When I Find Myself at a Loss of Words...

I often find myself looking at my husband, and I have a loss of words. I, someone who prides herself on being very good with words, can't think of a single word to describe how I feel.

There have been times that I've tried to explain to him these thoughts, these word-less thoughts. But I'm met with somewhat blank stares as the words struggle to leave my tongue.

I so badly want to be able to express the way I feel.

There had been so many times while I was a teenager, that I was ready to give up. There were times that I did give up. There were times that I thought my life was over, and that was how I intended it to be. I had my heart broken, by friends, situations, boys. I felt lonely. I felt the weight of so many things a young 13 year old girl shouldn't have to deal with. Or a 16 year old girl. Or an 18 year old girl.

And he makes all of that worth it.

I've always understood that we experience everything for a reason. Everything is put in our path to help us learn lessons. I've had nights where I sobbed in my bed, paced my kitchen screaming my feelings, and drowned my feelings in a bath, as I wished that I'd never had to learn these lessons. Getting mad at God for teaching me lessons is such painful ways. I knew I was supposed to learn these things. But I didn't want to learn them.

But as these experiences are in my past, and as I look at my husband sitting next to me as we eat breakfast on a Sunday morning, I'm grateful that I learned these lessons. And I'm grateful that he learned painful lessons as well. Because they shaped us into the people that we are now, and they prepared us to be with each other.

Getting to roll over every morning and feel his arms pull me closer to him, it makes me glad I never gave up.

At work about a month ago or so, a handful of my coworkers got into a conversation about "settlers and reachers" in a relationship. By their theory, in every relationship there is one individual that settles, and one that has to reach to meet the other. I mentioned it to Seth and we kinda laughed about it. The thing is, we each feel like we're the reacher. I look at Seth, and I think he is so handsome. I think he is a beautiful person, inside and out. I see the most tender and sweet man I've ever met. I've never had someone treat me as well as he does. And I ask myself daily how I got to be so lucky to get to have him as my eternal companion. But I know that Seth feels the same. Which makes me feel even more loved, even more valuable.

I've been having horrible nightmares over the past few months, waking me up with panic attacks and a cold sweat. Seth is always so patient with them, always waking up and coming to my side to comfort me. Just a few nights ago, I was dreading going to sleep because of a particularly bad nightmare I'd had a few nights before. So he held me in bed, and sang to me until I fell asleep. I felt so blessed to have someone who cared so much about me.

I can't imagine that I'm an easy person to be married to. I love cooking but hate doing dishes, folding laundry is the bane of my existence, and I never replace the roll of toilet paper. I have anxiety and depression, and Seth leaves me every morning worried that I'll be safe throughout that day. Not just "I hope the roads are safe on her way to work", but he worries about my mental and emotional state, because what isn't keeping me safe is myself. He worries about me every single time I'm not with him. Because he wants to protect me and he wants me to be safe. But he knows that I'm a big girl and I can keep myself safe. It doesn't stop him from worrying, though.

Seth accepts every single issue I bring forth, and doesn't even blink an eye. He loves me, and all of my injuries, issues, and insecurities, and he does it all unconditionally.

I look over at my husband every morning as he's still sleeping, and my eyes look over his cheekbones, crooked nose, and messy hair, and I love every inch of it. I think he's breathtaking in those soft moments.

I looked over at him while we sat in a theater a few months back, and watched his face as he took in the music and dancing in front of us. I watched his reaction, witnessed the love that he had for the art, the desire within him, and felt his hand on mine. And I swear I'd never seen a more attractive being.

I looked at him on May 15th as I held his hands and felt tears come to my eyes, as we promised ourselves to each other. I looked at him and felt my whole body fill with so much love that I thought I wouldn't be able to stand. I thought I could never feel so much of an emotion as I did on that day.

But I prove myself wrong every day. Every day when I look at his beautiful face, my heart leaps forward, propelling me to him. I lose my breath as I am reminded of how much I love him.

I am finding myself, again, at a loss of words to try to describe the way he makes me feel. I guess this is what love is supposed to feel like. I can very confidently say that I never felt this kind of love before I met this man I am lucky enough to call my husband. I laugh when I remember the boys I once thought I "loved".

I don't think I'll ever be able to articulate my thoughts coherently enough to explain how in love I am with Seth. But for now, it is enough to just know he feels the same way.

McCausland Family Update

First of all, Seth and I are alive and well.

Look how happy and married we are!!

So many things have happened over the last few months that we've been married.

We got a dog. He is the sweetest dog, and a wonderful addition to our little family. I'm grateful for him everyday. He keeps us company when only one of us is home, he keeps us safe(we live in a pretty ghetto neighboorhood...), and he loves us so much that it makes us feel like a family. He's a rescue, and he's about 8 years old. So, he's a grumpy old man, but we still adore him.

This picture is SUPPOSED to make you scared of our dog. 

Seth and I both got new jobs. Or rather, I got a new job, and Seth got a promotion. We both enjoy where we work, and we're happy.

I'm sorry..

We got bed bugs. This was one of the most stressful experiences of my life. We'd been getting bitten since we first moved into the apartment earlier in the summer. But, we had a huge spider problem in the apartment, and we assumed it was that. Once the spiders went away, and we were still getting bitten, we started exploring all the other options. We didn't even consider it being bed bugs, until one day we went to go wash our sheets, and the bed bugs had gotten bad enough that we could see them. I'll spare you the details, just know it was disgusting. I was also sick that day, so we had to spend that day switching back and forth from me throwing up, and us hauling the infested mattress out to the dump. It was kinda a miserable week. Thank heavens, we are now bed bug free. We are able to sleep through the night without waking up to itch the myriad of bites covering our bodies. So, we're happy.

This is our "we're exhausted because of bed bugs" face.

I went back to school. It's just been part time(nothing like the 17 credits I was taking last year). It's been a struggle, trying to juggle part time school with a full time job, but now that the semester is almost half over, haha, I'm getting the hang of it. I changed my major to English/Writing with a minor in French. I am loving it.

I started writing more. I know I haven't been writing HERE very much, but I really have been writing. I started writing for LDR Blogs, which is a website based on Long Distance Relationships. Because my LDR has ended(since Seth and I are now married), I don't write here a ton. However, I also got hired on at Unwritten, where I write about 2 articles a week. It has been such a wonderful creative outlet, and it's wonderful knowing that I'm a published author. And it's been a wonderful starting point. I just recently got offered to write basically the same type of articles, but to get paid for it(!!!) at a similar website. So, I'm just beginning to dip my toes into that. We'll see how well it works out. I'm excited for this new adventure, though.

This is how smart I look when I'm writing stuff.

I lost weight, and Seth gained weight. Since Seth and I started dating(which is when I stopped blogging so much) I was about 40 pounds heavier than I am now. So, I lost quite a bit of weight. Most of it was before we got married. I am very pleased, though, that instead of gaining marriage weight, I've lost about 5 pounds since we got married. And Seth has been putting on some weight(I've been trying to feed him more caloricly dense food) and he's pretty pleased with that.

