I Am Beautiful

I may not be America's Next Top Model
But I am Beautiful
I may not be the next Paris Hilton or Julia Roberts
But I am Beautiful
I may not wear designer jeans or the most expensive shoes
But I am Beautiful
I may not do my makeup everyday
But I am Beautiful

I am Beautiful
Because I am me
I have a body
A wonder of a machine
Each finger and toe
Each freckle on my face
Each laugh line each flaw
Only add to the beauty

I am Beautiful
Because I am me
God doesn't make
Anything ugly
So look at the rose
Admire the sky above
And think of the one
Who created it all

He created you too
And you're just as magnificent
You're just as wonderful
You're just as beautiful
So if you never become famous
If you never travel the world
It doesn't make you anything less
You are Beautiful

Because you are His

Terrified...

I am terrified. These past two weeks I have done some thinking and some feeling and the end results have got me scared.

I think I am falling in love. I know, I should be happy, ecstatic even, right? WRONG. I am horrified. Why you ask? Because I don't want this to go away. I don't want the feelings I am feeling to disappear and be replaced with ones of doubt and heartache.

I recently posted about the lovely incident in which I experienced my first true blue broken heart. As I have thought about this new guy memories of that have come flooding in. That little voice in my head is talking again, taunting me even. I don't know whether its intentions are good still or not. I think its being selfish personally, but that doesn't seem to make it any easier to shut it up.

Anyways, so this guy, he's totally amazing. He makes me happy every time I see him and some times I can't help but think how adorable he is. Not hot or sexy, but adorable (Now for you guys that may read this, I will have you know that while we girls do like guys who are "hot" and "sexy" we love the ones that are adorable, at least I do anyways).

As I thought about him a few days ago a thought came to me that has never come before for any guy that I have ever had feelings for. Mom would really like him.

I love my mother so very much and having this thought come to me, particularly since she's been gone for two and a half years almost, is a bit nerve wracking. Even with the "heart breaker" boy I didn't think of that.

Any time I think about this guy, my chest swells with happiness and affection. I don't know what to do.

Here's the kicker--he recently got out of a relationship and is not looking for a girlfriend right now. *ugh* Patience is a virtue, unfortunately for me it is one that I am lacking in this area of life. I know that the wait will be worth it but with the waiting comes the little voice's opportunity to pipe up. Stupid thing...

He makes my stomach tie in knots, another new experience, he makes me feel happy, comfortable, and confident. I mean, this guy got me to play the piano in front of a group if people, albeit it was a small group, but still, I don't do that unless I absolutely have to. When he comes over in the morning to just sit and visit I feel like the rest of the day is perfect bliss. On one occasion I actually felt more bold in my classes, enough that I actually got into performing the dance in my Hip Hop class and I took charge in my theater class when everyone was having some trouble and in a bit of chaos.

Sigh...

The Little Voice in My Head

This week has been a rather interesting one. It started out as one of those "Life kinda sucks" weeks but due to recent events it has improved immensely.

It is at times like this, the times when I am feeling excited and super happy about something--specifically, guys and my relationships with them--when it gets activated. You know, that little voice in the back of your head that tells you, "Don't get your hopes up."

The voice has been activated many times in my life. I cannot call the voice terrible or bad, I mean it does have experience and it's intentions are good, but to be honest it is rather biased. It has never really seen much of the whole "Being hopeful is a good thing" paying off in this department. It has been there through many sleepless nights when I was feeling rotten because yet again a boy I liked informed me that I was great and amazing but he didn't like me the way I liked him. Some boys didn't even say it to me, they just kind of showed me (which were the most painful ones I admit). On those nights the voice would tell me, "I told you so, please don't hurt us again."

Well this week something amazing happened, which is to be divulged in the following blog, and that Little Voice piped up once more. I try to argue with it, like I always do, but part of me is convinced that it is right, that I shouldn't get my hopes up because this has happened in the past and nothing came from it.

But not everything that has happened this week has happened before. I like him, and he asked me.

Doesn't matter, he's probably just being nice.

But he chose me out of a group of other girls he could've asked.

Exactly; there are other fish in the sea and he knows it.

Well, what about the fact that he did it in person? No guy has EVER asked me on a date of his own accord in person.

So?

So? That has to mean something, right?

Not really.

Alright then, how 'bout this? Today he asked me to do something with him that had absolutely nothing to do with the date tomorrow. What do you think about that?

Maybe, but "maybe" isn't "definitely".

Sigh.

Even though this voice has been arguing with me this week, trying to prevent me from doing anything "stupid", it isn't as big as it usually is. I mean, it's never been some giant monster that pounces on you and practically rips your heart out for hoping something good will happen, but it has always been rather prominent and not so easy to forget. Like a person sitting next to you talking. Right now though, it feels more like a little bug in the corner simply saying, "No!"

I'm not sure what to think of all of this. Quite honestly I would like to look that Little Voice in the eye and say "Shut Up! Just let me be happy will you?!"

I am nervous and excited and, despite what the Voice says, I'm going to hope for the best. If it doesn't happen, then I will just file it away as more proof that it could happen, because honestly, anything could happen.

Sollitary Post

solitary

post

nothing

to hold it up

looking 'round

at other posts

reaching to support them

nothing to hold it

or at least

that's how it seems.

sinking, disappearing

like quicksand

no helpful line

to pull

itself out

desperate for

a lifeline

none in sight

it seems.

wanting to cry

out but finding

it hard to

do.

it knows the

other

posts stand

ready to assist

it just has

to ask

but it is

afraid to

say what it thinks

feels.

afraid to show

the weakening knots

in its

fine grains.

afraid that the others

will not understand

or will think

less of

it.

trying to be strong

for the posts

that need it

but not

sure

if the others

feel the same way

about it.

why would they

if they did?

what is so

special

about this

post?

if there is anything

really truly

unique and

extraordinary about

this sad post

why is it then

that the posts

around it

don't see fit to

let the post know?

are they afraid

of something

do they not

know how to

say what they

think?

while they try

to decide what

to say and how

the poor post stands

feeling rather

alone.

Seriously?

Ok, so I have had two dreams in the past week that involved some kind of a natural disaster. The dream I had Sunday night was quite interesting.

I was at my house in Salt Lake and there was something bad about to happen, like, apocalyptic bad or something. There was this teenage boy who had to survive it (don't know why). It was my job to escort him to a safe location but doing so would mean I'd have to leave behind the guy I liked.

I thought about everything and came to a decision. When I came into the living room I was supposed to say goodbye to the guy, but instead I walked over to the boy and hugged him. He looked at me in confusion and I assured him that the other person that was going to go with us was just as capable of keeping him safe. He nodded and then left to get into the helicopter we had waiting for him.

Once he was gone I turned back to the guy. Now he was the one confused. I told him I wasn't leaving without him.

I discovered that there was a bomb in the house. In fact, it was in the living room sitting on the couch that was right next to us. I looked at it and there were just seconds left on the timer. I threw my arms around the guy, tears in my eyes, and he put his arms around me.

