Darkness Falls

My personality is a bit odd. Big surprise, huh? Bet you never knew that about me. I tend to like things the majority doesn’t. I love the darkness. I love the gloomy rain filled days much more than those boring sunny days. Fog creeping eerily around the town is the cherry on top of a perfect day. I love being cold (which I am almost all the time luckily). I think black ties with neon green for best color in the universe. I love scary movies (when they are done well...which is rarely unfortunately) more than all other genres…except maybe documentaries. A documentary about anything scary though, BAM best genre ever! I love songs composed in a minor scale. I love blasting the Sweeney Todd musical while driving around town cause it sends shivers up my spine. I like to pretend I am being chased by monsters/murderers/mafia members while running cause it makes it more exciting. I am obsessed with Edgar Allen Poe. I love villians more than heroes. I wish Vincent Price could read me a bedtime story every night.  I love Halloween more than Christmas. SO much more than Christmas. Since I am a bit obsessed with Halloween, Sel agreed to throw our first Halloween Party/Party ever. We started planning in August, of course.

We picked the menu

Witches Hairy Finger Breadsticks

Cinderella Pumpkin Soup

Bone Crunching Meatballs (Sel’s fav)

Ghost Potatoes

Hand Punch Soup (Sel’s idea-he used a latex glove and filled it with Diet 7-Up and green food coloring)

Gummy Body Part Cupcakes

And the activities,

Bobbing for Apples and then decorating said apples in caramel, chocolate, and other delectable goodies

And the people,

Who are some of the coolest cats in the town. Sars especially because she came and helped me get everything together for 6 hours. And Kit and Kat for helping us set up the night before and prep ourselves for this hallowed holiday by watching Psycho. And of course Sel for putting up with my obsessive planning.

 

Since you are probably read this from the link I posted on the ole Fbook, you likely already saw all of the fun pictures, printed them out, and framed them in your respective living space so I don’t need to post anymore of them here. But just know it was ridiculously fun and I wish we could have packed all our B.F.F.’s  in our tiny apartment so it could have been elevated from the best freaking party of the century to the best freaking party ever. Hope your Halloween is spooktacular!

On Beauty

Every society cares about beauty. Every society. Each society has different things they find beautiful. In parts of Thailand, elongated necks are to die for. For centuries in China, little feet were where it was at. In Uganda, they have huts specially designed for a bride-to-be to gain as much weight as possibly in 3 months by gorging herself on milk and remaining completely sedentary. In our country, we have people who starve themselves 3 months before their wedding to be as slim as possible.
I recently watched a documentary called the Science of Sex Appeal. It was fascinating. Look it up. When I can use my brain rationally, I completely acknowledge beauty as two things.
A. Evolutionary favorable genetic makeup
B. Society Influenced
These two often contrast one another however. Genetically speaking, the 400 pound Ugandan woman and the 94 pound American girl are not your best bet for producing offspring. Little feet and elongated necks also have little to contribute to the survival of the fittest (at least not that I know of...) However, somehow these societies are favoring these traits.
In my rational mind, I acknowledge I should care little about beauty at all. If I was a 10 on the beauty scale, it wouldn't by any means indicate I was intelligent, gifted, kind, or any other positive attribute I could imagine. As it has been pointed out in plenty of studies, however, we subconciously do attribute beauty with a plethora of positive characterisitics. Teachers are kinder to more beautiful students. Employers are more willing to hire the beautiful. Those who are considered beautiful will often earn more money in their lifetime, be presented with more opportunities of all sorts, and be treated more kindly by those they know and complete strangers. Knowing these things, I usually try my hardest to NOT care about beauty. Being a product (as everyone in the world is) of my society, the care seeps annoyingly into my thoughts day to day. I find myself far too often commeting that someone is beautiful as if it that statement somehow attributes them more worth than would they would have if they were not beautiful.Today was not a rational day. Not a day where I was able to look in the mirror and could decide to not analyze each and every one of my physical traits through the lens of society. Today I saw someone completely homely. Even if I am not homely, I surely don't want to care about it or judge my worth on it. It gives me a headache when I try and sort out what I actually really like about myself instead of what I think I should like or not like. I have mentioned this before on my blog, but there is this irritating conundrum in our society where we are expected to be confident in ourselves, but also kind of hate ourselves. America is defined for it's desire for perfection. To be the best. If you have reached the lofty goal of being your physical best, you are discouraged from proudly proclaiming such. I have noticed too often when someone is confident in their own skin, those around them are far too eager to point out a miniscule flaw that somehow lessens the other's beauty.
This post really isn't going anywhere and I am okay with that. As mentioned, today is not really a rational day for me and apparently not a logical one either. On this last note, here is something awesome. If you really think about pug dogs, they should NOT be considered cute. Phantom of the Opera is NOT supposed to be a babe (yet, Gerard Butler really tried to change our minds on that/succeded...) Einstein was no Brad Pitt. So, if pug dogs are cute, the Phantom is a babe, and Einstein is still one of the most admired humans in history then I should buy a pug (wait, two pugs), watch Phantomand the epic rap battle between Einstein and Hawking for the rest of today.

