Eyepatch

Two weeks = 14 Days = 336 Hours until THE day. My Dad writes books. Some of his books have been inspired by dreams he has had. Ever since I was four and my little body was racked with “frightmares”, I have suspected my father passed on a bit more to me than his height.
I have ridiculously vivid and highly detailed dreams. 99.9% of the time my dreams involve people I love dying in awful ways, people I love coming back to life as gruesome killers that I now have to kill to save the world from (sound familiar? Pet Cemetery. One of my least favorite works of my father’s. Sorry Dad! The rest of them give me warm fuzzies), someone trying to hurt my little sister, dolls that come to life and try and kill me, my parents cheating on one another, faceless murders, the list goes on. Sounds cheerful, doesn’t it?

Ever since Sel came into my life, awful dreams involving him have erupted. Here is the most recent one:

I was sitting in some bleachers and I see Sel and his “cousin” Elise fighting. After their fight, he comes and sits next to me. When I ask what he was fighting with her about he says nothing and then tells me how his temple divorce is going along swimmingly for us to get married in two weeks. The world spun as I asked what he meant by his divorce. He explained how he was afraid I might not want to marry him should I know he was getting a divorce, but he now knows how desperately I love him and would do almost anything for him. I ran away from him and called the temple office asking how far along the divorce was. The clerk informed me the divorce had been filed last week and would probably take at least a year to process. I found Sel in a random bathroom and demanded to know how his divorce had only been filed last week. He came up with some story about how his ex wouldn’t sign the papers despite them having been separated for the past two years. I told him there was no way we could get married in the temple to which he responded we could just get married civilly. I was heartbroken in the dream knowing I wanted nothing but the best and the best was getting married in the temple. I was even more heartbroken that Sel had lied to me. As I reached for my phone to call my parents, he grabbed my wrist and threw it on the floor. He then shoved me up against a mirror and told me I could never call my parents again because then they would hate him. I left the bathroom and ran into two of Sel’s friends. When they asked why I was crying and bleeding, I told them about Sel getting a divorce. The first said, “It’s a shame really. Elise is so sexy when she isn’t being crazy.” I was in shock. “Elise? You don’t mean his cousin?.” The second friend chuckled and asked if that was the story Sel had come up with to keep the truth from me. I demanded to know the whole truth and it was revealed that I was the other woman. Elise and Sel had a happy marriage till I came along and Sel decided I was the one he actually wanted to marry. So he started dating me secretly and would come home at night to his wife. He had finally told her today that he was leaving her for another woman (me) who he had been seeing for almost a year now. I turned back to the bathroom that was now a forest experiencing a torrential downpour . Sel came up to me and shook my sobbing self and told me to get over it and marry him.

Awful. Awful. Awful. I woke up in the usual distressed state I do when my brain clings to my dreams. How very opposite of everything that Sel is! To further prove this, here is the conversation I just had with him about it.
Me: I had an awful dream about you last night
Sel: (not being surprised since my dreams are usually awful) Really? What happened?
Me: Brief summary of the above dream
Sel: I know an Elise
Me: I know. It wasn’t her
Sel: Did she have an eye patch?
Me: What?
Sel: Did she have an eye patch?
Me: I just told you all about that awfulness and you are curious to whether your dream ex-wife had an eyepatch
Sel: Well, yeah. Wouldn’t it be cool if she did?

He very well is my favorite person on the planet. TWO WEEKS!!!!

