Ironic Webb

Updates- It's about time!

2011-06-13T14:12:00.001-07:00

So often I'll be walking somewhere and my inner dialogue takes over. It's usually in blog form, too. Actually, if it's not in "Dear Troy" form, it's in blog form. Many times, it's exactly the same thing.

So I guess I owe the 4 followers of this blog a few updates. Shall we run through this past year? I will forwarn you, I've been reading Tina Fey's Bossypants and tend to mimic writers, though I feel I pale in comparison. I also highly recommend that book.

Weight~

Ok. It's true. I've lost weight. 30 lbs + actually. First: No. I wasn't trying. No. I didn't notice until I had to buy new clothes. No. I'm not sick.

I attribute many things to this slim version of myself. (I love that I can use the word slim, even though I'm not really my own definition of slim I am apparently slimmer than before, therefor I am slim.)

I am a vegetarian. I love being a vegetarian. I also make sure everyone knows that I'm a vegetarian, which probably annoys most of everyone else including Troy. Oh well! I love cooking vegetarian because I promise you, the options are endless. It's cheaper, no grease, no need to thaw a thing! Plus I get LOTS of good nutrients and a chance to try out new fruits and veggies. I'm going to start trying those spiky melons at the store, but I've still been hesitant.

I work out at least 4 times a week. If it's a good week, it's 6 days a week. Everyday but Sunday. I'm not doing this because I'm obsessed with losing weight. Actually, I'm starting to feel an obsession about keeping the weight off. I'm happy at a size 8-10, but the idea of going back to where I used to be sort of frightens me. Oh, oops. I'm off topic.

I work out that much because I like it! I really do. I love to lift weights and tone my arms and legs... and it works! My arms are still flabby, but smaller than before. Plus, I don't have that quilted look on the back of my legs. I'm excited to wear a swim suit this season.

And I'm a total gym girl. I can work out at home to a video, or just make up my own routine around the neighborhood, but I HATE running. I can honestly say the majority of my weight loss is not due to running. I hardly run. That's my Dad's thing... I'll stick to my weight lifting and elliptical machine. Really I just have my own little workout of a mixture of cardio, strength, and abs. Did I copy this routine from a popular weight loss show on television? No....no.... uh... maybe.

One dessert a week. What? You think I'm crazy again, don't you? This is a simple "Can you do it?" trial I put myself on. It's all about control. Kind of like weight lifting, I just like being able to control my body's wants and needs. This is not a "I'm better than you" deal or "I'm secretly turning anorexic" problem. I just keep myself to one dessert a week. It's limited my cravings, but I still have them. I treat myself to yogurt, fruit, or something salty. I still eat unhealthy in some circumstances, but I stay away from what I consider to be a dessert.

This will soon turn to one dessert a month. Don't look at me like that! Once we hit Troy's 1 year mark, I'll be going to only one a month because this means I'll only have 12 desserts till he comes home. It's my way of a countdown with treats!

Troy~

Going on a year here! Is that it? It's not fair. Let me just say this up front. I love him. I love the mission and I love who he is becoming, who I am becoming, and we've seen many blessings come forth from this time already. But lets be honest here... it sucks a lot of the time. When you want to marry someone, its hard enough waiting with them around. I miss him terribly all the time and all the letters in the world can't compare with Troy in person. Ugh...

But, we're still very good letter writers (once a week) and we had an AMAZING conversation on Mother's Day. My coworker commented to me after explaining this to her, "Oh, well I guess it's sort of like phone sex." Uh... no... not at all. I must not have explained the missionary thing well enough... or the LDS thing... or who I am. Still, it was amazing, just not that kind of amazing. :)

He sent me a mood ring. I'm pretty sure he was either given this by a 12 year old Beehive, or found it on the ground. He told me we'll exchange it for something more "consistent" next year. Yay!

School~

I'm back! You're reading the words of a Nonprofit Management & Leadership Graduate Student at University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee. Constantly, I was told not to go back and get a Masters in Theatre because I didn't need it. I had the connections and talent. I was encouraged to move forward in my career and go to New York or Chicago to direct. I could have. I didn't want to.

I'll admit, there's a small part of me that has that adventurous side in me. She controlled me until I met Troy. Then the "I want to stay put, have a family and live a life" side kicked the adventurous side's butt. I've directed a couple shows here and there, but really, I am FASCINATED by the world of Nonprofts, especially regional theatres. So, I'm learning how to be an Executive Director of such a company. I like my classes and I'm genuinely interested in what I'm learning and how I can help.

I'm also a Senator again. I'm wondering if I regret this decision. It's really not the same as it was before. I'm older, I have a real job which is far off campus, and I go to classes in the evenings. I am also ignored... which is frustrating. I refuse to resign (But I'm no Weiner!) but I just may not be able to put the same effort into it like I did before. It makes me sad, because I love it, but there are just other important things.

Living~

I've had the WORST experience EVER with a roommate this past year. Terrible. Horrifying. Just plain unhealthy and it did NOT make this last year without Troy easier. My roommates, both of them, have severe issues whether with anger management or finances. It's just absurd that these two women are in their 30's and they act worse than when I was 18. My little b3 apartment is Paradise, and I've somehow stumbled into the 7th circle of Hell.

It's constant fighting with one of them. The other is passive, but gossips behind your back. She also won't stand up for anything or anyone, so she just sides with whoever will give her the most. The fighter is very self centered. (Take all of this with a grain of salt, because I'm a little biased after living with them.) She's controlling and lately it's been over the temperature of the apartment. If I close a window, she opens 7. It's that kind of thing.... I just leave, now. In fact, I just never want to go to my apartment ever.

BUT, I've learned a lot about who I am and the problems I still had to work on. I haven't liked this one bit and it's been hard to see anything good out of it, but I'm learning to deal with people I really, really, really, really, really, really, really don't like.

I also am moving out. WOOT! Only 2 more weeks.

Ok. I think that's a good update on things. I can't think of much else. I'm off to go to class and chomp on some dried snap peas with hummus. Mmmmmm.... I'm such a hippie.

And I CAN'T Stand It

2011-03-10T14:53:00.001-08:00

Hi blog world.

Yep. I suck. I really suck at writing all of anything down. I have a lot of ideas, but as my last graduate paper taught me, once again... I kind of suck at writing! I really can't stand it. I can't stand focusing for THAT long on something. I'm about to head to my class on Governance, but before I do, I thought I should send a few updates to those who are desperate to read something.

I'm currently a Panther at UWM (that's University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee) and my colors are black and gold. Woot. Kind of takes me back to high school (black instead of brown) and those were the colors of a campaign I worked on at SUU. Ah... the good ol' days. Weird to think those days ever even happened. Oh, I am a Nonprofit Management and Leadership Masters student.

Troy and I are still very much in love and writing every week. He's now in La Center WA and enjoying the long and winding roads. I wonder if he ever gets the Beatles song stuck in his head when he thinks about it.

I'm going to be honest about this- having a boyfriend on a mission is miserably wonderful. Yes. I'm miserable a lot. I miss him constantly and sometimes those lonely nights can almost beat you down. Still, he's wonderful and doing something he WANTS to do and NEEDS to do, and it's working out for both of us. I can't imagine going to school while he's here. It takes up too much of my time. (Uh... I'm involved in everything and currently still searching for an on-campus job.) The mission is exciting and new and stretches both of us to our very core, both physically, mentally, and spiritually. But I've learned more about Troy than ever and I think he's learned a lot more about me. I'm glad we've decided to do this because besides the fact that it is the "right" thing to do, it has already given us opportunities I don't know would have been available to us. Also, going through the Temple for both of us has been eye opening and a relationship strengthener in ways I never would have imagined. We have more respect for each other since we've both been to the Temple.

I'm stressed out. Work off campus is hard, bad hours, and bad pay. I'm tired a lot. Bouncing from there to school and trying to read six articles per class per week has it's problems.

Roommate situation is horrible right now. I'm not sure if they'll get better, but if you were ever a former roommate, I promise I want you back.

So... there you go. My life in a page and I can't stand it right now. Well, some things I can, but really, I just want to throw stuff at people and go to sleep.

And a little voice inside my head says, "Laura... stop being so pessimistic. Life is going to be better soon." Ok little voice. I trust you.

Because August Deserves a Post

2010-08-20T08:16:00.000-07:00

I figure there are certain months that get a lot of credit for being spectacular, aka: December, April, July, October, and even November and February. Some months you don't really think about, aka: March, May, June, August, and September. Then there's the month I choose to not like, aka: January. So August, this is for you!

I suppose, and I apologize, that this will just be an update blog. I've been trying to do other more productive things at work, such as read classic literature, study for the GRE, and write an essay for admissions into Grad school. (Update one, I'm planning to go to Grad school in the spring.) However, I love my job and it keeps me busy and I enjoy talking to all the volunteers I work with. (Update two, I work with volunteers!) It's also hard to concentrate and by the time I get home I'm not in a mood to rewrite my entire day.

For those who are interested, the letters have been coming and weekly at that. I love him so much! Troy is doing well and I believe he is going to be very surprised by his mission. We'll see in a couple of years.

I want to take a paragraph and talk about Family History. This is my new calling in the ward- Family History Specialist. I'm not really sure there is a technical specialist in every ward, but there is in the Singles Ward, and I'm it. We really should be doing our Family History, young or old. It's so much easier if you start while you're younger. First and foremost, there are still people around who know about your ancestors. Get the information while you can! Second, it's a rewarding experience. I don't have to be a prophet or apostle to tell you that family will have a whole new perspective once you start researching your past and doing family work in the Temple. It's amazing and it's a service that you can only do while you're alive. Why waste time? Get online and start looking it up. The Church doesn't have a perfect system and it's all controlled by volunteers around the entire world, but that is the amazing part of it all! This is a service and this is a way to link yourself to the past and we all have a desire to know where we come from. I like this quote,
"We are linked by blood, and blood is memory without language."- Joyce Carol Oates.

Oh! I'll be directing two shows this year. Write Me a Murder by Frederick Knott for Waukesha Civic Theatre and I'll be directing a one-act for the Young Playwrights Festival for Milwaukee Chamber's Theatre. I'm excited! Here I come world... school and directing. I'm back!

Now I just need to figure out a job between November and December. Yikes!

Postal Cries

2010-07-10T11:43:00.000-07:00

I'd like to take the time to vent about how upset I am, since apparently we cannot share the problems with life with the Missionaries. I'd hate to be considered a distraction or make life miserable for Troy while he's gone by letting him know what a hard time I'm having so I'm using the blog for exactly the opposite- to complain.

Some wonderful things about Troy (and there are many wonderful things) are, he's honest and faithful. Troy sent me a quick little letter that he wrote the night he got to the MTC. It was simple, funny, and loving. The letter was dated Wednesday. The postal mark dated the 25th, so Friday... I got it the following Monday. So we're thinking about 3-4 days for a letter from the MTC, right? Well... he wrote to me on Tuesday in an email that he was already sending me another letter. I left for Nauvoo ILL that Friday. I didn't have a letter yet.

I came home to no letter. Now, the problem was that I just moved apartments. So in his email he stated that he had sent the letter to my new apartment and that another one was on the way. See? He's such a great guy. He's writing me every week and I know he'll get way too busy to continue the process, but the fact that he's doing it now is a comfort in and of itself. But guess what? NO LETTER.

It's been two weeks. When I got home from Nauvoo, the next day I ran to the post office right before it closed and cried to the poor attendant at the front desk. He explained that:
1) This was not my post office and he wouldn't know about the letter. He was sorry.
2) I needed to fill out a change of address form just in case.
3) The carrier may not know I live there and hasn't delivered anything.

I'm sorry. When did the postal carriers start making decisions on whether or not someone lived in an apartment or a house? I've NEVER had this problem in my life. The next day I called my proper post office. (By the way, the poor postal worker at the wrong office was very kind and supportive as I walked out. He yelled, "Don't worry Ma'm! It'll come! You'll get that letter!") The man who helped me explained that the carrier may not have delivered mail to me because my name wasn't on the box.

Um... my name has NEVER been on a box. NEVER.

So, he talked to the carrier. I called back. He said the postwoman remembered the letter. SHE HAD IT! She sent it BACK. Grrrrr... but he said he caught it while it was still downtown (that would be downtown Milwaukee) and that he would recirculate it back. 1-2 days. Whew.... what a relief.

Next day- No letter. That's ok.
Next day- NO letter. I broke down.

Ok. I know it's just a letter. I understand that my whole life is not revolving around Troy's mail and it isn't. Please know that I'm still going to work, hanging out with friends, getting stuff done. It would just be nice to hear from him. I don't know how else to say it, I miss him! I know he's there and I know he's ok and I know that he's going to come home in a couple of years and we'll be together and I am more than happy to wait for him. If he was too busy to write, I'd understand and I don't think I'd freak out. But the fact that this is entirely out of mine and Troy's control is driving me absolutely insane.

So after two emotional hemorrhages this week, I think I'm done. Oh, I hope so. I went to the Temple last night to do baptisms and of course, I calmed down. I felt better. I was happy.

I called the Post Office again this morning. After all, this is what they told me to do. I was on hold for 20 minutes only to be told again, there was nothing for me. I felt bad. I argued with the lady. I'm sure my carrier does not even WANT to deliver mail to me out of spite now. Today she told me recerculation could take 3-4 days. So next week I expect to hear 5-6. I feel I've lost those letters for good... not to mention, since he sent one this week, I should have gotten it by now. It's been well over two weeks since the first.

The only other conclusion I can draw is that the silly boy put the wrong address on the letter. If the carrier hadn't said she'd seen the letter, I would believe that more strongly.

Troy leaves the MTC on Tuesday. That's his P-day so I probably won't hear from him for at least another week. Then a month will have gone by. Only one month. I know... I know... but telling me over and over again that it will pick up and go fast isn't going to help at this point. I'm just going to have to be sad until I'm not anymore. Truth be told, it isn't sadness. I'm proud of him and honored by his choice. In fact, he was supposed to make this choice and I am supposed to wait. This is just a small challenge in the long wrong and I know this to be true. No matter what outcome, this was the path we were meant to take.

I just with the Post Office would skip along beside us.

Catch-Me-If-You-Can

2010-05-15T08:54:00.001-07:00

Troy, job, Ward, house, job, etc.... I guess I should catch up!

Usually I like to blog about incidents that happen. My circumstances are usually hilarious, and if not to anyone else they sure are freaking funny to me. But for now, I'll catch you (all 3-4 readers) up on my current life and if anything, this is a good record for my own journal.

So, I moved to the Great Lake City, Milwaukee. I lived in a hotel room by myself for 9 months... and I loved it! Sure... the Plaza had it's downfalls. The first week I was there I hit my foot on the bed rail that was too far out from under the mattress. I sat down and looked at the gash that was now, not dripping but FLOODING with blood. For about a minute I watched my foot and thought, "Huh... that's not good." Then panicked! I had no first aid kit, no bandages, not even anything to clean it with. After covering it with a million tissues, because I swore I saw the bone, I started calling every fellow intern in the building until my co-part Directing Intern came to my rescue and cleaned up my wound. Along with a Stage Manager, they were able to fix me right up. The next day the theatre company manager sent me to the doctors where I had to get a Tetanus shot and be told that my foot was fine and it would heal. I now have a nice scar that will always remind me of the pleasant life at the Plaza Hotel.

Various bugs (including a horrible infestation of Fruit Flies.. ugh) flew and crawled in and out of my little room, but there was one wonderful, magical, and heartwarming creature that came into my life. (Yes, everyone, I'm sorry, but I have been infected by the cheesy-girl-head-over-heels-in-love bug... so I guess that's one good bug that showed up) Troy. No, this is not a made up name for the man I love... because I know that we're going to be happy for a long time and there's no reason to make up a name. Besides, you probably already know about him, because I also can't seem to stop talking about him either.

Troy grew up in Whitefish Bay, a small village outside of Milwaukee, and studies Chemistry at UWM. He also plays the Trumpet in a Jazz Band for the University and is a talented writer, but you have to be sneaky to find his writings. That's ok... when we first started dating, I Googled him! (He knows this, so it's not like I was going behind his back!) If you want to read a sample of Troy's innovative writing, here's his Googled article at UWM. It's in response to the school wanting to build a new school building off campus... and far away at that. He is the middle child of five, with three sisters and one brother.

How we met? Well, I always said I'd never be the girl that dated her FHE partner, the home teacher, the boy at the institute dance, or pretty much any guy I met in a Single's Ward... but I changed my mind. When I first moved to Milwaukee, I had no idea how I was going to get to church. It was only 20 minutes away but the bus ride was over an hour. So I called the Bishop's wife who gave me some names to call. The first was a girl. She didn't answer. The second? Troy. He also didn't answer. Instead, I believe I got a hold of his mother. He did call me back, though, and not too long after. I still get little jitters thinking about it, but of course I didn't know anything at the time. He agreed to pick me up on his way to church. So that Sunday I joined what is known as "The Troy Train". There he was... a goofy, super tall, slightly geeky spitting image of Zachary Quinto. (At least, in my opinion, he could definitely play a version of Spock.) His brother and a couple friends were also in the car- I didn't know his brother was related to Troy when I first met him. He was a lot more talkative, shorter, and had curly hair. But now that I've gotten to know the family... it's making a whole lot more sense.

From that day on, each Sunday I could go to church, Troy was my ride and I love riding in the car with everyone. They're a delightful group with lots of stories, crazy opinions, and personalities that could light up a stage if I put them on it. After a while, Troy and I started finding times where we were the only ones in the car. Granted, I was going on dates with other guys in the ward, but not that I was happy with nor excited about. Troy tells me now that the guy he was home teaching was determined to marry me... and Troy didn't know what to do! He didn't want to overstep his friend... ugh... I'm so glad he did!

One night, after the first ward Talent Show (by the way, I wrote a skit for this ward and one was performed at this Talent Show. It was for Relief Society and it was a mock of Law & Order) Troy and I decided to go to get a late night dinner with everyone else. It was one of the first times I can think of where just Troy and I were in the car alone. Instead of hoping out and going immediately into the restaurant with everyone, we stayed and talked for about half an hour. That was the first time I noticed "Huh... this guy is listening to me and for REAL! Plus, he's taking an interest in what I'm saying and giving back... weird..."

After that, Troy and I would find times to talk, and we talked for HOURS! I started to bug him that we should do stuff together, but at the time I was really referring to being friends... but there was a little inkling inside that said "This could be more." We made dinner together, our first experience and certainly not our last, with 5-minute Indian food! Yum! That same week, I got a text. He asked me if I wanted to go see his friends perform at a Jazz Club. I said yes. Then sat in agony for a week wondering if it was a date. That question was answered later when he sent another text explaining the cover charge and to bring change. Silly boy! It was our first date- a smokey jazz club called The Estate, and I had a blast! It was then that Troy asked if I wanted to see him again the next night in a concert that he was in. To which he again told me it would cost $10. So the next day I debated... do I hang out with the other interns, go to Stake Conference, or to this boy's concert that I don't know how to get to (no car) and I have to pay and I don't know if he likes me or not?! Almost as soon as I was going to get a ride from a friend to go to Stake Conference, Troy asked me if he could pick me up and he wanted to buy my ticket. DONE! It was another date and even though I sat along at the concert, I loved every minute of it. Later we went to a party together, but watched a movie where another boy (who was trying to get me to date him... I was so not used to that!) sat next to me during the movie and all I could think about was how much I wanted to sit next to Troy. That's when I knew I had a crush.

From then on, Troy and I sort of dated. I wasn't sure we were officially dating until a little later, and I certainly didn't know he was calling me his girlfriend until after Thanksgiving. From about October to November... I was a confused, but it was the ride to church after Thanksgiving that sealed the deal. That whole week I couldn't go home, but he flew out to LA to be with his brother and sister and his parents were gone too. (PS- he lives at home because UWM is only ten minutes away) So I was actually house sitting and watching the dog. He never called while he was in LA. I couldn't figure it out! But while we were driving he was telling me a story and referred to me as his 'girlfriend' in the story. I just smiled and nodded, but I was slightly shocked. I was also speaking in church that day, so I didn't want to get distracted...... I was! No one knew we were seeing each other, but that day I grabbed his hand in church and it was all downhill from there. If you're Mormon, or you are familiar with the Single's Wards, you'll understand that this is a BIG deal! Ha! The rest is history.

I fell in love. He fell in love. And we are very happy. Still, remember my blog title? Troy grew up LDS. He was born into the church, but he decided to go on a mission... NOW. He told me this right before I left home for Christmas. He put his papers in the end of March/beginning of April and he got his call the day after my Birthday. He's leaving June 23rd to Kennewick, WA. I'm WAY excited for him! I'm so proud of him too. This experience isn't easy. It feels like we just found each other and now we have to be apart, and I've been sending off friends on missions for a long time. Still, I've never loved anyone like I love Troy and we're not considering this a break-up or space, and we don't say "We'll pick up when he comes home." We continuing our relationship and the Mission is a part of it. We're both old enough that we can make this commitment, and that's what we're doing. He's not just doing this for him or for God. It's for both of us and our future and my support is unconditional. I'm sad. There's no doubt about that. I'm going to feel lonely, lost, and probably depressed for a while. But I'll make it and he'll make it and we're going to make this the best two years.

Jobs? Well, Milwaukee Rep's contract with me ended at the end of April. Since then I've been working for Ten Chimneys. I love it. It's a beautiful, calm, and less stressful, perfect-for-a-summer kind of job. Plus, it's part time, so I can still work on making sure I don't forget my love of Theatre and Directing. I don't know what I want to do anymore except that I want to help the arts. I LOVE directing. I love it. I want to continue finding more things that I love.

Oh, and now I live with a wonderful family who took me in like a stray cat. I didn't have anywhere to live and I couldn't afford rent, but one of the intern's aunt and uncle lived close by and they gave me a room and now I'm looking for an apartment to rent so I can get out of their hair. It's a small missionary experience in ways but also just a humbling experience in other's. They lost their 13 year old son a couple of years ago to what they refer to as "The Choking Game." I've been learning so much and I've grown to love the family, and their white lab, Darby.

And there you go! A very long and wordy blog, but a blog none-the-less. I will continue to find quirky stories to tell.

Best Thing I've Ever Heard

2009-12-05T00:51:00.000-08:00

"You make me... want me to be... the best me."

No Sex and Traveling

2009-11-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

Well, it is what it is, isn't it?

For those who are interested... and that's too many of you... here is a catch up on all the men in my life. Since I don't live in a particular city for long enough to have an entire column named after it, this is one blog. Now, shall we start from the beginning? I'm not going to give you the run down of all my crushes. There are interesting stories here and there but these are the landmarks. Note- there will be no real names.

The BI-poler Issue- Let's see, I've never written about him in a blog because I really don't like this man. I was never in love with him... and I don't think he was with me, at least not romantically, but he was obsessed. I'll call him Kyle. Kyle and I were best friends in high school. When I fell head over heels for a guy at work, Kyle ratted me out. Kyle and I stopped out Karen & Jack from Will & Grace relationship soon after. But he didn't stop there. He continued to haunt my life, whether that was by taunting my family or simply appearing at my dorm in college while I wasn't there, asking around for me. Yep... he was slightly stalkerish. I still have emails from him... in case I ever disappear and the police need leads. Is that a little sick? It might be. He even showed up after my first play in Cedar City and waited outside for me. I had no choice but to go talk to him, where he introduced me to his boyfriend. At that point, Kyle told me he was gay. After that he told me he was BI, than Gay again, and BI, and now I think he's engaged for the hundredth time to a man. Personally, I think Kyle is what people say he should be.