There have been other milestones and things that we've accomplished since getting married, that don't really seem like things that we'd share with he public. But Seth has gotten cast in Forever Plaid at a theater in Magna, I've gotten a better handle on my anxiety(which has been huge for me), and we have grown together SO much.

We are so happy, and I am so blessed every single day for the wonderful man I get to call my husband.

We are so blessed. I am so happy to have a wonderful partner who I have the opportunity to spend forever with.

We love you all!!

The truth usually wins a staring contest

I catch a glimpse of myself in the smudged mirror as I exit the bathroom. My reflection catches me off guard, as it usually does. I take a minute to study the reflection I don't recognize. When did my own body become foreign to me? I rub the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep, I pick at the acne on my cheeks and chin from lack of nutrition, and I run my hands through my brittle hair from lack of hydration.

Ashamed and embarrassed by my image, I look down. This was a mistake. I see the pudgy ghost of where my defined core used to be. I stretch my hands over the long purple marks that have formed on my legs. This is not a body I am proud of. Once, it was something that I spent hours a week working on, perfecting. When had I decided that taking care of myself was no longer a priority?

I don't have to look much longer to find my answer. I pull my sleeves down quickly to cover the scars on my arms, as I always do. This is the part of me that I am the most ashamed of. Somewhere when the depression set in, and I slowly began giving up on other parts of my life, my body had gone with it. I was ashamed of those scars. They were few, but they reminded me of the darkest era of my life.

I look up at the mirror again, this time blurred from my view by the tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks.

I remind myself of how far I've come, where I started, and where I was going. I reminded myself that what mattered was the person inside, not the scars on this temporal body. Just as the cuts had healed into scars, the raw cuts on my self-image would heal over.

I wipe my tears, smile at my reflection in the mirror, and I take a closer look.

I marvel at my smooth lips, the beautiful curl in my hair, and the deep blue of my eyes. I look down and admire the strength that comes from my sturdy legs, the full belly that means that I haven't had to go hungry, and my elegant, long arms. I see my scars, both visible and not, as a foundation for great growth. My past does not define me, but it shows how I've gotten to where I am now. It reminds me that I'm strong. It reminds me that I can shoulder through the trials. It reminds me of what I will never be again.  

When all else is gone, at least there is bacon

Life has been going so fast the past month or so, I have barely enough time to breathe.

About a month ago, I picked up a second job. I am now working between 60 and 80 hours a week.

I've been making a lot of plans and preparations for this summer and next semester.

I've been learning a second language.

I've been doing homework like crazy, and I still seem to be failing.

Bonnie and I dipped our toes into the paleo pool a little over two weeks ago.

I still drink a lot of kombucha.

I would never waste bacon.

My lovely family came to visit and gah I love them so much.

I have a few huuuuuge updates, but, nothing is set in stone yet. So. You'll have to wait another month or so to get information on them.

I seriously feel as though my creative pool has been drained, because I feel as if I never have anything to share here.

 

You can only hide for so long

***DISCLAIMER: I am about to basically bare my soul to you. If you find this annoying, please don't read***

"Hey, Aurora, why are you wearing your headband on your forehead like that?"
"Aurora, take the headband off."
"EVERYONE LOOK. AURORA'S A BOY."

I can literally look back at my life, and pinpoint the day that set the ground for my depression.

Now, I'm not saying that I've been depressed since I was 6. And I'm also not saying that someone calling me a boy is a cause for depression.

Let's remember that I was 6.

Earlier that day, my mother had been meaning to cut my bangs. And gosh dang it, I was sick of my bangs. So, I did what any rational 6 year old would do.

I decided to cut them off.

So, 6 year old me walked into our bathroom, climbed onto our little white stool, and cut my bangs at the roots, in a very jagged line. Horrified at the outcome, I hoped my mother wouldn't notice the difference when I walked out of the bathroom.

She noticed.

Later that day, after my sisters baptism, a girl in our ward came up and started making fun of me. And at the tender age of 6, I was crushed. Heart broken.

But I got over it.

However, that was just the first of many incidents with this girl. She would see me at church and whisper mean things in my ear when no one was listening. She'd hit me as she walked past me in the hall. If I saw her outside of church? Perfect, there were less people to watch as she would hit me and say horrible things about me.

This went on for two years.

The very last time I saw her, was the day before my family moved from Missouri to New Mexico. I was 8 years old, and my mother had sent my little sister and I to their house to be babysat so she could do some last minute packing. This girls mother babied my little sister, who was 4, and sent me outside with her daughter.

Let's just say that was a painful day, and then we'll move on, okay?

A lot of people are going to say, "Why didn't you tell anyone?" Well, I tried telling her mother, because I didn't think MY mother could do anything about it. Her mother said that I was making things up. I told my best friend at the time, but really, what can two 7 year old girls do against that 9 year old girl? Absolutely nothing. And I thought that if my older sister got wind of me tattling, and not being able to take a hit, that I would never hear the end of it. And I was very afraid that if I told my mother that this would be something else for her to make fun of me for, another reason to hit me. So, I kept silent.

I lived a very happy, bully-free life for the next couple of years. And I let everything that had happened in Missouri live in the past. I was young, there was no reason to hold a grudge against a girl that had obviously been in pain. I just forgot about the whole thing.

Then, shortly after my 12th birthday, it all started again.

This is where I have to be careful with my stories. This was in my somewhat recent past. I don't want to point fingers, to blame. I have forgiven all those that have hurt me in the past. That being said...I'll continue with my story.

I had been friends with a group of girls. Out of the blue, I was ejected from that group. And that group turned on me. It was rarely physical, but very, very emotional.

I spent a year of my life very depressed. I felt like I didn't have anyone that I could turn to. I wasn't friends with my sisters, my mother, anyone in my family. Literally every friend that I had had, no longer wanted anything to do with me. I was lost. However, I didn't like this uber sad feeling I always had, obviously, so I kept trying. Something my 12 year old brain didn't quite grasp was that I should probably try to make friends ELSEWHERE. But no, I kept trying with the SAME group of girls. If you guessed that NOTHING good came out of this, you would be 110% correct.

I was contemplating suicide. Very strongly. I know this seems extreme, I mean, it wasn't THAT bad. I'm not saying it was rational. It just was. And...I made a few, very feeble, attempts on my life. Please don't press me for details, that's still under lock and key. The thing was, I didn't WANT to die. I just...didn't want to live.

On a very pivotal night, I met someone that totally turned everything around for me. I stopped having suicidal thoughts, for the most part.

As I got older, the bullying and abuse got a little bit easier to handle. But, it was still there, and very prominent in my life. I would get the usual mean words, hateful notes, etc. I'd get thrown in the dumpsters after seminary on a somewhat regular basis. On one occasion it bruised my tailbone severely. I would get judged, and mocked, and made fun of, up until the beginning of the summer 2013.

