Sunday, November 23

Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood...

This past week I realized that I am currently standing at the proverbial life crossroads I have been warned about all of my life. Being the life-long resenter of responsibilities that I am, these crossroads are definitely not something I am enjoying. Allow me to explain my situation first.


Not long ago, I had a conversation with my friend Savannah Damschen from high school about how crappy it is for people to tell us that we can take our time trying to figure out what we want to study because it's simply is not true. The longer we take to figure it out, the more money we spend. And THAT is the truth. The first major in my college career that I thought I would like was History. I'm not even going to go into the details on that, but essentially History is one of those majors that you reeeaally can't do anything with once you graduate. Plan aborted. Next: Humanities. This is the track that my classes would indicate that I am still on. When people asked me what I thought about my major, I told them that I loved it and that it was perfect for me. Turns out I was lying to them and myself. One morning I woke up, needing to get to my Humanities class. In the midst of the hairspray, clothes and makeup, the realization dawned on me that I absolute detest humanities. I hate the classes, I hate the subject matter, and I hate the testing lab. So here I am, a Junior at BYU, major-less. How bleak. Currently, I am thinking that Communications with an emphasis in PR would be good, but let's face it, I have no idea. And I'm running out of time.

Second: Mission/No Mission

I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I have wanted to go on a mission all of my life. Only recently (as in the past few months) is this something that I've gotten excited about. Lately though, as I seriously consider it, my conviction to go changes from hour to hour. I'm not sure, but I think I should be a bit more sure about this decision before I plunge head-long into it...

Third: $$$

I decided awhile ago that I want to be financially independent from my parents. Right now, they pay what's left of my tuition after my Leo Adler scholarship does its job. I am very grateful to my parents for helping me to pursue an education, but I'm at the point in my life where I just need to take care of myself, I think.

Fourth: School vs. Work (And other things...)
In order for me to become financially independent, I need to be able to support myself. At this point, I can't pay for the upcoming semester by myself. Along with this is the fact that in order to get into the Communications program, I want to have less than 75 credits, which I am very close to. So what I'm thinking right now is that I want to go to school part-time, work at the Telefund, get another job, and raise enough money to be able to pay for myself to go to school full-time for Fall Semester 2009.

In the midst of chewing over all of these issues, I remembered a Robert Frost poem (likely from one of my now-worthless Humanities classes) about making decisions:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-Robert Frost

Honestly though, I really don't see any solutions in there. Thanks, Rob. Thanks a lot.

Monday, November 10

Carmex, Blistex, and Brandon Bailey

In my lifetime I have tried many brands of lip products, but I have never found anything to compare with Carmex. I love the way it smells, how tingly it is, how lightweight it is, and how healthy it makes my lips look. Plus, it's really cheap. And guys can use it as well. Which reminds me of an incident involving my friend Brandon Bailey... Okay story time. One night Brandon called me raving about this new chapstick he had bought that his sister had recommended to him. Apparently, he said, it makes your lips silky smooth. I asked him what kind it was and he responded that it was Blistex Lip Infusion. This was actually a product that I was familiar with, so I paused before breaking his heart and informing him that Blistex Lip Infusion is really a lip gloss and only to be worn by men who wish they were women. Brandon adamantly disagreed and a few moments later showed up on our doorstep to prove me wrong, his lips gleaming and glistening in the light. After much hysterical laughter and an examination in front of the mirror, he conceded and gave it to me. Shoot we had some good times last year. I miss it!

Thursday, September 18

Classical Civilization

Boring. Never take it.

Wednesday, September 3

My Blog for Hannah Shirley

Don't go to Scotland. They are heathens.
I want you here in Provo, safe in my arms.

Thursday, August 28

What I Live For

I love this place. I don't even think 'love' is a strong enough word. The only thing that I don't like is that I have not personally met Cecil O. because I am his biggest fan.