Mickey Mouse- The co-worker mentioned above. I thought I was in love with Lance, but I'm pretty sure I was crazy. And blind, come to think of it. The man was practically involved with Walt Disney, if he wasn't a corpse. He was my supervisor, it was against the rules... we never dated, just hung out. Eventually, Kyle reported this to our manager, and Lance left his job. Later he told me he was asked to resign or they were going to fire him because we were inappropriate. Ha... if quoting Disney movies for hours on end is inappropriate, than I'm guilty, guilty, guilty... and stupid, stupid, stupid. For the first six months of my freshman year I continued to call Lance every other Sunday while he was doing an internship... drum roll... in Disney World. He would entertain my roommates with his spot-on impersonation of Mickey Mouse. Eventually I played the card of the lonely, confused 18 year old and asked him why he never called me or returned feelings, and I never heard from him again. I'm pretty sure he ran away with Peter Pan (who, in Disney World, is played by a boy.)

The Ex- What a waste of almost four years of my life. There were crushes in between but nothing as big as Mr. R. I won't use his real last name, but I do have a friend out there who might even remember me calling him by his last name instead of his first. Mr. R was my first real love. At least, I thought he was. He broke my heart more times than I can count on my fingers and it took every last one to finally knock some sense into my head. We met at an institute dance. No offense to anyone out there, but that's kind of the last place I want to meet "the one." He wore a stupid beenie, he was skinny as a rail, and had a nose like Gonzo from the Muphets. He took me home that night and than he didn't recognize me the next week... didn't even say hi. This was my freshman year, and I was determined I was not going to like this guy. Unfortunately our paths crossed because we both were very involved in the theatre department. We actually ended up working together in the same club. Through misfortunes, Mr. R became the club president and I was the treasurer and we did everything together. I didn't fall for Mr. R until... actually, until he fell for me. He told me he loved me... the first time was in a text, after we had a fight and I told him I didn't want to speak to him again. DING DING DING... not a good start. Then he asked me to be his girlfriend... while he was in New York for the summer... over an MSN conversation! I actually have that conversation printed out somewhere, because if you thought You've Got Mail was funny, just come knocking at my door. So, for an entire summer, I spent my days working, my nights working on his projects for the Presidency position I helped him win, and writing him emails and talking on the phone. That was for almost three months. When he came home we dated for about two more months before I had to give him an ultimatum. He broke up with me. A week goes by... he comes over, tells me he's sorry, says he's going to change, work on things, that he still loves me, my favorite line, "I didn't treat you like the princess you are" (gag reflex) and then says, "I think we're supposed to get married." When you're in love with someone... sometimes your brain leaves the room. After that, I didn't know what to do. We weren't dating, but he was working on figuring out if we were going to get married. My parents hated Mr. R, by the way, so when they came to visit and he tried to speak with them and they turned their heads away... he got upset. I spent that night in the car arguing with my dad about how wonderful Mr. R was and how he loved me and was going to fix things. The next day, Mr. R came over to my house, told me how upset he was at my parents... oh, and that he was with two other girls that weekend. SILENCE. I kicked him out. I took time... but it wasn't enough. I had to see him everywhere. I still worked for him... that wasn't good. My senior year... if I didn't have the wonderful friends I had, I wouldn't have made it. Mr. R continued to call me once a week after I left Cedar City. Especially since he took a job back in Cedar and hated it... so I became the vent. I accepted it too. I was lonely when I first moved to Tucson, but eventually I stopped thinking about him. Life was beautiful and it's so much better. I'm sure my friends and family would agree.

The Fish- It is unfortunate how inconsistent I am on my blog. I believe I referred to this one a couple of times as either Al or Jer. I'll continue to call him Jer... or as my friends in Tucson more commonly referred to him as "Jer-bear." Jer was an outdoors junkie with a passion for wielding swords and solving physic mathematics. In other news, he was a big time nerd and he owned every season of Futurama, Family Guy, and the Simpsons. The great thing about Jer is he was fun and relaxed, a good member of the church, and a very honest guy. The problem? He was full of mixed signals and I think I just concluded that he was kind of a wimp. Jer started coming around the house all the time. He'd take me out to dinner we'd go to activities together, sit next to each other in church, hang out at my house, hang out at his house. We watched a TON of movies. So many, that I was sick of movies. I never thought I would be... but I was. He never made a move though. He tried, several times. It was the highlight of the day at work if I had a story about Jer. One night we were watching a movie and he did the hand touching my hand show, slowly inching closer... but yet... he never got there. Jer was a very touchy guy. He was constantly rubbing heads, scratching backs, wrestling people... it wasn't usual. But when the guy plays with your hair and pulls in out of your eyes while you're looking at him... you're probably bound to get the impression that he likes you. I call him the Fish, because you can referr to my blog Mixed Signals. His hand is, needless to say, a dead fish.

The Cousin- Not MINE! Seriously, you sicko. This is the cousin of my roommate back in Tucson. This was a short lived romance because... well, it never really happened and he's married now. Ha! We'll call him Tray. Tray was unexpected and remains that way. He was a cute, sarcastic guy I immediately was drawn to. He liked theatre, he was goofy, one of his mission companions was a good friend from high school, he went to high school with one of my college acquaintance.. it was just surreal how strangely connected we were. We thought it was fate. We constantly text each other, talked on facebook for hours, hung out at each others' houses. I was smitten a little... until he told me he didn't watch PG-13 or R rated movies. Okay... I'll give him R, but PG-13? The man was 24 years old. He claimed it was a family thing. Well... needless to say, I was actually upset about this. It was only the beginning to find out how strange Tray really was. Tray had girls from his mission who still contacted him... teenage girls. Oh, and he coached a teen softball team, who would constantly text him their problems. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want my 16 year old daughter texting a single, or married for that matter!, man about problems. Tray was also incredibly open about his life and his past with friends who were involved with drugs, drinking, suicides, etc. He often, in my opinion, revealed too much. Actually, speaking of which, the second time I hung out with the kid, he told me he was addicted to pain killers.... what do you do with that information?! Well, I did what I do best, made it worse. "Oh really? I'm sorry. I have some leftover Lortab in my room if you want it?" After discussing all of these concerns to his former companion and my friend from high school, I find out that Tray has been engaged before... twice! Tray confirms this all to me and lets me know that his ex-fiance is on a mission and he's still talking to her. That was in July. She came home early in August. They got married this last Friday. Woot. For a random fact... she proposed to him... over the phone.

Fresh RM- Jack. Oh Jack. I met Jack here in Milwaukee. Jack has that perfect boyish look about him... meaning he looks and acts like he's 12, but he's just off his mission from this summer, and guess what? He wants to get married! It is funny how men really do just get an idea and run with it, nothing to stop them. Jack met me at an institute dance. Need I repeat my feelings on that? He asked me to dance for the last dance and told me all about the X-men movie that Jer made me go see that summer. Wow, I was so thrilled.... I hope my sarcasm reads well. Jack was nice. He offered to give me rides, show me the city, be a friend. I was fine with all of that. Jack asked me out... over a text. Grrrr... there is a past blog about THAT one. I didn't know it was a date until I was on the date, but either way, it was... ok. He took me to the museum and there was a lot to see. Jack was nice. Jack asked me out again... over text. He took me to a movie. Jack has no ability to make conversation without something in front of him to talk about... including the movie! I can't handle it when someone talks in the movie theatre... really? That wasn't going to happen. Jack is also the first of ten kid. TEN KIDS. One of the first things he told me was how he wanted a big family like his.... NOT GOING TO HAPPEN WITH ME. Like I said, Jack is nice... but he's a little crazy. Any time we saw something in the museum about Darwin and Evolution, he freaked out! He kept saying, "There's nothing about God anywhere!"... right... then when we were watching a movie that had a Catholic ceremony in it... he freaked out again, started spouting off how he couldn't handle those kind of people. My head just literally drops to the floor every time he opens his mouth and I'm appalled by how much he doesn't accept others. I feel like he learned nothing on his mission... which was to Ohio by the way. He hasn't asked me out for at least two weeks. Cross your fingers.

Well, there you have it. The crazies in my life. Believe it or not, I do like men and I've had some great experiences... even with all of these nuts I've mentioned. I really wish I could write more about the men I like, but unfortunately, I can't see myself being vulnerable enough to do that. It's quite possible for them to read this and I don't want to make people feel weird or enraged or exposed, mostly. But to the men I adore, it's true adoration. I compare them to everything I've been though and it's the men that stay in my life that I find to be the most interesting and wonderful. Every girl is looking for her best friend, and I have but a few, and trust me, I care and I love you.

Breath by Chocolate

2009-11-10T18:31:00.001-08:00

I think it's possible that I have discovered one of the most dangerous creations known to man; the fun size candy bar.

I find myself, especially around the Holidays, being able to pop several

mini-Musketeers, Snickers, Milky-Ways (even the dark chocolate), and other various chocolate candy bars. I think they're more dangerous than their predecessor the King Sized candy bar.

Know why? We can practically inhale an entire bag of the micro-chocolates in less than half an hour. Equal to the size of probably five king sized candy bars. Not only

that... I don't feel as guilty... because they've disguised themselves as "mini" which in turn makes me feel like I'm eating "less" so I eat more. You do it too, I'm not the only self-inflicted victim out there.

It got me thinking. So much of life is like that. We used to have the saying, "You bit off more than you can chew," but at least you would finish chewing (unlike now, we don't even have to chew... just pop and swallow) and eventually you would continue munching on your candy bar. Eventually it would fill you up because you had to work at it... you had to breathe between bites.

Right now I'm working on a one woman show called The Lady with All the Answers. It's probably no coincidence that after living in Milwaukee for three months, I finally feel like writing another blog- the play is about a past iconic advise columnist, Ann Landers, who wrote for a living. In fact, much of what she said in her column would be what we look for in blogs today. My point is, it's a ONE person play. There is only one woman on stage, the entire time. In turn, my rehearsals only involve one actor, and I know that I talk a lot, but I understand after four hours she claims to be exhausted. The rehearsal process is hard. We were blocked by the end of the first week and now it's all about review and detail. It's very hard to slow down and pace yourself on such a small show after being involved in such a busy one. Every morning I sit down, close my eyes, and breath in the cold air. I have to prepare myself to relax- and it's hard!

This play (now the 2nd time I'm working with it) has taught me a lot about breathing. The last play I was workingon was called Happy, Now? and I was working with Jon Jory; a great mentor

among the many that I've met along my way through the world of theatre, but definitly a mile-marker

for me. He gave me a lot to do, a lot to think about, tasks, ideas, confidence, advice, and most importantly, the secrets to having a good job for the rest of my life. He also told me never to tell those secrets... so I'll keep my promise.

I never stopped, while working on that play. My mind was racing, I was busy, I loved it. Strange enough... The Lady with All the Answers has a sentence quite similar to that. Ann Landers (Or her real name Eppie Lederer) ended up getting a divorce from her husband of 35 years. He fell in love with another woman. As I research this play, she always was busy. She kept going, fighting, making a difference in the world. But I can't help but notice that it is very possible that she neglected her own family in order to take care of the rest of the world. I'm not saying any of that is an excuse for her husband in any way, but after several articles and matching up her life after the divorce, it is clear she felt the same way.

You know, another weird thing about living in Milwaukee has been my social life. I wouldn't say it's increased or decreased, but changed. I've been on more dates here than I think in the other two states I've lived in combined. Maybe it's the fact that the pool of Mormon girls is shallow in these areas. Without going into many details, if I really was desperate to get married, it would be happening by April. Scary? I think so. I'm trying to breathe. Slow down. I realized that all this time I thought there was something wrong with me and discovered it's not wrong, just late. If I wanted it, I could have it. That's not what I want though. I'm looking for a love that will stop time, no matter where I am. Maybe I'm looking for someone to stop me. At least for a while. (Jon Jory told me that if I settled down and married a po-dunk Mormon boy, he'd personally go search me out and drag me to New York! I miss that man!)

It's so easy for me to inhale life. I inhaled friends, co-workers, places, jobs, even spiritual moments. I never took the time to "chew" and savor them. I wish I could have king-sized moments, instead of mini ones. Tonight I did something I don't know if I have EVER done. I turned off all the sounds. No Tv, no iTunes, no radio, no iPod. All I hear are the sounds of the apartment building... the walking above me, doors squeaking open and slamming shut. I can even hear my own breath. I'm learning to breathe between my mini bites... while I enjoy my low-fat chocolate cookie cats and a nice class of cold milk.

From Desert to Dairy

2009-08-05T20:15:00.000-07:00

The rumors are true... well, they aren't really rumors, but I'm now in the amazing state of Wisconson! More detailed, I'm in Milwaukee. I was hired by the Milwaukee Repetory Theatre as a Directing Intern (One of two accepted every year) and so far, its pretty great. Granted, its only day 2, but there are lots of great people, high expectations, and its beautiful here.

Leaving Tucson was difficult. I love it there, now. I made a ton of friends, great coworkers, and I was just getting settled and rooted. Well, this is the life of theatre in many instances. It's always time to get up move! I think I'm going to miss my coworkers and ward most of all. I can live without the cactus, but I'm going to miss that too. So I'll list my favorite things about Tucson. Who knows, maybe it'll inspire you to visit!

First of all, there's nothing like a desert sunset. They are AMAZING and unique. Different every night and always a sight to see. I loved driving around delivering pizza during the evening because I never missed a sunset.

I know I said I wouldn't miss it much, but there is a particular cactus I will miss; the sujaro. I know they are pointy, and trust me, don't touch them, but they are so cool, especially in a forest! Its truly a different landscape and you know where you are when they are around.

Mexican food. I know. I never liked it before and its still not my favorite, but there's no Mexican food like Tucson Mexican food... except Mexico Mexican food!

The sun. I'm not a fan of the 111 degree weather but having sun all the time makes a HUGE difference in your life. I was very happy, almost all the time. I had my moments, but really, it helped and I'm sad to have left the sun.

The cops. Ha ha ha. Actually, the lack of the cops paying attention to me. Now, I don't have a car in Milwaukee, so I'm not that worried, but the cops were so busy trying to catch bad guys, they didn't care if anyone sped most of the time. I hear thats not true of my friend's husband, but it sure worked out for me!

Most of all, I'm going to miss the people. I loved it there. I loved everyone there... mostly. I didn't care for our loud neighbors with their dogs or the bad drivers, or the drug lords, but other then that, I think I liked everyone! Hopefully, I'll get to go back someday!

So now I'm in the Dairy State of Wisconson. I don't know much about Wisconson other then its known for its cheese. I know That 70's Show takes place here and that part of Wayne's World is set in Milwaukee. (Or should I say, Milee Waukee, the good land?) It's very beautiful here. I live in downtown Milwaukee, so every day I walk out to giant, old buildings. I love it. It's very rustic. Lots of old churchs around that have bells. That's pretty awesome. Also, my grocery store, the Pick N' Save is located behind my hotel. Oh, yes, I live in a hotel. Nice, right? The Rep pays for my housing, so all the interns and I live in what is called The Plaza. We walk to the theatre, which is about four to five blocks away. I have a one room with a small kitchen attached and a bathroom. Its small, but good for me. I don't know how I'll feel about that in nine months, but hopefully the same!

The interns. There are 12 total interns in the artistic department here at The Rep. Most are acting interns. There are several stage management, props, scenery, etc... interns, but we are not included with them. The first day we all met and were going around the room introducing ourselves when Jesse, another intern from Utah, mentioned, "I'm from Salt Lake City, and I am NOT Mormon! Everyone always asks me that..." and then there was some murmmering (ha, for lack of a better term) and laughing as well as a few questions about Mormons going around. I felt silly. I was almost next to introduce myself. I wasn't going to say anything... most of the time it comes out in conversation or they find out later, but since that door was cracked, I was ready to throw it open. When it came to be my turn I said, "Well, I guess I'll get this out of the way. I'm also from Utah and I AM Mormon." Then some faces turned sour. Not in the sense of "Oh no! A mormon! Run!" In fact I had several apologies during a break. I told them I expected it, I am in theatre, after all! It probably doesn't help with that whole ordeal about Prop 8 and the fact that my fellow Assistant Director is openely a homosexual. He was the first to apologize to me. I told him I didn't care. I didn't tell him, "Please, please, please don't ever ask me about the state laws of California because I don't have an opinon," (Which is true, in case anyone wanted to know) but we get a long fine so far and I'm hoping he doesn't judge me based on that case in history. So, everyone got a full dose of "I'm the Mormon Girl! Nope, you can't pay me in drinks, it doesn't count."

Today we went to the Ten Chimney's estate. You can read up on it if you like, I don't plan on presenting a history lesson on my blog. It was owned by theatre actors Alfred Lund and Lynn Fontanne who were broadway stars in their days and actually renovated several theatre techniques we use today. It was BEAUTIFUL there. I took a few pictures outside, since they wouldn't let us take pictures inside the house. If you are ever in the Milwaukee area, I highly suggest going out there, but I will tell you... it was a FREAKING long tour for a couple of houses. Still, it was pretty neat to be in Laurence Olivier's bedroom, use the mirror that Helen Hayes had to fix your hair, or look out the window Noel Coward had for the summer. Slightly mind boggeling.

So far, the Dairy State is looking good. I'm two hours ahead of Tucson and I didn't think it would effect me... but it has. Whew... I'm exhausted!

Thrown in the Fire

2009-06-18T13:10:00.000-07:00

I've had a comment earlier about a story becoming a short film. Wait until you read this.

I've recently gotten a job as a pizza delivery girl. (I should say person to be politically correct, but I'm a girl, so it works.) The place is great and its a job, temporarily, until I move to Milwaukee. Oh, did I mention that already? I'm moving to Milwaukee in August to work for the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre!

As a pizza delivery girl, it's important that you are on top of everything. You have to know what's being ordered, make sure its correct, know where you are going, and get there in time. It's a lot of pressure, and I thrive off of it! Last week, though... I failed slightly.

After each delivery we have to go back to the store and check in. There's always more then one driver, so we switch off. I was a little flustered from my last delivery only to see I had to make another delivery as soon as I walked in. I got everything ready, started heading out the door, when I noticed my keys weren't with me. My heart dropped into my feet and I started to panic. I knew it. I left them in my car. I ran out to see if I had also accidentally left my door open, but I didn't. It was bound to happen... that's who I am. The biggest klutz, accident prone, and ditsy person you'll ever meet. Well, its ok, I have spares. Problem is, I always leave them in my wallet or purse. Because I get in and out of my car so much, I just leave my purse in the car. So... there were my spare keys, in the locked car.

I gave my delivery to someone else. Told the manager who just stared at me and said, "Uh... call a locksmith?" I didn't tell him this but I said in my head, "No! That's why I deliver pizzas while I have a college degree....I CAN'T AFFORD IT!" (I'm in between jobs at the moment, you know the feeling!) Instead, I have someone give me a metal hanger (do you know how rare those are now?) and I start to try and break into my own car.

I suddenly know why no one has tried to steal my car since I've lived in Tucson. You can't get into my car! The windows roll up too far, and the doors won't crack, and I have my roommate's fiance on the phone telling me "You need a blood-pressure cuff..." which I do NOT have! One by one, my co-workers start coming out to help me. Most can't do anything. One gets the hanger in, but we realize it's too flimsy to control. One kid comes out and says, "Yeah... I shouldn't say this much, but I do have some experience breaking into cars..." and tells me to go find a screwdriver.

I pray. I pray to help me find a way out of this. Memories are flooding back of that one time I snuck into a neighbor's back yard to spy on them, thinking I was Harriet the Spy, only to get locked in the yard with a big dog. I prayed for a way out of that and with one last hopeful climb, I unlocked the gate. (It was locked on the outside, who does that!) The only thing I can think of is to call my dad and borrow the money from him to pay for a locksmith. I get a screwdriver and head back out to my car, doomed.

There is a big, red, fire engine parked behind my car. I freeze. I panic again. I run to my car to find FIVE firemen with all sorts of tools, trying to break into my car. There's my coworker, standing besides them with the hanger, just smiling at me. I start to yell, "I didn't call you! I promise, I didn't do this." The captain responds, "It's ok." I ask him who sent them. He says "No one did. We were just in the neighborhood."

Now, maybe some people think this, but I don't believe that firemen are just driving around the neighborhood of a strip mall in South Tucson. I also question that if they just see someone breaking into a car, they just get out and help? The captain asks, "Oh, is this your car?" I nod.

So after ten or fifteen minutes, five firemen are finally able to open my little car. I was jumping for joy. I asked the captain if I could give him a hug. He said a side hug was ok. Not sure what that was all about. I wasn't planning to date the guy. He was hot, but in that "I'm married and have four kids at home" kind of hot. I just am so happy that I say, "Can I buy you guys a pizza?!" Then the captain smiles and says, "Actually, that's why we're here. We're picking up our order."

No way... they just happen to be there at the right time picking up a pizza from MY pizza place. I gave them some free desert on me, but I couldn't believe that was coincidence. As one of the firemen said, "You must be living right, because that was excellent timing." Dad says God lets things like this happen to me because he needs a good laugh every now and then.

Truth to those Chick Flicks

2009-06-18T12:03:00.000-07:00

You know how when you watch a cheesy romantic flick you fall in love with the idea of how it happens and how silly it is? Most of the time, though, we think, "I wish real life was like that." I'm convinced that to every story there is a hint of truth behind it. Sure, all those Chick Flicks are exaggerated, but there is truth to it.

For example. I went to Utah for a wedding that I was a bridesmaid in. On the exact same day, I had another wedding I HAD to go to because I love her so much and we worked together. I haven't been a bridesmaid 27 times, but I know I've had that many friends, at least, get married! Not to mention, two weddings in the same day is kind of crazy! Still, it was fun.

The first wedding was a little confusing. It was an outdoor ceremony, and after the luncheon (which I helped set up with the Best Man because the Maid of Honor wasn't around) we booked our way to the Wedding/Reception center. We were already ten minutes behind. Here's a weird thing. I'm not used to weddings that aren't Temple, but we had the rehearsal half an hour before the wedding. That seems rushed! So we were there, setting up decorations, making sure the place looked presentable, and then we ran through the rehearsal. We had to hurry to get dressed and get our bride dressed (she looked beautiful) and the ceremony was delayed by half an hour!

Did I mention that I walked down the aisle with my arch enemy from college? Maybe not my ARCH enemy, but definitely not the person I would ever see myself walking down an aisle with... not even an aisle at the grocery store. He was my former Student Body President. Bleh. I had a good time and we were nice to one another... but when I took him back to his hotel and he wouldn't stop talking about how he couldn't date girls who were "bigger" then he was, I was done with him. Still a jerk and probably always will be. Meh.

So, the ceremony was wonderful. It wasn't too long (Bride and Groom FORGOT to write their vows... that is them in a nutshell) and I cried. There was drama with the Maid of Honor because she HAD to get out of there as soon as possible because she had a date that night. Honestly, who does that? There was drama with the Best Man because he is attached to the groom at the hip and the Bride hates him. (The wedding party wasn't a big fan of him either.) After taking pictures, I quickly hopped in my car and started heading to the other reception. I was still in my bright pink bridesmaid dress and still had my bouquet that started with four roses and now was left with two and one hanging. That bouquet was pretty, but as soon as I stepped up to walk down the aisle, one of the roses broke off. The flower lady told me to just hold it on with my finger. Well, that worked until the moment-of-silence during the wedding for the Groom's father and Bride's grandfather, because while everything was quiet, the rose just plopped onto the ground. All I could do was smile as everyone turned their heads. Oops.