A Star of Flesh & Bone

This week has been simply splendid. I would say it has started off as the three best days of almost my entire life. Want to hear all about how glorious it’s been? Sure you do.
Monday: I woke up on time cheerfully. Thanks to Mugs, my wedding task list was much smaller than it had been on Friday, my toes were a lovely shade of plum, and I had been wondering all weekend whether my new Vietnamese friend from the nail salon would give me one of the massage chairs as a wedding gift. I kissed my two adorable little cousins goodbye and walked out the door. I got a phone call five minutes later from my aunt telling me I left my lunch on the counter. No big-I will still be on time. I pull out of the driveway for the second time and realize my gas light has come on. Okay, fine. I will just stop by the gas station on my way to work. The gas station decided to not recognize my zip code five times. Maybe I ended up pushing the button that says “Complain to the non-English speaking attendant until they tell you to just push credit”, maybe I didn’t. I finally get on the highway and turn on the radio. I have become increasingly irritated with the radio and it’s tendency to not just play an abnormal amount of advertisements, but let the radio hosts talk about meaningless things for twenty minutes until they realize they should maybe play some music. As a conversation about where to find the best night lights started up, I started shouting at the senseless individuals who couldn’t hear me until I realized the guy next to me was shooting me a look of utter horror. Probably because I have become so unbelievably ripped lately. I rolled Old Yeller onto Foothill twenty minutes later and stared dejectedly at the one lane traffic filled with the other poor individuals who forgot it was dumb Pioneer Day. Don’t get me wrong, I normally love Pioneer Day. I normally get to run in the 10K, watch the parade with my fam, and end the day with a lovely little barbeque. Now that I have to be a grown up, I get to celebrate Pioneer Day by sitting in my cubicle for eight hours. I also get to celebrate it by following a dumb civic around the line of cones protecting the marathoners and getting treated by a rude blonde and doughnut eating police officer like I was on my way to Tiananmen Square. Just so you and the rude, yelling police officer know, the leader of the marathon was five miles away still AND whose to say I don’t live in that one house on the corner and didn’t just drive along five miles of cones. Also, you (police officer) are just bitter you are getting paid to babysit drivers today while your buddies get paid to do cool tricks on motorcycles in the parade.
Tuesday: I get myself into dangerous situations on a pretty regular basis. Usually (always) it is because I make dumb decisions. Why not run in down town Salt Lake and discover a marijuana field surrounded in barbed wire? Why not run in the mountains during a thunder storm and almost get hit by lightening? Why not kayak down an overflowing river and almost get hit by an oncoming train? Really, why not? I have also adapted to having vehicles break down on a weekly basis. The Beast, may he rest in peace, had his fair share of issues. Old Yeller has been pretty faithful (minus the brakes deciding not to work and the pathetic air conditioning). However, Old Yeller made the decision a little while ago to be a jerk and no longer wipe the rain off his brow. I made the decision to teach him a lesson on obedience and tell him he had to start working. He unfortunately has not yet graduated from L’s Obedience School and decided he still wasn’t going to work even though there was a torrential down pour yesterday. In all of the dumb situations I’ve gotten myself into, I’ve never been too afraid. I knew I could out run the high guards by the field. I knew the guys I met on my run knew CPR and could get me to a hospital should I get struck with lightening. I knew Caitlin was supposed to go on a mission so at least she would survive the kayaking trip. Yesterday, I knew I had a 20% chance of living through the storm. When I left work, there was a light drizzle. Nothing Yeller and I couldn’t survive. As he and I drove along the ever busy I-215, the rain furiously pounded my windshield. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out to try and see. This led to me swerving and almost hitting the previously invisible car next to me. My body began to register the life threatening situation I was in. I was in the middle lane surrounded by cars going 65 mph in the middle of a monsoon and, though his name implies he could fill this role, Yeller is no seeing eye dog. My hands went numb and I began to hyperventilate. I blindly drove into the next lane and prayed I would make it to the shoulder without being hit. A prayer was answered and I drove over the cement median onto an exit. I still couldn’t see anything and it was now even more dangerous because I could hit a person or a car or a tree or a light post or an office building. This is not the way I wanted to go out. I wanted to be 96 or so and have NASA drop a drugged up Sel and I a few feet above the atmosphere. As we fell through the sky, people would gawk at the beautiful star/meteor and Sel and I would warmly leave this world without pain. I didn’t want to be the girl who died because her disobedient car hates her. By some miracle, there was a parking lot of an office building two feet from the exit. I got to safely sit in that strikingly beautiful parking lot for the next 30 minutes. I would tell you I had some life altering revelation during that time about better car maintenance or using your brain more, but my body kind of gave out and I just smooshed my face against my window marveling that I wasn’t dead. You’d think that was all Tuesday had in store for me. But no, Tuesday wanted to see me in my best light yet. I was supposed to pick up my dress from the bridal shop that has given a new definition to “Incompetence”. I was 85 minutes late and didn’t really feel all that bad about it (since they have just been marvelous at meeting deadlines), told the Dominican seamstress “Gracias”, and scooped up my dress AND the wrong veil. I stared at the needles on Gladys’ desk wondering how much of a mess I would cause if I jabbed one into my jugular. I marched in what I hoped was menacingly down the stairs and informed the worker that this was gianormous two tired taffeta mess was not the veil I ordered. She apologized and grabbed the veil I tried on when I ordered it telling me she steamed both the one in my hand and the one on the rack cause she couldn’t remember which one it was. Thank goodness I was on my way to see Sel or I might just have ripped the thing to shreds in my fury. I thanked her and left the store that I will never, ever, ever have to go back to. And then I saw Sel and everything in the world was wonderful again.
Wednesday: Today is going chipper so far. I left my badge in Yeller and had to drive my cousin’s car the fifteen minutes back to get it and then I was crushed by a stampede of zoo animals. Okay, the very last part hasn’t happened. Yet. I do work really close to the Hogle Zoo though… The possibilities for today’s adventures truly are endless. If you reach for the moon, you might just fall through the atmosphere as a human star