Normally in dreams when I am about to die I either wake up or the scene changes, which is what I was expecting to happen. However, I saw the timer come to zero, heard the explosion, and then everything went white.

Seriously? I'm dead? I wondered. That's so weird...

I began to open my eyes and look around me. Apparently, I hadn't died. Don't know how it happened, I mean, I was standing between the guy and the bomb, I should have been dead, but I was alive. I saw the guy sitting next to me looking really worried. He noticed that I was awake and he asked if I was okay.

"I hurt," I told him (of course I was hurting, I just got exploded practically!).

"We'll get you to a hospital," he said. That's when my dad, brother, and little sister showed up. The guy helped me get into their car and then let them take me to the hospital.

Now, after the whole explosion and everything going white, and earthquake had hit the city. Not so convenient, since it messed up all the roads and made it hard to find a nice smooth path to the hospital. As we drove through the city there were no people around. It was strange and a bit creepy.

We drove under a freeway over pass that had a chunk broken off of it. The large mass of cement and re bar had landed in a house conveniently located right next to the freeway. We drove past it and saw another house that was relatively in tact. Out in front of the house there was a little toddler, somewhere between 2 and 4 years old, wandering around. It was crying and looking for its mother.

I wanted to help the kid but I was hurt. I tried to get the other people in the car with me to turn it around so we could go back and help but either I was speaking and they couldn't hear me or I wasn't thinking and thought that I was.

That's when I woke up.

I've had some pretty interesting dreams in the past, I've even had a dream repeat itself, but this is...well, weird. I have never had similar dreams within a week of each other and not ones that were that closely related. My repeat dreams had a year or so between them.

It's weird.

Dreeeeeam Dream Dream Dreeeam

After staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning, 3 nights in a row this past week, I finally got to bed at a reasonable hour last night. Unfortunately the sleep I received was not adequate enough to give my body the proper rest it needs to function fully. So I took a nap this afternoon.

This is what I dreamed...

I was driving to Salt Lake for Fall Break. My roommate Kayla and I stopped off in Provo because my car was in need of gas. Somebody, not sure who, was a smarty and put the gas in the wrong place (in the car I mean--they put it in something under the hood, not sure what it was but that doesn't matter; it was the wrong place). I realized what had happened and started to freak internally. I tried to turn on my car but it wouldn't start.

Crap, crap, crap! I thought to myself. I ruined my car!

After some time the car started. I breathed a sigh of relief, though I was not fully convinced that the vehicle would function alright. I decided that if we kept the car on then maybe we would be okay.

Now, where we had gone to fill up was actually at a McDonald's (apparently selling hamburgers wasn't bringing in enough revenue so they decided to invest in their own gas pumps). Kayla and my little sister (NO idea where she came from, she just popped up out of nowhere like she'd been there the whole time) went into the McDonald's to get some food. Once I got the car to start I decided that I wanted to join them. After all, I was pretty hungry myself. I went to the establishment and found that the line for ordering food snaked all the way out into the parking lot. Craaaaazy.

Anywho, so I decided to find somewhere else to eat, since the line was so long. I realized that there still wasn't gas in my car (at least none that I could actually use) so I tried to find another gas station. I was able to find a Chevron across the street and once I had filled up and was ready to go some guy, about thirty years old, came over and started talking to me. I had no idea who he was and he seemed to think we knew each other.

It only took me a moment to realize he was drunk, or at least hugging the line between "buzzed" and "drunk". There was a concert in Provo that night and he thought I was one of his concert buddies or something. I just smiled and tried to tell him as politely as possible that I didn't know who he was.

There was a lot of traffic, and sensing that he really had no clue what he was doing, I thought I should help him get somewhere safer than the side of a busy road. I rolled down my window some and asked him what his name was.

"Zane," he told me. Apparently he was some kind of celebrity, I think he said he was some popular politician, but I dunno for sure. Anyways, he tried to explain who he was and how it was that he was famous but I kept telling him that I had no clue who he was and that I'd never heard of him.

"Really?" he asked. "Huh." He then proceeded to tell me about how he grew up in the LDS Church but that he'd been inactive for years. I think he assumed that since I was in Provo, I was LDS, which was a correct assumption, but the topic of religion hadn't even come up until he said something.

At that moment a group of girls spotted us. Apparently they knew who he was because they started screaming his name and came running at him. The poor man was practically trampled by this band of screaming fan girls.

Seeing that he was in need of an escape, I unlocked my back door and said, "Get in the car!"

Most of the girls started to dissipate but I suspect they were going off to collect more people with which to maul the poor guy, so I told him again to get in the car.

"I don't think I can move," he groaned.

He looked quite pathetic, lying on the ground like some teenage boy who got tackled by a guy twice his size, but my heart went out to him. He was also kind of cute. I was able to get him into the car and we prepared to take him to a safer location.

Then I woke up. Not sure how it would have ended, but it was rather interesting. :)

Epimedium

WARNING This post may not be suitable for children. You have been warned.

Okay, so years ago while at work one of my co-workers brought an energy drink with her. We were examining the contents of said drink and one ingredient in particular stood out among the rest.

The ingredient was Horny Goat Weed.

I have always wondered exactly what the heck this ingredient was, what use it has, and where it got it's name. So tonight my roommates and I did some research. This is what we found.

The proper name for Horny Goat Weed is Epimedium. It is also known as Barrenwort, Fairy Wings, Bishop's Hat, and Rowdy Lamb Herb. It is an aphrodisiac that was, according to legend, discovered by a Chinese man who "noticed sexual activity in his flock after they ate the weed".

Don't ask me why I felt the need to post this. I really have no clue.

Some energy drinks that have this ingredient:
Socko
Crunk!!!
And something called Energy Drink Love Potion, or something like that.

For further information click the link below.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epimedium#Medicinal_uses

And We're Dreaming Once More

I had another cool dream last night. It wasn't as trippy as the last one I posted, but I still really, REALLY liked this one!

In the dream I was an assistant to a man who ran his own business from his home. He was some kind of rich inventor. His house was huge and he had all sorts of different people--business associates, employees, and household staff--running around all over the place downstairs. His office was located upstairs, so as to avoid any distractions from the people downstairs.

I had a stack of files that needed to be sorted through and since it was rather hectic on the main floor I took my work upstairs in an attempt to find enough peace and quiet to get the job done. When I got upstairs the housekeeper, an older woman, was putting laundry away. She saw me and, with a stern look on her face, said, "Don't disturb him! He's working!"

From where I stood I could see right into my boss' office. He was indeed working, frantically it seemed.

"I'm not going to disturb him," I told her in as calm a voice as I could muster, though it was difficult because her constant nagging about it was becoming annoying. "These files need to get done, with or without his help, and if I'm going to do it I need somewhere quieter than the zoo downstairs."

She simply huffed and went off about young people having no respect or something like that. I stood there rolling my eyes and waiting patiently for her monologue to finish. I noticed that my boss had stopped what he was doing. I looked over at him and saw that he was staring at me, intrigued. I quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact. However, I couldn't keep my eyes averted for long. When I looked back at him he smiled and then started making faces at me.

