Blade of Grass

The sun hits my face; I feel alive again. There was rain and now I'm refreshed and ready. The color of clouds appears to be a pretty shade of pink and purple. The sun isn't setting but the clouds are different. Different in shape; different in color. Each is a individual. The wonder of the willow is beckoning me to chase destination--a destination I can't seem to reach. I'm stuck deep, swaying back and forth as the rain falls off my shoulders. My meaning, my purpose? I have none. I want to be more than I am and go where I should go.

Time tells me to stay right where I am but the wind pulls me still. Butterflies plea with me to go one way while the comfort of the willow begs me to stay within it's reach. Children dance and play nearby. I watch them grow and learn the harsh reality of the world--how it's not all peachy. In fact, they begin to find cherries, unripeness lacing the blueberries, and fermenting oranges, too.

Yet, the sun still peaks over the hill and into the leaves that stretch low, gently caressing my cheek. The Look. The Look I remember so well. The Look is what I never want to forget but the one I want to leave so dearly it bristles me. Look stares at me, waiting for an answer when I have none.

Yet, amidst the gravel, amidst the toil, there is one that remains: Happiness. She moves swiftly through crowds by crescent shaped lips or the sound of music. Happiness brings back peaches. Reminds me I have a purpose. The Willow wasn't a liar but a wondrous protector. The color of clouds will change. I realize only life in the present is what matters most.

But I'm merely a blade of grass.

3 Minutes

I looked down at my phone today and it decided it was time to update the information for my LG Octane. The directions said something close to the following:

Verizon Wireless Update will start in approx. 3:00 and counting. No calls will be received and none will be dialed out including 911 calls.

My response? Well this just sucks. For the next three minutes I could possibly have a heart attack, stroke, get hit by a car, get poisoned, or any other number of violent exploits. I mean, wouldn't that be awful? Or something could happen to someone else and you only have your phone with you. Haha I can only imagine how that'd play out,

*Person drops*
"Welp, sorry but you have to wait three minutes while my phone updates....hmmm is seems to be taking longer than expected."
*Person dead*
"Crap...shoulda had a smart phone."

Or you could have a socially inept situation:

"Baby, I just want you to know...I love you..........hello? You don't agree? I'm sorry I said the L-word way too soon!!!! Babe?!"

*Silence*
Hahaha oh the possibilities--so much happens in three minutes.

Mis Suenos and Becoming a Boarderline Creeper

I have had a recent vision. What is this secret obsession you ask? Well, I keep picturing myself as someone who has collections of "things." For example, I want to start a coin collection, a pebble collection, I already have a shell collection and a mug collection...I may or may not have the desire to start a gnome collection. I never thought I would venture into the world of hoarding but here I come!! When people ask me what my plans are, what my dreams are, I explain to them that the idea of becoming an old maid with a handful of pets to keep me company as well as a library card excites me more than ever. My life would merely consist of simplicity. Does that not sound inviting? However, To those of you who are taking me serious at this moment, a word of caution: I am definitely kidding...I think.

As for children, however, I am writing this blog solely for the purpose of expressing my recent excitement in Elementary Education. I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was teaching 1st graders and boy, not to gloat (but gloaty gloat gloat) I had 'em rollin'. They fed on every word I said. I was that teacher that every child loved; the teacher that you wanted to hug after class or stay in from recess just to talk to more. I was trying to take a nap earlier today but I kept closing my eyes thinking about the possibilities! And the craziest part about the whole thing is the stereotype behind "El. Ed." Majors that I whole-heartedly believed in proclaiming to the world until about a month ago.

Summary? I want to collect things: coins, shells, pebbles, gnomes, children. :O)

Disclaimer: I don't want to collect children but freak, I just can't wait to teach them.

Cynicism and Chick Flicks

You know, (well clearly if you don't I'm about to tell you.) there are way too many things that I find in my life ironic. As of late, circumstances have drawn me back to my blog. I find myself so critical of people in movies. For example, I watch a scary movie to bring a thrill and maybe a "sense of adventure" into my life and yet I cover my face, sweat profusely and maybe even pee my pants. However, I cover it up by getting annoyed with people who walk into dark closets or look under their bed when they hear something, only to get their faces ripped off. Why? "Oh no! There's a killer in my house...but where is he, I wanna see what he's wearing--gotta make sure it's not last season's K-mart special." Idiots.