The Glass Bridezilla

I would like to elope. To the temple. I have decided I too har

shly judged the girls I watched on Bridezilla. Let me get a few things straight before I launch in. First, I am so excited to get married to Sel I can hardly stand it. Second, the help pouring in for this thrilling event has been overwhelming and so humbling and has helped lessen the now mounting stress.

Now...I have decided weddings are not so much fun actually. I despise the drama it causes with friends and family. I hate the stress and pressure it pours upon everyone. I feel as if I am hemorrhaging money as are my parents, in-laws, and other family members. I feel sick thinking of all the money that is going into this that could be spent other places (like tuition, books, rent, food). Time seems to be some deranged black hole erasing large chunks of my day without me realizing. I try every night to get more than six hours of sleep, but the hours are somehow vaporized during my walk from the bathroom to my bedroom. I feel as if the precious time I should be spending thanking my family and enjoying the wonderful people they are has vanished into hours I will never get back. I feel sad thinking of those who I love so dearly, who I always pictured there not being able to be (they have some pretty darn good excuses, but I will miss them terribly). I feel panicked thinking of all the things I still need to do and afraid I might be forgetting. My emotions are spilling over the edge, threatening my sanity.

(Mugs-the sister who saves me daily)

Today the floodgates unleashed on my sweet, helpful cousin after she concernedly pointed out my resemblance of a zombie lately. She helped me organize all of the things I need to do and helped me check a bunch of them off the list. Despite her helping hand, I can't shake these feelings of panic. I don't want to feel this way approaching the best day of my life. I have seen enough reality T.V. and my own friends and family go through this same thing, but it doesn't change the way I feel. I am seconds from telling everyone to take back all their money, time, effort, and stress and just join us for a picnic of PB& J's in the park after the sealing. Again, my family (in-laws have been included in this term for a long while now) has been SO helpful and kind and caring. I think I would be getting fitted for a white straight jacket right now instead of a white dress if it weren't for them. Today, one of the co-workers I went skydiving with bought me a frosty. This was almost enough to get me crying. First, because it was unexpected and thoughtful. Second, because he drives a motorcycle and had to drive one-handed while trying to balance it (and himself) with the other.

It really has become a cycle of debilitating guilt. I sit and think about how much stress we are causing everyone. And then I feel guilty for not appreciating their sacrifices enough or letting them know. And then I feel guilty for being the cause of such sacrifices. And then I feel guilty for caring so much and not being tough enough to handle it all. And then I finally decide now would be a good time to go to bed.

* I apologize for the thought explosion on this. I acknowledge somewhere in my fogged up brain that I should not be writing this late. Thank goodness Mugs is the best in the world and taking me for my first ever pedicure tomorrow to help bring me back to life.