I had to drive twenty minutes to get to the other reception. I missed the turn. Had to turn around. Story of my life. Finally I got there and got the gift out to write a note on it and felt bad because my pen wasn't working! I tried everything. Finally, I walked in, found a pen on a counter and apologized in the note by saying, "Sorry, my pen sucked." I wonder how many wedding cards have that written in them! Then, I walked into the wrong reception. I looked around and couldn't see the bride, but finally saw a picture of her bridals on a table and noticed it wasn't my friend. Another Oops. I should have tried the cake!

A friend was supposed to go to this reception with me. She wanted to see what things looked like, since she's getting married in September and I could always use the company. She tried, but as things turned out, she couldn't make it on time. Well, as I got in the elevator, turns out that her ex-boyfriend (a guy, at one point, she had planned on being with forever) and his wife and new baby got in the elevator with me! What are the odds? Good thing she didn't go with me, that could have been even more awkward!

I felt literally like I was the Pink Elephant in the middle of the room. This wedding was greens, browns, and beige. It was lovely, just a different color scheme from the last wedding I was at, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. I waited in line, said hi to my friends who were the bridesmaids, said hi to the Bride (who I secretly wish I could have pulled aside so we could have chatted) and then picked up a fancy donut and booked it back out of there.

I drove back to the other reception, missed the line (YES!) and finished being a bridesmaid. It was a crazy adventure that lasted the whole day. I watched as two of my best friends marry each other and got to see another best friend glowing, all in the same day. Not everyone has that much luck.

As I watched everyone I realized that I really hope some day, I can have a day like theirs. So when you watch one of those romantic movies that you can't believe can happen; trust me, something has happened to start the story!

(Pictures are on Facebook)

The Post Man Rings... Your Neck

2009-04-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to the post office.

At work we had a rather large number of envelopes needing to be sent out all over the city of Tucson. Well, you can BULK mail large numbers so you can save money! Brilliant! Little did I know how much of a pain it was to send anything through this process.

First, I had to stuff 544 envelopes after I addressed all of them. I'm glad we have computers. So that was a lot of licking and stuffing. (Ahem... that's what she said.) Then I had to call the Bulk Mail office. It's different from the usual post office. Turns out they are all in the same spot and work for the government, but they are SEPARATE. Make sense to you? Well, in order for me to send out the 544 envelopes, I must first put postage on them. This is making little sense to me so far but whatever. So I call the Post Office to find out that in order to Bulk Mail anything I have to buy Bulk Stamps. Right... okay... we're getting somewhere. So I drive to the middle of town to get the stamps. They only come in rolls of 500 and the role costs $25. The postman clerk didn't want to sell me two rolls. Instead he says, "Put these on the 500 you have and then Bulk Mail can take out the difference so you can send them all." Perfect! Except I now have to drive back to the office to then stick 500 envelopes with 500 stamps. Great.

After doing that, the next morning I take the 544 envelopes to the Bulk Mail center, located behind the Post Office. I'm nervous. You have to wait in front of a big fence until it opens to let you in with your car. You then go into this tiny room where there are people dressed up like delivery boys and all seem to know what they're doing. I look around. There are signs everywhere and one big one that says "Take a Number." So I'm looking around for a number to take. Instead I direct myself to another smaller sign on the wall that says, "We no longer take numbers. Please sign in." Meanwhile there are about four workers doing nothing and watching me try to figure out how this office works. Really? They couldn't offer help? Nope... they watched me as I searched the room for the sign-in clipboard. The watched as I signed my name... the only one that hadn't been checked off. They wait for about five minutes, let me sit there and THEN walk slowly to the clipboard, look it over, and finally... they call my name.

I'm fairly frank with Rosie, the clerk who was helping me. I let her know I have NO IDEA what I'm actually doing. I had brought a form that someone told me too, but I didn't know how to fill it out. Rosie was pretty awesome. She helped me out, taught me the system, and I felt great. Then I showed her the envelopes and explained the 44 of them without the bulk stamps. She shook her head. "No... we don't do that. You'll have to take those back to the Post Office because we'll only take envelopes that are stamped or metered." Oh great. Well, there's one thing that was wrong but it's ok. I'll just fix it. Rosie said I could go back and pay for those first class or buy more bulk stamps and bring them back again. Well, I couldn't get a hold of work to ask, so I didn't do that. I did have to, however, go back up to PAY for the Bulk Mailing at the post office because Bulk Mail doesn't take money. So I went back and forth between these buildings a lot. Finally, we passed, got the 500 envelopes out and finished that dilemma. Only to return to the office to find out that we should just buy another role of Bulk Stamps and keep the extra 400+ for another Bulk Mailing project.

Next day, I go get the stamps. I stamp the envelopes at the office. I fill out the form. I go back to Bulk Mail. I know the process. I get everything ready. I sign in my name. I wait and then I get called. I happily hand them my 44 envelopes only to be told, "Uh... you have more then that right?" All the blood must have drained from my face at that moment. I was in a little shock. They proceeded to let me know that you can only use Bulk Mail if you have 200 pieces or more. I explained everything that happened and I just got a shrug and "Sorry" and was told that I could go up front to the Post Office to buy extra postage in order to send the envelopes first class. Wow... I felt like an idiot. I felt like I had spent more money then the company needed to. I felt like I had been dragged back and forth so many times and that no one would tell me what was really going on. I felt depressed. I felt like I had failed at what should have been a simple task.

So as I was standing in line, once again, to buy stamps I realized how much life is like going to the post office. Life, sometimes, feels like we wait in a cue line for someone to call our name. We're surrounded by forms, signs, procedures, and all sorts of random things we don't understand and yet are expected to, or at least learn in a short amount of time. Every now and then, we have our Rosie's, who are there to help us out. Then there are the moments when no one is around and you just have to wait for an answer. There's no such thing as convenience. Then when you feel on top of the world and you feel like you know it all... there will be someone or something to drag you kicking and screaming back into reality and let you know that you can't mail Bulk without 200 pieces or more.

In the end, as I stood there staring at my 44 envelopes and putting two more stickers on each, I noticed the brighter side to the situation. At least 44 people will be getting some very colorful mail.

Mixed Signals

2009-04-13T11:53:00.000-07:00

It sounds like a common problem... and what if it is? Is it possible that not only are we receiving mixed signals, but are we sending them without knowing it?

Dating is like trying to get a job. First impressions are essential. We have recommendations; close friends or acquaintances that can vouch for you being normal, fun, adorable, sexy, and overall- worth the time. We also have our resumes... what our life is in a nutshell. Preferably something you can fit onto one page or else you're gloating. The idea of the resume is more common amongst online dating these days. If you bypass the above, then you might get the interview.

Interviews are easy. Make sure you dress up. Look better then you ever have because that way you won't be forgotten. Not to mention, it shows respect. If you're willing to dress up for that person then they must know you care a lot about the meeting. Next, be clever. Make sure you don't brag and boast, but make sure your interviewer knows you're smart and you've accomplished a lot in the time that you haven't been a part of their life. If you feel like you want the job, then don't forget to mention how being with them will benefit you. Laugh at their jokes, act confident, and you feel like you've been friends for years.

You walk away certain that you got the job. Then you wait by the phone and they never call. Or they call and say they liked you but offered the job to someone else. Or even worse... they ofter you a lower job then what you applied for.

Mixed signals. How is it that you got past all the pre-reqs and you don't have the job?!

Lately I've been seeing a guy. Jer. We'll call him Jer for short. (Yes, in previous blogs he was Jeremy.) Jer and I have become very close friends over the last four weeks... it could be more. We've seen each other every day with exceptions of work on weekends. Jer has taken me out to dinner, but never called it a date. Jer always sits next to me. Jer likes to give back rubs and head massages but only to me. He doesn't share this with anyone else. Jer and I go everywhere together. He even helped me stuff envelopes for a bridal shower. We sit next to each other in church. We cuddle but no hand holding. No kissing. Jer calls. Jer texts. Jer even taught me how to drive his truck. Jer will play with my hair and tuck it behind my ear. It would seem that Jer likes me. We have basically been dating with none of the best benefits.

Mixed signals? Jer is leaving. Jer is moving back to Oregon at the end of the month. I will probably never see him again. I like him a lot. I haven't said this to him because he's made it clear in some ways that he doesn't want to be serious with anyone because he's leaving. I give him mixed signals back, I'm sure. After all... I call, I text, I invite him over, I give back scratches... yet... we don't talk about it. It's a conversation that I've been debating to have. If I talk to him and he says no, I loose the great times we could have had up till the day he leaves. If we decide to make this into anything, I get my heart broken. Catch 22.

Friday night we watched a movie together. He spent the entire time, I'm almost certain, deciding if he should hold my hand. We were sitting with arm on arm but.... nothing. It was SOOO frustrating. Saturday he drove to Phoenix to pick me up, got lost, but still came and got me. He took me to dinner with his step sister and her husband. We got lost again after that and he drove me home. The boy came to just get me. He didn't have to. I told him that. He said he wanted to. I had a blast but the poor guy was so frustrated by directions and getting lost, that I decided Saturday wasn't the best day to talk to him. So yeseterday we spent what time in church we had together, he drove me home, he ate dinner with us, he talked to me for a good hour until we walked to the institute to watch the fireside. He sat next to me in the back. We walked home, we played a game with my roommates and friends, and then we watched a movie.

During the movie, we were on the floor with a bean bag. Jer begins to play with my hair. Okay... besides the signs earlier from the boy (for instance, while walking home our hands convienently collided a couple of times, but he never grabbed it) I took the head massage as a signal. About half way through the movie, he stopped and just let his hands sit next to my head. I reached up and grabbed his hand with mine.

Nothing. No pull back. No grabbing my hand. He just let his hand remain there... limp. WHAT?! I tried squeezing it. Nothing. So I pulled my hand back and he moved to the other side of the bean bag. I was so confused. Have I been reading everything wrong? I didn't feel rejected. After all, twenty minutes later he came back and played with my hair.

How are we supposed to read signals when the wrong ones are being sent? Is he really thinking that much about leaving so he doesn't want to get involved. Not taht I've had the best run with men in the past, but if they're going to get something out of a girl, you'd think they go for it. Not that I don't appreciate him being a descent guy, because I do... but COME ON!

Mixed signals... ugh.

An Inner Chest Monologue

2009-04-07T10:57:00.000-07:00

It is the worst season for women. It's the season for swim wear.

There are lots of women who are confident in what they wear, even if it is a small piece of fabric designed to cover up bits and pieces that are, if you're not in Europe, illegal to show off on a daily basis in public. I wish I were one of those women. I, however, share the same fear that I would imagine the majority of women have- the fear of showing anything.

I don't buy swim suits often. I had one a couple of summers ago that was a perfect fit. Brown with a hook halter top, covered the bottom nicely and it was flattering. I wore it all that summer when I would swim at the pool. Turns out wearing it all the time... wears it out. There was a lovely see through patch in the back, and I eventually had to throw the suit away. That left me with my alternate suit. What I like to call my "old lady" suit. It's got a skirt on it. I really don't like to show off my upper thighs, so I try to keep them hidden. But a skirt is a little out of date.

Whatever, I don't swim often. I'll be fine. But then the dreaded day came when we announced over the pulpit that there's a ward pool party for FHE. I know... my own FHE, turned against me. Well, its time to go shopping, and we all know how much I love an excuse to shop!

Quickly, my hopes were dashed away. I went with my roommate Kristi, who has the same area of problems that I do, only the exact opposite. She's too well endowed and I'm insufficient. Everyone who has met me knows I can't pass up a good opportunity to remind them I'm the President of the TT Committee, but laughing can't even help make a swim suit fit. If it doesn't fit the top, it fits the bottom. If it doesn't fit the bottom, it will most certainly fit me on the top. They make suits for overweight women, they make suits for skinny girls. Why can't they make a suit for us girls whose bodies obviously somehow end up half and half. (Actually, I wouldn't say any part of me is skinny, but what I can say is that certain aspects of my body apparently thought I should be.)

While my roommate was across the dressing room, falling out of the suits she was trying on, I couldn't get mine to stay up. Everything in style right now is a halter top. Great... give me a halter top, I'll wear it. But... give me a halter top I have to tie? Not going to work. I have nothing to tie up. I mean it... there's nothing there. Okay, okay... I'm still a girl, so there's SOMETHING there, but when I put on those suits, not only do I have to strangle myself with the ties in order to keep covered up... I basically attach wind sails to my chest. There they are; pockets just flapping in the breeze. It's not a flattering look... plus I can't even imagine what would happen when I get in the water and they decide to float off. Ooops!

So... no new suits were purchased. Anything that seemed a decent fit was well over $75. My roommate had no luck either since her entire point was to keep her girls hidden. If only we could find a happy medium between the two of us. We both ended up with old suits and I wore my "old lady" suit but luckily my roommate lent me some board shorts which covered the skirt.

So, I was pretty comfortable. I got in the hot tub, was chatting away when I look down. Ugh... it happens every time. It's the heat, I think, but whatever it is... it inflates the top half of my swimming suit when I get in the water. So... there I am, with a huge bulge right where I probably should have some kind of a bulge. Only this doesn't look natural it looks... well, I'll just say it. The stupid hot tub gives me a "unaboob". So instead of enjoying my time in the hot tub, I'm constantly pushing hot air out of my... uh... well, you get the idea. It's a lovely way to spend time with your ward.

Sometimes, I wish I did live in Europe.

Undatable Followup

2009-02-24T13:37:00.000-08:00

In response to my last blog about being "undateable", I have to admit, I got asked out on a date a few weeks ago. Not long after I posted that. However, here's the story, and this is simply a side note to all those interested. I was walking out of rehearsal, getting ready to go to the store for my roommate's boyfriend's birthday present, when I get a text from said boy who we shall call... uh... Al. The text says, "How you doin'?" Huh... I once again point out that I am constantly living in an episode of Friends. Certain people will appreciate this, and I could give you an entire essay of comparison in order to prove my life is Friends. For now, we'll go with the first story I started.

After a bit of texting back and forth about what each of us was doing that night I finally got asked, "What are you doing tomorrow?". Ah... okay, I think I know where this is going. At this time I'm hanging out with our friend (yes, Al's and my mutual friend) and we'll call him... Jeremy. So after getting through the texts about having no plans I got back this, "Do you wanna do something with me?" Huh... okay. I'm sorry, but guys... seriously, lets be frank here. That is NOT a way to ask a girl out on a date, even if I am undateable. Show a little class but more then that... some GUTS! I turned to Jeremy and handed him my phone asking, "Is Al asking me to hang out or is this a date?" Jeremy laughed and said he'd find out. So after responding to Al saying, "Something sounds fascinating" always hoping that the receiving end gets my sarcasm, Al sends me back a text about how we'll do dinner and something else that he hasn't figured out yet. Wow... once again, he's a keeper. Jeremy texts Al to find out what he is doing on Friday. Al responds, "Going out on a date with Laura." Well... wish he could have specified to me. Men... are...stupid. Especially if they think they can get around me.

So the next night, Al picks me up at 8 for dinner. I was sitting on my couch staring at two pairs of shoes I had pulled out of my collection to wear. A cute pair of platform sandals, white with filigree, one of my favorite pair since I've moved here and then I had out my Vans that Matty picked out with me, covered in various colored flowers. I love both equally, but both have different expectations. When he came into the apartment I asked, "So, does it matter what shoes I wear? I mean, I don't know what we're doing." His response? Can you guess? "Uh, I don't know what we're doing yet either, so wear whatever you want." Great. Did I mention he's a keeper?

I went with the sandals. I know you were dying to know. He took me for Sushi (while I know Bri is automatically thinking thats worth it right there) it was the same restaurant that I had been taken to on a former date that I had royallly screwed up.. ha ha ha, with his friend too. Not Jeremy. Dinner was good, but as the night went on I found out that even though Al and I were having a good conversation... really... it was just Al having a good conversation. Everyone who knows me knows I talk a lot. I like to talk, but not just about me, I talk about a variety of things. It seemed like All just liked to talk about himself. Anytime I tried to share a story or give an opinion, I was quickly cut off. Luckily he came up with an idea and we went to the park after dinner and fed the ducks. It was a lot of fun because I like ducks. There was a lot more talk and I came to the conclusion that Al took me out not to get to know me, but for me to get to know him. I think dating is for both, honestly. We are supposed to get to know each other, but I felt like his intention was the opposite of what it should be. Shouldn't he have taken me out because he was interested in me, not because he thought I would be interested in him? I felt like I was on a backwards date.

The night ended with Al coming back to my house and just wanting to read the cards from the game The Worst Case Scenario. Yup. He just sat on the couch and read the cards... we didn't play a game or even talk about them. Just... read the cards. All in all, I did much better on this date then I have on past dates. All in all... its true, I wasn't super interested.

However, that doesn't make it OK for what happens next. So Al came over the next night and baked cookies with me and played card games. That was a lot more fun... I planned it, of course, and there were other people. Sunday night I hung out with him and Jeremy. Monday night was FHE and he was there... go figure. Well, I was having a special pre-preview of the play I was working on and everyone was invited. I wanted a lot of people there because the director wanted them there so I announced it at FHE. I had already invited Al and Jeremy from the night before, both agreed to come. Then, at FHE Al said he couldn't go. I called him on it and asked why he could the night before but now he couldn't. He says, "Oh, I have a date on Friday." Huh... talk about timing. Not only was it a little uncomfortable but I was mad... he asked this girl out a WEEK before and I got the 24 hour notice? What is that?!

Then, that Thursday, guess who texts me and wants to come to the show with his date? Yup, you guessed right. Al. Did I put him on the VIP list of guests? NO! He said he was busy! Did I put his date on the list? I don't think so. I made him do it himself. Did he show up with his date and sit right behind me for my play? You betcha. Classy.

Oh well, to be honest, I think this new girl and him are hitting it off well which is great. Al is not for me and that was apparent in the beginning. Jeremy and I... now that's another story. :)

The Un-datable

2009-02-16T23:33:00.001-08:00

I shouldn't even be awake to be writing this blog, since I have rehearsal from 10-7 tomorrow, but I have to get this out there. There are a lot of stereotypes in the world that can be applied to many, especially in the dating world. There are those that choose not to date because of various reasons (fear, commitmentphobia, independence, etc) and there are those that always date, for many other various reasons that I need not explain here. There's always the players and there's always the genuine sweet people. There are "sweet spirits" or desperate people who would probably date a piece of fruit if you told them it would hold their hand, and then there are the usuals, people who date on occasion and are looking for love...but then we get to another strange category. There are those people who seem like those usuals, but yet... they don't date. It isn't because they don't want to date or because it would be weird to date them, but they seem to be... Un-datable.

These past few weeks have been odd in many senses. For one thing my newer roommate, who I was planning at first to write a blog about because she was driving me crazy, is getting along with me quite well. I will tell you the first thing to really bug me was the reorganization of my movies and integrating them with everyone else's and alphabetizing them. Then when she rearranged them to put the Rated-R movies on the bottom behind the foreign films, I about smacked her. I'm moving on to greener pastures though. Anyway, as far as she goes, Kristi, she's new to the ward and new to the apartment and she's my other roommate's sister. It just so happens that my new roommate started liking one of our friends in the ward.

We'll call him... Bill. Bill is kind of a pushover when it comes to certain things, especially relationships. If I wanted Bill to date me, I would simply say, "Bill, you should date me" and his answer would be, "Okay." There was always a part of me that liked Bill, but I couldn't ever force myself to tell him to do anything like "Date me" because I'm looking for a little more enthusiasm and will power from a guy. Still... there were some territorial issues with the fact that my new roommate liked him. It didn't help either when I convinced her sister that Bill and Kristi should date, it was like my brain wasn't speaking. The words fell out of my mouth almost on accident. So of course Kristi's sister's boyfriend starts talking to Bill to get him to ask Kristi out. Alas, after tonight... they are officially together. My heart breaks a little bit, not so much for jealousy because really, Bill and Kristi are great together and I'm happy for them, but I'm a bit envious. Bill and I have been friends for months now, he was really my first friend outside of my apartment, and yet... he never asked me out and never once suggested it.

As for Kristi's sister Tiffany... she just got engaged two weeks ago. That was odd because I knew about it before they got engaged and actually helped pick out the wedding ring. There's a stressful thing I never want to go through again. They are great together and I wouldn't hesitate to say some of my best friends.

My other roommate, Lydia, unfortunately just went through a breakup about five days after Tiff and Jonathon got engaged. Her ex boyfriend was also one of my very good friends. But here's the weird thing... she wouldn't talk to any of us roommates! We didn't even hear it from her, except for Tiff. Lydia went quiet for a long time and it's been about a week and some, but finally she's started talking to us again. While she wasn't talking to us, though... I finally got a hold of her ex. We talked a bit about it, then he decided on Friday (day before Valentines) to come say hi. Lydia also had been leaving and not coming home until way past all of us going to sleep. So her ex wasn't here more than ten minutes before Lydia's car pulled up. I freaked. We ran him out of the house and eventually he left with Tiff and Jon while Kristi and I waited to see if Lydia would say anything. She didn't. There was a dance that night so we all went, met up with the ex and others and had a great night. I was a little self conscious when her ex asked me to dance though... twice...in a row... and pretty much spent the rest of the dance with me.

So now I come to my awakening moment of being in the category of Un-datable. Lets face it. I've been on two dates since I've been here. The first one was horrible and the second was a double. I never dated in Cedar, and even though I was in a relationship, you can ask anyone who was there and they'll tell you that I was treated badly. I never dated in high school... so pretty much, I've only ever had one real boyfriend and two real dates. That's pretty pathetic for someone going on 23. Now, I mention pathetic simply for the fact that I WANT to date. I would like to be asked out and I would like to gather some research in this area of life and I feel like I'm being restricted for no reasons. (So see, Bri... I'm a little bit different then you. :p)

Valentines day rolls around. I'm in rehearsal till 7. I'm planning a nice quiet evening with myself. Everyone else I know has plans including all my roommates. I'm going to order takeout and watch a movie at home. It's perfect and I wasn't feeling bad or sorry for myself at all. Things were fine. I get a text from Lydia's ex, uh, we'll call him Max. It says, "Call me when you get off of work." My first thought, "Oh great... something has happened that I said or did and now I'm going to get yelled at." When I call him, a little scared to find out whats happening, this is the conversation that follows after a minute of chit-chat.

Max says, "I have a proposition for you"
"Okay."
"That is if you don't have plans tonight."
"Not unless you count plans of eating by myself."
"First I have to lay down the groud rules." (He's definitely charming, right?)
"Okay..."
"First of all, I'm not considering this a date." Right there... that was it... right there. He put me in the Un-datable category.
"Right..."
"I don't think it should be something talked about a lot"
"Yeah, I plan on putting it on Facebook right now"
"I don't want to look like the guy that dumped the girl for her roommate"
"Max, what exactly are you proposing?"
"Would you like to do something tonight, as friends?"
"You could have just asked me to 'hang out'"
"Well, I wanted to make sure you knew how I felt."

Anyway, from there we decided to go have dinner together, as friends. That's fine, but really... he totally knows how to make a girl feel special. So I went on a non-date with Max, my roommate's ex boyfriend on Valentines night. I had a good time, we just hung out, but it was the choice of words that I can't get over. Is that how every guy sees me? Even one of the guys that I kind of like right now text me and deemed me, "Movie Buddy" which just makes my heart sink a little each time. I know that I have some self confidence issues when it comes to the dating world, but really... how come I'm in this strange category of Un-datable. I feel like I wear a sign with neon lights.