Here's another example: chick flicks...need I say more? Well I'm going to. I feel like I want to step into the T.V and give the pathetic girls some confidence and dating advice when ironically I do the EXACT same CRAP they do! What a waste of time! Why would I torture myself through their misery only to find that I do the same things and don't even recognize it! Ha! To those of you who actually like chick flicks...invest in hearing aides and glasses--possibly a brain transplant.

And here I am in all of my glory, yet again. Cynical and bitter...in an old womany kind of way. I am young in age but wayyy to old and grumpy in spirit. Maybe that's why I have this blog? Because in my "immaturity" I use this as a venting session which brings my sophistication levels to ultimate depths.

SO. Life is often one big foo-foo pile of chick flicks and cynicism. Can I get an amen?

Death, Taxes, and Aquariums.

There are many times I feel like life is too short--It should be lived to the fullest. For example, when we do taxes all we want to do is cry while accountants want to commit suicide with their long hours of desperation and father time's deception of a clock on the wall spinning slower and slower. We live life jumping through hoops, coming to corners in mazes, and double-dutch skipping ropes. All of the things in life cloud our vision and mix our dreams up with our "never-seen" realities.

As I watch Mr. Turtle and the little fishies swim around the small tank, realization becomes the closest friend. Endless opportunities unveil and the urge to never waste a single moment.

So life is short, yes. We live to do our taxes, eat, digest, and die. But then again, we die to live. If you don't, I strongly suggest you start because my turtle is ever excited for the same smelly food he receives every single day. Why not have that mentality?

Start with joy regardless of day's tedium? Sure. Why not?

Song Lyrics

I woke up this morning with the lyrics, "I wake up and I'm sober, don't even know her." Why, you may ask? I have no idea. I have been wondering that all day. It may or may not have something to do with the fact that my best friend, Kendl Crockett is laying next to me...in her own bed of course. We pushed our beds together--there are two falsehoods this song lyric, however. 1. I don't drink...unless, wait, I am officially 21 now and I might "sleep drink..." (that explains where all the hydrogen peroxide went...I'm kidding.) 2. Even if I DID drink I am pretty darn sure I wouldn't be waking up next to a girl.

This got me thinking: Song lyrics are 90.354% dumb and require no amount of intelligence whatsoever to make it big in this era. What happened to the integrity of good lyricism?! I have Brittany Spears one-hit-wonder "Oops I did it again" stuck in my head this moment. What five-year-old made bank on that poetic script? Can I get in on the biz?

There are few artists that spark my interest any more. William Fitzsimmons is one of them. He is a famous singer/songwriter genius that can testify of Christ and all of his fans--Christian or not--appreciate it. He, among few, can pull at my thoughts and express them in ways I wish I could. Unlike diaper-wearing song writers, this man knows what he's writing. It's a form of expressing himself; an art.

So when I hear "how could you be so heartless?" I can tell you why, cause your lyrics have no meaning, Kanye. In fact, even though you said Beyonce was better than Taylor, we all laughed and our response might be something to the effect of "yo, what, I'm cool. Screw dem' gramma teachers...dawg." See? A ten year old can do it.

What's next, a crappy song about Friday? Oh, wait. They already did that. And for your benefit, they told you the days of the week. Remember how we grew up singing Barney and we were mortified to find that out from our parents, never willing to admit that we still know the cheesy songs? Well get this, our kids are gonna learn the days of the week from the legendary Rebecca Black.

Yeah, take that image to bed and never sleep again.

Truckin'

When we are children, we only have the desire to get dressed and leave. We want to play as hard and as long as we possibly can, without the care of getting messy or dirty. Once we learn what is acceptable in society (probably around the age of 8 or 9) we decide that we know what kinds of clothes are best to wear. We mix and match things with the intent of them becoming these wonderful masterpieces that end up being the clothes our mothers laugh at us for. So then we get to our teen years. These years are painful for most. We get to the point where we are awkwardly changing. Our bodies become tall and lanky, all of our clothes don’t fit, and our faces become splattered with acne. In turn, we feel that society is the determiner of our existence. It causes us to feel alone—as if not a single person can understand how we feel. We dress out of conformity: too much makeup, baggy jeans, pierced ears (or everything), and our peers influence all of our trends.