** If you read this and were confused, you're welcome. At least you weren't confused about your homework or work or your life for a full five minutes

Breaking Up with BYU

BYU and I have been together for the past four years (plus some if you count our courtship in high school and the additional 6 weeks of trying to DTR while just realizing it wasn't going to work out anymore)

But now it has been over 2 months since we had to break up :/

Over the past four years, BYU and I have been through a lot. 

We made some truly remarkable friends who then became family

We stayed up late together WAY too often studying and in our first year, staying up just so we could watch Alias with our new friends. ALL of Alias
We learned that the Testing Center is super judgemental and should be shunned for such a personality defect
 We learned 8AM classes are like falling into the prison pit with Bane and accepting a semester of darkness 

We spent a lot of time at the Milks and Grams catching up on sleep and stocking up on food
We spent glorious hours teaching fabulous students about how freaking amazing Anthropology is

We walked up the stairs of death hand in hand every day of the week for semesters on end

We learned Latin together and pretended it was actually Charms class

We figured out that living anywhere in Provo on a student budget = living in a ghetto paradise

We learned nothing quite rivals the experience of sitting in classes day after day listening to remarkable professors who know how to perfectly expand your throughout processes

We learned (a little too late in our relationship) making friends in class will always be the best idea you ever have.
BYU was even kind enough to introduce me to a dashing friend of his who then became Mr. Selface
We pretty much helped each other (okay, BYU helped me) find ourselves and figure out what is most important in this life

It has been so surreal lately realizing BYU and I will never be together again. Like, ever. We are never, ever, ever, getting back together! Whoops T-Swift attack. The other day I was walking around campus waiting for Sel and it felt beyond awkward. BYU has completely moved on from me. I feel a tinsy bit jealous of it's new companions and a little bit sad that it doesn't want me anymore. To be honest, I know our relationship had to end. It wasn't going anywhere and it was time for us to move on. Still, I told BYU to think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye! Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try. We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember stop and think of me. If I am being honest, BYU probably won't remember me (poor chap), but I'll remember you! (glorious symphony high notes)

Love my fake parents

Wanda being photo bombed by my grad hat...or my grad hat being photo bombed by Wanda?

He told me he liked my curls. Whole reason I went to college was to be told this one phrase as I walked across that lighted stage with my diploma.

I have the best friends in the world

Best parents in the universe

My beautiful second mother :)

Wait, you aren't my granddaughter..You're MISS AMERICA! Holy freaking Ute Cow Pie!

Cosmo getting handsy

The Unspeakable Fear

A friend asked me the other day what my worst fear is. When I told them, they burst out laughing and then said, “No, seriously! What are you most afraid of in the whole wide world?” This happens a lot when I tell people what I am most afraid of. To be honest, I really DO NOT think I need to explain why. If you look at the horror films out there, my numero uno fear is constantly used to provoke a spike in blood pressure. In fact, the whole emphases of certain horror films are based around my fear.

Yes, we are talking about dolls folks. The creepiest creation on the planet. Scarier than spiders, natural disasters, dinosaurs, ghosts, vampires, zombies, and ebola. It boggles my mind when people are NOT afraid of these devilish creatures. Here is my personal rating of creepiness based on type.

Cloth Dolls/Cabbage Patch Dolls: Mildly Creepy

Barbies: Semi Creepy

Raggedy Ann: Moderately Creepy

American Girl Dolls/Baby Dolls: Quite Creepy

Porcelain Dolls: Unspeakably Creepy

Porcelain Clown Dolls: Pee-Your-Pants-and-Question-Your-Sanity Creepy

( I cannot look at this picture too long without wanting to scream. Easily one of the creepiest dolls ever EVER!!!)