All there is to my life is the theater, where right now I watch someone else do the job I want, and then I watch my friends around me find each other and I feel like I'm standing in the middle wondering where I belong. Is it possible to move from one stereotype to another or am I stuck with this self given label? I can hear the same things over and over, "You just have to find a really special guy" or "It's not your time" or "Guys are dumb" or whatever they say, I've heard it... but I don't believe it. I've spent years wondering what was wrong with me, while the years before that wondering what was wrong with everyone else, and finally I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong... that maybe it just... is. Like some people are born without sight, charisma, or a left foot... I was born Un-datable.

Now it isn't fair unless I mention that I'm looking for something beyond extrodinary in this world. I'm not picky, I don't know what that sentence means really other then the fact that I'm looking for a love that knows no boundaries. In a recent episode of my new favorite show, they mention the butterflies when you see someone or even mention their name. The last line of the show says, "Some people are settling down, some people are settling, and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies."

Stop Hitting Snooze

2008-12-27T12:11:00.000-08:00

I've been home in Utah now for one week. It's gone by fairly fast, actually... much faster than I would have expected.It never fails that although I find myself getting bored at home, life doesn't stop being interesting.

To catch a few of you up- at work, we've opened HAIR. It was truly one of the most fun adventures I've had in a rehearsal process and it had its ups and downs, but over all, I enjoyed the experience and it didn't cause me to run in the opposite direction. Instead, I'm ready to say, "Bring on the musicals!"

Mom has recently become interested in a new show- Sex and the City. I have a theory that she's not the only LDS woman watching this TV series and probably one of the few to admit it too. Just for the record, she watches the TBS edited shows, not the original HBO. She started calling me in the last few months to tell me about the show. I think she must have started later in the series, but none the less... I'm Carrie Bradshaw to her. It just so happens that she has saved a bunch of episodes to show me when I came home. Besides my random visits with friends, I've been at home, on my Mom's bed, watching episodes of Sex and the City.

I don't need to go into detail about what the show's intended plot is. Honestly, I think its one of the best written shows with relate-able characters I've watched in a while. What's better than watching four women talk about their crazy relationships and lives? It's what I feel like I do most of the time. Also, our point of view character, Miss Bradshaw is a writer and she shares her stories in a column- I, in a blog. I realize I haven't been faithful to this blog either even though, before I go to bed, many nights I often wonder how I would write my blog about this day. Even journal entries have become sparse and I wonder, why?

When more and more keeps happening and more and more continues to change how I view the world and my outlook on life, why is it that I want to avoid writing it down? Even in my own journal? I don't hate to write and I don't hate to share (as anyone who knows me knows!) and I'm not even out of inspiriation. The very thought of opening up my journal or pulling up this blog makes me tired. I honestly think I don't want to relive the tale, even if its good. Overall- I'm exhausted. I'm still hitting teh snooze button of life.

So, I'm at home, doing nothing but watching TV and seeing a few precious friends who I've missed dearly. I am also spending time with my family which may or may not make me more tired than work. Sometimes life feels as if it's speeding past yourself and you're constantly running just to be on it's toes. Still, the shear fact that I'm writing down this is a good sign. There's no finish line anytime soon, I hope, but I think I'm finally able to go back to the inner track and jump the hurdles. I may not even need an alarm anymore.

Oh... and I'm not ashamed to say that I really like the fact that my Mom thinks I'm like Carrie Bradshaw. I just wish I had her shoes.

Starbucks Hates

2008-11-16T20:57:00.001-08:00

November 4th, 2008- a day of history. The first african-american black man was elected President of the United States of America and I can proudly say, I VOTED for him, too! November 4th was an important day. A day I glued my eyes to the television, watching each minute when the news reporter would say, "...its still to early to say." After a while I wished he would just stop saying it, because it made him look stupid and I was embarassed for him. None the less... I was there. I wanted to be in Chicago at the big huge party. By the way, it was funny to me to notice that I was only an hour or so away from the McCain party (or should I say... pity party?) but all I wanted to do was find a plane ticket to Chicago. Oh well.

I'm sure you noticed all the advertisements from EVERYWHERE that were giving away things if you voted. Ben & Jerry's gave out ice cream, Krispy Kreme gave out doughnuts, Starbucks was giving away a free tall coffee to anyone who said they voted. Well... that seems like a pretty good incentive to me. Actually, I saw promotional voting ads from food stores to clothing department stores. It was crazy madness that I was all about! After all, I was the Election Director in college, of course I would be pro-vote!

Well, we don't have a Ben & Jerry's or a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop, but Tucson is FULL of Starbucks. Yet... there's a problem. I don't drink coffee. So I call the store up because since I can't drink coffee because of religious reasons, then they shouldn't discriminate right? After all, this is a promotion all about being an American. It's about the founding principles of this nation, believing in what you want, and being patriotic, unifying together to make change!

Starbucks apparently doesn't fall into that category. When I called and asked if we could have hot chocolate instead, they told me, "Sorry. The promotion only includes coffee, tea, and iced coffee." Now wait a minute! It includes OTHER things, but it won't include any decaffeinated beverages? Why?!

I didn't proceed to ask the man on the phone. I had just called a local chain and he was probably wouldn't have the answer even if I asked. Still, I felt hurt, betrayed, and discriminated against! How could they? And on Election Night?! Starbucks...hates...Mormons.

I thought maybe that was the last of that theory, but instead... more happened. My coworker and I went to Starbucks to get some drinks. I had been told to try the new White Hot Chocolate with Peppermint. So, while she grabbed her coffee, I ordered a Venti (mind you, this is the biggest cup they have) White Hot Chocolate with Peppermint. It cost a bit more than I was expecting, but I was getting a big cup, so no bother. We waited, I got my drink, and BAM!! I was overloaded with peppermint. It was so strong I felt like someone had shoved a peppermint Patty in my throat to melt. The whipped cream was yummy too. That was around 2pm.

3 o'clock rolls by. I'm still drinking my Venti Hot Chocolate. I'm feeling warm in my stomach and happy to be at work. I'm also noticing I'm getting a lot of work done for the mid-afternoon. Then I also start to notice that the peppermint flavoring is disappearing from my drink. When that begins to happen... the drink tastes... different. So I pull down the little cardboard piece they put on the drink so you don't burn your hands and notice the woman who took my order wrote down WPM. Ugh... White Peppermint... MOCHA!!! I was almost to the bottom of my cup when I found out the woman had given me a venti coffee! AHHHHHH! They knew it was me!

I was pretty much wired for the rest of the day. Luckily I didn't crash. I was told that Starbucks has excellent customer service. (HA!) If I call them and tell them what happened or walk in, they would give me a free drink. I don't know if I'll be going back there anytime soon. Starbucks... Haters!

(Just to be safe, I have no real hate or belief that Starbucks is discriminatory in any fashion. All stories are true but the theories discussed are fiction.)

Finally Fall

2008-10-13T22:16:00.001-07:00

In case you wondered... what I call "Fall" doesn't happen in Tucson. No leaves change; no leaves even fall! It's 90 degree weather with the chance of sunburn all day. Oh... and there's cactus. Trust me, nothing weirds you out more than a cactus next to a pumpkin... its just strange.

Halloween is my favorite holiday. I need it to be Fall for Halloween. So, I do what I can. I've put up the lights, I've put out my cauldron, the pumpkin spice candles, and the candy dishes. Witches are everywhere with pumpkins to adorn them. Inside my apartment... it's Fall. It's when I step out that door that things all of sudden go back a season.

I've realized that it's technically been Fall for a month and a half and I still feel like summer is continuing... except for today.

Last night it cooled down to the point where we decided to kill the air conditioning and open the windows. I woke up today with a frosty nose and cold toes. I was so excited!! I never thought I'd be happy to say it was cold, but I am!

Today has been the first day of Fall for me. I've missed Utah so much that I've cried about it. My seasons are important to me... the smell is different, the feeling is different, the overall atmosphere changes throughout the months. That doesn't occur here often. I cried to my Mom Sunday night because I never knew how much I needed it. In a way... I felt stuck.

Heavenly Father must have heard me because it dropped to 39 degrees in the morning!! The day only reached a high of 74 degrees and I was blissful throughout the day. It was necessary too because this week hasn't been the best and I've been nothing but homesick. When I went to play kickball with the FHE group, everyone was freezing and wearing sweatshirts... it made me smile! It's amazing to see Tucsonians put on long sleeves when it reaches 75 degrees!

Unfortunately the weather is supposed to go back to 90 degrees by Friday, but I'm living it up while I've got it!

Third Times Not the Charm- I Hope...

2008-10-07T10:47:00.000-07:00

Just be happy that I’m finally writing a blog. I have several in storage right now that are incomplete but finding the strength and time to finish them has been more of an issue than I thought. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, though… this needed to be spun across the world wide web.

When I first moved to Tucson, I noticed that traffic was an issue. Compared to dear old Cedar City, there is actually traffic here. However, I quickly regained my tendencies for road-rage and became an aggressive driver, something that some of you may remember from my days at Davis High. If I call I you while driving and yell at someone or about how stupid the road system is… it’s all true and well deserved. I have come to the conclusion that although I used to say Idaho drivers were the worse… Tucson takes the cake. In fact, I’d probably bake an entire cake for the whole state of Arizona.

It was my second week in Tucson when I was trying to locate the local Jiffy Lube. Mapquest and Google could not have saved me. I was lost, pulled into a parking lot by what I now refer to as the “ghetto Walgreens” and was preparing to turn around and continue the search. A car began to pull out of a parking space, so like a good driver, I stayed back and waited, only to be shocked when the car I was waiting in front of decided it was a good idea to back out too. I saw the break lights flash and this huge truck, its back end looming over my small Camry, begin to roll backwards. So many things were racing through my head that I couldn’t even honk in time- things like, “Why the hell is this guy backing up when there is clearly a car in his way??!!” and he hit my right headlight with his tire before even noticing that he had a small obstacle in his way- MY CAR

I got out. He got out. We talked. I looked at my headlight. Everything appeared to be ok. No dent, no scratch… luckily his truck was so high off the ground, it was only the tire that hit. He was nice. He helped me check to make sure my lights worked and I told him I was ok and that no information needed to be shared… dumb. Just in general, I think you should always exchange information, and I know this… but once you’re in the situation, it’s a scary thing. Later on, I noticed that I had a small crack in my headlight. More than likely from his truck… ugh.

This morning- as I have now lived in Tucson for over two months- I was casually driving myself to work. I wanted to stop by the post office, but was already running slightly late. I decided to go through the normal downtown route to get to the theater which is smack in the middle of downtown. As I was driving in the far left lane (one way street, mind you) another car pulls up to the side of me. He starts to drift… he continues to drift… right into the side of my car! I honked, earlier this time, and it didn’t even get a response out of the guy! No turn signal, no jerk movement when he began to slide, no reaction what-so-ever as he continued to pull in front of me. He hung his hand out the window with a smoking cigarette and looked at me in his left side mirror. Just looked. Didn’t give me A look, just stared at me and waved his cigarette. I didn’t even know how to respond. This guy looked high, intoxicated, sleepy, and all of the above. He also didn’t look like a guy I really wanted to have a chat about how stupid he was for hitting the side of my car. I followed him down the next street, but it crossed my mind that maybe he didn’t really hit me and it just seemed like it. After all, it was just a little bump if anything. I did not want to face this guy, I was already late for work, and I was upset. However, I pulled up next to him to talk and he left me in the dust. Obviously he didn’t want to talk either. I memorized his license plate and headed to the post office.

When I got out, I checked my car. Yep, a little dent above my right head tire. Plus, it looks like the crack in my headlight from before was bigger and my bumper seems a little off from normal. I was mad. I stormed into my office and told my boss’s boss, who told me to call the police… but I didn’t. I called Dad instead who told me to check out my car again, see how bad the damage really is, and then make the call. He said it might not be worth the hassle as far as insurance goes, but I did call the police and made a report so that this guy, if he is dangerous to drivers, may be taken off the road. I felt better after that.

So, that’s twice I’ve been hit in Tucson. Twice I’ve been ok. Twice nothing too serious has happened. Lets hope the third time is NOT the charm. In fact, lets hope there is no third time.

Helpless

2008-09-23T20:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a month packed full of rehearsal and work. I can't lie and say I've loved every minute... but I'm very happy with the outcome and I'm excited that there's a show on stage for so many to enjoy. I learned a lot and I'm grateful for the experience and for my job.

On my day off several weeks ago, something happend. I guess I should start by saying Tucson has a lot of unfortunate people who are visable every day. There are helpless people wandering the streets all the time, a lot in front of the offices where I work, but everywhere really. I don't bother with the ones so close to my work... they often ask for money, sometimes for the time (which I do give) and make comments like, "You're such a pretty lady," and so on.

My boss paid me to watch her cats and house for a week, so I was trying to find her bank to cash the check and buy some Halloween decorations. I'm obsessed, its ok. I'm getting over it... not the obsession, the fact that I have one. I finally found it and outside were two unfortunates- a man and a woman who begged for help. All they asked was for help, but I guess I assumed they wanted money. I was alone and just said, "Sorry, I don't have anything," as I walk into a bank. I couldn't have felt more guilty. These people are much older than me and can't even afford to eat a real meal, and I'm 22, graduated from college, full and sheltered, being paid for a job I love, and about to go buy decorations.

After my trip through Walmart to pick up my plastic pumpkin and orange string lights, I saw another man wandering the parking lot. He looked so sad, limping slightly, wearing old camouflage pants and a ragged old plain shirt, his skin so tan it could be leather, and a face that had no light in it. This man had no glow behind his sunken gray eyes. My heart broke as I slightly ignored his presence close to my car. He watched me pile things into my trunk and then kindly asked me, "Could you spare a dollar so I can buy a taco?" I looked behind him to notice the Taco Bell and looked back at this man, understanding that he was sincere in his request. If my heart was already broken, it shattered at this point. I put my stuff away and turned to the man and said, "You know what? How about I buy you dinner and go over there with you?" I quickly prayed a little to ask for safety, since I was by myself and began the walk to the Taco Bell across the parking lot.

He didn't say much. I asked him how he was doing. He response, "Oh fine... just hungry." He then asked me the same question in return to which I stupidly answered, "Good, just hungry too!" Dumb Laura. We got to the Taco Bell, he seemed surprised I opened the door for him. I led him in, asked him what he wanted and all he asked for was one taco and a drink of water. How humble this man must be, not even greedy even though I'm offering him the entire menu for choice. I bought him two tacos and gave him the three dollars left over from my five, explaining that he should buy himself more if he is still hungry and looked at the cashier, who also understood what I was doing. She smiled at me and helped the man to his order. I told him to have a good day and walked back to my car. My heart still hurts for this poor man... I didn't even ask his name.

I cried the entire way back to my apartment. How did I end up so lucky and how did he end up so poor? It makes me angry how many people I see wandering the streets, just surviving every day, never actually living their lives or reaching their full potential. Somewhere, they gave up or someone gave up on them. It makes me mad at the city, it makes me mad at the world, and it makes me want to do something about it! I can't sit by and let my fellow man disappear in the desert dust. So... I'm trying to find ways to help. I haven't been successful yet, but I will, don't you worry!

Matt gave me a really good way of looking at it, though. He wrote me and said, "Thank God for all that you do have and for a mind that won't allow you to give up." I've never thought of it that way, but now I'm glad I do.

New Wardies

2008-08-05T19:10:00.000-07:00

As I promised, the Sunday Stories. Much like last time... its thunder and lighting outside and has been every night. Just setting the mood.

Sunday was an interesting day. I had kept the cat all night with me which kept me up all night, so needless to say I was exhausted. The night before my roommates and I were chatting and I had mentioned that I didn't have any food, which was ok because they said we were having "Break the Fast" on Sunday anyway. Guess I'm a stupid Mormon because I had never heard of the activity. My family took me out to breakfast anyway because I was kind of exhausted, but we won't tell them. ;) I'm sure they wouldn't judge me too harshly.

This leaves me an hour to get ready for my first day in my new ward. I'm super nervous about changing wards. I didn't ward hop like many did in Cedar. I stayed where I was comfortable and it was a nice steady structure for me to base everything off of. Changing wards is a BIG deal and the bishop had to work with me.

So we leave for church, running a bit late, and turns out my roommate is one of those crazy Tucson drivers I had been reading about before I got here! She FLEW us to this little white chapel on the other side of the University (I live right next to U of A) and we quickly ran into the building. I was shocked.

The building was tiny so I didn't know what to expect, but there was hardly anyone in the small meeting hall. If you think that we grew up with old buildings from the 1970's... you're SO wrong. This room had old white washed walls with wooden beams and long chandeliers that had fluorescent. The building was falling apart and seemed somewhat crooked to me. The benches were light blue, obviously reupholstered because they didn't match the light orange carpet and trimming around the room. As we sat down, the Bishop was already speaking when he said, "I can't believe how many of you are here today!" My eyes widened. There must have been about 30-35 people there, but I'm used to a LOT more than that.

It was Fast Sunday. The best Sunday to see what a new ward is all about. I told friends that it was very different but very much the same. There were new people, new issues, new drama, but all the same old stereotypical people. There was the "cool" guy, the overly spiritual, gorgeous girl, the "sweet" spirit, the old man, the convert (actually, more converts than I've ever met), the creepy guy, and the psycho girl. Whether or not you like my bluntness, you are admitting in your head that you have at least one of each of these in your ward. I'm glad that my roommates are none of these and they seemed to have shared most of my views, although they're a lot more polite and kind about it.

The psycho girl is what I can't get over. Granted, I was new to the ward so I figured I'd be a little put off anyway, but my roommates said she hadn't been coming to our ward, so I wasn't the only one. She got up, RM, to tell us all that her mother had been put in a mental hospital years ago. Ok... to much information. She went on to explain that she had been placed there because she heard voices telling her to kill herself or a building was going to blow up. Once again I was thinking, "Ok, gotcha, you probably shouldn't be telling everyone this, it seems personal." She continued to talk about her family and her problems... I felt more awkward than ever! I felt bad because afterwards I really just wanted to avoid her in case she wanted to reveal more about her life. What she had already said was enough to digest for one day.

Sunday school was awesome. We had a REAL teacher! I mean it, she really taught 4th grade and she taught us like it was 4th grade... and it was actually refreshing. Relief Society isn't that much different outside of Utah. A bunch of girls in a room ready to talk. It was in Relief Society, though, that I started to notice that this ward was a little more concerned about dating than my last one. They asked a lot of questions about it. When we got to "Break the Fast" they made sure that we all had to integrate with the guys and even when we got food, guys had to be on one side of the tables while girls got their food on the other so that we could "mingle". I laughed... they weren't pushy, just silly about it. I always figured that church outside of Utah was more relaxed in that area, but I have to admit, a part of it felt like home.

I was caught up with all the church gossip. Who's dating who, who's weird, who's cool, who likes who, who doesn't like who, etc. My roommates have been really awesome about it all. Mandy, my room roommate, says the goal is to get one of the ward boys to ask me out on a date... hmmm... bet that'll be a good story!

To Tucson

2008-08-03T23:09:00.000-07:00

And so it begins. I'm sitting in my new house (or rather duplex) watching the lightning strike the city and the thunder shake the house. I'm on my roommate's computer because mine is yet to find a home in our small abode. Pictures will have to come later, but imagine a little cube divided into four major smaller cubes with a middle square area, our laundry room, and a bathroom to the side. I basically live in geometric quarters. I also like it.

I started the journey to this desert (ha, if you think Utah is a desert, think again!) on Saturday morning. After filling my car to the max, I realized I would never be able to bring all my stuff in my car alone. I've definitely acquired many items during my life in Cedar City and I also am not ready to let it go. Holli would be upset by that remark.

Morgan was supposed to come with me, but the fates had a different idea and so instead of Morg joining my adventure, my poor parents decided to follow me the entire way down. (I think they secretly planned this anyway since they had plenty of clothes for the "surprise" trip) and this allowed me to bring the stuff I wanted. You guessed it, the majority was clothes, shoes, and holiday decorations.

The drive was so long. I had my kitten with me since Mom and Dad were taking him home, and all I could do to keep myself from going insane was singing at the top of my lungs. Needless to say, I got a few scratches for hitting the high notes, or rather missing them. Most of the beginning drive was a one lane road with a 65mph speed limit. If you know me... I was ready to die. At one point I couldn't take it anymore and decided to pass five cars at once, including a semi. I got a phone call after playing chicken with a truck coming the opposite direction that had an angry father on the other line.

I stopped at the Indian reservation. The old man who was selling the jewelry was ready to make a sale. He saw my cat and started telling me "I have a cat that looks just like him. His name is Ashley." Wow... Ashley. I haven't heard that name for a boy since Gone with the Wind and even then I still think its a weird name for a boy. He repeated this several times, but I already wanted to buy something. Mom bought a GIANT turquoise bracelet and I purchased a simple turquoise necklace. I like shopping on the Res... I feel legit with the jewelry!

I continued to sing as I drove, and drove, and drove, and drove.... and... drove. (You should be singing that to the Pioneer song) Desert everywhere and then all of a sudden... its forest. Green pine trees everywhere! I thought we had taken a wrong turn and ended up in Colorado. Turns out Flagstaff is just a random green area of Arizona. After stopping to get lunch there I asked my Dad how long till Mesa, since that's where my Grandparents live and it's only about an hour and a half from Tucson. He said four hours. FOUR HOURS? Was he kidding? I hoped that the Burger King Whopper in my hand was poisoned. It wasn't, so back into the car. I was beginning to notice the heat by then... it was much hotter than Cedar.

Three hours of Disney songs later, we arrived in Phoenix, which is huge and retarded. The signs for the streets are backwards from Utah. You can't look to your right to see what street you're on, you have to look left, and there are no signs anywhere that tell you where you are, just exit signs. I didn't really know if we had reached Phoenix or Mesa until Dad's GPX said so. Thank goodness he had that, too, because I would have been lost the entire way and would have been somewhere in the middle of New Mexico without it.

I haven't seen my dad's parents in a long time, about six years. It was nice to visit them and to be told I could go up there for Holidays and whenever I felt like it. Mom says Grandpa looks like Bill Clinton, and now that's all I can think about. Sad.

The drive from Mesa to Tucson was the worst of all. Construction, blackness, and BAD DRIVERS. I'm not kidding... anyone who ever thought I was crazy at driving has not been to Tucson. My roommate, herself, is one of them! She doesn't know I think this. I basically got a knot in my back from driving that last hour and it didn't help that the exits closed at night so we had to take a different one and I got lost from the parental units. I ended up following a different car thinking it was my family until I got a phone call telling me it was impossible for me to be following them because they were parked somewhere else.

Frustrated and scared, I pulled off to a gas station. I watched as a truck pulled in and one guy steps out and turns his radio up full blast. It's a Hispanic pop song. "Oh... great," I said out loud. It was then I knew that life couldn't be THAT much different than Cedar! I found my cubed house and settled in with the roommates.

They're an interesting bunch, all returned missionaries and unlike what I assumed, all undergrads. I was happy to brag about my recent degree. They welcomed me in and so far, I'm doing OK. I was upset they didn't want my kitten to stay. I found that out the week before I left, but turns out it was just one girl who just doesn't like cats. I feel bad, but I have a secret dislike for her already. Especially since one of the first things she said was, "Well, I'm leaving for California. I'll get to know you better next week." She's gone but we'll see how things go. I'm trying to keep an open mind, as Ravi tells me I should.