Now, in adult hood, I find that I am beginning not to care. I roll out of bed and feel like there’s never enough time to work as hard and as long as I can. I allow myself to look as rough as possible—no makeup, baggy clothes with an overall homely, expressionless face. My face has turned into another one in the crowd. Isn’t it sad? I’ve made a full circle. I was born bald; I’ll die bald. I wore diapers as a baby; I’ll wear diapers in a rest home.

All we do is live to die. But what gives me hope is that we die to live.

Keep on truckin’.

My Life on an Island

Let me give you an idea of what happiness is to me right now:

1. Waking up to a home-cooked meal.
2. Hidden candy stashes
3. Endless supplies of Mint Chocolate-Chip Ice Cream
4. Everyone wanting to sit by you at the dinner table...to the point of argumentation
5. A little boy running around in his halloween costume...prematurely. He never wants to get out of that dinosaur suit
6. Pushing a dino on a swing at 8 in the morning...while the sun is still rising.
7. Family laughing at all of your jokes, whether these are funny or just plain dumb.
8. Mom always knowing what's best.
9. Dad coming home for lunch to spend it with you.
10. Wild blackberries around every corner you turn
11. Beach and mountains all in one area.
12. Photographers buffet all over the island.
13. Creepy wind chimes that sound in the wind
14. Every long missed movie at my fingertips.
15. Little sisters begging you to get married only so they have the opportunity to wear a pretty dress.
16. Brother calling you small stuff even though you're older
17. A blonde little girl with kind eyes looking up to you in every essence of the word "idle."
18. That same little girl holding your hand where ever you go.
19. Useless random facts shot off by the 17 yr old brother.
20. Passion for BYU sports
21. Hugs
22. Kisses
23. Regardless what you look like in the morning, everyone greets you with a smile
24. Surprises
25. Couches comfier than apartment beds.

And the list could continue. I love being here.

Masks

I have a mask that I wear; just as you often do. We wear these masks usually in busy, crowded rooms. Occasionally, we take them off--revealing our inner selves. When we take them off, it is a special and rare affair. It is only taken off for people we are closest to; ones we truly love and have no fear of disclosing our beauty from within.

However, there are times when we fool those around us. We make them believe we are unveiling our private faces when we are only uncovering another mask. Why do we do this? I think I have found the answer: protection from vulnerable situations. Our masks then turn to shields guarding any useless attempt to know the face that lies beyond the mask.

So then the question must be asked: who do we truly untie the strings for? We have best friends; we have loved ones; we have good company--all of which secrets can be expressed. Who do we trust?

My reluctancy lies within those who mask as open and willing. It lies with those who may seem genuinely interested only to reveal the mask of one who's intentions are the least bit curious about my face. And when I do expose my face, defenseless to all who are around me, I feel as though even more disguises appear around me. Welcoming masks soon turn to masks full of conjectures to dangled in front of you.

Ironically, I am guilty of the prior. I am guilty of my fear of masks. So which mask is it that I wear today? That depends on which you want to know.

Simplicity

It's the simple things in life that makes ordinary events extraordinary events. Yet, these simple things; rather moments, are those that change a life of fear for adventure to hunger for adventure. And don't you agree that life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all? Are the simple things really THAT simple? Or are they the moments that matter most?

Tonight I had one of these adventurous simplicities. Though the Dog Days are almost over, the sun paid my skin a visit and what was once ivory became a rubescent red; nevertheless, only memories of washing cars more the majority of the day and drinking out of the hose bring smiles at threat of pain.

Sometimes the best things heard are those not said--which is yet again another gift of simplicity. Simplicity reared it's head with a bag of popcorn and two best friends. It didn't matter if the game didn't make sense; that it was dumb; that others would consider it a waste of time. Simplicity smiled on us as stomachs and cheeks began to ache with laughter.

These are the moments when simplicity becomes the master of all journal entries. When thinking of the word, the definition doesn't justify the meaning.

Ironically, simplicity stimulates my most thought-provoking conversations and instigates dreaming which, in turn, allows hope for the future.

Composure in a Rowdy Crowd

There are days when I feel like the most important thing I can do is remain in composure when everywhere around me is full of uncertainty. In my composure I remain quite amidst laughter and tears. It's a time for reflection. It's a time that almost brings peace and serenity.