March 2013 I did something really hard. And...it sorta messed me up. I lost the person I confided in the most, the person that kept my chin up when I was feeling especially insecure, a certain persons comments were really hurting, or my depression was threatening to come back. I no longer had a partner in crime. And guys, I felt so so guilty for what I did. I still do. It's one of those things that has stayed with me for a while.

I betrayed someone's trust so entirely, that I betrayed my own trust. Does that even make sense?

I've been left by a lot people in my life. Only three have impacted the way that I feel about myself. This is one of them. The other two impacted me in different ways, and they are definitely supplementary to my depression, but I'm not at the point where I can rehash those things. They're still a little too personal.

The point of this post is...well, this is my story. I'm letting the cat out of the bag. I can count on one hand how many people know ANY of this story, and I am the sole person that knows all of this.

And now you all know. yayy...

It's about time I share this. Even though this hurts, I have to come to terms with why I feel the way I feel, ya know? I kept allllll of behind VERY thick walls until October 2013. That's a really long time to keep all that pain to yourself. And the first time I told someone about part of this...man, I can't tell you how good it felt. And it gets easier every time I tell part of it. And I have to come to terms with my problems. If you're still reading this, you're probably really bored. Because this story is neither fun or fascinating.

I'm battling with depression, an eating disorder, and self harm. And basically...this is my story.

This post isn't so I can get pity from anyone, but the point of it is basically to say, literally anyone could be struggling. For the most part, I've done a pretty good job of hiding ALL of this. You never know who's struggling.

We weren't meant to work out

In a parallel universe, maybe we grew up together.

Maybe we were neighbors.

Or we were in the same primary class. Maybe you would hold my hand during class, or blow me kisses in the hallway, to be later reprimanded by your mother.

When we were 8, we'd meet on the street adjacent to our houses, and we'd ride our bikes up and down the street, laughing as we'd almost run into each other. And afterwards we'd race up and down the dirt hill behind my house.

As we grew older, into our teen years, we'd lay on the trampoline in your backyard, laughing as we pointed out made-up constellations.

I would've been there for you when girls broke your heart, and you would've let me cry on your shoulder when boys broke mine.

I would've been the friend that you called when your anxiety got bad, or your parents were fighting, and you needed a confidant.

Maybe, somewhere in those confusing years, is when we would've fallen in love.

You and me, walking home, hand in hand. My parents telling you not to keep me out so late. You apologizing, but giving my hand a squeeze saying that it was worth it. My younger siblings adoring you, jumping on you and swinging from your neck whenever you walked through the front door. You'd be invited over for family dinner on a regular basis. My mom would think you're hilarious, my dad would love your motivation.

You'd go on your mission, and I'd still be here, two years later, waiting.

You'd meet my grandparents, and my grandma would fret over how skinny you were, and my grandpa would find someway to embarrass you. My brothers-in-law would ask when you were joining the family, and we'd laugh it off, answering with snarky comments, but really we'd both be wondering the same thing.

When you finally popped the question, it would've been just the kind of thing that perfectly defined us and our relationship.

We would get married young, by some standards, but it would be just perfect for us. We'd struggle to make ends meet, as we tried to follow your dreams, and to follow mine as well. But no matter how hard it got, we'd still love each other, still want to make it work.

Can you imagine how adorable our babies would be? They'd get my nose, your eyes. They'd get your drive, my creativity. We'd take them to the park and watch them run around on their fat little legs, bringing dandelions and pebbles to us with grins on their faces, proud of their finds. We'd cuddle up on the couch with our 5 little sleepy kiddos and watch the same Disney Movies we'd watched when we were their age, reminiscing in the years we'd known. We'd climb into bed at night, exhausted, but so in love with the little family that we were raising.

We'd get old, your hair would start to fall out, maybe mine would too. Our kids would grow up, move out, and cause our remaining hair to go grey from the stress of it all. But we'd still love each other. I'd still look at you every morning and think that you were the most handsome man that I'd ever met. Because you would be.

We'd celebrate the milestones together. 25 years, 50, 60, together. Not many couples make it that far, but we did.

We'd make it through everything, every fight, every poopy diaper, every distressed teenager, because we loved each other. Our end goal would remain the same, our love would become somehow stronger, and we'd last through it all.

Sometimes I imagine a world, only slightly different than the one you and I live in now. I imagine a world where, this isn't just a line of thought, but it's a reality. It's a world where we worked out.

But it's not.

That world is a few tracks off from the one you and I are living in.

We are not in that world. You are not with me. I can imagine, for a few blissful moments, that it's so. And those 10 minutes of fantasy will be beautiful. But then I'll wake up, return to the real world, and face every day without you, knowing what could've been.

The truth is, we weren't meant to work out like that. You weren't meant to grow up down the street from me. My grandma wasn't meant to fuss over you. You weren't meant to have a strong bond with my little brother, and an even stronger one with my baby sister. You weren't meant to live out your days on this earth with me.

You were meant for someone else.

Maybe you and I could've survived through the coming obstacles. But maybe not. And maybe that's the sole reason that life didn't play out like this, that life took a drastic track change, out of the blue. Because for some reason, I'd have challenges you couldn't help me with. And there were things that I wouldn't be able to help you with. And we'd both have to struggle independently. And that's not how a relationship works.

I know that that's not how things worked.

I know that this is how things are working now.

I know it, I just have to accept it.

"Life makes love look hard". Or, makes everything look hard...

"It's killing me to see you go, after all this time."

Life is one of those confusing things no one really understands, like a person that enjoys eating mayonnaise out of the jar. It just doesn't make sense.

Have you ever sat and just thought about how circumstantial everything is? Like, if you hadn't made ONE decision to go to a certain party, you never would've met your spouse. I think about this all the time. My life is full of circumstantial events that led me to the people that I love and the places that I am.

If my Young Women leaders hadn't advised me to go to the Recognition Dinner when I was 13, I wouldn't have met my best friend.
If my mom hadn't been SOOOO into TJEd when I was younger, I wouldn't have found Williamsburg Academy, and I wouldn't know ANY of these amazing people that I associate with.
If I hadn't been forced into going to YFF 2 years ago, I wouldn't have been led to meet so many people that have changed my life. In fact, I'm not even sure I would be alive. I also wouldn't have met my roommates.
If I hadn't been pressured into going to game night a few months ago, I wouldn't have met one of my best friends.

Outside forces. I didn't want to participate in any of those activities, but good things came from each and every one. I was put in uncomfortable situations that pushed me outside my comfort zone and I'm a better person for it, and I know amazing people that are such a blessing to me.

A bad day isn't a bad life. That's something I constantly have to remind myself. Just because I have days where I want to throw in the towel, doesn't mean that I have a bad life. In fact, I don't really have a right to be unhappy with my life. There are so many people with so much less than me. It doesn't really matter how unhappy I am, my life ain't half bad and I should be grateful for what I've got. I can whine and complain all I want. I can say "If I only lived in New Mexico still, I'd be happy" or "If I had my dog, I'd still be happy" or even "If I could just meet the person I'm supposed to marry, I'd be happy" and NONE of that would mean I could be happy. Was I happy in New Mexico? No. I had my dog earlier this year, and was I happy? No. I can either choose to be happy or not, no matter my circumstances.

