at a time. After asking us why we wanted to be a part of the production, they had us get into partnerships. And then they dropped the bomb: "improv a fairy tale for us."

I SUCK at improv.
Seriously. I am so bad at it. Not to mention I got totally confused because the detailed instructions were to act out a fairy tale...but the two girls before my partnership and the girl I was with decided to do storytelling. So instead of creating a scene or having a plot, they told the entire story starting with "Once upon a time" and so forth.

Con-freakin-fused.
I found out later that one of the directors we were auditioning for is the storytelling professor in the theater department. A lot of her students were trying out, so they were doing what she'd taught them. Soooo yeah.

Anyway. So the my partner and I get up to do our improv section. She got into the storyteller groove, and I stood there feeling like an idiot. Then it came time for me to say something, so I went for it and...

they laughed at me.
Not just a polite titter or a chuckle, but a throw-your-head-back, bust-a-gut roar. I was so thoroughly thrown off by it that I looked at them like a deer in the headlights, then realized this was an audition so I just had to go with it. So I kept going and...
they laughed even harder.
Every time I opened my mouth they started laughing their heads off. So while I was up there making a fool of myself I replayed what I had done and said in my early improv attempts and started laughing too because gosh dang it...I was funny.

It was fun. I don't know if anything will come of it, but it was entertaining. It still is entertaining to think back and picture my 5 foot 2 inch self trying to tower over a girl three inches taller than me, ordering her to come to dinner and go on a date with me because "I'm the Beast!"

...
You would have had to be there to appreciate it

awkward, funny, what?

From college:

Guy in my Humanities class: "You just like the Sherlock series because of his curly dark hair. All the girls love that."
Reply: "No. I just like the way he holds his gun."

Stats professor: "I should never ask questions on Monday mornings."

Humanities professor: "You can't disagree with a General Authority. That's starting an argument with God!"

From family:

Amanda: "So we were talking about Afrighanistan in class yesterday..."
Interuption: "Afrighanistan? Do you mean Afghanistan?"
Amanda: "What, you mean I've been saying it wrong my entire life?!"

Amanda: "Whenever I squish a Skittle it turns into a shape like an FUO...wait...no! I meant UFO!"

And last but not least...

From Primary:

Little girl talking about how excited her little brother is that her mom is going to have another little boy...finally: "Now he won't be the lone man in the garden of estrogen."

6-year-old boy: "I don't want to get married."
Another 6-year-old boy: "Yeah. It looks stupid. All that work for dumb kids like us. Adults are crazy."

makes sense...

Or does it?

"Sometimes the lyrics just don't make sense...but we like it anyway.

Found this while listening to this song. Laughed out loud.

Enjoy.

again...

Laughing much harder than is appropriate.

ahem...

I might be laughing a little too hard at this.

look before you leap...

I'm sitting here mentally kicking myself (and breaking a few ribs). "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" the not so kind voice in my brain keeps saying. No, I couldn't. I never do. Why? Because, and I quote, I'm "too nice." Too nice, too helpful, too over enthusiastic, too grand in my thinking, too...you get the picture.

In the process of getting somewhere, I often forget that the actual process is indeed just that: a process. So I see these grand results in my imagination and get started on making that vision a reality. Then about halfway through the process, I realize, "Whoa...this is a lot bigger than I thought it was going to be..." By then I'm stuck though. No backing out, and not sure how to move forward.

See, oftentimes I don't think. I get myself into trouble with forming relationships (friendships, seeing as I've never had a romantic relationship), carrying out projects, and other various situations because I forget that there is always a mean to an end. This has happened a lot today. The term "look before you leap" is more like "you leaped and now you're stuck looking over your shoulder thinking 'shoot...I should have thought about this a little bit.'"

I should know better. Here's why: Once upon a time I was shown an absolutely terrifying video in a church lesson. A boy was standing on the edge of a dock jutting out into a pond. The water looked fine, greenish and calm like most ponds do. He jumped into the water with a huge splash. Cut to underwater camera shots of dark, murky, weed ridden and garbage infested horror as the boy got caught in the tangled mess below the surface.