This time happend to me last night. I didn't want to drive around; I didn't want to hang around friends; I just wanted to stay up and think. What is so ironic about all of this is that it's also a time where I don't want to be left alone.

It's a time of reflection--or resolution. I want to be better, come closer to God, and start over. However, I feel something start inside of me that I can't ignore. I have to keep thinking until the confusion in my silence goes away. So I stay up until the break of dawn with the hope that my conclusions are what is necessary to continue on with dust bunnies out of the closet.

It's not a pity party; rather, a personal renaissance. So here, I go, world--you rowdy crowd, you. Please, stop the noise and confusion; rest in composure. Silence is often serenity.

Simplicity, Simplicity, Simplicity. It's all about progression, not perfection.

My Best Friend's Wedding and K-Mart creepers

I was sitting at the reception after a long day of wedding, cake and constraining dresses. I needed to do that one thing that brings joy from a wedding--aside from the free food (can I get an amen?)--decking out the car with a bunch of "treasured" trinkets for the bride and groom.

We made a last minute dash to the store to get the necessary condiments and accessories for the evil deed involving the groom's snazzy transportation.

Shopping list?
1. Oreos--classic
2. Window Paint (We wrote Genesis 2:25 on the car as well as "build the kingdom")
3. Whipped Cream

What We Had?
1. TONS of left over cake. (shoved into door handles)
2. Endless supply of toilet paper.
3. ...More Toilet paper.

The wrecking crew split up in K-Mart to find the essentials. Somehow I found myself in the unmentionables isle only to find a stranger as company, That stranger, you ask? A K-Mart Associate. He was fashioned in an attractive red vest over his stained shirt and jeans. He was clearly in the wrong section, putting pots away with the scantily clad ensambles . The scene was comical.

He asked me what the occasion was. I told him my best friends were marrying each other. He chuckled, paused, gave me a weird look and said, "So when are you gonna get married?" I laughed a little too loudly--more like shouted a single "HA!" and came back with, "Uh, never :) or at least no time soon."

What came next? Well, I began to feel slightly uncomfortable so I awkwardly inched away from him; shoes squeaking, brow sweating, and panic rising.

Somehow I managed to slip away without another word. What an interesting conversation--only in Utah.

Well, we did the deed (later that night I'm sure they did too ;) ) and it was a masterpiece. Success!!

Summation of their wedding?
1. The most action consisted of a married associate from K-mart...ladies don't go to the one in Bountiful..and winking at little boys (no i'm not a pedophile.)
2. No I didn't catch the bouquet but the girl that did was a worthy opponent as well as a flower-catching scholar.
3. My 6'5" "little" brother that is 17 was accused of being three things: my fiancee, boyfriend, and husband; which is strange considering we look so much alike.
4. The only people in the 'line' that the guests care about are the bride and groom (makes sense) Don't try to remember all of their names.
5. Freezers are the fastest for of air conditioning when you have a car in 100 degree weather that is exempt from the privileged society of those who own cars with air so cold your nose hairs break in the middle of summer.

Am I happy for the married couple? Yes, of course. Am I looking forward to all of my other friends' weddings? I will neither confirm nor deny that prior question. However, I will say this: I am going to pull hair and break noses for the next bouquet tossing I have to endure.

Message to fellow bridesmaids in the future: I work out.

Hands

A man walks into a crowed room--staring at the empty faces he sees around him. He glances over at a woman, who dropped a box full of papers while no one helps her pick them up. Stepping over her accident, he makes his way to his office. Sitting at his desk he discovers a rather healthy stack of messages scattered over his desk. Swearing under his breath he calls his assistant in. "Why didn't you call me? Tell me that these are all from this morning..." The assistant looks nervously at his hands, wondering if the stated question was rhetorical. After a long pause, the man told the assistant to leave in a manner that wasn't polite to say in the least.

He looked at his hands after the assistant walked out of the room. Had he adequately used his hands? Had he lent his hand to the assistant or that woman who dropped the papers? What about this morning when he yelled at his wife and told her he didn't have time to help her get the kids ready for school?

The thought passed quickly, however. He went on his way, habitually looking at his hands at his desk. There was something that enticed him about those warn hands but he never cared to figure it out.