Thursday, August 21

My Life as a Bookworm

Today I went through some of the boxes in my attic looking for some books I had used freshman year. In my search, I happened upon a boxful of the many books I had read as a kid. During 4th and 5th grades in particular, I loved to read. To the point where it was a bit unhealthy. You see, my family had moved from Roy, Utah to Baker City, Oregon and being a bit shy, I had virtually no friends during the first few years. In lieu of social interaction, I read everything (with a sub-junior high reading level) I could get my hands on. My favorites were the Baby-Sitter's Club series. Looking through the boxes, I found more than 50 different books written by Anne M. Martin. I was shocked not by the number, but by the fact that I could recall the specific plot of each story. Isn't it sad that I can remember Mary Anne's boyfriend's name (Logan) and Stacy's favorite store in New York City (Bloomingdale's) but not the phases of Mitosis from freshman year or even my class schedule from a few semesters back? I hate that I don't read as voraciously as I used to. I have an obsession with Barnes & Noble and purchase a new book virtually every time I go, but rarely do I find a book that I enjoy as completely as I did when I was a little kid. I wonder why that is. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that reading has become a chore now that I'm in college and I dread having to take time out of my day to read assignments for class. Maybe if I viewed my college readings in the same way that I did Nancy Drew mysteries, The Boxcar Children series, or the Babysitter's Club I would get a lot more out of my education. Wow, I think I just walked myself into an epiphany. That is going to be my goal for upcoming semester, to be excited for my readings. And since my major is Humanities and so much of what I read is literature, I think it should work out pretty well. We'll see how it goes though. I am secretly excited for school to start again. I love starting over.

Monday, August 18


As mentioned in my post from last night, I am sitting in a bedroom at Loraina's sister's retired parents-in-law's house. What makes this so awkward? The fact that Loraina is at work. I have heard them moving around upstairs and outside of my room for the past hour and a half, but can't muster up the willpower to leave my fortress and face them. Turns out I'm not as much of a people-person as I thought...Which is bad right now in particular because I really have to pee. Which reminds me. I think I might have diabetes.
Also, I hate waiting! This is completely unrelated to what I was just saying, but waiting is the worst. People always ask me why my ideas for things to do are so last minute. The answer is simple: to cut the waiting time down as much as possible. I like the amount of time between the idea and the idea's execution to be very small.
Well, I guess I should go ahead and leave now. I can't stay in here all day. Too bad...

Monday, July 14


Well blogging world, it's been awhile. I realized how incredibly long it has been the other day while on the phone with my mom when she mentioned that I haven't written for awhile. I feel a little bad that this particular entry is my reintroduction to the world of blog though. Usually I have some great point to make or story to tell but at this moment I am at a loss. I wish I had something profound to call to the attention of my loyal readers, but alas all I can say is this: I love people. At this moment in particular I love my new buddies Jordan, Beth, Alena, and Bethanie. These girls are so amazing and my summer has improved exponentially since I have started spending time with them.

Also, I never realized the amount of fun available to Provo residents. This summer, some of the exciting things I have done are:
Ghost hunting
Night Hiking
Feeding my Taco Bell addiction
Watching scary movies in Provo Canyon at night
SLC Trips

There is even more to come on the agenda:
Visiting a local ghost town
Geo caching
Going to the Zoo
Riding on the Heber Creeper
The aquarium
The Alpine Slide
Relief Society Girl's Camp
John Mayer concert
Colorado road trip
Thanksgiving Point gardens
The new Batman movie
The Drive-in

I love summer.

Friday, April 25

It's All Coming Back to Me Now

Okay, I wrote this poem last night about my college experiences with Crystal Baune, Loraina Binning, Lauren Pack, Meagan Sanders, and Hannah Shirley. I think the words describe the last two years perfectly. I love you girls!