I didn't sleep much. The storms are crazy here, but I like that. It was the cat that I had to keep for the one night (the hotel my parents were at wouldn't allow them) and he wanted to run around and I wouldn't let him. I woke up at six in the morning to find my face drenched with sweat. It was humid and sticky. I've gone back in time to my high school years with my facial complexion and I'm not happy about it. It reached 92' by 10 in the morning.

I said goodbye to my parents who were so wonderful for driving with me and said goodbye to my cat, Pippin. That was, honestly, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm attached to the little bugger.

I should head to bed now, but I have great stories about my new Ward. Stay tuned for Sunday Stories!

22 Going on 12

2008-07-15T08:29:00.000-07:00

For the rest of the month, I will be chaperoning the kids who come to the Shakespeare Festival for their week long camps. Yes, I do get paid which is the primary reason I volunteer myself to such madness... but as Hamlet says, there is a method to it. I actually enjoy being around the theatre nerds, even if they are between the ages of 11 and 18.

Right now I'm helping with the Actor Training class. They're the older bunch and usually a little more to handle because they expect more freedom. When I walked into the group, I recognized a lot of them. Turns out, I've chaperoned some of them in the past two years and we recognize each other! One step skipped- establishing a bond. This also made it easier for me to set rules and for them to listen... they know what kind of chaperon I am.

By the way, chaperon is kind of a fancy term for babysitter.

I am watching over 8 girls in one apartment. Most are pretty good. They are all a little wild, a little more interested in boys than before, and definitely have a PG-13 - Rated R language barrier. I was surprised to hear the "F" work so many times while I wasn't working in the theatre. One of the other chaperons and myself discussed how shocked we were that they knew what they were talking about and they are only 15 years old. Makes you wonder how different its going to be when we have kids- Jenna... watch out!

There is one girl, though, that drives me nuts. The girls are good about listening to me, following the rules, going to their apartment when they need to, etc. One, however, gives me a hard time.

When I first met this girl, who we'll call Becca, she was in her room with one of the boys I remember from last year. He's kind of fruit cake, so I've never been worried about anything inappropriate going on, especially since they are always with other people. She likes this boy, though, and I can tell. Anyway, her room was stashed with Welch's Sparkling Grape Juice and Starbucks Espresso Shots everywhere, a cork screw (which you don't need because there is no cork), wine glasses, rose petals, and fresh fruit! I asked why she brought all of that with her and her response was, "I didn't, my Dad left it for me because he didn't want me to feel homesick." I thought to myself, "Whoa, if you get this at home... spoiled brat."

She likes to hang out in the boys apartment. She doesn't like that I give her rules and a curfew. The first night she asked if she could sleep over with the boys. I thought that was a stupid question. So after my obvious answer, she threw a fit about it. Begged me to let them at least stay in the hallway together. Hmmm... let me think about that... nope! I apologized to her that evening and said, "Don't worry, if you obey the rules now, we'll have fun later, I promise." She looked at me with sad eyes and said, "You don't have to worry about us, he has a girlfriend!" I didn't say anything, just walked away thinking, "Huh... doesn't really matter, does it?"

The next night she wanted to stay up and watch a movie with them. Same answer.

Last night, she left the apartment and I said, "Be back by 11." She turned around and stared at me. "Uh... we just got here and there's only 10 minutes left." So I just gave her back the same answer, "Be back by 11." Then she argued with me. I was planning to let them stay out till 11:30 but I need to establish that there are rules and boundaries. She said, "I don't WANT to be back by 11." I of course replied, "I don't care, those are the rules that we all follow, be back by 11 and if you don't argue with me, things will be much better." She gave me the hand... yeah, did you know people actually do that?!... and left with a big huff.

Later, some of the girls in another apartment didn't tell their chaperon they had come to our apartment, so we had to send every girl back, and that included me making my girls get into their rooms 15 minutes early. Sometimes it amazes me how much a quarter of an hour means to these kids. Most of my girls were already in the room, but three were out. The two who were goofing off with the boys were disappointed, but walked back to our room without arguing. Becca, however, hid in one of the guy's rooms. I found her, after the guys helped me, and told her it was time to go. She didn't move. She argued with me. I stood my ground and said, "I let you out 15 minutes past what I said, so its time to go." She gave me the hand again and pushed herself up and started walking to our apartment. As we were walking down the hall, she passed a guy and yelled, "She kicked me out, she won't let me stay with you guys!" As if I had oppressed her... I was taking away her poor youth, her chance to hang out with the boys, her need to express her freedom... whatever, it was ridiculous. Everyone else was fine, why was she giving me a hard time?

She stood in our apartment and cried. Seriously. The other girls said she was upset because I wasn't like her chaperon last year who let her stay up till 1 in the morning. I asked if the other girls thought I was mean and they responded by saying I followed the rules and in the past, other chaperons haven't.

So the rules stand. I'm usually pretty lenient during the last couple of days after they've settled in more. I have a feeling I'm going to have to deal with this girl every night this week... can't wait to hear the complaints from Daddy about that one.

It's Not Just Bad for You... It Kills!

2008-07-10T20:31:00.001-07:00

Last night my roommate and I had Dairy Queen for dinner. We both love fry sauce. Well, we weren't super smart and left our garbage on the front porch and some animal must have gotten into it because it was sprawled across the front lawn.

As I was picking it all up this afternoon, I noticed that dirt had gotten into the fry sauce cups. I looked closer... nope... not dirt. Ants. Not just ants... dead ants.

So there you have it... they were all over every single fry sauce cup. Fry Sauce kills ants. A good tip to think of the next time there's an infestation. Fast food doesn't just cause obesity in humans... it kills bugs. That says something, right?

What Happened in Vegas is Worth Telling

2008-07-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

It has been over a year since I've been to Vegas. I've lived two hours away from Sin City for four years, but I haven't visited very often. Mostly, I haven't had a car, time, and the most important requirement in Vegas... money.

My best buddie Matty (wow, that's a cheesy nickname, oh well) and his family were in Vegas this weekend. He's leaving on his mission to Ireland at the end of August and my chances of seeing him are slim, so this was a great opportunity for me. So, after figuring out where he was in Vegas, I got in the car, and just drove.

I've never driven to Vegas and never done it alone. I've always been a passenger and driving was so much better! I rarely wondered when I would get there... I just enjoyed being in the car and getting away from Cedar City. Anyone who has lived there would be able to explain the joyfulness I was experiencing.

One of my favorite things about a trip to Vegas is the desert, desert, desert... whoa! Under that giant cloud is a city!! It's even cooler at night when its just a smoggy glow. Sad that sometimes we find pollution beautiful.

When I arrived in the City of Lights- which it wasn't so lit up when I got there because it was morning- Matt told me they were staying in Mandalay Bay. I was excited. I've stayed at the Luxor, Excalibur, and the Stratosphere, but never Mandalay Bay. Parking is always a challenge for me in Vegas. I'm a lover of the Valet. First of all, it's mostly free in Vegas at the hotels. You should always tip your valet, and I always do. In fact, I bet I tip my Valet drivers much better than any waitress or waiter I've ever had... I wonder why that is. Well, I drove into the wrong lane (hotel guest valet only... should have lied), so then I had to drive the 500 miles back out of the wrong lane (it's as if they WANT to confuse you) and get into the proper lane, but I was expecting to end up in Self Parking. Instead, I ended up at The Hotel valet parking, which I had no problem getting them to park my car.

After that I called Matt to let him know I was here. Now little did I know that Mandalay Bay had an extended building called The Hotel. Who's stupid enough to name their hotel that? It only confuses people like me. The conversation went somewhat like this,

"Hi Matt, I'm here."

"Great... where are you?"

"Downstairs as the hotel."

"Wait, The Hotel?"

"Yes, I'm walking through the lobby."

"The Hotel?"

"Yes... duh."

"So Mandalay Bay or The Hotel?"

"I'm at the hotel! You know, Mandalay Bay, the hotel you're staying at."

"We're staying at Mandalay Bay."

"That's where I am!"

"You said you were at The Hotel!"

"I am!"

"What?!"

Finally we figured it out and I met him downstairs in the Mandalay Bay lobby. Matt proceeded to take me into a set of elevators where you had to use your key to get on only three floors allowed... turns out my good friend Matt... his family is RICH! I had NO idea. His family was on the 61st floor in a penthouse suite... it was bigger than the house I'm living in right now and it was awesome! There was two kitchens, two bathrooms, two living rooms, two large bedrooms, a dinning room, and a plasma TV in every room.

His parents kept offering me food. I felt very overwhelmed and his dad took us upstairs to the Crystal Room where the VIPs spent their time. It had another TV, a buffet for free, and an assistant to wait on you hand and foot. I also got to try different cheeses while up there... and the view was gorgeous.

Matt and I went shopping, but not before I met his entire family besides his younger brother. They were just like him! It was amazing that I could finally see where he got all his traits, personality, etc. I loved hanging out with his family and they made me laugh. Matt also wouldn't let me leave the casino without putting a dollar in the slots, which I lost and I'm still mad about. I don't understand how people can sit around pumping quarters and dollars and more into a machine all day.

Matt's parents were so amazing. His dad paid for me to eat at the buffet and then they gave me a ticket to Mamma Mia! the musical downstairs. Lets just say, I didn't expect to do anything in Vegas but walk around and maybe watch the Bellagio water show. I also would have been more than satisfied with that.

While we were wandering around the hotel (Mandalay Bay) I noticed there was a reception for a wedding going on. There were signs everywhere. I told Matt I wanted to see the bride and he rolled his eyes at me. When his dad took us to dinner, we got there early because the show started so early. As we were eating... I saw the bride! She and her entire wedding party was eating at the buffet with the rest of us. She was a pretty girl... but one of those girls that is a little too big for her dress... yikes! Either way, she was very kind as I waited what seemed like hours in the line to get shrimp.

I loved the show. I absolutely adored it and had lots of fun critiquing in my head. Sometimes its nice to go to a show that seems so well done that I don't have to fix it, and I felt that way through most of the show. Of course I have some suggestions here and there, but overall... I loved it! I even downloaded the music from it because I'm having so much fun remembering the scenes. There's also a movie coming out soon... what a coincidence.

As we were walking into the auditorium, I looked at our tickets to check for the seats. Uh... oh wait... they're $110 tickets, center seating. I stopped Matt and asked him if he knew this, his reply, "Yeah, so?" I didn't make a big deal about it, but I couldn't believe how awesome and amazing his parents were! Oh, and Matty is pretty awesome too. He took me shopping and I didn't get lost once.

The only thing about Vegas is that you can pretty much drink anywhere. Most of the audience had alcoholic beverages and some were pretty tipsy by the time the show was over- dancing in the aisles, singing with the music, waving their hands around like they just didn't care...etc. One couple stood up below us and made the people in front of them angry. They got into a yelling argument during curtain call and continued to yell at each other after. It was incredibly awkward!

Afterwards, Matt's family offered to let me stay the night, but I decided they were too hospitable to me already and I needed to get home. Turns out, they all left that night on a whim. I had a little magical moment in Vegas for a day, all thanks to my good friend Matty.

Long, Beautiful... Hair

2008-06-11T09:30:00.000-07:00

A quick side note- ATC is scheduled to perform HAIR while I'm working for them. That is so exciting for me! Nudity and all... not that I'm fascinated by the nudity, but I really can't wait to see how a professional (or any) theatre works with it because who knows what I'm going to have to be directing in the future. It's a thrilling process.

Hair is an interesting part of the human body. It's basically a bunch of dead cells combined to create protein, so if you're lacking just eat some hair. Mmmmmm... yummy. Some of the hair protects us, while other hair is useless to many of us today and so we try and rid ourselves of it.

It's amazing how hair is so important to people. For instance, my roommate believes that you should never cut your hair... ANY OF IT. She doesn't shave her legs or under her arms, and it works for her. The Polygamists seem to have a connection with their religious beliefs and the way they wear their hair. The military makes you shave your head most times... hair is a symbolic status in many ways, especially in the past.

These days, it doesn't really matter how you wear your hair. You could be bald, as we've seen Brittany Spears pull off, or you can cut it short, medium, leave it long, dreadlocks, spiky, you name it, we accept it. I love that about our culture... really, it takes a lot to shock us when it comes to hair. My last roommate used to dye her hair pink, blue, and purple. It was unique.

So then the question comes to me, why do people notice my hair all the time? I'll take a minute to brag- I do have GREAT hair. Granted, I have split ends up the wazoo... but I have long, thick, healthy red hair; and it's amazing that it's healthy because it isn't naturally red. I dye it a lot. I also don't do much to it except the occasional straightener and blow dryer. It's also naturally curly/wavy, so it doesn't take much effort for me to make it look somewhat styled.

I've been approached by many just over my hair. Its usually the elders that notice my hair, and I would understand that... they're longing to have my red locks rather then their short, curly, slightly balding white mass upon their scalps. It is somewhat cute when an old man says I'm a cute girl just because of my red hair. I'm thinking red hair was something unique in the 50's... who knows.

I was at church once when an older man looked at me, turned, and then came back. (I honestly cannot remember if I've written this story before, so skip it if you've read it.) He started telling me a story. I'll try and quote him as much as possible.
"When I was first going to college back before SUU was a University, my buddies and I used to drive a sleek, red, thunderbird convertible." (It was at this point that I thought he was going to tell me that my hair was the color of his car... but he kept going.) "We use to drive that car all around town, trying to pick up girls. So we put a sticker on the back of the car that said 'Will stop for blondes and brunettes'..." he paused and smiled at me. I had NO idea where he was going with this. "Then the sticker said 'Will back up 10 feet for redheads'!" He had that scratchy old man laugh and patted me on the back. I smiled and laughed... wow, I guess that's a good compliment.

At graduation, one of the girls that was speaking with me was talking to me after the ceremony. She touched my hair (as most women who decide to comment on my hair) and said, "I just LOVE the color of your hair, I've always wanted to be a redhead." I thanked her only to get the response, "You're so brave." What does that mean?!

This last weekend I was in St. George and went shopping. As I was checking out of Ross the clerk said, "I love your hair. It's so beautiful." I thanked her as usual and even added the snobby remark of, "I didn't even do anything with it today!" Then she added, "It looks like something out of the middle ages... medieval like." Wait a minute... is that really a compliment? Should I look like I've walked out of the dirty, female oppressed times of the middle ages? And not to mention... did I look like royalty or like a peasant? As I'm walking away thinking about these things... I'm sure she had no intention of making me concerned.

Hair is the last thing I'm concerned about with people. Just look at my ex-boyfriend. I obviously appreciate it if its clean but really, you could be Pippy Longstalkings for all I care, and hair would never bother me. I even love my hairy roommate. :)

Odd One Out

2008-06-05T08:36:00.000-07:00

Well, the summer is here and most of my roommates are in Hawaii enjoying their job with Del Sole. As for Ravi and I... we're going through the experience of a new body in the house. Her name is Sharla, but let it be known she's very soft spoken, so I called her Charlotte for the first few days she was living with us. Ooops.

She's not only soft spoken... she doesn't speak at all. I don't think I've heard more than 10 words out of her mouth a day. She's awkward and I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way... but she just doesn't fit in with the previous roommates, Ravi, and I.

Her boyfriend's name is Shane. He's talked more to me than she has and he's fairly nice, but he's also on my strange encounters list. On Sunday they came over to make smores in the backyard. Which, by the way, the fire pit is about two feet away from my bedroom window and I'm not the happiest person when they decide to light it. Afterwards they sat in our living room and just talked. They had another guy over but I can't remember his name. We'll call him Brad.

As they conversed about people I didn't know and topics I would have rather stayed away from, such as gossip with my roommates or bodily functions, I noticed Shane was holding a large knife and cleaning it off with his shirt and his spit. Gross. Brad said the word genealogy but instead of pronouncing it correctly he said, gen-ology. I kind of considered myself not a part of this group after that. In the middle of the conversation, Shane mentioned saving a date for his wedding. I asked if he and Sharla were engaged, and they said "No, not yet." Why does everyone do it backwards around here? Plan the date, then get engaged?

The next day I noticed in Sharla's bathroom (she's the only one upstairs) that there were a ton of KitKat and Twix wrappers in the garbage can. Tons! It looked like someone had eaten two bags full. My suspicions of my roommate were then created and I now worry about her. Why they are in the bathroom and not the kitchen or her room's trash... I'm not sure, but I have my guesses.

The next evening, she comes waltzing into the house while Ravi and I were watching TV, and she brings her entire family who doesn't say much and we had to introduce ourselves. Her sister was more talkative than anyone and found it funny to steal her sister's video camera. Shane follows and they don't say anything more than "Hi."

After talking to our roommates in Hawaii about a rumor, we find out that Sharla and Shane are engaged and it happened that night! They didn't say ANYTHING to us... that's weird. If I were engaged, I'd of course tell my roommates, and probably anyone walking past me. I confronted Shane about it yesterday and he just stared and me and said, "Oh... my bad."

Yesterday I was reading in my living room when Sharla came home. She walked past me and the usual, doesn't say anything but, "It's cold." After a few minutes I hear her cry from the kitchen, "Laura?"
"Yeah?" I respond, never taking my eyes off the words in front of me.
"Do you know how to work the microwave?"

I immediately look up and think for a minute... I don't think I've ever been asked that question before. I respond "Yes" only to have her say, "Could you come show me?" So I pulled myself off the sticky pleather chair I was sitting on and go into the kitchen. There she stands, just staring at the white microwave which is blinking back at her. "Type how long you want it to cook..." she does so, "Then... press start." She does. She laughs, "Oh... I was pushing the wrong button! I feel stupid." I just smile and say, "No, it's ok, I can understand." As I'm walking away though I couldn't help but think her statement about herself was probably correct.

Sickens Me

2008-05-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

Lately, a lot of things have made me sick; emotionally, physically, and mentally. Too bad our brains can't throw up to release infection and pressure... because at this moment, that might be helpful.

Unfortunately, I have a cold. Most likely from my sister while I was visiting up north, but it could have happened anywhere. That is the physical illness... and not to mention that when I get hungry, I get heartburn instead of my stomach growling... that is very annoying and I'm a little confused as to why. Maybe my senses are confused as well.

Yet, lets get to the other sicknesses I'm talking about because thats where it gets interesting.

I'll start with the sickness working on me right now. At this very moment as I'm typing each of these letters, forming them into words and into a story... one of the particular persons in the Involvement offices is with her boyfriend of a month and they are in her office, throwing a ball back and forth staring into each other's eyes with ponder and love and deep thought... yeah right. I'm not so annoyed that they are together, in fact, I'm not in that depression at all anymore. (Told you it would go away!) It's the icky, gooey, "we're so in love" presence they bring into the office and it makes things a little awkward and I'm not sure why. It probably doesn't help that this person hasn't been very nice to me and I don't really like her all that much since Elections. It also sickens me that yesterday, they bought a pet together. They couldn't figure out if there was a pet store in Cedar so I googled it and called the store for them. She just informed me they bought a hamster and named in Buddy, oh and she added, "Thanks to you, Laura!" Hmmm... dare I quote my blog title- IRONY.

The DMV and City Offices SICKEN me. Another sickness- I've lost my drivers license. I'm not sure how and I'm not sure why these things happen to me, but they do and they are very annoying. So, after searching for a day it seemed and having no luck, I have to get a new drivers license. I dread all city offices and state offices.

Lets think... has there ever been a moment in your life where you actually felt happy to be somewhere like that? Social Security office, DMV, Justice Courts, etc... NO! We don't go there just "because". There's a purpose and it's never a nice purpose. The only time I can think of MAYBE being somewhat happy is getting your drivers license for the first time... but we learn quickly after standing in line for an hour that the DMV is not a happy place nor a fun one, nor even a good environment all around. Lets also not forget that there is something about city, county, and state offices that attract the weirdest and creepiest people known to man! Half of them are the workers.

So I had to go to the DMV to get a new license. I was told it was at the same place as the county court offices, so there I went. I've been there before to pay a speeding ticket... I hate it. I also have issues with places that have metal detectors. I'm not sure why, but they give me panic attacks. (I don't do well at airports.) So I quickly walk through, without the guard even nodding his head, I walk to the Motor Vehicle office while a guy behind me decideds to try and beat me to the door that was three feet in front of us! He put his hand on the door knob in front of me! Like I said, creeps!

I walk up to the typical, stereotype woman at the desk and explain my situation. In the slowest response known to man, she says I'm in the wrong office. She gives me directions to the actual DMV which is a heck of ways out of town, and then proceeds to tell me that I have to wait because they are closed from 12-1 for lunch. Her voice was so irritating, her glasses falling off her skinny nose, and her tone of voice just about made me scream my head off. I wasn't irritated or sick when I got to the Court offices... but once I got into the building, I was a bubbling volcano ready to explode. So I left quickly and went to look for the DMV, which I found closed. I find that sickening as well... why would a place close during lunch hour for everyone else?! How are those of us who only get that time off to go there supposed to get there?! Luckily I have a flexible job but I wasted half an hour.

I'm going back now... and I'm sick about not knowing what I'll run into next.

Keys Unlocking more Secrets

2008-05-09T08:47:00.000-07:00

I have yet another blog about my landlord.

It all begins with this weekend and the Internet connection at my house. As I mentioned in a past blog, he asked if I would move back into the house he had me move out of the semester before. I'm actually much happier at this house. Although I enjoyed meeting my new roommate, I missed my roommates from the house and the fact that I couldn't hear anything below me.

I needed the Net Key to get the Internet at the house. I still had the connection, but I didn't have the key. Everyone was gone except for Monica, so I left a note on her door to make sure I could get the key before she left. (She left a note saying she'd be gone for a while) I was still with my parents after Graduation but when I came back she was in a car and driving away. I called her and she said, "Oh, I don't have the key, but you can ask my parents or call our server. Sorry, see ya later!"

So I go over to the landlord's house. He stars at me for a minute and says, "No, Monica is in charge, we don't have anything for the Internet over there, we just pay for it." His wife comes into the room to talk to me. She pulled out her own box of information about their Internet, but she didn't have anything to give me. "Dutch" grabbed her as she started to apologize to me, and pushed her into the kitchen saying, "I'll handle this..." I wasn't very happy when I saw him treat his wife like that.

I proceed to go back to my house and get the box for the Internet like the landlord asked. I go back to his house... where he looks through the box trying to find the number that my dad and I were looking for hours ago. I already knew it wasn't there. He pulls out a sheet of paper and points to a number and says, "I bet that's it!" I point out to him that he is looking at the receipt for the purchase of the Internet and he is pointing to a purchase order. He points to several more numbers on the sheet, which I tell him are invoice and item numbers, all of which are not the key I needed. So he makes me call our Internet company in his house. After the need for billing information and handing the phone to "Dutch", he proceeded to not only to give the information to the poor operator, but to yell at him for no reason. He handed the phone back to me and the operator told me I needed to get to the actual modem.

I tell Dutch this, he looks at me like I'm stupid, and I tell him, "Monica's door is locked." He goes crazy! He starts yelling that Monica is in charge of the house, she shouldn't be locking her door, she's the one who is irresponsible, etc... I felt UNCOMFORTABLE! He asked me to check her windows, which I thought was weird and I told him they were locked. He called her and yelled at her over the phone, using me as the excuse, and after he said talked to her he told me there was a spare key in the house. I didn't think there would be...

I was right! There was no spare key, at least not where he told me there would be one. He asked me if I would bring it to him when I find it so he could make a copy. He even told me he would give ME a copy... that was weird. I don't want a key to Monica's room. I don't want anything in Monica's room except the network key on the side of the modem on her desk.