I do not feel the need to justify my fear as legitimate. Dolls are disturbing beyond words. However, I do acknowledge my fear has been influenced from past experience. I see this only as an advantage as it heightens my wariness and, therefore, potential to survive being gruesomely murdered by a doll(s). When I was eight, I had the American girl Molly. She came with a mini WWII nurse doll. My doll had a doll. I bet you can already see the direction this is going. On one fateful night in October, I had a nightmare/a real mare, where as I brushed this mini doll’s hair, her face became animated and she told me I was pretty. I screamed and threw her on the ground. She started to claw her way up my leg leaving trickles of blood as she did. Horrified, I ripped her off my leg, ran out of my bedroom to the staircase, and threw her off the balcony of our living room. As she fell, her pale porcelain flesh melted off her face to reveal her skull. Her hideous eyes glowed angrily in her face and right before she hit the floor below she hissed, “I will kill you, but you will NEVER be able to kill me”. Then she laughed the most frightening laugh that has ever been uttered. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing my seven-year-old self knew, it was morning. I shakily peered over the end of my bed AND THERE SHE WAS. Sitting unscathed on the end of Molly’s bed with her head turned at me! I grabbed her, ran barefoot to our backyard, and I buried her venomous self in the dirt. I still have reoccurring nightmares of this doll crawling bald and bug eaten out of the ground and taking her revenge on me. People always question how a doll could possibly kill me. That. Is. The. Point. You don’t know. Your murder will be unexplainable. More painful and unimaginably horrifying. Just know it will happen. While everyone else prepares for the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse, I will simultaneously be burning all the dolls in the universe to save as many lives as possible.

In case I haven’t made this clear, I am drop dead (hopefully not literally) serious about dolls. They are evil. Do not be fooled by their painted, smiling faces. Save yourself and your children while you still can.

The Car Serial Killer

Guys, today has been awesome in a not so awesome way. If you have been reading this blog/know me at all, you know I am a technology repellent. I guess my technology killing skills extend past typical electronics and have aimed to cover all bases including cars. Lemme tell you what has been happneing with our cars lately,

1. The Batmobile has a lousy tire and we have to fill it up at the gas station every other day

2. The Batmobile is beginnig to rust from the time it ran into a cement pole two summers ago

3. Old Yeller's transmission went out a few months ago and Sel and I are acting like it is driveable by prentending it is a stick shift

4. The same week Yeller's transmission high tailed it outta here, the windsheild encounter a tiny rock. Instead of leaving a mild dent, the satanic rock caused the windsheild to crack from one end to the next over the next 24 hours.

5. Today, Yeller's exhaust pipe decided it really didn't like Yeller anymore and tried to escape on my way to work.

I felt like this Asian lady with a cell phone from the early 90's, except less well dressed and less amazing because I am sadly not Asian.

I am ALL about switching to purely biking, but turns out biking to your job dressed in semi-fancy business clothes in the dead of a Utah winter does not turn out all that well. I guess we can thank the powers that be that this pile of car wonderfulness is coming at a time that we have sufficient funds to cover the fix-up costs. Now we just have to make our cars take turns going to the repair shops this week. Rock, Paper, Spock to see who goes first.

One last thing, I acknowledge how ridiculous my mild complaining would come to some in the world who don't have the funds to have one car, let alone two. Some don't even have enough for a bike. So, I am grateful to have been so abundantly blessed with these two cars. I really, really am even if I don't act like I am right now. Promise.

If you see a fallen exhaust pipe in P-town, call me up. It is probably ours.  

Nineteen

I used to play this computer game where you picked choices for a character that was starting at a new school. The character would go about her first day and would be presented with three options of how to react, who to talk to, what to say, who to sit with at lunch and so forth. The string of seemingly insignificant choices determined how the rest of her years at the school would be. The smallest difference of whether or not to eat lunch with a group of people spelled drug addict by the end of high school or valedictorian with a sports scholarship. I was probably about ten when I played the game, but the concept behind it has stayed with me over the years. The concept that simple, small choices paint the larger picture. One small choice can alter the overall picture forever.