I laughed which earned me a stern look from the housekeeper which said "What did I tell you about disturbing him!?"

In my defense I replied, "Don't worry, he's still working. I just had a funny thought is all. I'm sorry."

She glared at me and then continued her work. The butler, who had arrived sometime during these events and was now standing behind the housekeeper, waved to get my attention. As I watched him he tried to sign something to me. I looked at him confused and shook my head, indicating that I had no idea what he was saying. The housekeeper saw my movement and looked at me. I smiled sweetly at her and she returned to her task. This time the butler's actions were more clear. He wanted me to take the back stairs down to the main floor and then come back up the front stairs. Why I was to do this was beyond me, but I did as I was told.

Once downstairs I heard the butler telling the housekeeper she was needed downstairs. Realizing that whatever the reason for my returning to the second floor was, the housekeeper was not to know about it. I began creeping up the front stairs when she came into the room. She flashed me an accusing look. I lied, telling her that I had left something upstairs. She just "humphed" and walked away.

I came back to the room where the butler was and asked what was going on. He then pointed and I turned to see my boss standing in the doorway of his office, leaning against the frame. The butler smiled, gave a nod to his employer and then left. I was more confused than before.

"I wanted to talk to you without getting a lecture from Mrs.________ (don't know what her name was)," my boss explained. I nodded in understanding, wondering what in the world he wanted to talk to me about.

At first the conversation had been filled with just some small talk; "How are you?" "Are you enjoying the work?" things like that. And then he shifted a little, almost nervously, and said, "I have two tickets for the opera tonight." I stared at him, uncertain of what he was getting at. "Do you like the opera?"

"I've never really been to one, but I do enjoy music and the theater," I told him.

"Would you like to go with me?"

I was shocked, to say the least. My boss, who was a bit older and by no means unattractive, was asking me to accompany him to the opera, was asking me on a date.

"Sure," I said, surprised that I was able to speak at all.

"Alright then, the show starts at 7, we'll leave at 6."

I left the room still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.

Later, I'm not sure if it was before or after the opera, though I am inclined to think it was before, I went back to his office to ask him something and found the door slightly ajar and two people talking inside. I didn't want to eavesdrop but I didn't want to interrupt either, so I stood outside the door and only half listened until I discovered they were talking about me. I listened closer.

"His name is Scott Taber," the butler was telling my boss, "and it would seem he has been keeping tabs on your assistant."

"'Keeping tabs'?" my boss asked. "What do you mean?"

"We're pretty sure he's been stalking her."

I was stunned. I recognized who they were talking about, but I had never even realized I was being followed around by the guy!

"Keep an eye on him," my boss said. There was a hint of worry in his voice, and something else. Like he was being protective of me, but not in that "You're my friend and I am concerned for your well being" kind of way. It was more than that.

And thus ends the dream. *sigh* Why can't dreams ever work themselves out before you wake up??? So aggravating...

Spotlight: Mom

I have been thinking a lot lately about the people in my life and about how blessed I am to have them in my life. As a result, I have decided that once a week I am going to do a "spotlight" on one of these people, beginning with members of my family. I have a lot of people that I love dearly, so I am confident that I will never run out of people to talk about. :)

My first spotlight goes out to my mom, Janette, who passed away two and a half years ago. I can't tell you what my earliest memory of her is, but I have plenty of memories in general to share.

When we were younger my mom would read to us. She would sit in our room with us (the four youngest girls all shared a room) and she would read fairytales, stories about people in the scriptures, Dr. Seuss, but mostly what I remember is reading the Wizard of Oz series.

When I was in the 2nd grade I got sick. At first I just broke out in red spots and my joints would swell up. Eventually however we discovered that I had a disease called Henoch Schonlein Purpura. I made a couple of trips to the hospital, and once I had to spend the night. I remember my mom being there with me, something that I greatly appreciated.

My mom had diabetes and with it came heart problems. When I was in elementary school she had her first heart attack. I was asleep when it happened, so the next morning when we were all getting up for family prayers my dad told us all what had happened. I remember being scared, but other than that there isn't much else. This was just the first of my mom's visits to the hospital.

I remember mom coming to band concerts and other performances. While I am sure we would have been alright if she hadn't come, we always loved it when she did.

It was always our goal to make her cry whenever we gave her gifts (not because she was sad mind you, but because she was touched by the gifts we gave her) and as the years passed it became harder and harder to do it. I think one of the most memorable times when we made mom cry was when we gave her a Lego version of her dream house, complete with Lego people representative of her family. I still have the image of her surprised face in my mind.

Her favorite Disney Princess was Aurora. She loved watching the Santa Clause movies whenever she didn't feel well. She loved to crochet (there are quite a few people with a crocheted item from mom) and she loved crafts in general.

Mom was a writer. She loved stories and I remember the countless times when I would tell her about my own stories and how she was always happy to hear about them. She was also an artist, mostly drawing but she did have a few paintings as well as some ceramics.

Mom passed away May 31, 2009. I remember thinking it was all just a horrible nightmare that I was going to wake up from. But when the nightmare didn't end, I wasn't entirely sure what to do. I went to work like I was supposed to, kept going on with my life, though it was never easy. It's still hard. I was tasked with speaking at my mom's funeral and while I tried as hard as I could, words wouldn't come to me. I stayed up late the night before trying to think of something to say. I finally talked to my dad about it. He told me to talk about her family, her kids especially.

During the viewing as people offered their condolences I sat busily writing down everything that I could. By the time the viewing was over, I had finished jotting down what I wanted to say. I was nervous, mostly because I knew I would cry, but everything went smoothly. I still have the notebook with what I said.

I dream about my mom every now and then. About two months after she died I had a dream about her, one that while I don't remember everything that happened, I do remember hugging her, smelling that smell of freshly cleaned clothes that she always had, sitting down and talking with her about something or other. I remember waking up and feeling the empty hole in my chest and wishing that it hadn't been a dream, wishing that I could keep dreaming about her just so that I could be near her.

I think the hardest dream I ever had about her was just a day or two after that first one. It was a dream within a dream, and in the first part my mom would be alive, but then I would "wake up" and she would be dead. I got to a point where, going back and forth between "reality" and "dreaming" I couldn't tell which was real and which was not. Finally, I came to a point where I admitted to myself that my mom wasn't alive anymore, and so that part was just a dream. It hurt, a lot, and I remember feeling the emptiness again when I woke up, but it was something that I think I needed. For those first few months after my mom's death it kind of felt like I was on auto-pilot. I needed to face reality so that I could move on with my life and do it in a way that would make my mom proud.

There have been many times when I have missed my mom, but just as many, if not more, when I have felt her near. Once when I sprained my ankle really bad I was having a hard time sleeping because of the pain. I could feel my mom there, even felt her embracing me, letting me know it was okay. Any time that I have really needed her, she has been there.

I feel her especially close when I go to the temple and do baptisms for the dead. I think about her a lot and wonder if any of the people I am doing work for has been taught by my mom on the other side, and it makes the experience that much better.