There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window

There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever

I finished crying in the instant that you left
And I can't remember where or when or how
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made

But when you touch me like this
And you hold me like that
I just have to admit
That it's all coming back to me
When I touch you like this
And I hold you like that

It's so hard to believe but
It's all coming back to me
(With tambourine) It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now

There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things I'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than any laws allowed
Baby Baby

If I kiss you like this
And if you whisper like that
It was lost long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you want me like this
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago
But it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist
And it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
But it's all coming back

There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
And so much deeper

There were hours that just went on for days
When alone at last we'd count up all the chances
That were lost to us forever (forever)

But you were history with the slamming of the door
And I made myself so strong again somehow
And I never wasted any of my time on you since then

But if I touch you like this
And if you kiss me like that
It was so long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you touch me like this
And if I kiss you like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now

There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than all you laws allow

When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now

If you forgive me all this
If I forgive you all that
We forgive and forget
And it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
We see just what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to

It's all coming back to me now
And when you kiss me like this
It's all coming back to me now
And when I touch you like that
It's all coming back to me now
If you do it like this
It's all coming back to me now
And if we . . . (imaginations go wild)

We should see if we can get this made into a song or something.

Friday, April 18

On Feminism

Last semester I was sitting in my history class when the professor began a lecture on the Feminist Movement of the mid-20th century. He began by asking the question, "How many of you believe the word 'feminist' has a negative connotation?' I watched, intrigued, as every male in the classroom raised a hand. Mine remained motionless in my lap while my mind chewed over this interesting little observation. At some point the lecture drifted to the 1968 Miss America Beauty Pageant protest where the term 'bra burning' originated. During the course of the protest, a trash can was filled with bras, high heels, corsets, curlers, etc. to symbolize a complete disassociation with traditional feminist ideals. The 400 or so women assembled discussed burning these items but were not able to obtain a permit, leaving the alleged 'instruments of torture' intact. At this point in the lecture, the boy sitting next to me said loudly, "Now if there had been a boy scout there they would have been able to get the job done." Snickers followed (from the male half of the room, I presume, as the majority of females present were likely Girls Camp graduates, well versed in the art of campfire-building).

Now just to be clear, I think bra burning sounds like a really stupid idea. Physically it makes sense to wear a bra. Financially it makes sense not to burn bras (they cost about $40 a pop). One thing that does make sense though is the idea that women competing against each other to prove whose body is most appealing is fundamentally wrong (which was the way that the Miss America Pageant was going down in 1968). Especially when considering the fact that only a very small percentage of females are able to healthily attain the ideal body as depicted in the media. That however is a whole different post entirely.

If I have not already revealed myself, I would like to take this opportunity to come out as a feminist. Not as a feminist in the traditional manner of speaking, but as a feminist who believes that being feminine and completely different from men is a beautiful thing. The irony of the feminist movement is that its objective was to, in a sense, masculinize women while at the same time standing against everything men represented. Mmm I love a good paradox. I really believe that breasts, hips, maternal inclinations, soft features, sensitivity, and smelling good are not bad things! Unfortunately, these protesters got 95% of the feminist movement wrong. Interesting, isn't it?

Wednesday, April 16

Hair So Healthy it Shines

when I was about 8 years old I saw a commercial that changed my life. never has an advertisement company achieved its objective as perfectly as it did for me with pantene pro-v shampoo and conditioner (this is a big statement for a girl who only buys oatmeal from boxes with bob harper's face). i begged my mother for weeks to buy "pantene pro-v, for hair so healthy it shines."

finally the poor woman conceded and purchased it. that afternoon when she walked through the door from the store, i got my greedy hands on my treasure and headed straight for the shower.

sitting in front of the mirror for the next few hours, i waited for my hair to transform from mousy and flat (and greasy?) into computer-animated perfection.

it never happened.

12 years later and against the advice of every hair stylist i've ever been to (yes, i ask every. single. one), I still use pantene pro-v. according to the experts, it coats the hair follicle in wax. contrary to the speculations of my younger, more idealistic self, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind as to whether or not this is true. it just doesn't make sense that hair stylists everywhere have a secret union with the objective of putting pantene pro-v out of business (um, yes. i used to have conspiracy theories. don't judge). i know they are making little girls think their hair can look barbie-commercial perfect and are coating my hair in grease, but guess what, hair school girls! i just don't care.

i'm holding out for pantene pro-v. someday it will start working. mark my words.

until later, chicas!