This weekend during conference they announced young women in my church can now serve an 18 month mission at the age of 19 instead of 21. This changes the life course of a lot of people in a truly wonderful way. The week I first met Sel I was busy filling out papers to serve a mission. I had received one of the most powerful spiritual confirmations over that summer that serving a mission was exactly what I should be doing with my life. I was beyond thrilled and spent increased hours studying the Bible and Book of Mormon, volunteering at the MTC, attending the temple, and praying- a lot of praying. It was a beautiful transformation for my spiritual life. Then Sel came along and I became increasingly confused about what I should do. I fell in love with Sel quicker than I could have ever anticipated. After spending a lot of time on my knees asking for guidance, I received it and made the choice to marry Sel instead of serving a mission. Even though I felt peace with my choice, it was a hard decision. Making that choice though has blessed my life in so many beautiful ways. I have often told Sel how much I wish I had been able to serve a mission and have met him after- best of all worlds. When I pondered this new announcement though, I realized my life played out exactly as it was supposed to. I have been so astronomically blessed in all aspects of life. Had I been given the opportunity to go at 19, I wouldn’t have spent those two joy filled years with the world’s most perfect roommates. (pretend Cind is in this too :)

I doubt we would have become as close as we did had we only had Freshman year to bond us. I know, as I have said before, these girls were placed in my life for very specific reasons. They strengthened my commitment to the Gospel and blessed my life daily with their sweet, kind, quirky, fun personalities and they continue to do so now. I am a better person for knowing them. I might not have had the chance to TA or taken those certain classes that changed my perspective on life. And who knows the friends I would have missed out on meeting.

Like this amazing friend

Or this one (who Sel might not have ever met if these changes had happened a few years earlier)

I wouldn't have done my AMAZING Interniship with Watson for three straight summers and met that office full of sweet, brilliant people

 When it all comes down to it too, I might not have met the whole purpose of my life. Sel and I might not have met at a time when I was ready for him. Had I not received an answer to serve a mission, my spiritual growth would have been small in comparison to what it was. It is so humbling to look back at all the things that have been given to me in life that I certainly didn’t earn. The Lord has truly been guiding each step of my life with clarity, love, and an eternal perspective. My life is exactly what it was intended to be.

How exciting that there is such an increased demand for missionary work in the world! It will now be the norm for woman to have served a mission than a rarity. Those special opportunities that come from a mission that cannot be replicated in any other life experience will be an option for THOUSANDS who might not have gone otherwise. It will be interesting too to see the changes at the ole Alma Mater. Freshman year will be a whole new ball game for everyone. Awww! So excited for the ever bright future!

It's the Climb

I have been doing a lot of soul searching lately. And you know what I have found out? Not much. Except for this very inspiring bit from my BFF Miley, “Ain’t about how fast I get there, Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side, It’s the climb. Yeah!” Thank you my poetic friend. In all seriousness though, I have had to learn recently it really is about appreciating that I have a journey to navigate through opposed to a set course. I might not fully appreciate it yet, but I am learning.  I still might hyperventilate once a week cause I feel like I need to make decisions RIGHT NOW that will determine the rest of my life. I feel as if I have so many options to pick from right now and all of them seem like the right thing. All of my potential paths have some intensely intimidating aspects to them. All of them also have potential to give me unbelievably rewarding and meaningful experiences. What I have learned during this “climb” is that I factor others opinions a bit too heavily into my personal decisions. I am all about getting advice from others, but I find myself resenting some for their opinion on what I should be doing with my life as if they have already forced their idea of my best life course upon me. It turns out, I get to choose. I have been blessed with the agency to make decisions that will define my life.  I also have the choice to stop caring whether someone cares about what I care about. If I want to become an exotic dancer, I freaking can. If I want to buy a farm and make all the animals wear colorful rainboots (seriously how cool would this be?), I can. If I want to ride through the desert on a camel, I can.  I feel as if I was really good about not caring what others thought when I was in high school. I wore whatever the heck I wanted (usually spandex, my dad’s old, oversized MIT  sweatshirt and rain boots), I did what I loved and for the most part, cared little what others had to say about my choices. I need to resurrect that part of me that has slowly become dormant. Also, I don't plan my life half-arsed (almost swearing...mostly I can't find a phrase that better replaces this one. If you know of one, please lemme know ASAP so I can be more articulate in the future). I am either 110% doing one thing or the other. I am going to OT school to be the best freggin OT in the universe. I am getting a Ph.D in sociology and going to save the world. I am going to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. I have come to the conclusion that I am just going to be more general from now on when someone asks about my game plan for life. So, if you ask me what I am planning on doing with my life in the near future, I am going to tell you I am planning on being happy. I am planning on celebrating everyday of this exciting part of my life. I am planning on keeping my options open. I am going to set goals and allow myself to break them without regrets. I am going to listen to God and thank Him every day for my blessings. I am going to listen kindly and respectively when you tell me what is “best for me” and then draw a mustache on a googled picture of you and throw nerf darts at your head. I am going to respectively let you do what makes you happiest and not comment on it one ounce to you or any one else. And most of all, I am going to whatever I discover is the best path for MYSELF. Happy travels world!