After being frustrated, my good friends Mike and Talon dropped in and Talon was able to open her door without even really trying. I went in, got the code, and walked out, locking the door behind me. It took less than a minute. I feel bad breaking into Monica's room, but I'm sure she would be fine with it, and I feel bad her dad yelled at her. I never went back over and I never told them I got the key.

And so the days went on. My roommates left to go to training, so I've been home alone. I was washing the dishes the other day when I heard my door slam. No one walked it... but I see someone walking out... it was Monica's little brother. He had been in my house and I didn't even know it, and my door was locked. He saw me through the window and came running back into the house. He asked me if I had a Nano Ipod charger because his was dead and there was one in Monica's room, but of course... it was locked. I tried to help him out, but I didn't have the charger and I was still a little ticked and confused why and how he got into my house.

He started walking down my stairs and I stopped him and said, "Where are you going?" He said, "Oh... I was going to look to see if anyone else had one... does anyone else live downstairs?" I'm sorry, WHAT?! He was going to go look through our rooms? How often does he do that?! Now, I've told my roommate this whole story and she says that they've just kind of let him come over and do whatever because he's Monica's little brother and they all treat him like that. I don't. I don't think it's ok, in my opinion and I don't like the fact that he might have been in my room before.

I sent him away, locked the door, only to hear the door slammed again while I was downstairs in my room. I walked up stairs and found the kid's ipod... charging away in Monica's radio adaptor in the kitchen. I was mad.

Mike came over and ate dinner with me. He was there when we watched the kid walk right up to my door, didn't knock or ring the doorbell, and walked right in. I asked him if he knocked, and he said no. Mike yelled at him saying this wasn't his house. I told him that he needed to knock before he came into this house because he didn't live here and a bunch of girls did. He argued with me and said that before he knocked and rang the doorbell and no one answered. I don't think he did, but I said, "So... you just walked in?" He said yes. I asked if he had a key, and he said yes. WAIT A MINUTE! This little 11 year old boy has a KEY to the house I'm living in?! Where we keep all of our stuff and he doesn't lock the door when he leaves?! I was sooooo mad! I told him he should knock from now on... I haven't seen him since.

Between his parents and him... I was so angry with my landlord.

Then... yesterday, I get the mail. In my last blog about the landlord, I said that he still has his personal mail sent to the house I'm living at now. He claims it's because it's too hard to change it and that they've planned on moving... whatever. I got the mail, starting looking through it. It was all for him, until I saw one thing for his daughter (not Monica) from the Iron Country Justice department. I've gotten one of those letters before when I was in High School. So, I snooped.

I held the letter up to the light and saw that it was sent because the person didn't pay their BAIL!? Uh... that's not good. I couldn't read the criminal offense listed, it was squished with the other side of the letter.

Once again, this is me just saying... this whole situation is WACKO.

Graduation, Noitaudarg

2008-05-05T22:15:00.000-07:00

Graduation seems to have turned the world backwards, as if I've walked through a mirror and I see everything in the reflection on the other side. It's coming around full circle, as I've mentioned before.

This morning I had the weekly Journal on my desk and it printed all the Graduates and their degrees from this year. I found my name... guess what page? B3. For my roommates, this means something to them, since I lived in Manzanita B3 my freshman year of college, which I surplused today so they can knock it down. Strange how it makes that circle, huh? (A shout out to by B3s... I was in our old apartment this afternoon and they restructured our showers! It's now nice and smooth, and WHITE! Remember that ugly blue tile we had to shower in? Not fair...)Also, one of my beloved professors, the costume teacher, is leaving SUU now... he came to SUU when I did.

My parents came into town on Friday. They were tired, but they were my entertainment for the next two days, so they didn't have much of a choice but to hang out with me! Honestly, this weekend was so strange and eventful, it's hard for me to remember it all. I received my graduation gifts from my parents which included a new iPod nano (I LOVE IT! and it's green!), Spanks (which I'll explain later, very funny girl story), and a 14kt gold necklace.

My mom wrote me a very touching letter about the necklace. It's in the shape of a key with heart shapes. It's the key to my future, my education, my adventures... everything. It's MY key. She wrote that I'm supposed to pass it on to my daughter someday, and so on, and so on. I love it, I've always wanted some kind of family heirloom to pass down and I'm excited to start it. I wore it during graduation, of course.

The Spanks. Spanks are a top celebrity brand of under garment slimming wear. In other words, it's supposed to stuff you like a sausage. It is true that the celebrities wear this brand, and my mother bought them in Las Vegas. So, I stepped into the bathroom, dressed down to try them on, opened the package and just starred for at least two minutes at the small, child size looking shorts in my hands. There was NO WAY I was going to fit into this elf costume, I didn't care how stretchy they said they were.

I breathed fast at first, and laughed so hard I almost cried. Then I started stretching one leg to fit my ankle (yes... it was that tight!) then the other, and began to pull, while slipping and hitting my head on the bathroom wall. All the meanwhile I couldn't stop laughing and making comments that my parents could hear in the other room. I stretched, and sucked in, and wiggled, and finally... I looked like a bratwurst. It was my first attempt and it was very uncomfortable. After a night to think about it, I mastered the technique of the evil girdle and slimmed down comfortably for graduation the next day, and I actually really like the Spanks.

The day finally came. Woke up at 7am, got dressed, and walked over to the school. It was funny and once again can relate my life to Harry Potter, because we all looked great in our robes. I quickly picked up the pace as the new bell tower rang 8 times, and the closer I got to the school, the more and more robes and caps I saw, all flooding in from different corners of the block. Of course when I got there my professor, Christine, told me my cap was not properly put on, so I had to fix that several times. I HATED that cap. It would not stay on my head, and I even had it pinned. All day, I fussed with it.

I saw all my friends I had started school with. I think one of my favorites was Felisha. She made candy lays to put around her neck and she had so many of them, her neck disappeared and it created the illusion that she had no body part between her head and her body, but her head just rested on this huge pile of candy. During commencement, I looked back at her and actually caught her sleeping, but her head was still int he same spot. Personally, I was not a huge fan of anyone who wore the lays, I think they are stupid.

We walked. I loved it. I loved walking past all our professors as they clapped for us. It's a funny comparison, but I felt like Rose in Titanic at the very end when she goes back to the ship, after she's died. I saw everyone from school I loved and remembered and they were clapping for me, hugging me if I wanted, shaking my hand... it will always be in my memory, that particular moment. It was powerful to me. Unfortunately, there was no Jack at the end of the line.

I had to listen to the speech that "beat" my speech out. I didn't listen much and noticed everyone else followed my lead around me. I was glad, and yes, I'm gloating. I was upset that there were at least 3 people who gave the man a standing ovation... ugh.

Then our guest speaker got up. He is a Nobel Prize winner and I had read his biography and thought he sounded fairly interesting and I was excited to hear him speak. Yet... after he gave a very, very brief story about his life, he started in about global warming and destroying the earth. I couldn't believe it! This guy was using our Graduation ceremony to discuss his political views?! No one around me seemed very happy, and I know I wasn't. He said the words, "Al Gore" in my Graduation commencement. No one should have to go through that.

After running around, taking pictures here and there, saying a few goodbyes, calling the parents because it was so crowded they went back to the hotel and watched it on TV, I ran up to my college's convocation. It was long, but it was nice. I spoke, it was fun. I had friends there, Matty, Jenna, and Mike and Talon (who all cheered as I crossed the stage and Mike sent me a text message with my picture from my speech, I laughed.)

Saying goodbye is hard. It's surreal. With technology these days, it never really feels like goodbye unless you want to cut off connection. Some people, I am doing that.

Last story, I promise.

My parents and I wanted pictures, but we didn't want to do it with everyone else and with the crowds, so we went more towards the evening with the sun going down. It was so nice with no one there watching you take pictures, so we had fun. While I was walking to the bell tower, I caught eye of something odd. I saw a man leaning over with his shirt up and a girl behind him, leaning in towards him... doing something. I wasn't sure what, but it was so odd! I swear, and I'm sorry for the frankness, it looked like she was picking his rear. I started to laugh. By the time my parents caught up to me, they stopped, but then, I turned back, and they did it again! I couldn't resist... I took a pictures. It's one of the oddest things that happened during Graduation.

Opening Night

2008-05-05T22:12:00.000-07:00

Below is the copy of the speech I gave at Graduation:

This is the final moment before the lights go up and the curtain is drawn.

We made a choice and waited for SUU to cast us. The audition was nerve racking. Our names were on the callback list, and then we made the final cut.

When we arrived, the stage was bare, there was no set, there were no lines, no lights, no costumes, no props. There were just directors, who gave us sighs and raised eyebrows, but secretly they expected us to shine. Little did we know we were improvising the entire time: writing our own stories and our own dialog. We were creating drama, and of course, some of us were creating more “drama” than others.

Everyday we worked with our directors, producers, designers, and stage managers to create characters that we and others came to love and respect. We met our other cast members and became friends, and even family.

Choices had to made. Certain aspects of this play had to be cut, others had to be added, all to create a more prepared and well structured story. There were times when the word “cancel” could be heard. There were moments of hesitation, hours of foolishness, and even days of despair. But the directors didn’t give up and neither did we. We pushed through the dead silences, the lack of energy, the loss of crew and support, and continued to weave our story.

Day in and day out, we blocked and we rehearsed. We practiced and we struggled. And we learned! We learned that sometimes mistakes lead us to our greatest accomplishments. We learned that there is no limit on the stage, and that anything can happen. We came to know that Learning truly does live forever.

Final dress rehearsal has come and gone. There is nothing left to do but step onto the stage when cued, and shine. It’s time to show the world the “characters” we have become. We are no longer acting or pretending for we embody the essence of the person we will play for the rest of our lives. The directors’ job are done. They no longer can stop the play and fix a missed line, a lighting cue, or a blocking mistake. They can only watch from the wings.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players. They have their exits and their entrances and one man in his time plays many parts.” Shakespeare really was a genius, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a theater major. We are on a stage, and we rehearse, and we perform. Players in our lives come and go, and our story moves forward every day. We have conflict, we have resolution, we have death, we have life, we have sadness, and we have joy. Theater is a recreation of life, but the ultimate performance is the progression of our own lives! Our directors have taught us well, our fellow actors are ready to support us, and then the spotlight hits us.

What do you say? How do you act? How do you feel? There is a power when you walk onto your completed set, with the lights all around you and an audience sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for you to move.

The table has turned and you control the response! No longer is anyone telling you what to do, how to move, how to act, or how to speak. You have the freedom to do whatever you like, and no one can stop you. You have the choice to follow what you’ve been asked to do in rehearsal, or to try something totally unexpected. You have the audience in your hands and the power to make them react!.

Let’s make our audience react! Let’s shock them, let’s empower them, let’s show them that we are capable of the impossible, lets make them laugh, make them cry, make them think, make them react!

Before you do any of this, though… as a director, I will tell you to breathe deeply and take it all in. You only have one opening night, and after that, each performance shapes the play and it changes with every show. You have a long run ahead of you, and when closing night comes, you should bow to the audience with pride. I have no doubt that any of us won’t have a bittersweet closing night.

This has been the longest rehearsal I’ve ever been in: Four years. I stand before you now, as a former T-Bird, a former student, and a former adolescent. I see in front of me the faces of a generation that deserves respect, and is ready to recite their first lines in front of the world.

I applaud you. I respect you. Your very presence on stage brings energy and a willingness to listen. Give your lines, players, and with a standing ovation, make your role unforgettable.

Congratulations Class of 2008!

Coming Soon...

2008-05-05T08:37:00.001-07:00

Graduation highlights,
Speech,
Co-worker craziness,
and random stories, always!

Oh yes, and Jenna did wish me a Happy Birthday AND came to my graduation to hear me speak, thanks, I love you!

Finals, Moving, and Birthday Wishes

2008-04-30T08:41:00.000-07:00

It is hump day during finals week. I can't believe we're through half of it already. I have two finals today and two on Friday.

So, to add to my landlord's record of doing wonderful things, I'm moving into my house I was living in a semester ago that he needed me to move out of so urgently before. He had rented it to another girl while I was still living there, so he pretty much "kicked" me out. However, that girl NEVER moved in, so my room sat vacant for a semester with the exception of my roommate Ravi using it as a meditation/yoga room.

So why am I moving again, you ask? Well, "Dutch", as we all call him these days including himself, said if I moved he'd let my roommate out of her contract early. Well, I really like my roommate. She's been pretty much one of the best roommates I've ever had. How could I refuse her option to get out of her contract early? So I told Dutch I'd move back over.

I hate packing. Even for a little weekend away, I hate it! I hate unpacking, I hate boxing things up, I hate carrying it, I hate it all... moving sucks. Still, it's worth the cause. I'll finish moving today.

Yesterday I turned 22. My parents came through town, on their way to Vegas to play (Dad has a conference for work, but they are using the time to vacation), on Monday. They gave me the movie Juno (which I would recommend to anyone, I love that movie!) and they bought me a new outfit for Graduation... I love it, and the new shoes! I got cards from grandparents and Michelle. My roommate was kind enough to bring me congratulation balloons and some really cute cards. Ryan left me a definitive statement through texting, announcing the day of my birth changed the world. Torrey told me to buy shoes... which I already did and I plan to do more. Morgan, Kiersten, and Michelle all told me they love me... and I love them too.

Matty, after the entire day was over, brought me a really pretty necklace. He was running around all day, but I love the necklace he bought me... good job going with jewelry. I think it's funny because it's a Celtic style of necklace and he's going to Ireland on his mission... wonder if he did it on purpose? He got upset when I tried it on then I put it in my jewelry box. "Oh great, there it goes in the box never to be worn again." Little does he know I put it in there so I don't lose it and so it doesn't tarnish, because I want to wear it all the time.

I got food from Liz, my co-worker Belinda, and Ravi. (A special thanks to them because I have no food at home!) Many friends left birthday wishes on facebook, and to finish the evening, Derek showed up at my house at 10:30 and gave me a belated birthday card.

Derek has been pretty good, remembering my birthday was coming up. Last year he forgot my birthday entirely so he was being careful this year. Anyway, I gave him at least four chances to wish me a happy birthday... I text him in the morning, he text in the afternoon, I text again later... I waited, but no "Happy Birthday!" Needless to say, I was angry by ten at night.
I text him, "I can't believe you forgot again..." while he wrote back, "Did I forget?"
"I gave you lots of chances today but you didn't say anything."
"Lol"

After that, he showed up at my house with the card ready to laugh at me saying he was waiting for me to finally give in and bug him about it. I have to share my cheesiest moment of the day, however. When he text me earlier, he told me that he took his Geology final. He answered 60 questions in 10 minutes because he knew all the answers. I said back, "Wow... impressive. Guess you "rock" at geology!" Yes, pun intended.

Overall, it was a good start to 22 years.

Listen to the Cookie

2008-04-25T19:43:00.000-07:00

I took the job in Arizona. Called at 10:30am... I couldn't wait any longer, I wanted to tell them how excited I was to be going. Wow, I have a job after college, YAY!!! Ok, it's not really a job, I mean, I get paid, but I'm not paid well. I'm an intern- it's time to get ready to be treated like crap for the next 40 weeks.

Tonight Lorin and I went to Lucky's Buffet... it's a tradition, we have to always eat the food, it's delicious! Plus, it's always fun since Lorin speaks Chinese and they always think I'm his girlfriend. It's flattering. Also, Lorin pays for me, which he needs to stop... but I love that kid.

Traditions never cease, especially in Chinese restaurants. Out came the fortune cookies. Lorin grabbed both and held out his hands and said, "Ok, pick!" I picked the one on my left. It felt good... well it WAS!

Quickly, I cracked open the crunchy treat (I know, you're dying that I'm giving details because all you want to know is what was written!) and stared at the paper. I started to laugh and I couldn't believe my eyes. I showed it to Lorin who remarked, "No way?!"

I've had past fortunes come true. I once had a cookie say, "One of your closest friends will reveal his true feelings for you" right before Derek and I started dating. I always thought it was weird it used "his" making a gender reference. Sometimes cookies are specific, so you'd best pay attention.

Ok, ok... I'll tell you what it said. "Traveling to the south will bring you unexpected happiness." CRAZY?!! I think the fortune cookie says it all and now I feel ten times more confident I'm heading off to Tucson. Thank you Lucky's Buffet, you have your name for a reason!

Final Countdown

2008-04-24T23:54:00.000-07:00

The days are numbered, and it's starting to sink in. I have... one... week... left.

I was offered the job in Arizona on Tuesday. I have until Friday (or today) to decide. I haven't heard from anyone else, so my options are limited, but I liked ATC when I spoke with them and I feel like I'd be made welcome there. I'm a little nervous, but Arizona isn't too far. I'm branching, just in small steps. I'll call tomorrow and make the decision... wow... I'm going to be a college graduate with a job, that's exciting!

That is... if I can make it through finals. I have to admit, this is the most stressed out I've ever been during finals week. I had to write a paper, not too long, but it took me forever to gain the motivation and after that, I was annoyed at everything and everyone until the paper was finished. This particular professor gives me a hard time when it comes to grading, and any other time in my college career, I would have been grateful, but right now, I don't understand why he can't accept me as a brilliant writer like the rest of the University.

Four tests next week.... ugh, I want to shoot myself. Saturday is the banquet. I guess I have to admit, I would like to receive "Best Director" for the evening, but I know I won't get it. I may be well known throughout the department, but I don't hang out with "theatre" kids (with the exception of Liz) anymore. I miss them sometimes, but it's good for me to have a break from the crazy theatre. The banquet will be long and enduring, mostly because it's my last. I will give my farewell and say goodbye to the people I love. Next week, on my birthday (as I chose specifically), I will have my last Jury. I will say goodbye to the professors who mean the most to me. There is no way to explain moving on from college... it's exciting, scary, fun, sad, and surreal.

Tonight Derek and I performed... again! You can see our original performance on my facebook page. Yes... we tap. We were chosen as "Best of Vaudeville" and so we made a revival. I think he was sad he missed the Jazz game (which they lost by 2pts... ugh!) but little does he know that I'm sad because I missed LOST!!! I'll be watching that tomorrow during work. We made the audience laugh, and that's the most important thing.

This blog is beginning to sound like my memoirs... too bad I'm only going to be 22. Plenty of time to reflect and experience life; I'm scared out of my mind.

F*#$ing Idiots!

2008-04-15T20:50:00.000-07:00

The title is a little harsh, but I wanted to capture your attention. Did it work?! (It does have a point, I'm getting to it.)

The last couple of days have been interesting. As always, I have a funny church story.

I woke up late, again. It's not unusual for me to do this lately. I didn't even stay up late on Saturday if I remember correctly, but to be honest, at this point, I can't even remember what I did Saturday night. (No, I was not drinking.) My tardiness to church had no affect on me, though. I still got up, got dressed, and walked the whole twenty feet to my ward. I missed Sacrament again, so I text Matty early to let him know I would be skipping Relief Society to go to his ward for Sacrament.

I planned to finish up Fast & Testimony meeting in the lobby. Apparently my plan was shared by half the ward as I discovered many of my fellow church goers sitting outside the chapel. I couldn't believe how many were there! I found ONE empty seat, and quickly usurped it.

Fast and Testimony meeting is always a great time to tell stories... about the event of course, not while you're at the pulpit. Singles wards have the BEST testimony givers... not. Ironically they call it "fast" but in turn it has the possibility of being the longest hour of your life. (That's a really lame joke, so you can boo me if you want.)

As I sat there with the other late members; they giggled, snickered, and basically made critiques of the testimonies. I was slightly shocked. When Mario got up to speak (the usual who gives testimonies, or rather life lessons, on everything he does right and everything we do wrong... in fact, one time he gave his testimony on how WE should give our testimonies, but also should say our testimonies out loud to ourselves in private... I wish I had a camera crew following me because at that moment I would have given them a look of, "Are you freakin kidding me?")... long description... Mario got up to speak and EVERYONE in the lobby rolled their eyes and slouched in their seats, as if they were in for the long haul of self praising from the pulpit. One member even had the nerve to mime that he was going to hang himself! I know that I've always thought things... even actually once said out loud as Mario walked to the pulpit, "Oh no..." and quickly fixed it with "... I dropped my pen," as everyone gave me a dirty look. However, I didn't know my opinion was somewhat shared by others to the point of hanging themselves.

Miraculously, his schpeal only lasted about two minutes... .incredible. We all looked shocked. I secretly thought my ward was going to hell. Afterwards I headed in to hand my tithing to the Bishop and actually attended Sunday School. It was interesting. We had a REAL debate! There was a disagreement on the definition of "friend" and if they could be considered a priestcraft. It was SO much fun... but I was offended when a girl said that theatre corrupted her friends... I'm a little sensitive on that issue, if you can imagine.

Sunday Derek and I visited the department's administrative assistant, Tina. She's in the hospital right now, pregnant with twin boys! She's on bed rest, so we drove to St. George to see her. I was happy to hear her humor still existed, and I couldn't believe how much I kind of missed her. Tina is known for being stern, strict, and opinionated. She can be harsh, but I think it builds character. Derek and I owe a lot to her. Afterwards we walked the Temple grounds, which were right across the street from Tina's room. I found it funny when she said (she is NOT a member of the LDS church) that the only thing that lights up at night is Jesus.

When we entered the visitors center, we were immediately greeted by a sister missionary. She thought we weren't members... I didn't know if we should play along or not... what do you think I did? Duh! I played along. She invited us (Derek wanted to see the movie) to see an art exhibit they had for a limited time. I said yes, and Derek sighed and said yes too. So we walked around, sat and looked at Jesus, and talked. The sister missionary came over to us again, asking us lots of questions. I think my favorite part was that twice in one day I got a reputation for being in theatre! She asked what our majors were in college and we said theatre. Her response was, "Oooohh, theatre?! I bet you guys get pretty crazy then?" What does that mean?!?

The art exhibit tour was half an hour long. That was an eternity for Derek. I enjoyed the sculptures, though. They were fairly descent and creative. After that, I believe Derek said he was "all churched out," so we headed home.

*By the way, Derek and I have a lot of times where we are riding in the car and have the funniest conversations. I hope my memory will stand the tests of time, because it would be a great book to write.*

Later that night I did laundry at Matt's house while he went and played games at his friends' houses. I ended up heading over to Derek's, Mike's, and Talon's house to pick up my Pampered Chef bowl and cookie sheet. (I think Mike is a little obsessed with cookies because he often asks me to make them.) When I walked in, they were in the middle of watching Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. I haven't seen that movie in YEARS! I couldn't believe that Talon had NEVER seen it?! What is wrong with that kid? Seriously.

So, after being told, "You're leaving, Laura? You can stay if you want... you don't have to..." by the guys, I finished the movie with them. I also dared them to talk like Bill and Ted for the next week. Mike has done a pretty good job texting and writing me in the California gnarly slang. Always remember, be excellent to each other, and... PARTY ON!

They also watched a Youtube video of a bear being tranquilized and bouncing off an trampoline. I have to admit, it was pretty funny, but made me kind of sick too! Boys...

So now that I've distracted you with all that junk, I guess I should explain the title of this blog. When I went to work on Monday, I was told that my mule was graffitied!! I couldn't believe it till I saw it.

Yes. Someone wrote on my mule with a big black marker, "Catch Me Now!" and it was signed by some weird unrecognizable signature. It looked like a gang. I was SO mad. Public Safety let us know that there were other places on campus marked by the same kind of writing. Honestly... of all the years I've had that little red mule, I never thought someone would do that. I always guessed stealing, but never graffiti.