One stressful day a dream started to form in his mind as he sought relaxation while staring at his hands. It was a beautiful and heart breaking scene: A woman kneeling to pray--hands clasped; a man studying his scriptures with his scriptures while holding his little girls hand; an elderly woman being led by the hand of a young man and finally a man crying into his palms. The last man was the most significant. He was pleading, tearing, scratching, and prodding with his fingers deep in the soil of the ground.

"Why, Father?" He kept desperately questioning the sky. After some time he rose, walked a ways and put his hand on the shoulder of one who was sleeping with intent to wait. The man wasn't mad and yet he wasn't happy. He was deep in thought and returned to the seemingly familiar place where his hands had previously groped.

The scene quickly changed and the dreamer couldn't bare to watch. Dark gloom took over. He saw the man that used His hands and watched him struggle in agony as many used their hands to counterfeit His.

A woman stumbles and the crops from her hands spill near by. The dreamer steps over her, walks past but notices the man who tore at the ground, the Giver, amidst struggle bending down and helping the perfectly able women clean a mess she never intended to make. With her hand in His, He helps her to her feet. With her palm pressed to His face, tears stream down the dreamer's cheeks. A blind man approaches the Giver and besought to be healed. The Giver had many tasks ahead but took the time to touch the beggars eyes with His hands. The blind man kissed the Giver's hands and feet--ever seeking repentance.

Again the scene changes--
The Giver is lying on crudely crafted wood, made from the hands of the innocent bystander who didn't know any better than to listen to orders coming from a mysterious and melancholy source.

Another man's hand touches the shoulder of the dreamer. He pushes the dreamer out of the way--his hands occupied by long, rough nails and a hammer. On one knee, one hand on the ground for support, the nailer places the point in the Giver's palm.

Just as he's about to hammer it in the dreamer looks away. He can't bare the thought of watching someone who, through all of His suffering and kindness, endure even more. Nevertheless, he hears the Giver; He's speaking words of love, joy, sadness, pain, and forgiveness. No longer able to use His hands, the Giver looks towards the sky and pleads, "Forgive them, for they know now what they do."

Tears fall from the Dreamer's face. He reaches up and wipes them away with his hands. He immediately drops to his knees, imploring for the freedom of this Giver's soul. The image fades and the man is sitting at his desk. Realizing he was staring at his hands for nearly two hours he faces reality with resolve to do better. He never noticed how buried the pictures of the Savior and his family were in all of the paperwork on his desk.

He picked up a message the assistant had given him from his wife which he hadn't read till now: "He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart...shall receive the blessing[s] from the Lord." Remember the tender mercies. I love you!

He immediately fell to his knees; hands groping whatever he could get at. His prayer wasn't in a garden, but with carpet wearing thin.

Night passed quickly as he drove home. On the way to his room he lingered at each child's door frames. A new light filled his eyes and warmth entered his heart. Now lying next to his wife, he knew that Dawn was near. A Dawn of new beginning, of gratitude, love and enduring forgiveness. He finally understood how to use his hands.

Forks, conformity and bananas

Sometimes I feel like we are in a society solely comprised of sheep. I am not here to tell you that you aren't different or individualistic--that is not my intent in the least. However, I have seen many things on this campus that make me chuckle to myself. For example, I have been in many situations where people don't know what a line is for but they stand in it because they assume that the person in front of them has a brain when, in reality, we are all idiots waiting for something to happen. (Don't get me wrong, I am 100% guilty of this)

Something else I've seen on campus is the subconscious decision of walking on the right side of the sidewalk. When someone walks on the left side, going in the opposite direction, it throws everyone off and some people even decide that they have every right to be angry at that person. If anything, I like to think of having a "cute-meet" with someone because you dance with them for a second or two, bashfully smile, and continue on your day.

I can't help but laugh my head off when I start a new class and every one sits in the same spot for the whole semester. It's fun to throw people off and sit in a different spot every day. It's as if people feel they have lost their place in society. Hahaha.

Have you ever just sat back and thought, why does society do that? Well, here are a few things I question: utensils, pants, hair, shaving (why even care about having gender appropriate legs?), sidewalk chalk, bicycles, feathers in your hear (girls...you know who you are), tanning, doors, napkins, chairs, homework...Our lives are on autopilot! Thinking about these things pretty much blows my mind.