My mom was an incredible woman. She didn't judge people and she loved everyone. She had an incredible amount of patience (she had to to raise 9 kids. :P ) and she was always willing to give and receive hugs, even if she wasn't feeling so good. I never doubted that my mother loved me. You could always see it in her face, even when she as upset. She influenced so many people in her lifetime and I hope that I can be just as influential as she has been.

Argh...

As a general rule, I like people. I do my best not to be judgmental, especially of them that I haven't officially met, try to be the bigger person in a situation that is less than pleasant, but sometimes people really just irk me.

My roommates and I decided that we want to do date nights at least once a month in an attempt to broaden our horizons in the dating world. With our first official date night coming up some of us have selected the guys we would like to go with.

Well, tonight myself and another of my roommates intended to ask our desired dates while attending a social event, since both of them would be present. Much to our dismay, the guys we selected seemed to constantly be in the presence of other girls and to be honest, I think it's weird to ask a guy out while he is with a girl (or several) that is not related to him and may potentially like him. So, we chose to wait until after the social and visit them at their apartments.

Just as we were getting ready to leave my date choice wandered away from the girls to get a drink. He paused at the coolers and I realized this was my chance to ask him. I told my roommates it was time to go, all the while watching to make sure that he didn't wander back to the group. He didn't and so I went to spark up a conversation with him.

When I reached him he was talking to some other guys. It's not as weird to ask a guy out while he's with one or two other guys instead of girls, but it's still weird. There came a pause in the conversation (by this time it was just date choice and one other guy) so I started out by asking how he was doing. The other guy left to go do other things and I continued to swap small talk with the guy of my choice. I asked how school was, the classes he was taking, and eventually I asked what his major was.

By this point the girl that had been sitting next to him at the table (who by the way didn't seem to think it necessary for her to walk up and join him again until after I had his attention) was standing by us, though she was turned a different direction. I saw her out of the corner of my eye and I hoped that she would either walk away or at least keep her attention elsewhere so I could ask him.

After learning what his major was he asked me if I knew what I was going into. I told him Theater and he replied, "Really? Are you in the show?"

"Not this one," I told him.

Other girl, who now was fully facing us, said, "Oh darn." She had a smile on her face and to a passerby it would appear as if she were being nice, but there was an underlying tone to it that at this moment I can't quite put my finger on it, but it definitely wasn't positive.

I tried to continue the conversation but by this point I was irritated and feeling rather insignificant and inferior to this other girl. So I cut the conversation short and told him I would see him later. As I turned to walk away, not even a full second after he said "Bye" the other girl picked up a conversation with him.

I am not going to lie, it hurt, and it really ticked me off to no end. I really wanted to smack her.

I know that I shouldn't let it get to me, and I should try to give her the benefit of the doubt since I don't know her (heck, I don't even know her name) but it's really hard. Ugh...girls just really tick me off sometimes.

Dream

As a result of staying up late last night watching USA's NCIS Cyber Crimes Marathon, this afternoon I found myself rather exhausted. To remedy this I decided to take a nap and holy wow, I had an interesting dream.

The dream started out pretty normal; I was in college, attending classes and hanging out with friends. Then one day I woke up and went to my classes but there was something wrong. I couldn't find any of my friends and while the set up of the school was the same it was different. The lighting was different, the fliers and things on the walls were different, even the people were different. I even tried asking a girl where my first class (some kind of a psychology class) was. She looked at me like I was crazy.

When I reached the classroom I found one of my professors there teaching a class. She looked older and there was something wrong. I tried to find someone that I could talk to and discovered that my friend Ben was there. He too looked older, and he didn't recognize me. Because I wasn't sure what was going on I didn't tell him who I was.

I soon discovered that I had been sent 10 years and 1 week into the future from the last day that I could remember. I was so confused. I had no idea how it happened or why, I didn't know what had happened to all of my friends, and most importantly I had no clue how what to do about it. I decided that I needed help, but the only way for me to do that would be to tell someone what was going on.

I decided to confide in Ben, since he was the only member of my group of friends remaining there. I didn't want to just spring it on him though. I mean, come one, what would I say? "Hi, I'm Stephanie Featherstone and I'm from the past." Not a good idea. So I figured that if I gave him hints about what was wrong and let him figure it all out himself it wouldn't be as freaky. However he couldn't figure it out, even with all of the clues that I was trying to give him. Finally, I looked at him and asked, "What's the date?"

"April 14, 20..." (my mind seemed to think the actual year was irrelevant)

"So then yesterday was...?"

"April 13, 20..."

I paused and then told him that for me, yesterday was April 6, 20...

He stared at me. I quickly began telling him that I realized it was nuts and that I wouldn't blame him if he thought I was crazy, but I was telling the truth.

"Yeah," he said. "It is crazy, but for some reason I believe you."

He agreed to help me get the answers I needed. As we searched for my friends and what had taken place in the past ten years one of the girls helping us came over and had a strange look on her face.

"You said the last day you remember was April 6, 20...?" she asked me.

"Yeah," I told her. "Why?"

She handed me some research she'd found. "Because," she said, "According to this, you died the next day."

The research she found said that a man had broken into my house that day and apparently, somehow, I was killed.

What the...!?!?

That's when I woke up. I didn't even get a chance to figure out what the crap happened! Gah!

While I would have LOVED to finish the dream, and I am frustrated I didn't get to, at least I have another idea for a story. :P

Warning: This is a Long One

Something my readers may or may not know about me is that I have a tendency to keep bits of a story to myself. Sometimes the bits are unimportant, but a lot of the time the bits are important and I am afraid to say them out loud, afraid to admit that I am not always the strong-willed, carefree, nothing-will-get-me-down person that I make myself out to be. Sometimes I don't say it because I feel like I owe it to myself not to let it get to me, to just let it go and act like it doesn't bother me, because it shouldn't. But, honestly, it does. It's what makes me human, feeling bothered by things. Feeling in general really.

I am very independent, yet I need people. It's kind of weird how that works, but it's a truth about me that again, people may or may not know. I don't like to ask for help very often even when I know it's what I really need.

I'm not sure why I am posting this. Maybe because I have been thinking about relationships a lot and therefore thinking about this. Maybe I just want to blog and this was the only thing on my mind. Or maybe, and this is feeling like a big possibility, I need to be honest, to get out the whole story of what happened so that people know. I need to let people know the whole story, to admit that I was more affected by it than I let on, that, in a small way, I still am.

Some names have been changed for privacy reasons. If you know who it is, or you have a guess, don't say anything. I would rather it stay anonymous.

My first semester at college was interesting. I was determined to do this on my own, like usual, but that first day, when I had my car unloaded and I was sitting by myself in my room, realizing that I was alone, I cried. I had one friend from high school there and that was it. I had determined that I would make friends though, in spite of the fact that I was pretty shy and worried that nobody would want to be friends with someone as crazy as me.

I met Bryce in my Scene Painting class. I recognized him from my Acting class and so I decided to sit by him and introduce myself. I thought he was cute, and figured it wouldn't hurt to try and make friends. I nearly chickened out, but thankfully, it didn't happen. I had no idea what would come from that simple decision to just say "hi" and make some small talk.