How to Reduce Your Chances of Being a Sociopath

21 days until I marry the most wonderful man on the face of the planet. I still struggle to realize this is really happening. It isn’t some amazing dream I am sure to wake up from. Getting married in general is a bit much to process, but I don’t know if I will ever be able to fully comprehend that I really am marrying the most amazing, nearly perfect man in the universe (Please note the upgrade from planet to universe). It is impossible to describe how remarkable Sel truly is. I have never been astoundingly gifted grammatically nor in being able to fully express my emotions. I think this is why the term love is such a genius invention. Somehow in using this four letter word, people can relate or interpret the many words that are associated with it. Love somehow explains why I still catch my breath when I first see his face or get butterflies even thinking about him. It explains why I feel like a robot until I see him-I go through the motions only capable of having elementary feelings. It explains why I am incapable of doing anything else but staring anxiously at my phone, fighting with the worst case scenario thoughts trying to enter my head while he is driving home. Love somehow explains why I now cry when I have to say goodbye to him. It explains why I smile like a crazy person thinking about him. It explains why I feel as if this is somehow my first year of life-that I am discovering the world around me wasn’t what I thought it was before. Love explains why I can somehow forget there are other people in the world and at the same time become more aware and grateful for my family, friends, strangers, homeless people who call me sweetbottom. It explains why the dreams of the future I had before him seem so small, so meaningless-how did I ever expect to be truly happy or successful or at peace without him? Without his steadying arms and constant encouragement? Without his perfect laughter or cheerful smile? Without his unwavering selflessness or overwhelming kindness? Without his little boy smile or unshakable testimony? Without his undeniable brilliance and admirable dedication? Without his love?
I am so undeserving of him. Of his love. “Our song” for the wedding is “I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You” by Savage Garden. I really do feel as if I knew Sel before I met him. As if my whole life before him was just a preparation or waiting stage until I finally got to see him again. The best part of finally finding him again, is I never, ever have to say goodbye again. I get to keep him for eternity. Three weeks everyone until the party of the century happens.

* I know this has been mushy, but just suck it up. Watching chick flicks and reading sappy blog posts helps integrate you into society and reduce your potential of becoming a sociopath. Or looking like a fool cause you’ve never heard , watched, or made fun of “The Notebook”.

Here is the song I wrote for Sel. Savage Garden stole it from me when I was a helpless eight-year-old girl.

Maybe it's intuition

But some things you just don't question

Like in your eyes

I see my future in an instant

and there it goesI think I've found my best friend

I know that it might sound more than a little crazy but I believe

I knew I loved you before I met you

I think I dreamed you into life

I knew I loved you before I met you

I have been waiting all my life

There's just no rhyme or reason

only this sense of completion

and in your eyes

I see the missing pieces

I'm searching forI think

I found my way home

I know that it might sound more thana little crazy but I believe

(Chorus)
A thousand angels dance around youI am complete now that I found you

Not a Cheerful One

If you are cheerful right now, you might not want to read this. It also touches on more sensitive topics than I usual focus on for which I apologize. I am not a violent person by nature. I run from any sort of confrontation and am a cripple when it comes to communicating something I might feel would offend or hurt another. When I get angry though, the pansy person I am normally disappears. I hate when this happens. This is the reason I began to shy away from contact sports as I got older-I hated feeling angry with another player. (That and my coordination skills exponentially decreased). To save Sel from my passionate venting and hysterics, I am going to use this as a venting arena. Last summer, I was bent on going to Africa for a field study. I wanted nothing more than to live in a hut, sweat buckets, and learn everything I could about the culture of wherever I was placed. One of my co-workers, who reminds me of my favorite high school teacher, expressed his concern at me going. I was touched by his concern, but nothing could sway me from my choice (except for a handsome blue-eyed man named Sel). While in the break room today, he offered his congratulations on my marriage and how relieved he was that I wasn’t going to Africa. He told me more of the reasons why he was so concerned last summer. He told me of the nearly 100 suits against the Peace Corp from women who were brutally raped while in Africa (among other areas). I looked up the article online and my flood of blinding anger I so often bury washed over me. It is still causing my blood to pound too hard through my veins and my hands to shake as I try and type this. There is nothing more despicable in this world than a rapist. I am Mormon and very strongly believe in the power of Christ’s atonement, but I don’t know if I will ever be able to feel anything other than hate for a rapist. I try to remember that rapists are human too. They have probably had difficult pasts. I try over and over to think this way, but all I keep coming back to wishing the pain they caused their victims would fall upon them tenfold. I know this might be controversial, but I think murderers rank better than rapists. When someone is raped, they have to wake up every single day and remember. Remember how they will never be the same again. Remember how they are supposed to be grateful to be alive. Remember they can never really forget. When you die, your pain goes with you. I know this is sounding dark and awful and I hope you know I don’t intend it that way. The world is full of truly beautiful people who do truly beautiful things every day. Even acknowledging that there are far more people who are good in this world cannot seem to placate my fury that women, children are sexually abused every single day. 1 out of 3 American women have been sexually abused. I bet you the statistic is actually much higher than that. The reason, rape victims blame themselves and are terrified people will find out. People will think poorly of the victim or wonder what the victim did to bring it on herself (sometimes himself). Children too often don’t understand exactly what has happened. They feel pain and are confused, but they don’t fully comprehend what happened to them was not normal. I want so desperately to know how to help stop this. I want justice to be served. I feel so powerless as I try and sort out what I could possibly do to keep another child or woman from being part to the too high statistic. The only weak conclusion I have lighted upon is that maybe if I am kind to every single person I encounter, it will help them believe there is still goodness in the world. Because there is. Even for those despicable predators who don’t deserve it. There is mercy and compassion. There is altruism and kindness. There is hope and faith. There is love.