At any rate,

I'm gonna start eating bananas with forks and I am also not going to shave. Run and tell that.

Joy in a Dandelion

Probably one of the ugliest flowers is a dandelion. It's shape is boring and round; it's smell is non-existant; and it's yellow color is not something one would necessarily place on a dining room bouquet. However, one of my favorite memories of my childhood involved two things: dandelions and beauty and the beast.

There is a scene in this movie where Bell is singing about how there is more to life than where she lives--with the ambition of becoming the best that she could become. She picks up the dandelion and the seeds fly effortlessly over the valley.

Why is this so special to me? Allow me to explain:

The fact that this ugly flower can turn into a almost magical "wishing" plant makes me happy. I know everyone has made a wish and blown to spread the seeds around. Suddenly this ugly flower becomes something entirely different and beautiful but is was only after time.

Yesterday I was on a walk with one of my good friends. We were walking in a field that happend to have the white--and even beautiful--dandelions. I ran past him, picked the biggest roundest one and was instantly brought back to my childhood. Spinning and attempting (terribly) to sing the words to the song from Disney, something new happened. I didn't feel like I needed to make a wish. At this moment, and for the first time probably ever, I realized I had everything in the world to be thankful for.

In this short moment I came to the understanding that I am truly blessed. Although I was attempting to be childish and ever so slightly immature--making my friend chuckle--it was a moment I am never going to forget. I am so thankful for all of my blessings and especially those around me, influencing me to be and do my very best.

Stop and find joy in the dandelions of life...it just takes time :)

Undone Zippers and The Friend Zone

Just a short thought--

Two things come to mind when discussing redemption in a social setting. First, undone zippers--no me gusta. I was walking around the other day, talking to a handful of attractive people (men and women) only to find out at the very end of the day that I had left my fly down. Yup, all day long. That's almost as bad as having something in your teeth and no one telling you. How good of friends do I have? Who all let me walk around with a stamp on my forehead that reads, "Hi, I'm 5 years old."

You know, I'm really not bitter. Just unsweetened.

Secondly, I don't think there is anything worse than finding out that you are and always will be in the "friend zone" with a potential investigator. In a situation like that, I feel that it might even be more appropriate to unzip my zipper so I feel like a fool for a more legitimate reason. Wouldn't you agree? Maybe in any awkward social setting I'll just start doing that. It would lighten the mood of the intense situation as well as direct the attention from my blush red cheeks to society's disapproval of unzippage.

Meh.

The Lollipop Guild

The topic I wish to address has significance to all within a close range of my age...well, that is, all those apart from the few "unfortunates" that are still going to a singles ward/branch/twig. We all know you are in your late thirties almost forties tryin' to pick up on fresh meat--still possibly wearing diapers--while you are acquiring a receding hairline.

At any rate! Dating: a word some loathe, others dread, and BYU-Idahoans crave crazier than buffalos crave their mates in matin' season--to that last group: take it easy. Being social is a lot of work. In fact, too much work for many simple-minded people. Nevertheless, I had a thought about dating and I thought I might share it with you.

When it comes to dating--an area I, myself, am not much experienced in--there are important things to remember. First off, it comes in steps. I don't know what those steps are but my southern friend says that over and over so it must be important. Secondly, when you break it off, break it off. There is shame in going back twice...months later...trying to pick up on your ex. it's just a bad and stupid idea. Refrain, young padawans, refrain!

To the girls: give the guys an opening, a freaking chance. Quit being so darn beautiful and intimidating! Maybe try a little swagger and flirtatious smiling while...batting your eyes? (I'm terrible at flirting, by the way so don't even listen to any of this advice...maybe give me some??)

To the guys--if any read this--uh....relax, keep trying, and if you want to ask a girl out, do it. If you get rejected, cry a little (or a lot), watch The Notebook, drink a cup of shut up and try finding someone else. Haha wow, that was harsh...Keep up the good work, pal!...(also, steer clear of hawaiian/dragon shirts and belt buckles the size of your head.)

As for me, well, I figure that I will have to find someone who will appreciate my quirks. I think my taste in a lover exemplifies that of my preferences in food. The other day I ate bacon and peanut butter, weird I know. I also love peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, oreos with cheddar cheese, and tortilla chips dipped in almond bark. All of the prior list, Bizarre much? I agree. I figure that someone with a weird combination will come along and understand that I am just a little bit of a freak of nature with a decent personality.