We discovered that we lived in the same building, which was nice because it meant that we could walk home from classes together. At first he was just a nice friend who I found physically attractive but after spending more time with him I discovered that I liked him more than I thought. I asked him to go with me to an institute dance but unfortunately he had already been asked. Since we couldn't go to the dance though, we agreed to just go out on a date. The date consisted of dinner, playing air hockey at the bowling alley (confession: I didn't play as hard as I could have, mostly because I felt self conscious), and then a movie back at my place.

After spraining my ankle at the institute dance, I ended up using crutches for a little while. He offered to help by carrying my shoulder bag home for me. I thought about saying no--I thought I was managing just fine--but I agreed to let him help me.

I distinctly remember the paint fights we had occasion to get into during our painting class, and there was a time or two when we would get together outside of classes and do math (turned out we had that class together as well).

Summer went by and I thought maybe I didn't like him as much as I thought I did. Boy, was I wrong. As soon as we started up at school again those feelings came rushing back like water when the levee breaks.

That semester I started asking Bryce to go for walks. I figured it was a great way to build up a friendship with him (advice given by one of my roommates). It was great to just go out and walk around town talking with him and getting to know him better. Confession: I miss going on walks with him.

I finally got up the nerve to tell Bryce how I really felt. We had gone to an institute dance together (no sprained ankles this time!) and I had every intention of telling him when he dropped me off that night. I chickened out, at least enough to not say it to his face. So I texted him (NEVER TELL SOMEONE YOU LIKE THEM OVER TEXT. IT'S STUPID AND I REGRET DOING IT).

He told me that he wanted to talk to me about it in person. So we agreed to go for a walk the following afternoon. Much to my disappointment, he wasn't interested in having a girlfriend. I remember going home, pretending like it didn't bother me, but it didn't work. I ended up crying for a good hour or so. Luckily my liking him didn't really change our friendship. We continued to hang out, continued going on walks, things were okay. As time went by I kept telling myself that it was okay to be his friend and by the end of that semester that's how I honestly felt.

At the outset of that following semester I had a feeling that I needed to tell him that I still had feelings for him. While I was successful in doing so, I didn't really put across to him just how much I liked him. He simply said, "Okay" and we left it at that. Again, things went back to normal.

While I told Bryce that I still liked him, I had held back, and that bothered me. I wanted him to know that he was the first guy that I had felt that strongly about, that I had been considering that seriously. I wanted to tell him the truth, the whole truth.

That year Valentines weekend was a long one because it was followed by a holiday. I had made the choice to stay at school, since I had been home a few times already that semester and I really didn't have the funding to go up again. That Saturday, the 13th, I was invited to a Valentine's dinner that another girl in my building, Megan, was holding for those who had decided to stay at school over the long weekend. At the dinner I could tell that she liked Bryce. This realization made me even more determined to tell him.

I invited him to go for a walk the next day. He agreed and my heart was pounding in my chest. I had no idea what was going to happen, if he was going to reject me, if I was even going to say everything I wanted to say. Well he came over and asked me if by chance I would be willing to join him, Megan, and some other people on an outing to a nearby town because she wanted to take pictures at the temple. I breathed a sigh of relief; a way out of what I was about to do. It seemed like a good idea.

It turned out that only one other guy, nicknamed Sarge, would be joining us since the others had things to do. I didn't mind. When we arrived we started walking the grounds. There was a great deal of snow (naturally, it was the middle of February) and Megan was having a hard time getting up the hill with all of the snow. So, the boys were helping her out. That's when I started to notice that she was clinging to Bryce, that all of the pictures of her had him in it and there were maybe a handful of the many pictures taken that actually had my face in it.

No, no, no, I thought to myself. Please no, please tell me I'm making a mountain out of a molehill here. Tell me there isn't anything going on.

After a while we made our way back to the college and went to play at local park. We slow danced in the parking lot (naturally, I was paired with Sarge) and then we went to play. That's when Bryce and Megan started holding hands.

I was crushed. It took everything in me to keep from crying. The last thing I needed was to let them know something was wrong. I didn't really talk a lot though, and in retrospect I think that may have tipped them off. The other three started having a snowball fight and at first I didn't want to join in. But then I picked up some snow, fashioned a ball and threw hit rather forcefully at Bryce. I was angry, and hurt in a big way, but I tried to keep my face and voice lighthearted. Eventually we got too cold to play anymore and we decided to go back home. Megan invited us all for hot chocolate at her place. I told them I had homework I needed to do, but thanks for the invite and for the fun.

When I got back to my apartment I had hoped that the one roommate who had arrived home just before my outing with Bryce would still be the only one home. I didn't feel much like talking about what happened. I just wanted to go to my room and cry. However my roommate Brianna who I actually shared a room with had arrived while I was gone. So I asked her how her weekend was and then I locked myself in our bathroom and cried silently for nearly an hour. Finally I had to get out of the apartment, I had to go somewhere where I could cry freely without worrying about someone catching me, which in my head meant I would have to divulge what had happened.

I got in my car and went for a drive. At first I tried not to get too emotional but then I couldn't do it anymore. I started to cry, uncontrollably, and I began talking aloud, well, more like screaming aloud. It hurt so much; the pain of losing my mom was the only emotional pain that out ranked the pain I was feeling right then. And so, naturally, I did what I always do when feeling that way. I poured out my feelings and thoughts to God, telling him how unfair it was, how much it hurt, how angry I was at Bryce and Megan. I told him how much I hated falling in love, how much I hated being let down, how much my heart was breaking, how shattered it was.

I drove for an hour and a half, maybe closer to two hours, before finally deciding to go back to my apartment. I stopped off at the malt shop and bought a nice, large, chocolate shake to help me out. When I got home again my roommates all asked if I was okay. I told them I was fine.

That night we had our roommate prayers and then we went to bed. I did my daily scripture reading, like always, and then I got on my knees for personal prayers. I was still angry, only this time I was directing that anger at God. I can't remember my entire stream of logic that ended with that result, but that's what it was. After trying to think of something to be grateful for, a blessing that I needed, and drawing a blank in my mind I finally just told him I was angry, and that I had nothing to say. I then climbed into bed and tried to go to sleep.

Before turning out the light to go to sleep Brianna asked if I really was okay. I lied, partly because I wanted it to be true, but mostly because I just didn't want to talk about it. The experience had been bad enough, I didn't want to re-live it. The lights went out, she climbed into her own bed and we both tried to sleep. Try being the key word.

Thoughts of the day came flooding back and as hard as I tried I couldn't hold back the tears and the sobs. I heard Brianna turn over and say, "Stephanie" in one of those "don't tell me everything is okay because it obviously isn't" kind of tones. She recruited two of our fellow roommates to come and talk to me. Lora asked me if something happened while I was out with Bryce. I just kept crying and when I had calmed down enough to speak I said, "I think Bryce is dating Megan." There was silence from my roommates. They asked if I was sure and I told them what had happened. Eventually I got to a point where I was calm enough that I could go to sleep without a problem, and my roommates weren't too worried.