Be Like the Boy Who Lived

Talking about my allergen has really gotten annoying. Living with my allergen is even more annoying than constantly blogging about it. Today, I did the unthinkable. I somehow deleted the Regulatory folder on the V:/Drive. Oh, you mean the one that contains electronic documents dating back 30+ years? Or the one that holds every single project any given Regulatory member is working on? Or the one that holds the most time sensitive submissions for the FDA? Why yes. That would be the one I am talking about.

I was sitting happily at my desk adding a missing volume to the Application Repository when I get a mass email from one of my coworkers.

First Mass Email :"Who changed something in the Application Repository? I can't get back into the folder anymore"

Mild panic.

Second Mass Email: "The Application Repository folder is missing"

Mounting Panic.

Third Mass Email: "The entire Regulatory folder has been deleted"-my boss

Massive panic.

The following questions came to my mind:

1. If I jump from the third floor, will I die or just end up breaking all my bones and getting a ticket for attempting suicide in a public place.?

2. If I set fire to my computer and run out the door, will it be obvious that it was me?

3. Will I have to ask Toothless Tom on 9th if I can share his refrigerator box now that my chance of having any sort of job involving computers has been obliterated?

I peeked cautiously over the top of my cubicle wall to see if anyone else was reading their emails. I ducked down so fast when I saw what was going on that I ended up knocking all of my papers all over the floor. (which was an excellent opportunity to hide under my desk). This is what I saw: Pure Hysteria

My co-workers were running around to each others cubicles wringing their hands and asking in panicked voices what was going on.

As I debated whether someone would notice if I spent the night under my desk, I decided to be like the boy who lived (THREE DAYS EVERYBODY!!!!) and face imminent death. I shakily walked up to my boss' desk and said, "I think I was the one who deleted the folder". He was busy cradling a phone on his shoulder talking to IT and scanning through the folders to see what happened as one tear fell down his cheek. Then the third worst thing that happened today (the second will be revealed shortly), by distracting my boss with my confession, he accidentally moved the second most important folder in our department. Did you notice how I said the word moved instead of deleted? My brief redemption came from the fact that I did not, in fact, delete the folder. I (or someone else might have...but let's be honest, who else has as bad of luck with technology?) moved it to another folder. One in which no one had access to...

He shrugged in his distraction and turned away to try and solve the unfortunate heap of disaster I had dropped on my department.

I slipped outside the building and prayed it had all been a dream (still praying for this in fact). I got in Old Yeller and drove as swiftly home as I could. I probably could have made it in twenty-five minutes if Mister Semi hadn't decided to miraculously block me off in every lane. Mister Semi had no idea what he was messing with. As I stared angrily at his back side, a retched smell filled my nostrils and an onslaught of black began pelting my windshield. The dinosaur-esque Semi had blown a tire and was now threatening to end my life. This was not okay. I had just escaped the dark clenches of death (for the day) and was looking forward to getting a free slurpee from 7-11. My guardian angel (who I should really give a raise to for all of his overtime work for the past 21 years) saved me and helped me switch into the other lane before the semi stopped cold in the middle of the highway.

Today was a good day. This is me being optimistic. Be impressed. I am still alive. (Until tomorrow when my co-workers take revenge).

And Mugs and I went to the aquarium the other day.