Tuesday, April 15

I Single-Handedly Keep the US Economy in Balance

There are a lot of things that feel really sucky in this world. For example stress, hypothermia is supposed to be pretty painful, and being eaten alive would be up there too. It has taken me 20 years 2 months and 18 days to discover that I haaate climbing out of a warm car. For some reason, being in a car is one of the most comforting sensations to me. As a product of the Technology Age, I am almost physically incapable of accomplishing simple tasks without the aid of music. My little green 1996 Ford Taurus (with a matching swanky green interior) enables me to listen to any kind of music I desire. First of all in the form of radio. Second, an ipod adapter that connects to 1. radio frequencies or 2. the tape deck (I possess both...just in case). Another amenity offered in the vehicle is a controllable climate. This is essential. I have long suspected that I possess a medical irregularity. Anyone who has lived with me would attest to this fear. For some reason, my body's natural temperature is 3 degrees warmer than all other human beings ( I suspect). I am always cold. In my car I can crank the heat up until the interior resembles a tropical rain forest at midday. This is a beautiful thing. Other lesser perks: cup holders, cruise control, mobility, windshield wipers. Thank you Henry Ford for your exploitation of the labor class in order for me to know these joys. All these reasons combined amount to me loathing climbing out of a car. Whether or not I am driving does not matter. In order to avoid this experience, it is not uncommon for me to drive around for inordinate amounts of time "finding a parking spot." As you can imagine, this habit has a pretty significant pitfall. In the form of gasoline consumption. Which, if you pay even casual attention to the economy you would know, is not cheap. I firmly believe that the amount of gasoline I purchase in order to fuel my addiction and car (ha) keeps the United States from spiraling into a depression to rival that of the 1930s.
Having gotten that off of my chest, I have one more thing to say:
Mom, don't be mad when you read this. If it is any consolation, I am a very good driver. I have never gotten a ticket, gotten in a wreck, or fallen asleep at the wheel. One time however, I did hit a pedestrian. Long story.

Monday, April 14


I have a confession to make. I would say this confession is directed to the world in general but to Claire Hoffman especially. First of all, let me preface this story with a description of a man named Warren Jeffs. He is perhaps the most notorious polygamist in existence today. If that isn't creepy enough, he is charged with two counts of rape as an accomplice and currently resides in the Utah State Prison serving two lifetime sentences. The guy's a straight up weirdy. So one Sunday night Hannah comes to me with an idea: make a facebook profile for this guy. I immediately hop on board.

Throughout the next few days we spend literally hours adding friends. I would say only about 10-20% of the people we added actually accepted our friend request and one girl specifically requested that we leave her alone. Ultimately we accrue about 150 friends over the course of 3 days. Among these is a woman named Claire Hoffman. This honestly is the hugest coincidence I have ever encountered, so stay tuned. The day she accepts our friends request Claire writes on our wall:

"warren: are you mormon?"

Upon reading this I respond: "awkward subject... we aren't on the best terms. they would say that i'm "excommunicated", but i just like to say we're on hiatus from each other."

A few days later, being LDS myself, I become curious about why she would ask that question. It was totally random. I look at her profile and realize that she has two masters degrees, one in journalism and one in religion. After closer examination I discover that she writes for the Washington Post. The freaking Washington Post! Unbeknownst to us, the day before we added her she had written an article about the very man we were impersonating. Here's a link to it:

In this article she refers to Warren Jeffs and his creepy little clan of followers as Mormons. Understandably, she received a lot of backlash because of this from members of my church. The day after I responded to her question, she wrote another article in response to the backlash. AND SHE QUOTED WHAT WE SAID! Here it is, read away:

That very day our Warren Jeffs profile got disabled by administrators for claiming to be someone we were not.

So what's the moral of this story? You win some, you lose some. But the loss might be worth it to be quoted in the Washington Post.

Numero Uno

Hello world, and welcome to my mind. Wow, how exhilarating. Okay so...ummm...I can't think of anything clever to say. So yeah...more to come later.