I sent Bryce a text right then saying, "So, you and Megan, huh?" In my mind I had decided that if there wasn't anything going on I would tell him I was teasing, but there wasn't enough hope in me to feel like that was a possibility. The text I received back said, "Stephanie, we need to talk. I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out this way. I haven't been able to sleep thinking about you."

So I went over to his apartment, letting Lora and Bethany know where I was going so that they wouldn't worry. When I arrived I asked Bryce how long he and Megan had been dating. He said that it just sort of happened that weekend. He asked if I was okay. At this point I had two choices, I could be honest and tell him "No" which could have just caused more strain on our relationship, or I could lie and say that as long as he was happy, then I was okay. I chose the latter.

I don't remember how long we talked, really I don't think it was that long, but at the end of it we hugged and I went home. I told Lora and Bethany what happened and then tried to get some sleep. It didn't work though. I called my dad and told him what happened. "I knew there was a reason I couldn't sleep," he said. We talked for a while and then he told me to try and get some sleep. It was after four in the morning, but I still was having trouble.

That's when I went out into the living room and decided to do some reading. I read my patriarchal blessing, something that has helped me through tough times in the past, and I came to a conclusion. I felt horrible, not just because of what happened with Bryce but for blaming God. I got on my knees, prepared to tell him just how sorry I was and beg for his forgiveness, and I started crying again.

It was there, crying on my living room floor, when I felt an overwhelming sense of love. In my mind I told myself I didn't deserve it, not after how I had acted, but I knew that whether I thought that or not, God was giving it to me, no questions asked, no strings attached. Only then was I able to finally lie in bed and get some sleep.

While I had repaired my relationship with God, I still felt awful about the whole Bryce thing. That first day back to classes (a Tuesday) as I was walking home from campus I was texting Bryce's roommate. He thanked me for going over to talk to Bryce and then told me that if there was anything he could do for me to let him know.

Later that day my roommates and some of our other friends had planned a homework party at the cabin of one of Bryce's other roommates. I didn't want to go; his roommates would be there, the girlfriends/friends of his roommates would be there, and so would my roommates. Most of the people going might have known what had happened, or at least the general idea of it. Alas, my roommates refused to let me lie in bed and mope, something that in retrospect I am truly grateful for. It felt a little awkward being there, but it was a welcomed escape from everything.

I hoped that as the week passed I would get over the incident, but it didn't happen. I was grateful that the one class we had together that week had been canceled due to the opening of the musical because that would be one less opportunity for me to see him. There was a close encounter though. I was coming back from a class and as I neared our building I could hear Bryce's apartment door opening, and Bryce's voice trailing through the air as he talked with his roommate. I quickened my pace, praying that I would miss them. I turned down the sidewalk towards my section of the building and slipped out of sight just as, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bryce emerge from the apartment. I was pretty sure he saw me, but I didn't bother turning around to acknowledge him.

The week came to a close and while I almost made it, not a day went by that I didn't spend a good hour crying about what happened. Sunday arrived and I knew I would be faced with seeing both Bryce and Megan (since they were both in my ward). I was terrified, uncertain of how it would go. Thankfully I made it through, though there was a moment when I thought I might lose my composure.

As time went by I was able to get back to a place where I could talk to Bryce, though we never spoke about what happened. I would occasionally ask how he and Megan were doing, but other than that we didn't really talk about it. We didn't go on any walks; I would've felt weird going on a walk with him knowing that he had a girlfriend. Weeks later Megan and Bryce broke up. I had mixed feelings at that time. I considered asking Bryce out on a date but chose to keep that door closed. I was afraid what might happen, and I didn't want to be a "rebound" girl.

I kept telling myself that I wanted to go for a walk with Bryce, knowing that it would probably be my last chance since he was graduating and going on to a university. But everything still felt weird to me. As finals week approached I decided to just get over it and do it. So I asked him if he wanted to go for a walk. We planned for it and I remember during the days leading up to it I felt super nervous, more than I should have.

The walk went well, we talked about our plans for the summer and whatnot, and that was it.

That summer I spent some time with my brother and his wife, who was due to have their first baby soon. My job was to take her to the hospital if she started to go into labor while he was at work. In the middle of my stay I drove back home for a short time to watch one of my nieces while my sister and her other two kids were out on a field trip. On the drive up I started playing with a story idea in my head, thinking out the dialogue that two of the characters might have with each other and as I did the things that I was saying began to have nothing to do with the story. In fact, they had to do with Bryce. I realized that I was still a hurt, still a bit angry about what happened. I started to cry and I scolded myself for being so upset about it. After all it had been months, I should've been more over it than I was. Or a least I thought so.

Days later I sent Bryce a text and we talked a little about what happened. Again, some parts of the story I didn't tell him, figuring that they didn't really need to be said, not now. Finally I asked him if he thought it was possible for a guy like him to ever fall for a girl like me. He told me yes, and then he told me that I was an incredible person and that there were times when he would wonder why it was that he didn't like me as more than a friend. While it may not have seemed like a big deal to him, it meant a lot to me that he told me that.

I have seen him once since then--he came down to watch a play--but other than that our communication comes through texting.

As I come to the end of this post I realize what it was that drove me to write it. I needed to write it down, or type it up, but more than that it needed to be shared also. To be honest, I'm not so sure if my own journal entry has as complete a copy of this story as this post is.

I have no hard feelings against anyone involved in this story. I still consider Megan a friend, and Bryce is still on my best of friends list. I won't lie, I still like Bryce, and at this time if he were to ever ask me out, I would so do it. But, I am also over him enough that I could spend the rest of my life just being his friend without any problem whatsoever.

This experience is important to me because of a few things.
1-It was the first time I ever had my heart broken by a guy, an event that while it is far from pleasant, I feel it is an important experience that has helped me to grow in ways that I couldn't have had it never happened.
2-It is my proof that no matter how tough of a situation I find myself in, good things can always come from it if I am willing to let them.
3-I learned about my father's love; both my earthly father and my Heavenly Father.
4-I learned just how much my friends care.
5-I am strong enough to get through whatever challenges life throws at me.
6-It's okay to cry when you're hurting. Sometimes it's the best medicine.
7-Hard times don't break friendships, it's how we handle them.
8-Just because a guy isn't interested in me the way I am interested in him, it doesn't mean that I am not good enough.
9-It's okay to let others see your "weak" side.
10-God is good.

Thanks to all of you that actually made it to the end of this post. Like I said, I needed to tell this story and tell all of it, not just the basics.

Amazing!

Wow! Can I just say that I love God? He has got to be the coolest man alive, no joke. I am so grateful to him for the many blessings he has given me, and I want everyone to know it!

He blessed me with an amazing family. I have 6 brothers who would do anything to keep me safe, 9 gorgeous sisters who I can turn to for anything, 4 beautiful nieces and 4 incredible nephews who are just so darn adorable, and who bring me joy every time I see them! I have a mom who, while she isn't here anymore, loves me more than anything and has taught me so many things and been a powerful influence in my life. I have a loving father who cares about me, and who has shown me so much love in my life that I can't not be grateful for him. I also have a step-mother who has made such a difference and brought so much joy into my family since my mom's passing that I can't help but love her also.