That being sad, it's okay to have bad days. I think you're allowed to have a day when you sit in your bed in your pajamas, wallowing a little bit, and crying. It's okay to not always be happy. But then that day ends and you need to let that bad day be in the past. Still working on that last part.

Most of my posts don't make a lot of coherent sense, and that's probably because I let my mind wander as I write and I have a lot of conflicting opinions. I have flawed logic.

I guess my point is this. Everything is circumstantial. But what you choose to do with those circumstances is yours. You can have horrible circumstances but be incredibly happy, and vice versa. And that's where one of the biggest flaws of society is, in my opinion. A lot of people think that it's all circumstances. But it's not. You decide how you deal with those circumstances.

Have a good day, ya'll. Or have a bad day. It's up to you. Me? I'm gonna continue having a not-so-great day, and I'm gonna go get ice cream with my roommate.

And we laughed...and had a really, really, really good time.

I can be serious, guys. I can talk about serious things. I know, this is a huge shock to like, all of you. But hear me out a little bit.

Life moves so swiftly. It's like life is a huge, coursing river, and it's all I can do to stay afloat as I'm rushed past amazing people and experiences.

It's funny the little things that stick in your brain. It's funny, knowing how far you've come, how LITTLE we used to be, and to see yourself as the person that you've grown into.

I'm growing up. And it scares the crap outta me. Don't get me wrong, being a grownup is awesome. I'm moving out, going to college, no curfew, just me. It's awesome, having all this freedom and knowing that the world is at my fingertips and that I can FINALLY pursue it, no questions asked. And then I really start to think and it's scary, because LIFE is literally RIGHT around the corner. If anyone knows what corner that is, let me know, and I'll avoid that corner like the plague.

Recently, my sister got married. Okay, like almost two months ago. Still, semi recent. This summer has been absolutely crazy and absolutely FULL of wonderful experiences that I will never forget, that I will hold near and dear to my heart for years to come. But my sisters wedding was the best experience, hands down. Now, she's not the first of my siblings to get married. She's the third. And I love all my siblings equally (right...ha ha ;) ) but Rachel and I are so so close. There have been times in my life that I have called her my best friend. And by that I mean, my sister is my best friend. Absolutely. The best part about having your sister as your best friend is knowing that, no matter what, she'll never go away. Friends come and go, but family is forever. That doesn't mean that there aren't some non-family friends that I adore and love to pieces, but my family is first, ya know?

This is where it's gonna get kinda mushy. So you can skip ahead a few paragraphs to some slightly less mushy stuff if you'd like. I'll let you know when that is. ;)

Rachel and I didn't always get along. In fact, when we were little, we hated each other. Life was a competition for us. She was the creative tom boy, and I was mommy's little angel. In her eyes, it seemed that my mother thought I could do no wrong, and that she always took the blame. If you ask her, she'll confirm this. So please don't ask. ;) In my eyes, I wanted to live up to her. I wanted to be like her. I admired her so much, so I would follow in her footsteps, driving her up the wall in the process. I remember, specifically, one day, her trying to compete and see who had woken up first. We were sitting at the kitchen table and she says, "Now, did you wake up right as it turned from 5:59 to 6:00, 6:00 right on the dot, or right before it turned 6:01?" And I answered with "Right on the dot," and she jumps up, triumphant, and basically yells, "I WOKE UP FIRST!" That's how our life was.

I remember my mom saying to me when I was about 10 or so, that her friend so-and-so used to hate her sister when she was younger, but now they were super close friends. I didn't believe her. I was pretty sure she was lying to make us be nicer. I was POSITIVE that was impossible.

I was wrong.

Starting at about age 15, my sister and I became friends. It was slow, and there were a couple things (always involving boys, duh) that made it hard to get along. Last summer, mid-August, she comes home from a trip to Utah. I'm showing her some pictures of a photoshoot I'd done recently, before we went to go get breakfast at Wecks. All of a sudden she blurts out that she's going to go to college. She was 19 and had opted out of college and was waiting for a missionary. I had to try really hard not to cry as she explained how soon she'd be leaving(a few weeks) and why she was going. And I missed her terribly while she was gone. I would cry every single time she left from her visits home.

In February, she brought a boy home. When she announced that he was her boyfriend, I was dumbfounded. She had told me, previously, that she had no feelings for him. Which turned out to be a lie, because they're now married. But, she brought this boy home and it scared me. I wasn't ready for her to get married, and he asked my parents for permission to marry her while he was here. They got engaged less than a month later. It wasn't that I didn't like her fiancee, cuz I really did. He's awesome and such a good match for her. I wasn't ready for Rachel to step out of the life I was comfortable with and step into a new life, with someone else. It was hard for me. And I know you're all sitting there like "get over yoself gurl. It's not yo life, it's hers." Thanks, I get it. Allow me to feel.

June 7th, 2013, Rachel and Dustan Copeland were sealed for time and all eternity in the Mt. Timpanogas temple. She looked beautiful, her hair strung in pearls, her cream colored sash over her lace dress. And she looked so so happy, which is part of the reason that I think she looked so beautiful. We went to the reception and shared zebra popcorn and lots of ice cream. And we danced. And we laughed. And we had a really, really, really good time. (Macklemore reference, for anyone paying attention. ;) ) Well, there was the Father Daughter dance. My dad always cries. At my last sisters wedding it was like "FINALLY SHE'S LEAVING THE HOUSE". Not that I don't love my oldest sister, but she was a bit of a bridezilla. Rachel was pretty calm about her whole wedding and she wasn't living at home. So at my oldest sisters wedding, zero tears were shed. At Rachel's? Let's just say that yesterday, when going through pictures from the wedding, the photographers got at least 34567323434 pictures of me crying. Mostly during the daddy dance. It was real emotional, kay?

My sister has been married for almost two months now and is so so happy. And in a few weeks, I'm moving to downtown SLC, about 5 minutes away from her.

Which brings me to the real point of this whole post. Life is fast. And life is crazy. And I'm not always sure how I feel about it. And as I sit here, on a Sunday morning before I go to a Singles ward for the first time, life scares me. My room is filled with boxes and things waiting to be packed. My inbox awaits the arrival of an acceptance letter to George Wythe. My heart aches with the change. I'm excited, but I almost feel like I'm not sure if I'm ready. It scares me, this whole growing up thing. It really scares me. I leave in less than two weeks, and things are beyond hectic. But I know this is the first step in the beginning of the rest of my life. I'll move to Utah. I'll go on a mission. I'll meet a boy. I'll get married in the temple. I'll have kids. I'll get old. My kids will have kids. And life will beautiful. And life will always be a little bit scary. But that's what makes it worthwhile, right?

(Note: I wrote this post on Sunday and didn't post it til now. So, don't be confused about the dates and all.)

Silly Willy ;)

This is something I've been meaning to talk about for basically forever. And by that, I mean for about two weeks.

