Look it's me in a Mumu

Yesterday we had another homeschooled family over in the evening for a few hours. Upon their arrival, each of the children ran off to different rooms with their friends and that was that. When they left, my 11 year old sister came out crying. At first it was assumed that she was upset that her friend had left.

While my sister and her friend were playing with her doll, her friend thought that it would be a great idea to cut all of the dolls hair off, and proposed the idea to my sister. My sister hated the idea, but accepted anyway, and off went the hair. This is why she was crying.

Healthy Boundaries.

A lot of people don't have them. A lot of people do things that they simply don't want to do because they feel like they have to. I'm not talking about things like exercising(if only it was bad for you. ;) ), I'm talking about little things. When one of your friends wants to do something and you agree because you think they won't like you. It's a little bit different than peer pressure.

There have been instances in my life where I haven't had boundaries. And guess what? IT SUCKS. You end up doing things you're just not comfortable, and it hurts your relationship with someone, whether they know it or not.

The beautiful thing about the human race is that no one is the same. Everyone is different. Everyone has different comfort levels. I may be comfortable with something and my sister would be like, "NO WAY." Or my best friend could be comfortable with something and I could be squirming on the inside.

That's the beautiful thing. None of us are on the same level. We all need to decide our own healthy boundaries. I'm not talking about when someone comes and says, "Hey eat this brownie that's full of weed," because hopefully you're not STUPID and you know not to accept it. Everyone sets some sort of boundary when it comes to situations like that. But no one really focuses on the other boundaries, the smaller boundaries.

I am not really afraid of much. Most of my fears I run towards with open arms, because there's no other way to overcome them. There have been very few situations when I've wanted to say no to something but I've said yes anyway. And those few situations won't be shared with you. ;)

Please enjoy this attractive picture of me in a Mumu, because I'm done talking to you now.

You'll never look at me the same way...probably

Napolean Dynamite: One of the greatest movies known to man-kind. Okay, maybe not. But it's a good movie. If you don't like that movie then...well...you're a poo poo face.

Okay, that was mean. But you get the picture. I really like that movie.

We got a puppy. His name is Napolean. Can you guess why? ;)

We got him a week after Atlas passed. It's just one of those things, where there's a hole in your heart and only a dog can fill it. It just is.

Anyway. Funny moments. Ya'll ready for this? Also, please don't ever let me say ya'll again.

Last night, my 4 year old sister decided to dance for us. She ran across the room once, and then laid down and said, "I'm too tired to do it anymore. Just pretend I did it."

I went to Winter Ball on Saturday, and my dog peed on my bag shortly before we left...

This morning in Seminary, one of the girls next to me mentioned Centurions. Jodi, who also watches Doctor Who, and I snapped our heads up and looked at each other. And we both found it hilarious and I almost fell off my chair laughing. I'm not even kidding.

On the way home from Seminary, I shoved my face against the window of my car and waved at everyone who passed by as we sat at the stop light. It was highly entertaining.

The past two days, I have been forced to sit next to this kid in my class who used to be a good friend of mine, but now sorta hates me, and it is beyond awkward. FUNNY. But awkward.

Guys, I swear to you that I had a whole butt ton of funny things that have happened in the past few weeks to share with you, but I guess my life isn't quite as funny as I thought.

I'll share my life's greatest victory with you: I got one of my classmates to be hooked on Doctor Who. I FEEL REALLY ACCOMPLISHED, OKAY??

I just really have nothing else to say to you guys. So, I'm sorry. But, uhm...enjoy this unedited picture.

Don't judge me on the beauty of my face.

The bone in the back of your neck

In every tragic movie there are typically three stereotypes: 1) There's the person who cries hysterically, but mostly just for attention. 2) There's the person that never cared about the deceased person, or if they did, they didn't care very much and they never showed it, but suddenly care tremendously. 3) And there's the person that gets angry at everyone else as a result of their sorrow.

I will warn you now, this is going to be an emotional post. If you don't want to listen to me ramble, then...stop reading.

In the analogy above, I can pinpoint those three stereotypes to me and two of my siblings perfectly. I won't name them and which they are simply because it's not pertinent. However, I am the latter. Upon tragedy, I lash out at the world around me. Not to blame, I'm not that naive. But simply as a way to cope. I know it's not healthy or fair, but that's just how I am.