I have amazing friends, many of which are brothers and sisters to me also. They have helped me through so many trials, loved me in spite of my many faults, and I am so, so, SO grateful for them.

I am grateful for the blessing of living in this country, and the opportunity that blessing provides me for schooling. I am so grateful for my professors and the things that they teach me each time I step into their classroom. I am grateful for past teachers as well, both in the classroom and outside of it.

Most importantly, I am grateful for the Gospel. What an incredible gift it is! I am so thankful that my Heavenly Father loves me, loves all of us so much that he has provided a way for us to be close to him, to learn the things we need to learn to be happy. I am grateful for him.

I am grateful for my Savior. I am grateful that he loves me so much that he was willing to give his own life, to suffer so much, just so I can partake of the joys of salvation, and the peace that it brings.

I am grateful that we are put in situations that help us grow, and that allow us to help others grow.

Today is a good day, and I want the world to know it!

Denny's Run and Killing Casper

Last night my buddies and I went on a Denny's run. For those of you who are unaware of what this is (which I believe is most of you) it's a college ritual in which a group of students, between the hours of 12 and 4 am, cram themselves into a confined moving space for approximately 45 minutes to an hour only to emerge from said space in front of another confined space (though this one is about ten times bigger than the first, and doesn't move) where they will stuff their faces until Zack, Bobby-John, Callie, or Cheeto scream out in protest. They will then use paper or plastic to show their appreciation to the establishment's minions for said experience, return to the moving space for yet another 45 to 60 minutes only to return to their apartments and collapse onto the bed, exhaustion from the previous day and the event of stuffing their faces finally taking hold. AKA we drive to the nearest Denny's and enjoy a meal.

The drive to Denny's was quiet and ultimately uneventful. Well, save for the close shave we had with a car while turning into Maverick. Talk about having your life flash before your eyes! Many thanks go out to Kayla for that one. And the driver of the other car.

The bulk of the drive home was uneventful as well. Until we hit the edge of a neighboring town. By this point we were pretty much sick of the car, and ready to be home in our beds. As the car puffed along down the highway we were suddenly met with a clear substance that splatter itself across the windshield. Any unimaginative person would simply say, "It was the sprinklers from the cemetery; they shoot really far!" But no, it wasn't the sprinklers. It was Casper, that friendly ghost, out trying to spread some late night love and Kayla just ran him down with her car like he was a nobody. Rude, I know, not to mention she didn't even bother to give the poor ghost a moment of silence. She just turned on the windshield wipers, cleaned of the windshield, and kept on driving. Some people's children...

Graveyard Gallivanting

NOTE: This Post is also available on our apartment blog, so it's okay if you've already read it. :P

Kayla, Connie, and I went gallivanting in the old Ephraim cemetery last night. Little creepy, and in hind sight, probably really stupid, but it was an adventure that we can talk about. :P

As we walked through it, we stayed close to each other (some of us grabbing onto the arm of the person next to us) and we stayed on the road.

I have never walked through a graveyard at night. I have driven through one, but never actually gotten out of the car, so this was a new experience for me. I was okay for the first part--just kept the thought of how creepy it really was in the back of my mind--but then we turned down one of the roads so that we could circle around back to the gate where we left the car. The headstones were much closer to the road this time and out of the corner of my eye the tall ones did come across momentarily as people. *shiver* I just kept talking, doing everything in my power NOT to think about it all.

We turned down the road that would take us back towards the gate and Connie flashed her light up into one of the trees. When she did there was a rustling sound in the boughs and it made us jump a little. Apparently Connie disturbed some poor sleeping bird with her flashlight. At least, that's what we're telling ourselves...

The thing that scared us the most however, is that shortly after the tree incident there was a car driving down the main road. We turned off our lights and prayed that whoever it was didn't stop at the cemetery. See, the gate was officially locked, but there is this gap between the gate and the fence that is big enough for people to go through. So, we were terrified that we would get into trouble for being in the cemetery when we shouldn't have.

Can you believe that? It wasn't being in the cemetery at night, the old headstones protruding from the ground, or even the "bird" in the tree that frightened us. It was the thought of getting into trouble that scared us. Ha! Can you tell we're not troublemakers normally?

Kayla's Soap Opera Life

I realize that this will be my third post in the past two hours, but something has developed that I simply cannot keep to myself.

After reading my dear friend Kayla's blog and discussing the details of her life, we discovered that her life is a soap opera. She has a friend with benefits, an alien lover with whom she is going to have a baby, her mother is currently arranging for her to marry the boy next door, she cuddled with someone who is neither her friend with benefits, her lover, or her betrothed, and her mother is trying to "kill" her. Not only that, but she is already married and has cheated on her husband with his brother who is married to her best friend.

Who would've thought I'd be friends with such a drama-filled person? I mean, granted, I am pregnant with twins who are in fact half siblings because the boy is my husbands and the girl is my lovers, and my husband cheated with my best friend who is married to his brother.

Oh what a tangled web we weave...

DISCLAIMER:

Don't PANIC. None of the above is actually true.

Fanfictions

Can I just say how much I love reading fanfiction? I mean, I know I am a nerd, but I have to tell you, sometimes those stories are pretty legit.

One story in particular just made my day a few days ago. I have been on an NCIS kick (Love love LOOOOVE that show and it's spin off series NCIS: Los Angeles. Chris O'Donnell, Eric Christian Olsen, Michael Weatherly, Sean Murray, Mark Harmon...GORGEOUS MEN!!! ;P ) but I don't own the series, therefore I cannot watch it. :'( Well, I can find it online, but let's face it, it's just not the same...

Anywho, so I have been on this NCIS kick and in order to fulfill my craving so to speak I started to read some fanfics. This one in particular, Lost In Translation by Emerald1 was amazing. It had plenty of drama, and then just when it's getting super serious, the author throws in something that just makes you want to laugh! ("Wow Boss, looks like a pasta factory and a computer store had a love child in here.")

Anyway, just felt like sharing... onto more productive things...

Werewolves and Girls

Yes, you read that title right. Werewolves and girls. Now what could I possibly have to say that would combine these two subjects? Well, here's the story.

So today as dad was making dinner he asked if there was anything else he should add to it. I exclaimed, "Garlic!" because honestly sometimes ya just need some garlic. I then continued to inform them about my being a fan of garlic (not too much mind you, I'd like to get a date now and then) and my sister replied with, "So you're not a vampire tonight?"

"No way dude! I'm a werewolf!"

My sister just smiled and shook her head. I made the comment that werewolves were cooler than vampires. My dad made some argument about vampires and sucking blood, to which I replied that vampires have issues all of the time where as a werewolf only has to worry about its problem during the full moon.

A thought came to me after I made this observation, a thought that I didn't hesitate to voice.

"Werewolves are like girls; they have serious issues once every month."

This naturally got a rise out of my dad and little sister. I laughed along too, telling them that it was true and that it was a pretty good comparison, one they couldn't really dispute.