Nicknames.

I love nicknames. I give most people I meet a nickname. It's what I do. And some people are baffled by it, or confused, and so I shall now share my thoughts with you.

Nicknames are a sign of affection(unless you call some a poop face regularly because you hate them. That's a different story tho). When someone calls you a pet name, it's because they care about you. It's true.

I was recently dubbed "Ella" by a friend. Get those confused looks off your faces. "Ella" is short for "Nutella". It makes sense, and it's cute. Every time he calls me Ella, I feel happy and fuzzy because I know he cares.

My sister is named Rachel. I call her Rachey. Same thing. These nicknames are signs of affection. I love nicknames. A whole lot. 

Everyone in my phone(most everyone) has a nickname. Even tho I don't actually call them that, "Oh hey there, Platonic boom blast"(I just made that up...no one in my phone is named that...), it's because I care and because they're pretty great people and stuff. Here are some examples: (These are all taken straight from my phone book)

Alfredo Sauce

Appealing Attire

Boss

Brad Pitt Effect

Dill Pickle

Double D

Dream Disturber

Flipping Poop Woman

Future Roomie <3

Husband

Isssss Mario!!

Lizard

Major Homo

Monkey

Mop Head

Mrs. Captain America

Mucho Sexy Singer

My Spicy Friend

Sandwich Maker

Sariahhomeskilletwicekwispietweet

Sexy Banana Female Companion

She Works Out

Soulmate :)

Sparta

Tattoo Arms

Thejerkfacechocolatemonkeybutt

The Redneck

All of the above people are people that I care about. Like, for reals. And if I don't CARE about them, I definitely don't hate them. I could probably tell you who they all were. In fact, I will.

Out of order. None of these people actually correspond with the person in that order up there. ^^

Casey    

Helen      

Dallin   

Tori    

Julia      

Austin     

Dan       

Dillon      

Alex       

Alyssa    

Ashley    

Diego     

Abi    

Rebekah     

Brooke 

Levi      

Sariah   

Georgi    

Lizzie     

Allister     

Jess       

Jacob     

Layne     

Nainoa   

Kylar      

Anela      

Ian      

See? I care, or have cared, about all these people.

Nicknames. They are a wonderful part of life. I love them. I love calling people shortened versions of their names(except Helen. Hell isn't a good nickname), or a cute nickname that just the two of us know. It makes them special. It makes our relationship special.

I love nicknames. So next time I call you Mental Terrorist, or Fat Lard, or Pregnant Woman (I dunno. I'm just throwin ideas out), don't be offended. Smile a little and call me something equally unique/strange. And I promise our friendship will be better. ;)

BONUS:

In the comments, if I named you, try guessing what your nickname is. And even if you know what your nickname is...guess anyway. Comments make me feel happy.

AND if you're feeling truly daring, guess other people. 

I should stop falling asleep on the floor...

It's Thursday. And I'm posting. So, you all know what that means.

Expect a superb post tomorrow. Just fyi.

Okay. These moments are from the past month...ish. All the ones I can remember...yeah...let's see how this goes. But first, today/yesterday.

Yesterday: Sucked. Just kidding, yesterday was fabulous. I skyped with Ian, babysat my siblings, did a butt ton of homework ,and then Georgi came over and did my nails while we watched Monk. I know none of that is incredibly exciting or anything, but it was a really good day.

Today:...today...well....let's say it's not as good as yesterday. Yet. I dunno. I came home from seminary, and fell asleep on the floor while my sisters gave me a "back rub" which ended up in a butt rub, head rub, and leg rub. And I slept through the whole thing. I sleep through a lot of stuff...and then I've been glued to the screen, doing homework, all morning. I took a step away 10 minutes ago to check on the kids(Autumn and I are babysitting the kids for the duration of the week. She's on day duty, I get nights.) and guess what? It's a mess. Surprise surprise. I got just a intsy bit mad. Whatevs, I ran upstairs before I yelled too much. ;)

Okay. Here we go.

Awkward:

About a month ago, my family visited a small ward about 3 hours away from our home, just for the heck of it. After the meeting we went and looked at scenery and all that crap. ANYWAY. The church is tiny, with 20 members TOPS. Including us. Needless to say, it was tiny. If a baby were to cry, EVERYONE would know whose it was(there were no babies there). I was sitting between Madie and Autumn. During the sacrament prayer, Autumn shifted in her chair. And it sounded a whole heck of a lot like a fart. Come on guys. A fart at quiet times is one of the funniest things on the planet. We all made those weird sputtering breathing laughing noises. And then I'd be calm and Autumn would start laughing again. I was composed by the time the prayer was over, so maybe they thought Autumn was the only one who laughed? *crosses fingers* Either way, I felt HORRIBLE. I mean, that's sacred, and we totally messed it up. But it was funny...

Just a few weeks ago, I was in Young Women In Excellence. I was sitting between Jodi and Georgi. And in the middle of a talk, I think it was from the Bishop, Jodi gets a text message. Unlike most teenagers with non-iPhones that I know, Jodi does NOT have her phone on vibrate. Ever. And her text ringtone is a VERY LOUD recording of some guy(I think he's from 1 Direction...which would be why I don't know him) saying "NO! Jimmy protested.". So, in the middle of a tender moment, her phone EXPLODES with the sound of a british dude. We were trying sooo hard not to laugh. Which failed. Again, I felt horrible.

On the way home from seminary, sometime in the past few weeks, we were making faces at people (as usual) and we had someone almost hit the curb cuz they were looking at us. I think I'm a danger. Which leads me to the next awkward thing..

On my way home from the UPS store last week, I passed a man who was holding a sign. I think it was the fact that I was wearing Aviators (they're the proven to be the sexiest sunglasses ;) ), but he completely turned around as I passed, so he could keep looking at me. Which a stricken look on his face. And then he almost fell into the street. I didn't know whether this should fall under awkward or awesome...so it goes here. When in doubt, claim things are awkward! Yeah!

At a dance recently (that was very empty), Georgi and I were some of the only girls who weren't dancing. So, like freshmen, we started dancing. Like idiots. Like the whole spinning around in circles, and then pressing our cheeks against each other and stalking across the room (please tell me you know what I'm referring to...). Whilst doing this, I saw a guy (who was dressed as a ghostbuster...) come up to ask Georgi to dance. Like, to cut in. But, we were spinning. So we spun away quickly, and she had no idea. I felt kinda bad afterwards, but it was just...it was just awkward.

At aforementioned dance, my friend Georgi and I decided to show our bishop our screen savers. There will be a picture at the end of the post. It's basically of me catching a kiss she blew at me. And he gave us a strange look, and just as we were like, "Uh....nevermind", he started laughing. I have the best bishop.

I was babysitting over the weekend, and Georgi would come spend the night with me. On the first night, we stayed up until about 2 am talking and crap. And we also decided to chew a bunch of gum. And video tape it. And that video is the funniest thing ever. The link will be on this blog. Eventually.