Almost 11 years ago, when I was 7 years old, my mother received a phone call from my father. It was an ordinary Friday/Saturday. The kids were all doing their chores dutifully, and my dad had been sent to WalMart on an errand for my mother. My mom gathered us in the living room, sat down on the large brick hearth and told us that we needed to finish our chores as quickly as possible, because dad had a surprise he was bringing home and we couldn't play with it until we were done. Because we were obedient little kiddos, we ran off as fast as our little feet could carry us to finish our chores. I swept our spacious kitchen floor eagerly, day dreaming about the swimming pool I was sure my father was bringing home for us. When we heard the engine of my dads car, we ran out the back door onto the deck, and looked over the railing. We watched as our dad pulled a small black something out of his gold Saturn, and head to the steep wooden steps. And that is when we met Atlas.

After my initial disappointment that it WASN'T a swimming pool quickly wore off, I was ecstatic. We had a puppy. As my father tells us, as he was walking into WalMart, there was a man giving away puppies. After getting my moms permission(haha) he got the darkest one he could. We named her Atlas, after the bone in the back of your neck. Because you're probably confused, I'll add this: my father is a Chiropractor.

She was a golden retriever/black lab/chow mix. She was the best dog you can imagine. We slept in a tent with her the first few nights, so she could bond with us as well as possible. She was such a patient dog. She never got mad when the youngest ones would sit on her, pretending she was a horse. She'd just flick her fat tail, breathing heavily out her nose once, and continue her nap. She was always kinda fat, cuz we're not the most athletic family. ;) But when I'd run with her, she was the happiest dog on the planet. She would grab her leash and bounce eagerly as I clipped it onto her collar, and she'd keep perfect pace with me as we ran.

I'm not gonna lie, she knew some of the coolest tricks. When my friends would come over, I would show them my favorite, which was playing dead. It seems ironic now... We would make a gun sign with our hands, point, and say 'bang', and she'd drop down, waiting for the release command.

I could post forever about how amazing my dog was, and how infinite my love for her. But I won't.

Friday evening, I brought my group of friends home from my date, and I went to pet my dear dog. The only problem was that she had an incredibly hard time standing up, and an even harder time walking.

She suffered from a stroke Friday evening, and she died this morning at 1 am. I tried to keep myself optimistic as long as possible, but as my mom came to me last night, about 3 hours before her death, I sobbed. I sobbed and sobbed as my father gave her a blessing, and as I scratched her ears and listened to her labored breathing. At this point, she couldn't even walk. She couldn't stand to eat, and didn't have the strength to chew. We had to syringe water into her mouth. We went to bed at midnight, but I couldn't sleep. You can't sleep, knowing your dog is in the next room with your parents, dying. Right after 1 am, I heard the broken sobs coming from both of my parents, and as I opened my door to check, PRAYING that by some miracle she was okay, I heard the words I'd been dreading for 11 years: "She just left us". The sorrow and pain I felt as I ran to her side cannot be expressed. My parents sat by her as she took her last breath, and her spirit left her body. I held onto her and sobbed, not wanting to believe she was gone.

We were lucky it was quick. I'm so glad that my poor, fat dog didn't have to suffer any longer.

I helped my father dig her grave this morning, feeling some of my love for her go into the labor of that grave. We facetimed with my sister so she could be there, as we carried her outside and all spoke of her life and the wonderful memories she gave us, united as a family in this time of sorrow.

In church, we sang "I need thee every hour", which touched my soul. I cried, which I thought was embarrassing, but it was okay. It's times like that that I know God is watching. He knew my sorrow, and placed certain things in my path in the 3 hours of church that reminded me of my great blessings.

As Sunday School began, my wonderful teacher went around the room, asking us each how we were doing. Everyone responded with, "oh I'm fine. I did this this week which was cool." When he turned to me, I stared at my hands in my lap and muttered, "I'm doing okay" and refused to look up. He softly said, "I heard what happened. I know it's hard. And it's okay if you don't feel like participating in class today." and the tears spilled over, pooling in my hands as I nodded in affirmation and gratitude. At the conclusion of the class, which was about blessings and tender mercies by the hand of God, I stood up to leave, and he enveloped me in a hug and said, "Aurora, if there's anything I can do, please tell me. Please."

You have no idea how hard it was to respond as my eyes became waterfalls. I was just beginning to calm down, sitting on the couch outside the next meeting room, when one of my very favorite women walked up, saying something about relief society. She stopped dead when she saw my puffy eyes and stained face. She sat and cried with me as I explained the death. Every time someone else asked what was wrong, another wave of tears would come over me, and I'd have to choke out an explanation.

After all of this, after the hugs, prayers, kisses, and promises that it would be okay, I realized that she couldn't have left on a better day. On a day when the spirit was so strong in church, when the right people were in my path.