So the title is how I feel about those who decided to deface my poor little mule.

It's Always Better Live

2008-04-12T22:34:00.000-07:00

Friday night, I went to the Kalia concert at the Grind.

Getting there was kind of problem. Holli (my co-worker) had invited me, which was nice because I wasn't planning much for a Friday night. I had NO idea who was playing, as if I had ever hear of Kalia, but I wasn't about to sit around at home.

Unfortunately, my phone seems to always have problems when I need it the most. Holli was texting me, but all of a sudden, when she asked "Do I need to come pick you up?" I couldn't text back... it was frustrating. I hate it when my life is that of a stupid romance flick... lacking the romance.

Anyway, since my friend Mike wasn't answering his phone and Bri didn't feel like going to a concert, I ended up walking. I was lucky it wasn't raining, but it was windy and cold. Still, I finally got a hold of Holli and she was already there trying to save spots. I wandered to the Grind and ended up having to buy an Italian soda because they wouldn't take my check. I don't drink soda, I ended up feeling kind of sick, but the sugar hit me hard.

I see Holli when I get there, order my drink, pay for my ticket and see that there's no where to sit but behind Holli next to some random girl. I stand for a minute, Kalia hadn't started yet, but he was warming up, talking to the crowd. (It wasn't full to the max but there was a good chunk of people on the floor.) The girl sitting next to my legs looked somewhat familiar. I decided to be brave and just bend over and look at her face. Luckily, it turned out to be my old roommate, Jacki! So I sat next to her and text Holli during the concert if I wanted to ask a question.

Kalia was an AMAZING live singer. I was so impressed! I had heard one of his songs before, On My Mind. I forgot that I really like it. He was also pretty funny. I wonder if I had a slight sugar high because everything he said was REALLY funny to me and I noticed I was the only one laughing sometimes. Jacki noticed too, often making comments such as, "So... is Kalia funny tonight Laura?"

Either way, I had a good time and I would suggest going to his concert if he is ever in town. I also really like his movie and if I ever get more money, I will invest in buying his album of of itunes.

The rest of the night was new and interesting and I'm sure if Holli is reading this, she'll laugh. I went with her, her roommate, and their neighbors. I have heard plenty of stories about the guy neighbors, but I had never met any of them. They were NOT what I expected, and I realized that either I have a wild imagination or Holli is really bad at describing these boys. (I like to think its the latter!)

Three of them are from Parowan. If you live in Cedar and you're not from around here, if you ever describe anyone as being a resident of the local areas, you usually get the wide eyes and the response of "Ohhhhh... makes sense." That was my EXACT reply when Holli told me where they were from. We're talking about three guys who are fairly short, with the exception of one of them, buzz haircuts, brand name t-shirts, and bulging muscles. The kind of guys that don't have anything better to do then go to the gym. I don't really think they're like that, but I'm stereotyping and basing my judgements off of one night out with them.

The other, Chase, isn't from Parowan. I don't know where he's from, but he's tall, bulky, and has that chiseled-Gaston from Beauty & The Beast look. There's drama between him and Holli's roommate, but that's not that interesting to us. (Ha ha ha, don't you love it when I tell you what's interesting and what's not?)

Winger's was the restaurant of choice for the evening after a small adventure of turns and twists from one apartment to the other. We crowded ourselves into a booth and gobbled up the popcorn. Meanwhile, one of the Parowan boys, Darrin, kept himself occupied by starring at the manager who he claimed was starring at him. To me, it was like "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" It was nice, though, hanging out. I didn't feel like I fit in, but I did feel like I was a college kid again just chilling with friends. It's been a while.

I think my favorite part of Winger's was when Chase showed up late. He didn't order anything but wasn't shy about eating the leftovers, or soon to be leftovers, from everyone else. He sat on a chair outside of the booth, because there wasn't room for him to fit. I guess he had dropped a sticky finger and part of it had landed on his friend's leg (who was wearing shorts on one of the coldest days in April!) and he was trying to be sneaky about removing it. Soon, Jace (after all, that is his name) looked over and saw Chase was trying to peel the sticky finger off his leg, which he hadn't noticed was there in the first place. How you can miss something sticking to your bare leg, I don't know. (By the way, Chase and Jace are best friends... that's funny, I hope I have their names right, but if I'm not mistaken, they rhyme! Ha.)

Pretty soon, the two guys are laughing so hard, they're practically crying. I caught bits and pieces as they told the story to the entire table. After they started laughing, Chase said as his eyes watered, "I'm so glad you're my friend!" I have to admit, I was touched. How corny is that?!

The evening ended with just Holli, I, and BettyJo (the other roommate who was on a date earlier) watching Sydney White, the modern day Snow White. It wasn't horrible... not my type of movie, but I enjoyed being with Holli and BettyJo. I'm really glad we're co-workers.

So the title of this blog is for two reasons:

1) You should always see concerts. Usually (and it's not the case for everyone) music is so much better live.

2) Stories are great, but it's always better when you experience them live!

Old To New

2008-04-11T14:39:00.001-07:00

You all can't be serious? I'm not writing a novel...

Anyway, I thought I'd write a funny story.

So as I've mentioned before, I'm turning 22 and eventually will be Utahn Spinster, especially since I don't date much. Here's the irony of it all... my 80 year old grandpa dates more than me.

My Grandpa on my Mom's side is kind of a loony. I love him and I know I've always been a favorite (more than likely due to being the first born on that side of the family for grandchildren) so everything I'm about to say about my grandpa is true and accurate, but know that none of it is ever meant to be harsh or cruel. Besides, by now, you should know this is how my family roles.

We'll call him Grandpa M for this story. Grandpa M is a pervert. He was married to my grandma for a long time, but she passed away when I was 12 or 13. Grandpa M loved my grandma and he misses her a lot, but since then we've found out SO much information! Often times Grandpa M will reminisce about the old days, especially WWII, and how he played in the war bands, got drunk, and was VERY promiscuous. (Something I'm starting to wonder if genetics pass that along.)

After a few years, Grandpa M decided cable TV was a necessary and found out that Playboy wasn't just a magazine. That was an interesting period. It was like raising a 12 year old boy again... only in an older body. Then my least favorite and most interesting part of the story happened... my grandpa met a woman. Her name? Teddy.

Sometimes going over to my Grandpa's house was like walking into an episode of The Golden Girls. No one really wants to watch it, but you're sucked in and you can't look away. Teddy wasn't what I had first imagined her to be; a stripper looking for money. Instead, she was in her 60's, lonely and had children and grandchildren. I couldn't even tell you where Grandpa M met her, but they started "dating". How annoying is THAT?! You're 18 years old and your Grandpa has a girlfriend? Needless to say, it didn't boost my own confidence. I don't think I was ever jealous of my own Grandpa, but who knows.

Teddy was around for a few years. She would kind of take care of my Grandpa and it was nice that he had someone to talk to, but I HATED her. First of all, she wanted to take the place of my grandma, and that wasn't going to be allowed. My poor mother was going through hell. Teddy also was from Texas, and I have nothing against Texas... oh wait, yes I probably do. I just hated her voice, her hair, her smell, and her attitude. I also hated that when we would visit Grandpa M it meant a visit with Teddy.

Eventually the issue of money came up. My Grandpa was considering giving money to her and her family! She wanted to be in his will! That's it, she didn't have to be a stripper but she was certainly a gold digger. For a fact, the money my Grandpa was living on was the money my Grandma left behind, so you can imagine the anger flowing through my family. We're not a wealthy family and we don't care about money, but the fact that it would be going to my Grandpa's "young" girlfriend was OUT OF THE QUESTION.

Not too long after that whole ordeal and the admittance that we didn't like Teddy (Grandpa M wasn't too happy about that) that a fight broke out between the odd couple, and my Grandpa threw something at Teddy and it hit her leg. Now as he tells it, and as I like to believe, he didn't really hit her and she made a fuss over nothing. My Grandpa and her split, and the family was at peace again... well, as peaceful as my family gets. I feel bad that my Grandpa had to be alone again for the rest of us to feel comfortable, but lets face it... Teddy was NEVER going to fit in with the family unless she was stuffed.

My Grandpa has been without a girlfriend ever since. It's been a couple of years I think. It doesn't stop him from calling women or making derogatory comments to them in the grocery store. In fact, that seems to be the pick up joint for my grandpa; the produce aisle. It's incredibly depressing that I'm about to Graduate college and I've only dated ONE person and he's dated, or at least courted, many a woman within the same time frame.

It doesn't help when you go to his house and the first question he asks is, "How's your love life?" When I answer truthfully, my Grandpa just looks at me and says, "Well, you need to learn how to get a man!" Then I sit for two or three hours going over all the things I need to change so that I can find a man just like Grandpa M. I wonder why he thinks I would want that.

Sneaky, Sneaky!

2008-04-09T10:05:00.001-07:00

I have recently been watching my landlord and his manipulative tactics. I'm not the only one, but for their sakes, I'll leave them out of the blog, but be aware, the suspicions don't only lie with me.

My friends, you, will know that I tend to come up with silly conspiracies, for simple fun and entertainment. For example, my Sophomore year, I had a theory about everyone in my apartment except for Amy and Emily. Brianna was really a man, Shaylin was a vampire, and Heather wasn't really wealthy but sat outside the Vegas hotel's waiting for rich people's leftovers. It made life more bearable thinking that there were outside circumstances that couldn't be controlled that made living with these people... well, a living hell. If ever you are interested, I have circumstantial evidence to lead me to those theories. I think life got worse when I moved in with a kleptomaniac and there was no need for theory, she was fairly vocal about it.

So I have a new conspiracy. My landlord is hiding. From who or what, I'm not sure, but there's all these strange circumstances surrounding him and his family.

Lets start with the basics- his kids. I lived with Monica, his eldest daughter, for a semester before I met her parents. She grew up in Texas and wasn't shy to let us know that the family was wealthy. They had a big house, lots of friends, nice cars, the works. She moved out here for school, but sometimes it sounded like she moved here because her parents wanted her to live in Utah to stay out of trouble. Why they thought that would work, I have NO idea.

Monica didn't mention her family a lot unless we, as roommates, mentioned our own. After the semester was over, I stayed at the house for the summer. At that time we were renting through a real estate company but her Dad owned the house. My roommate at the time, I only had one since Monica left for France for a month and a half, mentioned that Monica said her parents were moving to Utah. We both thought that was strange, but people move to Utah all the time. I didn't think much of it until I was told they would be moving into my house- AWKWARD! Monica was still gone, and for 4 weeks, I lived with the Landlord and his two daughters and one son. I stayed in the basement for the most part or away from the house.

The first time I met the Landlord was a night after work. I walk into the house and there he is, watching TV with his kids, shredding papers. He had boxes and boxes full of files, and he was shredding them all. We also always received his mail at the house- it's been over 8 months. He lives next door now, in a small, dinky, run down house, but he still has his mail sent to another house. He claims it's too much work to change it. Are you getting suspicious yet?

He bought the house next door and the house on the other side. He owns three houses on the street and because I hadn't signed a full year contract with him (I thought I was going to graduate in December) he moved me to the other house, hiked my rent up an extra $35 a month, and made me live with his son and the other boys downstairs. It isn't worth it, trust me.

I realized I had been manipulated into paying extra rent. He plays this game of "poor me" and I don't know why I fell for it. They are NOT poor, and if they are, then they have been lying. I think their cars, although I know nothing about cars, prove that they aren't struggling for money. They just purchased a new BMW a couple months ago. I should have pushed for a lower rent.

Anyway, after talking to several other people who know have been renting from him, we starting putting together some of the puzzle pieces. He used to be a chiropractor in Texas, a drummer chiropractor. Meaning, he did special work for performers who were drummers. Not only was he a specialized chiropractor, but he did it for the "stars"! Meh, that doesn't mean much to me except that he was expensive. He's also written several books on the subject and on running. (Now makes sense why his kids are so athletic, skinny, and he coaches Track at the school and is considered Adjunct faculty.) I looked him up on Google and I found him, but with a different middle name. From the same exact town, same first and last name, even his job title, but instead of a C for a middle name, it was "Dutch." On the other site, it had a "W" for his middle name. Why would you change your middle name?

If they are so wealthy, why are they not living in a nicer home? After all, the housing rates, when they moved here, were cheaper than Texas. Why doesn't he have his "successful" chiropractic business anymore? He's a landlord? That's weird, and a bad one at that. He also manipulates you in to paying WAY more than anyone should pay in Cedar City and you don't get half the benefits. He's at least a greedy man, I know that. The bills were never visible either, for a long time. He just gave amounts due. I finally demanded seeing the actual bills since the amount was increasing quickly. He has his own company for the landlord business? Every other landlord, unless it was an apartment company, had me pay directly to them.

The money, the mail, the job... everything just doesn't add up. He's quiet about his life and so are the kids. They NEVER talk about their family. Often times he goes out of town, for weeks at a time, and then everyone just chills out. I don't really understand the family.

I bring all this up because he was at my house last night showing the place to several other girls. I wanted to warn them all NOT to sign. I don't trust him. I don't like him. I feel cheated and exposed. Not to mention, he's just a bad landlord. He doesn't care if we need something fixed or have concerns. He just wants your money and that will always be suspicious to me.

I Don't Have My Head Up There

2008-04-09T09:52:00.001-07:00

Yesterday during my Portfolio class, I decided to e-mail my Dean because he said he would put in a good word for me at Berkeley Rep. Theatre. The Dean is cool, and I like him! He's as much an advisor to me as Dumbledor to Harry Potter. (Is there a trend on my blog that I have to mention HP so much?) Anyway, after being a Senator, the Dean and I remained in touch and often exchange e-mails or facebook comments. We're cool. (I got an e-mail that night from Berkeley Rep... yay for the Dean!)

I was teased by the other "children" in the class because they think I suck up. I believe they said they couldn't find my head anymore because it was so far up the Dean's... well, you get the idea. I don't agree with them. I have many faculty and administrative friends at SUU, and just because the other students don't, doesn't mean I'm any better or worse. I'm glad I'm friends with them! So I have lunch with my professors, or visit just to talk, or e-mail life updates. Is there anything wrong with that?

Women & Bathrooms

2008-04-06T16:52:00.000-07:00

Here's a subject that tends to be taboo... overlooked, and under examined simply because, lets face it, it's gross. We leave the bathroom talk to the guys most of the time unless we women ask for it to be clean. However, I thought it would be funny to share a few stories and if you have a story, I expect you to also share.

Friday I was with Kiersten when we decided to go to Robert's Craft Store. She is making a memory book for Jesse, our Student Body President and her long-term-might-as-well-be-husband boyfriend. Jesse and Kiersten are two of my best friends at SUU.

So while she was looking at scrapbook paper, I quickly made my way through the glitter, glue, felt, clay, and wooden frames to the public restroom that Robert's offered. First thing I notice is instead of two signs that point to men or women, they have wooden cut outs of children dressed up on the wall; one said Prince and the other Princess. Granted, that's cute... but the first thing in my head was, "Wow... typical craft store."

I don't have a problem with public restrooms. I'm not like my old friend Rosie who couldn't touch a door and had to have an assistant to touch everything for her. I'm pretty tolerant of germs. However, I still like a clean bathroom when I can find one. This one wasn't too bad, but I literally stood in a small room, just large enough to have one skinny and one handicap stall, a sink and of course, as usual, a large plant in the corner, just staring at my two choices.

I can't be the only one that ever thinks this, but I naturally want to go to the handicap stall. It's larger... there's more room to move around in, not that you need a lot of room, but I hate having to turn around sometimes in those super skinny stalls. As much as the world wants me to be, I'm not a super-model and never will have the ability to wrap my body around the huge toilet paper dispenser on one side while brushing up against the feminine disposal trash can on the other side.

Then again, I always feel guilty using the larger stall. I feel like I may accidentally take away an opportunity from someone else... especially if they're disabled! It hasn't happened yet, but I'm waiting...

So after three minutes of deliberation and stalling my bladder, I chose the smaller stall. Once again, I can't be the only one, but I find that many public restrooms, with the exception of Vegas Strip hotels and nice restaurants, have the half inch space between the stall walls and the doors. Thus leaving a "peek" hole, or actually a "peek" crack. Sure makes it a lot easier to see in and out of the stalls. I'm NOT peeking to be perverted, but it saves the embarrassment of backing up against the dirty wall, or worse, bending down, to see feet under the door... or even worse... pushing on a door that is locked... or the worst!... pushing a door that doesn't have a good latch and opening it up on someone in the middle of their business. We've all been there! One side or the other.

After thinking about this, I left the stall to wash my hands and get a good look at the wall that I missed walking in. It was covered with a beautiful wall painting of an Italian field, but it was the catch phrase above it that caught me off guard. It just didn't seem right for the bathroom:

"Take the Journey"

I started laughing. I laughed through washing my hands, I laughed as I dried my hands with three paper towels because we all know one won't do it and you always accidentally grab several if they don't have the automatic or paper roll. I laughed walking out of the restroom only to see three older ladies staring at me. Covered my mouth and went to find Kiersten.

I'm going to list off the most annoying things about public restrooms to me:

Loose children- I HATE it when they're running around, making a mess, looking under your stall, screaming, etc... please control your children!

People who don't flush- I don't CARE if you're a germ-a-phob, PLEASE flush your toilet, its just gross walking in on that

Speaker phone- I don't care if you talk on your phone in the bathroom. It might bother some people, but it doesn't bother me... however, don't put your phone on speaker! That's just even more awkward!

Pimple Popping- Do it at home, not in public!

Cloth paper towels- Why do we even have those? It's SUPER gross

Walmart bathrooms- everything about them

Broken locks- yikes!

No hanger- Where do they expect you to put your purse? I hope not on the floor!

Toilet Paper hangers- don't pull the toilet paper out so it's laying on the floor... I feel wasteful throwing it away, but I'm not using it after it's been on the floor, yuck.

Perfume and Hairspray- ok, I know you need to fix up, but be gentle on the rest of us.
Singing- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Those are just a few. I'm sure if I sat and thought about it, I would come up with more.

Tag!

2008-04-05T17:25:00.001-07:00

So, I've never heard of blog tagging, but I guess there's always room for something!

Here's what you do:
1. Pick up the nearest book (at least 123 pages)
2. Turn to page 123
3. Find the 5th sentence
4. Post the 5th sentence on your blog
5. Tag 5 people

My nearest book that had at least 123 pages was One Bright Shining Hope by Gordan B. Hinkley. It's a nice quote book that Morgan gave me once and I keep it on my computer desk. It's a good thing it was a long quote!

5th Sentence: "The searing question that will cross your mind again and again will be 'How well have my children done?'"

Hits hard, doesn't it?

I think I'll tag Val, Torrey, Morg & Michelle (Ha! Get a blog!), and... um... Lorin.
Have fun!

I Got A Howler

2008-04-01T13:42:00.001-07:00

For those who don't know Harry Potter all that well, there's a letter that can be sent called a Howler; Ron receives once from his Mother. Well, so did I and I figured I'd give it it's proper place by letting everyone "hear" it howl. In case you ever wanted to know me and who I truly am... this is it. From my mother, who I love.

"Sorry, I don't remember my Harry Potter all that well. Anyway, this is a chastisement letter & if you choose not to read it, that is your decision, but my hope is that you will follow it through to the end and you and I can have an understanding between us.

I didn't hang up on you last night because I was angry. I ended the call because you won't listen to me--or anyone else for that matter. I CANT tell you what to do Laura. I haven't been able to do that for many years now. But I also can't stop you from doing stupid things that are going to hurt you (short term or long term).

You seem to have this thing going in your mind that you DESERVE something. Let me ask this: What did you ever do to "deserve" anything? People in Iraq deserve peace, but they aren't going to get it any time soon. Everyone who loves you deserves to be treated like you love them. Instead you are just plain mean to all of us! Who died and made you queen? What makes you think you "deserve" to speak at graduation? What makes you think you "deserve" to get on a plane & go off somewhere? And even if you do, is it really what you want?

You talk a lot about wanting to have that special someone for yourself? What makes you think that anyone would want you right now. You are mean, arrogant, even violent with others. Men don't want or need that. You need to stop being so self important and start feeling some self worth. You need to have unconditional love for yourself before you can have it for anyone else. I'm totally serious when I tell you that you really need some counseling--other than your father & I. It is time for a change!

You are so proud of yourself for graduating without monetary debt. I'm proud of that too. It is quite an accomplishment in this age. However, you are in great debt to others for all of your success. First and formost, You owe a great deal to your Heavenly Father. He has provided for you in numerous ways. Some you can't even see yet. You owe your future in theater to professors and teachers. You are in debt to the university and the people who have given you time and work so that you could provide for yourself. You owe your friends and colleagues who have stood beside you, supported you, given you rides, fed you, listened to you and put up with you over the past years and months. You are in debt to your bishop. I wonder how many times he said a prayer for you and worried about you like a parent, hoping that you would do the right thing.

And now--that's what this letter is really about--DOING THE RIGHT THING! Yes, Laura. It's that time of your life! It's time to do the right thing. I honestly don't know what that is for you because it's totally your choice. But it's time to grow up. It's decision time and I know you are not fond of it. However, you do have to start making choices. Be careful because no matter what you do, not all of your decisions are going to turn out well and happy. I can guarantee that! But you can think things out carefully. You don't have to be impulsive! You CAN be PATIENT, and loving and kind. And sometimes, instead of just doing what you want in the moment, instead of being impulsive, instead of being selfish, you CAN do the right thing! You can plan, and you may have to wait, but you can still do the right thing.

Ten years ago this very moment, I was in surgery, fighting for my very life. I don't know if you and Catie know how serious that ruptured hernia really was. The doctor actually told dad that my life was in jeopardy. I'm so glad to be alive today, even though there have been some terribly painful times over the last ten years. I lost my mom who was my best friend, I lost Nermal & and dogs, at times I lost my faith. We had the terrible thing that happened with the Thompsons (which I still can't get over). We've had terrible financial problems which are still plaguing us in several ways and will for some time to come. Look at my health. I'm morbidly obese (practically a death sentence in & of itself). I almost went blind, was diagnosed with sleep apnea, diabetes, arthritis, and chronic pain. None of these things are fun. Did I deserve them? Look at what has happened to my family, my father and my brother. Right now, I have no relationship with either of them & I didn't choose that. And the worst of all--this thing with Catie and her insane choices. Nothing that has ever happened to me has been worse than this rift with Catie, and your impropriety with Mr. Raynor.

No one can know the depth of pain this causes a parent unless one has been there! And your father & I are working so hard to maintain a good relationship with you and your sister and you come home and destroy it in a heartbeat because of your selfishness and envy. You have no good reason to hate and be jealous of your sister. We DONT love her more and never have. We love you both the way that you are. We rejoice in your differences! And she is not smarter than you or she wouldn't be in the situation she has placed herself in. There are different kinds of smart.

Despite all of the crap, I've been through over the last years I am relatively happy with my life. There have been times of joy: our trip back to Nauvoo--for the first time, I understood the sacrifices that the early church members made for us.--Yes, for us. Watching you in Nunsense and seeing Catie go to the White House-major moments of joy! High School graduations, Coming out of bankruptcy, knowing that my debts there were paid in full--joy! Pooks! Joy in one word! The patio and little pond your dad put in the backyard--joy! Dinner at Temple Square--joy! The Lord of the Rings on bigscreen--Joy! Having 2 lovely, beautiful daughters, unique in all the world, graduating from college-- Joy! Knowing that I am worthy to go back to the Temple--Joy!