Last week, Autumn and I attempted to do Yoga. Just as we were trying to do one that involved having our butts in the air, our father walked in. Talk about awkward...

I almost pants-ed (how the crap do you spell that??) someone. JUST KIDDING. Sort of.

I accidentally told multiple people that Obama came from the devils butt hole. (I texted this to Beka on purpose...but I accidentally spoke it out loud to everyone at my house at the time. And not everyone was related to me...)

My young womens leader had a meeting with the bishop, and I jokingly told her that she was going to be released. At church on Sunday, she was released...

I went to Mickey D's with Georgi. And I was in the process of trying to fit as many fries into my mouth at once, when I noticed a man outside the window, looking at me. I tried smiling. And then started laughing, and spit some out on accident.

On the same night, a creepy man sat behind us and kept laughing at things we did...it was creepy...

A few days later, the kids I was babysitting insisted I take them to McDonalds. And I had no idea how to order a Happy Meal...which I am oddly proud of. Yup.

Ian is really awkward. ;)



I know there were more awkward things, but I can't think of any at the moment.


Awesome:

I got a freaking 100/100 on my History Midterm last week. Allow me to scream and run around.

I went on one of the funnest dates ever, that ended up in a huge paint fight. It was so awesome.

I got some frickin awesome mugs and stuff from Layne.

I went to lunch with Abi. Woooohooo!

I mom surprised me with a trip to Sushi King a few weeks ago! It like, made my week.

I dyed a pair of pants. Like, they were dark denim, and now they are yellow. YELLOW, MY FRIENDS. I am the bomb.

I also watermarked a t shirt.

Rachel finally got the scarf I made her. And she said it was the most beautiful scarf she's ever worn, and it made my day.

Georgi has the freakin awesomest car in existence. I'm just sayin.


Yeah, I can't really think of anything else that's happened that's awesome...mostly my life is just awkward...


Hopefully I'll remember more stuff for next week. Maybe I'll write it down. ;)

 See? Our phones are awesome. Except mine is tiny and a piece of crap. But whatevs.

 This is what happens when I fall asleep on the floor...thanks to Autumn. Sorry bout the super awkward picture...and awkward angle...and just, yeah...

Today, I didn't feel like taking a picture of myself. So, instead, you get a picture of my sweatshirt. Which I love. 

Applicable song lyric: "I don't even know if we're still friends. It's so confusing, understanding you."

See ya tomorrow, peeps.

And that's how it's done

Holy shoot.

I haven't posted in over a week. And I apologize. On top of that, I only have one picture for you. But hey, it sums up my last week pretty well. So it works. So, here's my week/excuse.

Wednesday: The picture at the bottom of the post is from Wednesday. I actually loaded it onto the computer and was going to write a post but I was exhausted from midterms, so I decided to put it off and wait til Thursday.

Thursday: Ha. Our computer was at the repair shop. My mom wanted to expand our hard drive. So I delivered it to the store at 9, and then we didn't see it until yesterday. To fill in my school-less day, I slept. For like, 4 extra hours. And then I watched a stupid movie on my iPod. And then I got crafty. I started making a shirt. Which, although it didn't turn out like the picture, wasn't as bad as I'd expected. I will show you sometime. Maybe.

Friday: I was in the process of bleaching a pair of pants, when I got a phone call from a sister in my ward, asking me to babysit over the weekend. Turns out, she and her hubby were in Texas, and their babysitter got super sick. And they couldn't get tickets home early. So, I packed up and headed over there. I spent all day chasing 4 children. That night, after the kids were in bed, Georgi came over to spend the night with me. We stayed up until 2 am ish. It was so much fun.

Saturday: I spent all day watching the kids, again. Around 6, I took all of the kids to MY house to celebrate two of my siblings birthdays. And then I left them with my little sister while I went to a dance. Which was one of the funnest dances I've been to in forever. Hallelujah, I needed a break. Georgi came over after the dance, again. We watched a horror movie called "The Last Exorcism". Or, about half of it. We kept falling asleep, so we turned it off and went to bed. And neither of us would get out of bed to turn the fan on, cuz demons would get us. It was pretty warm, until we fell asleep.

Sunday: HA! I had to get the children ready and TO church. I was pretty proud of myself, being a single parent over the weekend and all. And then I got paid. Woooot! I came home and passed out on the floor. When I did so, Autumn decided to spell things on my legs using Bananagram pieces. And she took pictures. I'll see if I can find those...anyway. I woke up in time to change for a meeting I had to go to.

Monday: I was so lazy and tired, it wasn't even funny. Monday is actually kinda a blur. I went to seminary, flirted with a cute boy, came home, did a little bit of school, at least, as much as I could without my computer. And then I don't remember much else, except I went on a run. asdfksmdf.

Tuesday: When I came home from seminary, I slept for 2 and a half hours. I don't usually do that. Usually 30 minutes works. I was exhausted. And then I spent ALL. DAY. working on a study guide. At about 3, my headache was so bad, I decided to take a "nap". At which point, my mother decided I was sick(I was), and sent Autumn to film for me(for my dad). And then I slept for 3 hours. At which point I was starving, but didn't want dinner. So I left the house and got sushi with Georgi. And then I laid on the couch as my headache and nausea got worse(no, I didn't throw up. No, it wasn't the sushi). I stayed up til 10, dreaming up futures with Jacob. And then I texted Rachel until about 11, while she told me she came into my room and watched me sleep and smelled me. Goodness, I miss that girl. Then, my mother came in and cleaned my room. Partially. But, it WAS her fault my room was a mess. She decided to sell my desk(which I never use) at the garage sale on Saturday. So, she took all of my crap and basically piled it around my room. So, she piled everything in different places, like on my shelf, so I could find it when I was feeling better so I could clean up a little. And then I passed out.


There are two things I've wanted to write about since last week. I will write about the second thing, because it falls under something I mentioned earlier.

The family I was babysitting had twins. Now, I've seen twins before. I'm not trying to make this seem like a major phenomenon. My best friends when I was 8 were twins. So, it's not that novel. But, these twins were 2. So it was before that whole "I hate you" going through puberty crap. It was a brother and sister, and they were the most adorable thing ever. And it made me think of a couple things.

First, it made me miss my sister. Rachel is one of my best friends, and since she's moved, it's been a little hard. And then it made me miss other friends of mine, mainly Helen.

Second, it made me wish I had a twin. A real, legitimate, blood twin.

Here's why: The companionship that these two had, it was amazing. They were always looking out for each other, they wanted to sit next to each other every meal, they couldn't go to bed unless they were both there, I mean...it was amazing. I mean, wouldn't that be awesome? To always have someone to stand up for you? Someone to always be there, always have a friend? I think that would be absolutely amazing.

In my head, this portion of the post was a lot longer. So I apologize.

Anyway. Picture!

This was right after I finished midterms on Wednesday,

The end.

Applicable Song Lyric: "It cannot wait. I'm yours."

PS, I will be posting tomorrow. I promise. Get ready for a gajillion awkward/awesome things. If I can remember them all...