I love my dog. Seeing her go is the hardest thing I've experienced up to this point in my life. She will always be my childhood friend, patient and loving, ready to take a beating to protect us.

Atlas, you are missed. May you rest in peace. I love you.

T-Swizzle

Have you ever had one of those moments where there is so much you should post that you don't post?

Yeah.

Well. I could tell you about everything that's happened since my last post, but I won't. Just know that my life was HIGHLY exciting. ;)

There is ONE thing that I want to talk about. And I just hope to high heavens that the person this concerns chooses not to read my blog any time soon.

A couple weeks ago I got a text from a 'friend'. Let's call him Jimmy. Now, Jimmy and I once sorta dated. Keyword: once. And by that I mean that it's over, not that it was only once cuz we dated like, three times. ANYWAY. That's beside my point. So, Jimmy texts me, which is strange, and says, "So, random question". And I had just gotten a new phone, and had NO CONTACTS, so I was all, "Random answer, once you tell me who the crap you are." Once I found out who it was, I had a small desire that he'd maybe got offended that I didn't have his number. I shouldn't feel like that? I know. Doesn't stop me. ;) SO. As we talk, he tells me the purpose of communication was that he had very recently seen the new Taylor Swift music video, "I Knew You Were Trouble". If you haven't seen it, GO WATCH IT. He tells me that when he started watching the video, that Taylor looked like ME.

I cried laughing.

And then I realized he was serious.

I was like, "WHAT THE EFF ARE YOU MENTAL?!" And then I thought, "Well hey. Taylor Swift is effing gorgeous, so that's a compliment." And then I thought, "IS HE TRYING TO SAY I LOOK LIKE A HOT MESS?!" And then my thoughts deviated from my general appearance with what he said next.

He explained that it weirded him out the entire time he was watching it because he felt like he was staring at his ex-girlfriend. And he felt like it was me singing to him. And he was thinking, "She knew I was trouble..." blah blah blah.

He wasn't. Just..he wasn't.

I kinda laughed about it, and he told me that he wasn't totally crazy because he had his friend facebook stalk me(only slightly creepy, right?) and she agreed that I looked like Taylor in that video.

The next day, I was in the car, and that song came on the radio. As is customary when I'm in the car, I blasted the song and sang along at the top of my lungs.

And then I got to the bridge.

"When your saddest fear comes creeping in
That you never loved me or her or anyone or anything"

And then I started thinking. Cuz I do that, occasionally.

Now, I will be the first to admit that my past relationships have been the farthest things from actual RELATIONSHIPS. I like to think otherwise, but I'm not gonna lie. The reason for this is simply because I have never found someone that I'm just like, "Hey, I would LOVE to be your girlfriend." and mean it. With one exception, but that doesn't count at all for multiple reasons, including the fact that I was 15.

So, I thought about it, my whole drive home from my piano lessons(which is a pretty long drive), and I realized that, in the scenario that me and said ex were Taylor and an ex, I would be the ex and he would be Taylor.

Yes, envisioning him as Taylor Swift made me snort my tea just now. Yes, I drink tea. Yes, I'm going to continue with my story now.

See, he wasn't trouble. He was a normal 17 year old boy, he most DEFINITELY wasn't a bad boy, he just wasn't ANY of that.

A lot of you are going to disagree with what I'm about to say. Don't get your panties in a knot, and hear me out.

He was Taylor. *I* was trouble. Allow me to refresh a few lines of the song for you. Except I will change the wording.

"That I never loved you or him or anyone"
"And you heard I'd moved on, from whispers on the street. A new notch in my belt, Is all you'll ever be."
"I was long gone, when you met me. And you realize the joke is on you."
"And when you fell hard, I took a step back, without you."


As I thought about this, I kinda had this montage of past relationships. And it's true, especially with Jimmy. I'm the trouble. And I'm not saying that I'm trouble in the sense that TAYLOR was talking about, but hopefully you guys get the picture.

And I'm not posting this so my friends will text me and say, "Aurora, you're not trouble!" And blah blah. I know, I know. Thank you in advance. ;)

I think that, having this perspective, in a way, is good. Well, it's good now. Because I know I've never been in love. Ever. There was one boy that I thought I loved, but again, I was 15. I knew nothing about anything I was talking about. Because of this lack of love, it's made it VERY easy to let go of the relationships I've had. All of them. We break up, I cry for like, 2 seconds, and then I'm like, "Well, that was nice," and I move on.

So, boys, unless you are REALLY special...watch out. Cuz I guess I'm trouble. ;)