These are just a few things that have made me happy. Does this mean that I can and should give up on those dreams I had long ago? Hell, no! I still want to see Stonehenge and the pyramids. And a lot of other places! I still want that slip of paper that says I'm really a scholar. I want to see what you and Catie do with your lives. I hope to be a great grandmother some day! I still want a beautiful garden and an African Grey parrot! I want to write a book. I would like to be there when you win your academy award and Catie gets the Nobel Prize! And most of all--I'm tired of being a fat lady!

Now, as for the subject of love, I have truly been blessed. I truly found my Aragorn! But this has not been easy, and it is only in looking back that your dad & know we are right for eachother. You think you have been passed over by guys, but the truth is--you have passed them over. You are choosing not to have a dull-witted, self-centered, husband. Your standards are high and there is nothing wrong with that. Too many people rush into relationships and marriage without thinking about the consequences. From the way that you talk to me, I believe that finding someone to love is high on your priority list now, so this is what I would tell you. Somehow, you need to put Derek in your past. It's time to move on. As long as he is still in your mind, you cannot let someone new into your heart. Trust the Lord for guidance and be patient.

Look around as if you are searching for that perfect pair of shoes--the ones that look good, but feel right and comfortable. Don't be afraid to try on several different pairs or styles. Get up and walk around, don't just admire them sitting down or in a mirror. Don't buy the cheap ones at Payless. This is a most special occasion. Go to Dillards or Macy's! No discount stores this time. Personally, you know I would choose Birkenstocks! Something that will last, be comfortable, hold my weight, and mould to my feet! They would have to be friendly and forgiving. They would not slip off, flip flop, or be so tight as to cause blisters. They would carry me when I get tired. You get the drift.

Laura, I love you. Always have, always will! You and Catie and your dad are the best & brightest jewels in my box! Your father loves you. You have many people who love you and want nothing but the best for you. Your Father in Heaven loves you. But you have to love you too! Love yourself, don't be full of yourself. There is a huge difference. Be proud of your accomplishments. Be humble of what lies before you! I don't want to tell you what to do, but I would like to be around to answer questions so go a little easy on me. Love, your mother."

Fool

2008-03-30T14:21:00.000-07:00

I was late to church today. I've been late to EVERYTHING lately, so I'm not sure if that's the end of year kicking into my schedule or what, but I have not wanted to get out of bed. Usually, I'm ok but not for the past few weeks. Even with the long break, I can't seem to move.

Still, I rolled out of my comfy covers and threw on a dress and trudged over to the church which is just across the street from my house. I can't believe how lazy I can really be. I hate going at 9 in the morning. For some reason it seems so early on a Sunday. I have 9am classes, but I seem to be ok. I couldn't tell you what the difference is.

I walk in and sit in the lobby because they've already started the Sacrament, so there goes the most important part of Church. I get up, after they are done, to see where I could sit down... there's no where to sit!! It's early Sunday morning in a singles ward, and there's no where to sit? That was shocking to me. My shock was soon to escalate.

I remained in the lobby, where several other ward members who were also late joined me. I sat and listened to the four talks that were being given. Most of the time, and I'm somewhat ashamed to admit this but know I'm not the only one, I don't listen all that closely, or maybe not even at all. I had a hard time paying attention to the first considering it was being read from a paper, and not only that... she could barely read! This isn't a strange occurrence around here, and I'm sad to say that there are college students who are still illiterate.

Two more talks pass, the rest hymn, and then the last speaker got up. He was introduced as Jason. I don't know a Jason in the ward, so I assume that he's new or someone I haven't bothered to get to know. He begins his talk, and his voice sounded very familiar. I couldn't see him, of course, unless I leaned all the way over in my chair. I listened. He introduced himself as Jason and that he's been in the ward for several years now. It hit me. It was my home teacher and I've known him since I've been in the ward, we came in about the same time.

I didn't believe it. I leaned over, only with the awkward gazes at my almost toppling over with my feet in the air just to see who was at the pulpit. There it was... the man in the ward that for the last two years I've been calling A.J.

He never corrected me! He always let me call him by the wrong name and never said a word. He always looked like an A.J. I was so embarrassed, I immediately opened my cell phone and quickly changed his name. How can you let someone call you the wrong name for two years, and how can someone not know a person's name for two years?! I felt like a fool.

After the meeting closed, I walked in, told him he did a good job, gave him an awkward hug- it was incredibly awkward, I've never hugged him nor been any way close to him, but felt I owed him something!- and walked away, not going to any of my meetings, but left feeling like the worst person in the ward.

Junk

2008-03-28T09:40:00.000-07:00

Surplus. It's an odd job.

I am basically the garage sale of campus. Every month, we have a sale and I sell the leftover furniture, computers, and everything else. The nice thing about it is the only cost out of pocket is my and my co-worker's pay. I pick the junk up, then I sell it back to the departments or community.

There are some strange things about Surplus sales, though. Students come to find cheap computers, locals come to find cheap furniture, that's basic, but I have regulars.

Lets start with a man named Don Long. I know I said I wouldn't use last names, but this name is priceless... Don... Long. It practically rhymes and has so many innuendos it has to be shared. You have to wonder what was going through his mother's head when she named him. Anyway, Don is a frequent buyer at the Surplus Sale. He often buys too many computers, at least in my opinion. He use to own a computer repair shop in town, but it went out of business. He still buys the computers and I have no idea what he does with them. Here's the interesting thing about Don... he's definitely a nerd and by far one of the nerdiest I've met. He's sort of sloppy, wears sunglasses no matter what the weather is, black gloves (which oddly look like Luke Skywalker's glove to cover his robotic hand) and a baseball cap where his unwashed curly hair curls up to create a skirt around his long, chubby head. Another thing about Don... he always gets unusually close to me during the sales and often asks me about my personal life. I shutter thinking about it. He also found out where I lived once. He was driving past my house while I was outside. He decided to stop and get out and TALK to me.

Today, Don Long came to the sale, looking just as I have described him, absent the gloves. He trudged through the junk to find a few things he wanted and then stood around asking me questions. He found out that I was graduating and this may be our last sale as he put it, "together." Shuttering again.

Other regulars include the Printer Guy. I should know their names, but not all of them give me their business cards like Don and even when they do, I usually don't keep them. The Printer Guy got his nick-name from me because he bought a HUGE used printer from surplus that when put down on the ground to save, exploded fuchsia ink everywhere! He still bought it and every time he comes to the sale he explains to me what a steal he got when he bought the printer. Thus- The Printer Guy.

Jeannine, the secretary from Summer Games. I can't stand her most of the time. She will come to my office at least twice a week, if not more, to ask me what furniture is in surplus. She claims it's for the office, but I've been in there and it's smaller than the office I'm in, so I know the furniture isn't staying in there. Anyway, she's ridiculous and annoying but not as bad as the next regulars.

The Jacksons... I get sick just thinking about them. I really shouldn't use last names, but I'm sorry, no one is going to bug these guys because they can already do the job a thousand fold. You would run away screaming for your life if you ran into them. In fact... they were recently banned from the Surplus Sale because I didn't like them.

Lance was my teacher and a bad one at that. He's awkward. He looks like a washed up rat with large glasses, and he hunches over. I think it's because his tiny head is still too heavy for his scrawny body. He also takes forever to tell you something, and argues with EVERYTHING and he asks me questions I don't have answers to.

His wife is worse! She's a music major, just as awkward and weird, and she sings everywhere she goes because she thinks she's da-bomb. She'll argue with me on anything that's for sale and try and let her have it for free. They bug me so much, I'll raise the price to a ridiculous amount just to make them go away. I shun them whenever I can.

Well, another sale, another month. By the way they all came to the sale today. One more month to go

then I don't know what's going to happen, but you can bet that

next month it's going to be a Birthday Bash in celebration of Me!

Doomsday = Graduation

2008-03-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm mad.

I didn't get to speak at commencement, and that's fine. I've gotten over that and I'll probably be speaking at my individual graduation ceremony, which is awesome. However, I just found out who IS speaking at commencement, and needless to say, I'm ticked.

I won't use names, but regardless, if you know me or him, you'll figure it out. This man use to be one of my really good friends. We shared a lot and often thought on the same track, but getting into Student Government issues and being on opposite ends strained our friendship to the point where I would never care to associate with the man again. He personally attacked me many times when political issues were up for debate which I find a low and uncouth way to attack and argue. Not to mention the man threatened me once if I spoke about a certain issue, and that was the last straw!

So we both were up for speaking at commencement this year. Of course I wanted to speak. I know a lot of people, I love this school, I've been highly involved ever since I got here, and I wanted to prove it by giving a speech that proved it. I don't know the man's reasoning. All I know is I heard our speeches were opposite of each others. I wrote about theatre as a metaphor for our college life and after I graduate, I'll post it.

It would just so happen that this man works for the chair of the committee that chose the speaker, not to mention works along side the PR Director of the school. I have my suspicions. The truth is, he's a joke and a TERRIBLE speaker, which I've never told him. He always sounds so memorized, as if he's reading directly out of a script, and gives no life to what he's saying. I'm not saying I'm any better... but wait, I am! My speeches and comments should always come across as if I'm saying it for the first time, a requirement of myself. It bugs when I can tell you're reading off a page.

It's also Ironic. The one man I've hated the most this year (there's usually someone I always despise) is the one man I have to listen to when I say my farewell to the University. It's been a slightly disappointing day so far.

Cliché

2008-03-19T14:08:00.000-07:00

Always the friend, never the girlfriend.

It's a growing trend in my life and it's so cliché I want to gag, but it's the best way of describing my life. As much as I love all my guy friends, I wouldn't be telling the truth if I said I would magically fall in love with any of them. I'm not interested in them romantically, and this could be due because we're close friends and I know the way they think and talk about other girls... it's a turn off.

The other day I went to dinner with my friend Lorin. He's in-like with a girl right now who's in my ward. I don't know much about her other than she's quite trendy and very into church. (Meaning, she's put her papers in and she's going to serve a mission, kudos for that.) So while sitting at dinner I not only had to be present during a phone call from her to him, but I also had to hear EVEYRTHING about her. This isn't unusual for Lorin, he tends to tell his romantic life stories to everyone and anyone who will listen. I like hearing them, but it eventually effects my self esteem after a while. Especially when his comments contain, "I'm looking for that girl who is better than all the others" or "There must be a girl out there who will shine above all the other girls I've met." I understand what he's talking about, but sometimes I wonder if he forgets that I, too, am a girl.

While we were eating he asked me if I had been going out on dates. I was honest and I haven't been since October, which led him into saying, "You have to get yourself out there!" Lorin is the type of guy that if he sees a girl that is "cute" he'll ask her out, no hesitation. He has quite the charm and guts compared to most men these days, and it is refreshing. Once again, though, he tells me these things and in the back of my head I think, "Huh... so I guess I wasn't cute enough the first time I met him." I'm not, in any way, interested in dating Lorin, but those thoughts do pop up. I think any girl could understand where I'm coming from.

Lorin and I continued to talk and he brought up his roommate. Now, his roommate Brian is a nice guy. He's smart, funny, cute, a singer and guitar player... he's very fun to be with. I haven't had a chance to get to know him much outside of the Elections while he was on my committee, but like I said, he's a good catch if you ask me. Lorin brought up that Brian doesn't date much. He said that when he asks girls if they would date Brian the common answer is, "Uh... well..." and I looked a little shocked. I said, "Really? I would date Brian in a heartbeat," and listed off the reasons why. Lorin smiled and said, "See?! We need to find more girls like you so that Brian can date them."

It was as if that little "Wah, wha, wha..." sound went off somewhere nearby. Did he really say "other" girls? Am I not considered a girl? After talking about getting myself out there, I once again became the shadow figure and a display that couldn't be touched.

Yesterday I helped him put together the gift he bought this girl for her birthday. Basically, I tied a ribbon on it and called it good. I was shocked he color coordinated the whole package himself, but Lorin is just that way. He sat and told me all the wonderful things he was planning that night and showed me all these silly gifts he put together. Between me and you, I think he was pushing and they aren't really dating. He hasn't even kissed the girl yet, but regardless, they were sweet gifts and very thoughtful. So there I sat putting together another girl's present wondering if I'd ever see the day when I would be on the other end of the gift scenario.

I can't say I haven't had gifts before. Matty has always given me flowers at Valentines, and great Christmas gifts. (Matty, who hasn't been mentioned yet, is pretty much my best friend from LA, and he's leaving to go on a mission, so the last blog was about him as well.) Derek brought me back a jewelry box from Costa Rica, and a lovely set of poker cards in a box from Chautauqua, New York. (That was random.) The only one out of those two, however, that I've ever been interested in is Derek, and that's an idea long gone.

Before Matty left to go home for LA I got to hear about the new girl he likes. Ryan (my friend from High school) often tells me about his girl drama, and then there are random guys all the time. I haven't quite figured out why I'm the "go-to" girl for stories and relationship drama, but I think it goes with the cliché "Those who can't do, teach."

I've thought of writing a book about all the observations I've made about relationships, and so far I haven't been too wrong about figuring people out. I have to admit, if I only have one side of the story, it's much harder to give advice, but I guess I'll try and be optimistic and accept that as my calling in life. If you need advice, big or small, let me know. Also, if you're one of those girls who have the same calling as myself and you need reassurance, get me on a good day.

Meaning

2008-03-18T18:46:00.000-07:00

Ok, now to the stuff that everyone wants to read; relationships. Ever wonder why that's more interesting to us than anything else? We always want to know what’s going on with everyone, but especially if it's about love or lust.

I'm not in love, as I've mentioned before, I'm out of love with the idea of being in love right now. It's a way to make myself feel better that I don't have anyone.

What I'm struggling with is losing my best friend who I've already lost once and now it's beginning to sink in that it's finally real. After graduation, I'll never see him again, and besides the fact that I once thought I was going to marry the guy, he was my best friend for a long time, and we have been by each others' sides for the last three years. It's very strange to think that now I'll be moving on to a life without him there and I won't see him again. I'm torn. He was the love of my life for a short time, and then he broke my heart, and it hasn't healed all the way yet. I believe a reason for that is because he is still in my life and as hard as I try to push away, I always end up back in the same place. He's the only person I have EVER felt that way about, because most people who hurt me, and always less than what he has, I drop them in a split second and never look back.

I'm not in love anymore. I don't want to be with him because he's not what I want. At one point I did, and to be honest, I don't know if I'll ever find anyone who will want me back. He did, but it wasn't enough. That hurts the most. It really feels more like he didn't want ME enough.

So, I'm facing the last few weeks before I have no choice but to move on. Is it good or bad? It's bittersweet. It will be good, but I'll always live with the "what if"... I'm living with that now. I'm traveling on faith that there's something more out there, and I'm scared.

He's been weird lately. It's like we are friends one day, but not the next. I think he's trying to cut out the people that matter in his life now so that when he leaves, it will be easier to say goodbye. I'm exactly the opposite. I'm trying to soak up all the time I can with the people who matter to me, and it doesn't seem like there's enough. At the same time I'm ready to leave and I just want to do it now and prolonging it is killing me. Every night I go to bed wondering where my life is going to end up and I have horrible dreams.

The last few I can remember have been these:

A trip to Norway with Derek and his roommates. It was covered in ice and very cold. Derek demanded that we all go on a boat ride. The house I stayed at wasn't really a house, but a building full of stairs and the attic was occupied by a girl with a deformed face.
Graduation day. No one would talk to me, it was as if they couldn't hear me.
Vampires were trying to catch me and they kept blood in very small, glass viles that you broke open with your fingers.
My tooth was falling out, actually crackling into little pieces.

I don't think these dreams have much to do with my life, but I always find dreams fascinating. Derek is often in my dreams and I'm not sure why. I don't even see him all that much. My best friend from High School use to always interpret my dreams and it was always a joke, but she made me feel better about my life. Now I'm left to figure it out on my own, if it means anything.

Living with the Opposite Sex

2008-03-18T18:15:00.001-07:00

As you might have gathered, I'm a specimen of the female species. I enjoy being a girl (ha ha, you'll get those theatre references every now and then) and I am very happy I am not a man, no matter what anyone would say. This is also no offense to the men out there. I'm just very proud to be a woman and I'm much too attracted men to ever want to be one... if that makes sense. It's like ice-cream; I love it and I want it all the time, but I would never want to BE it. Bad metaphor, but it gets the point across.

Here's the situation. I live upstairs in a house with one roommate, Christina. Downstairs live four boys. I'm not even going to use the term men, since I don't think they even come close to the definition besides certain physical aspects and age. Maturity should really count with age.

Guys are so strange to me. It could be because I grew up with only one sister and very overbearing mother. My father grew up with only his sister and needless to say, he was not the dominate creature of the house while growing up. So, I'm much more in tune with a female household and not use to living with the opposite sex.

First of all, the sounds are obnoxious. The base is constantly on, whether it be music, a movie, or a video game, we can't go a day without making the walls shake and the floor bounce. It's almost as if it's part of the lifestyle. I have a tick, it comes from my female parental unit, that base of anything drives me crazy. I don't even like it when I'm in the room, say a party or something. It's almost as bad as being with someone who chews with their mouth open.

I've also come to find out that men are born deaf. Maybe not physically, but mentally deaf. They only hear certain things and "Will you please turn your music down?" is not one of them. It's been over two months, and it doesn't matter how much I call, jump up and down, or yell... they can't seem to hear me. I think the worst part is that they don't care. However, if I do one thing to annoy them, I hear about it within the first five minutes and I'm expected to stop. I guess that would lead me to believe that guys are not fair negotiators. That leads me to be very angry and I'm not one to be pushed around. So, I've developed a tactic and even if it doesn't work, it at least makes me feel better.

My bathroom upstairs creates a type of vacuum for sound. Anything they say or do downstairs can be heard from my bathroom. Anything I say or do in my bathroom can be heard downstairs. When I'm angry, I simply turn the music up full blast in the bathroom and shut the door. Miraculously, the sound doesn't travel much further than the door upstairs, so it doesn't bother me. I have this sense of revenge when I do this, especially if I do it VERY early in the morning.

I have to do my laundry downstairs. There's nothing more uncomfortable than going through a guy's room, which is never clean, and having to go past every guys' room to wash your underwear. It's even better since the washer and dryer serve as their kitchen counter. Last time I did laundry, I had to share the space with chocolate syrup.

The world was being destroyed one night, and I could hear it under my feet. When I went down to do my laundry, someone had left their unmentionables in the washer. As if any woman who doesn't know or even like the guys she's living with wants to touch a guy's underwear?! So I asked if they could figure out whose it was and if we could move it. It took them half an hour to figure out whose it was. There are only four of them, and three were there. I thought that would have narrowed it down. One of them, the landlord's son Steven, looked at me funny when I asked him to move it. He said "I don't know why it bothers you, they are clean." I can't explain it other than, gross. Meanwhile, another guy (I'm unaware of his name, I don't really bother to get to know them) decides while I'm doing laundry and nothing is exploding on the screen, he's going to make Mac & Cheese in the microwave. As he walks over to the kitchen/laundry corner, he says to me, "By the way, I farted."

I've seen lots of movies, I've been with my friends' siblings, and even in my family, we'll make comments such as this. However... I couldn't have been more disgusted and uncomfortable. Ewww... they don't impress me at all, and they were going into the negative with points. I try to avoid them at all costs.

Here are a few other things I've noticed about collections of men living together.

Stacks of cans- these guys don't drink, that I know of, but there's a huge wall of energy drink cans. Why are they saving this? Is it impressive that you drink five RockStars in a night?

Lights- they are on ALL the time, even when they are gone, even when there's sunshine lighting the room.

Bathroom- not even going there.

Girls- they are over ALL the time! They giggle at everything and do it till three in the morning. Not to mention, I think they're stupid, because the guys are making them pay monthly fees to use the internet...

Noise- besides the music and stereo annoyance, they bounce things against the walls, they shut doors loudly, they play drums, yell at the top of their lungs, etc... they are noisy.

I can't wait to move.

And in the Begining...

2008-03-18T17:53:00.000-07:00

It was a request a little while ago that I start a blog. I'm not a fan of putting my life online, after all, I have many, many journals that I write in and the point is to keep it private and secure, and maybe one day hide them all over the place and force my future generations to go in search of the missing pieces to put together my life. That would, however, require me to write in some kind of code and for the last ten years, I've neglected doing that, so perhaps that idea is out the window.

I don't think you can expect to get anything more personal from this blog than I would share with a group of friends, but that could mean many stories and lots of details. I am, after all, a story teller at heart. Anyone who has met me knows this to be true. Some nick name me a "rumor mill" but I contradict the term by saying that everything I spout is fact and just because it's about others' lives or interesting doesn't mean its a rumor. So, I suppose this is my warning to all who read- If You're in this Blog... sorry. I won't use last names, but I'm not in the mood nor have the time to keep up with false names. I'm a story teller, not a novelist.

So, now to the beginning of this blog after a long introduction. Actually, I don't know what to write, so I suppose I'll give you the basics of where I am right now in life. Only from this will the rest of my stories begin to make sense, if they make sense at all.

I'm almost 22 years old. In fact, it’s a little over a month before I turn 22. I guess I'll admit, I'm sort of scared for the future. I'm graduating college, in theatre of all majors, and now I have to make these huge decisions that all of us seniors thought we made four years ago. Many of my friends are married, some have children, some are buying houses, and almost all of them are in relationships and seem very happy. At this moment in time... I'm not. I'm extremely bitter and depressed, especially if it's about love and relationships. I guess I'm jealous and I'm in a mind set where I don't believe it's even possible at this point. There was a time when I was in love and everything seemed to be right... but that quickly passed. I've been in this deep, dark hole of loneliness before, so I'm not worried that I'll be here forever, and right now, I don't feel like climbing out. I'm not even willing to accept a hand to pull me up.

Ah hem... back to the being 22... I live in Utah and it's looking like I'm becoming a spinster in "Mormon" terms. I am LDS and happy to be so, but that doesn't mean I'm "molly-Mormon" and I'm not "jack-Mormon" either. I'm just me, who's happy to be in the Church but I guess I don't dedicate my entire life to it. I also don't think that's wrong. I have lots of ambitions and I'm in theatre... so church is a priority, but not my life. Because of the spinsterhood I'm about to face, I want to leave Utah and explore the world. I don't know why, but I have a sneaking suspicion I might do better outside of the state, both with relationships and with career. We'll see.

I'm fairly average and very plain. I will tell you, I have a distinct look. I'm not the usual girl you see walking down the street, but there's nothing to shout or turn your head about. I have red hair, fake of course, because I always wanted to be like Mary Jane from Spiderman. I suppose its also important to know I was the product of nerds and automatically have been instilled to love comic-books, Starwars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, etc. I wouldn't exactly claim myself to be a nerd and I don't sit and read books over and over and learn Elvish or anything creepy like that. I also do not sit in my room and pretend to live in another world. I'm very much in the world you are (unless you're one of those nerds, in which case you can pretend I visit) but remember, I'm in theatre, so pretending is my life. I'm very active; not sexually. I am involved, I guess is a better term. I do everything. (Once again, not a sexual innuendo.) I also know a lot of people... friends are another issue, but I have many connections and I like it that way.

Hmmm... I don't know what else to say on this blog. Like I said before, I'm new at this, but I figure I might as well give it a try. After all, I'm getting ready to graduate college and move on to new things, this would be the best way to document my life outside of the journals... however, I might get carpal tunnel, in which case, I might just quit.

Enjoy.