I'll let you spend forever waiting on...these posts ;)

 I have an excuse. I promise. I haven't posted my photo a day since last Tuesday. Which is kinda long ago, even tho it doesn't seem that way to me...But anyway. Let's go on a journey.

Wednesday. I took the picture. Yay. I was going to upload it when I got home from dance at 9 pm, but my brother in law was on my computer. So, I went to bed after stretching, because I didn't really want to stay up any later. I was exhausted. Can you blame me?

Thursday: I took the picture at 11 pm. I was so tired, you wouldn't believe. I spent forever contributing to the dinner we made for guests, then went straight to work, then straight to a YW meeting, and didn't get back til almost 11. So, I basically hopped into bed. After taking the picture, to post the next day...

Friday: I took a picture first thing(it's not the one I ended up using, but I was prepared) and planned on uploading it during class. But, I felt compelled to pay lots of attention during class. Mostly cuz we had a trivia game on greek mythology, which I was boss at. And then went to work. And then straight to another YW meeting. It was actually a craft night for our upcoming YWIE..which is where my picture from that day comes.

Saturday: The word "exhaustion" does not begin to cover Saturday. I woke up at 4 am, people, to go to the balloon fiesta with the Young Women. And they didn't even launch the balloons. Cuz it was "too windy". Come on, people. How long have you lived in this state?? You should be used to this by now!! After the first session of General Conference, I was way too shaken up to upload any pictures, so I sorta just compromised by crying for a while. After the second session, I went to work. Shock. Er. And then watched Avengers with my family. For the first time. and I am so tempted to buy every Marvel shirt I can find and make a life long quest to be an extra in one of the Avengers movies(Anela, that's how we'll meet them!!). I then watched the Notebook in my room, cuz I was stupid about sleep and I needed a chick flick. Don't judge.

Sunday: Conference. I didn't want to mess with my blog on Sunday. Sorry peeps.

Today: Congrats. I picked my pictures, and I posted them here for your viewing pleasure. I went on a run with my sister this morning. It was a sad little run. My lung problem acted up, resulting in a run even shorter than the short run that was planned. And Autumn wanted to walk the majority of the time. Which was obnoxious. And she fought me the whole time. I think I'll run by myself tomorrow...Also. It's freezing cold. I am wearing my fuzziest socks, and a huge hoodie. And I am cold. Someone come warm up my hands, pretty please. PLUS, I think I like a hopeless romantic. Who lives nowhere near me. Why do they always live 2345823452304958 miles away? Beats me. God has a sense of humor.

Aves went grocery shopping with me. And we jammed out to music. And it was awesome.

So. Freaking. Tired. 

I'm a T-rex. And this would be why neither of us have boyfriends...

This is at the failure balloon fiesta. Everyone, say hi to the top of Jodi's face. And the bottom of mine. 

I taught my brother how to knit during conference, because he was bored. He kept knitting, even after it was over. It made my day.

This would be us after our morning run. Our EASY morning run, I should add, since I don't usually bring Autumn with me. Therefore, we went at a snails pace. And didn't even run a mile. It was sad. Hence the reason we don't look totally dead. 

Hasta la Pasta, people. Until next time...which may or may not be tomorrow...

Applicable song lyric of the day: "You throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny cause he never did." 

Hi, my name is: Confident

There are many a misconception in this world. Here are a few that bug me.

If you think you're ugly you're trying to draw attention and compliments.
If you think you're beautiful you're conceited.

MAKE UP YOUR MINDS, PEOPLE!!

Yup. That's about where the "holy poo this pisses me off" line is drawn. There are others, but they aren't pertinent to this post.

Allow me to give you a couple of scenarios where these assumptions are and aren't accurate.

Situation 1:
*girl posts picture of herself on facebook* Ohmygawsh. I look so uglly. Liiike if you disagree!

^^That also pisses me off. She just wants attention. Feel free to think what you want.

Situation 2:
*girl talking to...anyone*
"I just don't look good today."

Okay. This last situation is harder to explain than just stating that, so I'll elaborate.

Everyone has off days. Sometimes a pretty girl looks in the mirror and realizes she's having an off day. Maybe she's on second day hair. Or she slept on her hair funny. Or she's breaking out. There could be any number of reasons for this "off" day, but these are the most common ones(or at least the ones that apply to me). If she says that she doesn't look good TODAY, or "I look like crap/shapoopy/poo", this DOESN'T mean she thinks she's ugly. She's having an off day. She's not UGLY, she just looks like crap TODAY.

Now, the beauty thing.

See, I know I'm a pretty good looking person. I just know I am. I don't need people to tell me, I don't seek out compliments. I LOVE compliments, but I don't ASK for them, ya know? And I know a lot of other pretty girls who feel like this. You know you're pretty, but if you even ACKNOWLEDGE you're good looking, people jump all over you. "Wow, conceited much?" "Need a piece of humble pie?" etc.

If I say I look pretty, I'm not conceited. It would be conceited if I went on and on and on about it, but if I casually mention "I look real good today" or something(in context...) I'm not being conceited. I'm confident. And being confident is good. It is.

I get called conceited/prideful a lot. And yes, I may be somewhat conceited, but I almost never act it, unless you're one of my best friends. Then I can be highly conceited.


Don't mix it up. Guess what guys? I look good today. Deal with it. ;)

Dare not to generalize me

I don't think that title ^^^ even works, grammatically. But, I don't want to bother changing it, so it stays.

So, I was sitting in seminary today. Like I do every week day. (I'm about to digress) I looked like a hobo that had rolled around in mud and then done something else disgusting. My brain isn't working today, and the reason why is because I woke up with a killer migraine yesterday. It sucked. However, it's mostly gone, and I am here to tell you about a thought I had.

I'll get back on topic now.

I'm sitting in seminary. And we are talking about weaknesses, the armor of God, blah blah. It was a good lesson, just one we're all forced to hear at least 2345456456782345 times a year, whether it be sunday school, YW/YM, Seminary, FHE, etc. You hear it a lot. And wouldn't you know it? We've all seen the orange analogy. ;) So, normally, this kind of lesson wouldn't be note worthy enough for me to BLOG about it.

It gets better, so keep your pants on and wait.

My teacher has a vase of water. And then pulls out an orange. Or, as I called it, a Green. It was a green orange, which is contradictory, so it's a green. Call it a green. A green. SO, she plops this orange in the water. 5 points to whoever can tell me what'll happen. If you guessed "IT'LL FLOAT!", then ding ding ding. You get a mythical prize. Enjoy that. If, for some stupid reason, you guessed "It'll sink. Derp." Then please go throw some greens in a bathtub and take as many science classes you can. Now, while you perform your science experiment, I will continue with my rant, or whatever you could call this.

When the teacher asks what will happen, we all answer "it's gonna float." in tired monotonous voices. Wouldn't ya know it, it floats. Then, she peels the green. And asks us what will happen when she puts it back in. We all say, "It's gonna sink." And then I add, because I am oh so sarcastic and always in a good mood in the morning, "Just watch. It's gonna float."