And people wonder why I won't go into a pond, a lake, a river, or the ocean if it comes up past my knees...

The message of the video was that of the old saying "look before you leap". I was always confused by this because there were several camera shots showing the water's surface. It looked totally clear. You can't always see what's hiding in a pond, you know. Who knows what could be lurking in there? But I did get the message.

Though I remember the message, I don't apply it well to things that are not body of water related. Like, for example, real life. I keep jumping into things without examining the possible outcomes. I'm not saying I take huge risks, but I don't think. "Look before you leap" doesn't seem to have made it as a retrievable entry in the "command" section of my brain. Instead, I jump in head first and only after I'm at the bottom of the pond do I realize...maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

I guess I'm more of a leaper than a looker. Funny...I can't even swim.

almost funny...

Creepy...


.

sometimes I wonder...

I've learned a lot this weekend. I've learned that I
1) don't flirt,
2) don't understand adult humor,
3) don't understand most normal humor,
4) that if ever I am a distressed damsel, I usually have to take care of the problem by myself because I'm either afraid to ask for help or asking for help would be pointless, and
5) that I'm socially bashful and on many occasions very awkward.

How do I know this? Well, either someone told me or, after noticing patterns in my life, I came to the conclusions myself.

Last night I went to a play with my parents. It was supposed to be a comedy buuuuuuut I wasn't laughing. Why? Because I didn't get any of the jokes. My parents were both laughing their heads off, as were most of the people in the audience. Not me though. That was a weird start to the night, being the only one who didn't get the jokes. Heck, even the 12-year-old kid whose dad was in the show was laughing! Sometimes I wonder...

This particular group of friends has a tradition of going to IHOP after a show, whether they performed in it or not. The three families (mine, the Carrascos, and the Poulsens with Jaden who is their cousin) made a sort of caravan over to the nearest IHOP and we, as usual, took up three tables. I sat with the younger people, me being the oldest at nearly 20 and the youngest being 11 (who I met when she was 9 months old). On the other end sat the real grown-ups, or at least age wise. I'm not sure about the maturity level...lol.

As I sat with the kids, one of them being one of my best friends (Jaden), I didn't understand half of what they were talking about! Their jokes and comments and such just went over my head. Or sometimes I got the gist of it, but I didn't want more than the gist because I could feel my cheeks burning (as Mitchell so kindly pointed out several times). To top it off, Mitchell started giving me advice about boys. And a lot of the advice sounded rather sound, too. For nearly twenty minutes I received relationship advice from a 12-year-old. A TWELVE year old! What is WRONG with me?! Sometimes I wonder...

So, I don't get adult jokes. So, I don't get teenage jokes, either. So, I'm the only one besides the 11-year-old who can't claim to have some sort of relationship, though I'm not sure if it counts for them or not. I mean...how lame is it to have a boyfriend or a girlfriend when all you can do is hang out at recess, and you have to ask your mom to drive you over to his or her house to hang out? You can't even go on a date because you don't have any money! So, why do these things bother me so much when none of them really matter? So what? Whatever the what is, it seems to mean a lot more to me than it should.

It was an awkward night for me. It's been an awkward weekend, to be honest. Not to mention this morning that I got super dizzy in the shower, thought I was going to throw up, and suddenly found myself on the ground wondering what the heck happened.

My sister Meghan has always (and I mean always) conveniently passed out while surrounded by strapping young men who carry her to a couch, bring her water, and do all sorts of heroic acts to make the distressed damsel comfortable. Me? I pass out in the shower. There is nothing dignified or romantic about that. Sometimes I wonder...

And, yes. Someone told me I don't flirt and that I'm socially bashful and often awkward. Gee...thanks for that. Now that I know what my problem is, I'm going to go read my book. Maybe I'll get lucky and find a Beast to fall in love with me...after all, he does have a beautiful rose garden in which I could amuse myself for hours on end. If I take care of his flowers well enough, do you think he'd overlook the bashful awkwardness? I'll take my chances.**


**I'm not bitter. I'm actually making myself laugh...seriously.**

almost funny...

I laughed way harder at this than I should have.