(He turned into the ridiculously handsome half-stached man below)

And, the best of all, I have Sel. :) Who could possibly be unhappy when they have seen this face for the past three days straight?

30 DAYS until I get to marry this studly man :)

Grains of Sand

I love to laugh. I love to laugh all out-body shaking, worries forgotten. You can't always be laughing though. Sometimes you are left to fill the spaces between laughter with more complicated thoughts. Sometimes these spaces are filled with the thought of how unjust the world can be. Ever since I was little, I would become overwhelmed by the realization that I couldn't help everyone. I would sob uncontrollably when we would pass homeless people and I would beg my parents to let me help them somehow. Sorrow and almost unbearable guilt will still wash over me when I consider how many of my fellow brothers and sisters go without every day while I sit in the palm of absolute luxury. I have never been in want of anything-especially love. My family has provided more than I could ever return. Thinking about each one of my family member's contributions to my well being over the years is like trying to count grains of sand. It's impossible to count every act of charity given unto me. My aunt and uncle are two who have given me everything they possibly could and more. To start, they have let me stay free of charge in their home for the past two summers. My aunt always makes it a point to stock the kitchen full of one of my favorite treats-bell peppers. My uncle doesn't smack me upside the head when I repeatedly eat his things. When I look at my aunt and uncle, I see all the world should be.

Humble. Giving. Loving. Patient. Faithful. Selfless. Strong.

I am sure they would be beyond embarrassed should they know I am praising them, but they deserve it. They deserve much, much more than a silly little blog post could amount to. They deserve to be millionaires and travel the world without care. They deserve to retire to Santa Barbra. They deserve to have perfect health. They deserve to be recognized for all their good deeds. You want to know what the greatest part about them is? Even though it is without question that they deserve all these things, they will continue to bless my life and all others lives without complaint. Here is to the woman who helped me stuff/address five hundred wedding invitations. The man who carried in all my luggage yesterday. The couple who deserves the best and express their gratitude as if they already have it.

Dear Summer

I would like to ask why you are doing this to me? What do you have to prove, really? I know I asked you to go quickly because the best thing in the whole history of mankind is happening on August 12th, but I didn’t mean this quickly. I figured you would let me hike/run around more, go on awesome bike rides, camp at least once, maybe read twenty or so books, finish my projects at work, go on a study abroad to India for free (okay, I know you said no to this one. I understand. But what about the others?!). You aren’t going to let that happen though, are you? Do you take pleasure in watching me grasp desperately at time I don’t have? I bet you are sitting there right now in your warm, happy, care free little world chuckling as you watch me realize you will be traveling to the other hemisphere in a few weeks. Would you like to explain to me why you changed so much from the last Sel or I saw of you? Last time you were around you were, despite some of your flaws, a most delightful guest. You played with Sel in Germany a whole bunch and in some other fun European countries. Maybe from the outside you weren’t particularly warm to me at first, but looking back I am finding I really loved you. I loved all the adventures you got me into: skydiving, getting head butted (twice) by a rowdy calf, finding a marijuana field in downtown Salt Lake, almost getting struck by lightning with two random dudes running with me at Donut Falls, taking daily runs through the mountains of Utah, almost drowning Caitlin and I while kayaking, almost getting hit by a train, getting abandoned while camping at Goblin Valley, almost having a heart attack with Matty on our road trip to Coeur D’Alene, Hurt in the Dirt. I really could go on and on about all the adventures you and I went on last time you were here. The thing is, I am going to have to ask you to just chill out for a bit. Give Sel a bit longer to study for the Merciless Catapult of Awful Testing (M.C.A.T.) and do his History of Creativity project. Maybe give us three weekends where we don’t have anything planned. Now don’t go getting defensive. I understand that all of the things you are letting us do are truly fantastic, the best ever actually (Shrek, Harry Potter, L.A., Harry Potter, 4th of July in IF, Harry Potter, Our Wedding, honeymoon). It’s just I am getting more and more disturbed at your cruel humor of leaving me without much notice. I am going to need a bit more than two seconds to process all the things going on in my life right now. I hope you will take a good, long look at yourself and decide whether you want to continue pretending it is already July. I am not trying to hurt you old friend, I am only trying to help you.

Sincerely,
L