It floated.

I laughed.

My teacher than kneaded it with her hands until it was a poor, abused green, and it kinda floated near the bottom. Everyone started making jokes about how it was a "special" orange and all of that, and then one of my teachers says, "It was a homeschooled orange."

I really laughed then. NOW, before you other homeschoolers say "HEY WE AREN'T STUPID/SPECIAL!" and all you non-homeschoolers say "HAHAHAHAHA I WAS ALWAYS RIGHT!" give me a second to say a few things.

I am one of 2 homeschooled kids in my class. I don't really care. This particular teacher, she homeschooled her kids. I appreciate a funny homeschooled joke. In fact, I make them. If I do something stupid I just say, "Ya know what? I was homeschooled." And if you know me, you know that I'm being sarcastic and it's hilarious. *note* Don't make a homeschool joke around a proud homeschooler. Proud in the "I will punch you" type of way. Especially if they're ripped. Just saying.

Anyway, after all the laughing subsided, and everyone made a few homeschool comments and it was oh so funny(not exactly), and we were all ready to pay attention to the lesson, one girl(she's....special), makes a comment that all homeschoolers have good standards and therefore, they are set apart and are a higher "species" or whatever.

I call bullcrap.

In fact, as soon as she states this, my friend who sits next to me, turns to me and says, "Yeah right. I can think of plenty with bad standards." And we list a few that we both know. And then he says, "The only goody two shoes homeschoolers I know are you and Josh(the other one in my class)." For everyone that knows me better than he does, I give you permission to laugh.

Goody-two-shoes, I am not.

That's not my point tho. My point is that I am a member of three "groups" that receive a lot of generalization: I'm a mormon, homeschooled, and belong to a large family. People would think I'm the worlds biggest geek/most sheltered child. In fact, on more than one occasion, I've had people say, "YOU'RE HOMESCHOOLED?!? NO WAY! You're way too cool!"I know. I'm just super awesome that way.

APPARENTLY, If you're a Mormon, you eat jello and funeral potatoes all day, everyday. You wear turtle necks and bootleg highwater jeans, or a jumper with a long sleeved frilly shirt under it. And socks and sandals. And socks that are all frilly at the top. You get my point. We are also, apparently, little law abiders.(I'm not saying that we don't, but I'm saying that we're not high-and-mighty).

If you're homeschooled: You wear your pj's all day(only sometimes, gosh), you watch tv all day(no, that's not having an education), and do school on your bed(okay, that one is spot on...). Apparently, you also have FRICKIN HIGH STANDARDS. And you've never been on a roller coaster. And you worship Hitler(I've actually had someone ask me that once). The assumptions are ridiculous.

If you belong in a large family: You all share underwear(bull), you shop at thrift stores(which is cool), you drive a short bus(...), you're loud, your house is a WRECK, and your parents are lunatics that can't handle you or remember your name.

I have a piece of mind to share with you. I quite enjoy jello and funeral potatoes, because I'm human. However, I have had neither today. AM I NO LONGER A MORMON!?! ;) And the clothes...I don't even OWN a turtle neck, and it goes the same for the rest of the "mormon" clothing. (my dad wears socks and sandals, but he's classy. ;) ) I am law abiding. However, I speed. I've broken a few minor laws, of which I will not go into at this moment. That's need-to-know.

I have not worn my pajamas all day in eons, with the exception of when I'm sick and bed ridden. I never watch tv. And I only do school on my bed 25% of the time. I also have high standards, but not to the point where I refuse to kiss boys or wear a swim suit. There is moderation in all things. I have not only been on *A* roller coaster, but multiple, and I quite enjoy them. And Hitler....do I really have to clarify that? (no, I'm not a Nazi.)

I have MY OWN UNDERWEAR. I've never shared, and never will. Thrift stores are the frickin bomb. I've gotten some of the best stuff ever at those places. One mans trash is another mans treasure. If you're too high and mighty to shop at a thrift store...you have problems. GO SAVE MONEY. A "short bus" is the only thing  big enough to fit my whole family. Deal with it. Our house is NOT a wreck. Cheaper by the dozen makes big families look bad(I love that movie, don't get me wrong). My parents are wonderful and not only PARENT wonderfully, but they LOVE us. Sometimes people forget names. Heck, I do it all the time. To my FRIENDS. It happens. Yes, I've been called the dogs name. No, I don't care.

So, this became much more of a rant than I originally planned. So sue me.

Generalize me, I'll generalize you. As a butt head.

Way to be, bro.

Sometimes, the best way to express yourself is through music. I make playlists. Who doesn't? I usually do when I get into a relationship, among other things.

Stuff has happened. And I don't feel like writing about it, for multiple reasons. So, this will have to compensate.

Here is my latest playlist. I am highly unoriginal.

We are never ever getting back together ~ Taylor Swift

Ignorance ~ Paramore

The Story of Us ~ Taylor Swift

Gives you Hell ~ All-American Rejects

50 Ways to say Goodbye ~ Train

Whiplash ~ Selena Gomez

Gonna Get Over You ~ Sara Bareilles

Single Ladies ~ Beyonce

Forget You ~ Cee Lo Green

My Happy Ending ~ Avril Lavigne

According to You ~ Orianthi

Picture to Burn ~ Taylor Swift

That's What You Get ~ Paramore

Last Kiss ~ Taylor Swift

Decoy ~ Paramore

Long Live ~ Taylor Swift

All We Know ~ Paramore

No Hope ~ Kylar Gardner

White Horse ~ Taylor Swift

Long time. No see.

You probably didn't miss me much.
I didn't miss you much, to tell you the truth. ;)

Life...life is strange. God works in mysterious ways.
There's this girl that I've hated for a year. She stole a boy. ;) gooooo figure. And since the weekend before last, we've been buddies. And not just friends. But we clicked. She's super sweet and  I love her. :) And it's nice to finally  have a friend that lives within a 500 mile radius...

Helen is amazing. She has been with me through  everything recently. Like, pretty much all summer. She helped me through my breakup with  Casey. She helped me with Casey withdrawals(still is). She helped me with my horrible first kiss story(...). She's supported me every single  time I feel like poop. She finds virtual possums for me to murder when I'm on my period. ;) She's my second amigo, since we only need two. She's my sprinkle buddy. I love her to freaking death. And then back. Because that's how amazing she is. <3

I have this amazing friend. And he wrote this beautiful poem. And it moved me to tears. And it made me think...you know, we can go for such a long time, not telling people how we feel. Not letting our emotions show, because we're afraid. We're afraid of other people's reactions. But guess what? WHY SHOULD WE CARE?! We are the masters of our fate. And no one can decide what we're gonna do, think, and say. So why do we worry?? Why can't we just say what we need to? Can't we all just let go of our  insecurities? Heaven help me to be better at this...

Because of his poem, I'm trying. I'm really trying. Yeah. It's crazy what a little piece of well-written poetry can do to a girl.