So, I ask you, what else could you possibly say about werewolves and girls to make them alike?

Please feel free to comment. :P

On Being a Romantic

For quite some time now I have viewed myself as being a romantic. As a teenage girl I had what you could call unrealistic expectations for my love life. I was expecting to have the story perfect love life and I expected to have it as quickly as possible. As I grew older I learned that while romance is lovely and wonderful, life isn't always what we see in the movies or what we read in books. Shocking, I know. ;)

Now, don't get me wrong, being a romantic isn't a bad thing. It's not bad to want a good love life, to want that man that you'll be totally and completely in love with. It isn't bad to have faith in love and to hope that love will one day find you. There is nothing wrong with that at all.

Where I went wrong in my romantic antics as I like to refer to them is that while there are plenty of incredible and amazing guys out there, not all of them are Mr. Darcy, Edward Cullen (I am speaking of his personality traits, not his being a vampire mind you), Leopold, Westley, etc. The man that will make you the happiest you'll ever be isn't People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive". He isn't famous or even model material.

He's the one that will love you for you, the one that will look at you in the morning, messy hair, no make up, wearing your pajamas and still smile because you are the most beautiful creature alive. He is the man whose kiss isn't seeking for a good time just this once, it isn't a battle for control. It's a kiss that is deep and meaningful, one that peels away the tough guy act and shows you he is vulnerable. It's a kiss that shows he is opening his heart to you, knowing that it could break but trusting that you would do anything to protect it.

A year ago I had a conversation with my older brother about finding that right one. I had had my heart broken and while it had been months before this conversation, it still stung pretty bad. My brother told me the story of how he met his wife. It wasn't some fancy love story that would make for an epic movie one day. It was as simple as her being there when he needed a friend. After telling me the story, he said, "Sometimes the one you're looking for is standing behind the one you are looking at."

So, ladies and yes even you gentleman out there, if you're still looking for someone--now I say someone, not THE one because I believe that there are many someones that a person can love and be happy with--keep that in mind. I'm not saying to forget the ones you are looking at, but don't forget about the ones standing behind.

Parades and Clowns

Today I went to a parade. Yay! There were some awesome floats and the high school marching bands that performed were actually pretty good. Also got to see some sweet old cars with cute little old people driving them. One particular lady was super excited and waving at all of the kids sitting up in the front. She made me laugh.

There were three moto-cades that did demonstrations, a rather fascinating spectacle, especially when you realize that two of the officers are female (I wouldn't have even known if their hair wasn't hanging down their backs--they were all wearing mustaches).

The military men from our area went past as well and naturally, we all cheered for them. All of the service men and women in the parade had served at least one tour of duty, and many served two or three. It was inspiring to see all of the people standing to show their support. Loved it!

All in all the parade was fabulous. I didn't want to go at first (today was my day off, and I wanted to sleep in a little longer) but whatever. :P

Now, on to the second portion of this post: clowns. For as long as I can remember I have been frightened of them. I mean, can you really blame me after all of the horrible movies about killer clowns? Anywho, I had never really ever seen a clown in person, except for the time when Ronald McDonald came to my elementary school, and today was my first encounter.

Now, you would think that I would be less than thrilled about this experience, however, I found them rather enjoyable and I actually liked it. I must admit, however, that when Ronald McDonald came out with the McDonald's float, I was a wee bit unnerved. Honestly, I have no idea what it was, perhaps it was the full on body paint that left no room for one to see that behind it all was a normal person, maybe it was the blatantly red hair, I don't know. I have nothing against the man, in fact I am pretty sure that when he came to my school as a child I was rather thrilled to see him.

*shrug* I am just a big ball of weirdness I guess.

Blondes, Red Heads, and Brunettes

So the other day as I was riding home from work with one of my best buds, Kayla, we came to a stop light that was quite clearly RED. Next to us was a red car with three passengers and a blond driver. As the light for the oncoming traffic turned yellow, blondie next to us decided she was going to get a head start on moving through the intersection. When her car was about a third of the way through the intersection she realized that our light had not turned green (it was letting the left hand turners go first). Kayla and I commented on how annoying and inconsiderate it was for her to do such a thing. However, once we were on the move again we didn't really think about it.

Until the blond struck again...

Once blondie had crossed the intersection she moved to the far right lane. As we approached the next light blondie moved all the way over to the far left lane. And then, practically at the last second, blondie hurried over to the far right once more and barely made it onto the freeway on-ramp she was targeting.

Kayla and I were astounded. I commented that she was part of the reason why people think blonds are dumb (after all, Kayla is a blond and while she may have her "duh" moments, she's really quite smart). I wondered aloud what it was that started the whole "dumb blond" thing. I joked, saying that some brunette got burned by a guy and he left her for a blond. We entertained the idea for a moment, stating that the whole "dumb blond" theory was really just a revenge rumor, the repercussions of a woman's wrath.

We then proceeded to talk about how red heads are viewed as having hot tempers, and blonds are viewed as dumb, while brunettes really have nothing. Any comment about a brunette's intelligence is normally in correlation with one of the other two.

"Wow," Kayla said. "Brunettes are jerks!"

"We totally are!" I exclaimed, trying to hold in the laughter erupting from my mouth. "I almost feel ashamed to be a brunette."

"Yeah, I mean even people with black hair have something. You know, black hair, pale skin, people think that's beautiful."

And then it hit me. It wasn't the brunettes fault at all. It was the black hair pale skinned ones! I voiced my revelation to Kayla, explaining that while blonds and red heads had negative connotations to them, black hair and pale skin had a POSITIVE one! And since brunettes have nothing associated with him, it only SEEMED they were the culprits, but really the BHPS FRAMED THEM!!!

We laughed for the longest time.

Disclaimer:
I have nothing against blond, brunette, black hair pale skinned, or red headed people. You are all beautiful and wonderful people with the potential to do great things. This discussion was merely the result of a long day at work + those involved - our crazy filter.

Update Anyone?

So I realize that it has been over a year since I actually posted anything on this. Hmm...for someone that was so excited to get a blog, I REALLY haven't been keeping up very well! Ugh, I just need to get better at it...

Ding Ding Ding! I had a splendid idea! I am thinking of posting a story on here, little bits at a time mind you because with how I write, a full length story could take a while. I am thinking I will post a new "chapter" each week, or perhaps every two weeks, that way I can actually have some buffer time.

What do you all think? Please post your reply via comments.

Anywho, onto other things...I have been spending the past two months working at the Scout Camp again. Yay! Loads of fun. I go back to school again August 20th, which I am super psyched for. My roommates are going to be absolutely wonderful! With this being my final year before getting my Associate's Degree (TEARS!) I have every intention of making it as fabulous as I possibly can! What will I do with myself after I finish this year, you ask? I really don't know jsut yet. I may go to a school in Florida and work on getting a Bachelor's in Creative Writing, I may go to a school here and finish off my Bachelor's in Theater. I am just not sure yet. We'll see what happens! :P

Anyways, there isn't too much that I can think of to update, although I am pretty sure I will come up with something as soon as I hit "Post", knowing my luck. :D