When that day comes, for all lonesome yet lovely loners remember to express gratitude by frolicking in the poppyseed fields while representing the lollipop guild.

Hawaiian Punch and World Peace

I realize that I have many characteristics of a small child but one that I don't know if I will ever be willing to give up is the glorious obsession I have of Hawaiian Punch. I recently went to the store and that was at the top of my list. I like to buy the packs for individual bottles. There are few things that bring me to harmony with the inner child and this is the ultimate memory retriever.

When I drink Hawaiian Punch I think of bright red mustaches on all of my best friends and the desperate desire to dress up as a troll with my bright purple hair on end and a big beer belly complete with a delicious gem in place of my umbilical cord scar.

This got me thinking...Trolls were hideous and yet society claimed them as a child's play thing collectively accepting beer bellies. I firmly believe that this is the true reason America has become obese: trolls with over sized belly accessories. I say over sized because if our bodies were proportioned the way theirs were, we would not only be able to walk through doors but take the frames with us along our journey to the next room. Also, if one chose to have a piercing the same ratio as the trolls have on their stomachs one would make the adjustment from walking upright to inch-worming along on account of the added weight . Scientists' minds would explode because the whole theory of evolution would be blown out of the water on account of women (and in some rare cases--men) digressing in the human race from walking to flopping.

How this all came into my head? I have no clue. However, Hawaiian punch should probably be served at any serious function to clear peoples' minds of all misunderstandings regarding obesity and any other serious issue for that matter. Maybe I'll propose that idea to Obama.


Drink Hawaiian Punch and not only reveal the inner child but find solutions to world peace.

My Plea for the Day

There are many ways that a person can end up in an awkward situation. While I might ramble on for a long period of time, I supposedly only have a short minute on account of the endless amount of tedium that is calling my name and pronouncing it wrong. At any rate, I wish to focus on the following. 1. making jokes about being single to a mom offering his son's availability to a crowd of people and later finding out that her son is someone you work with. 2. Telling someone that you can't stand another over a text and sending it to the latter. 3.Making a habit of gleeking all over the individual you wish to converse with...particularly the opposite sex. 4. Talking to an attractive member of the opposite sex, looking in their direction while walking and running into the door frame or a pole. 5. Laughing while running with a track buddy, tripping over the supposedly non-existant goal post and ending up face down on the asphalt, skidding ten feet. 6. Not knowing someones name (or in my case...knowing their name and EVERYTHING else resulting to potential stalker status). 7. Running excitedly up to someone from behind and realize they aren't who you thought they were--in which case, I suggest you introduce yourself? Get to know them? 8. Jumping into a conversation when you feel it's appropriate only to find out they were talking about something completely different. Ex: their dead uncle Fred. 9. Attempting to shave, slipping, rolling out of the shower and go to the emergency room because you broke your elbow in a way opposite of hardcore. 10. Losing your phone in the "double flushing" toilet, putting your hand down to get it, getting your hand stuck, yelling for your roommates who find you with your pants down, entire arm dripping, angry at water, and stepping over their bodies dying from laughter.

I may or may not have experience with the prior list. That said, I wish to close, wishing you all of the best. Please, from the deepest depths of my soul, avoid these at all cost for fear of being socially rejected and intelligently roasted.

That is all

Life's Essentials

The following is a list of essentials for the average college student or average any age person for that matter:

(caution: these are in no particular order but it is extremely advised that you find your own order of importance as soon as possible. Also, no animals were tested for the proceeding experiments)

1.Pillow talk--although many people haven't had the privilege of experiencing this phenomenon, I advise you to as quickly as possible. And for you curious individuals, no, i am not at liberty to discuss what goes down in these conversations.

2. Social interaction with the infamous, well, me. Anyone that's a friend with myself is bound to be successful in life.

3. Endless amounts of movie quoting--need I say more?

4. Scrubs--cozy and possibly magnetically draws a person of the opposite sex to one who wears them.

5. Falling asleep in class--and when i say falling asleep, i mean drool, text on your face when you wake up, snoring, laughing, you name it but an entirely deep sleep.

6. Wallace and Gromit and Cheese--nuff said

7. A personal latino singer--only for waking you up in the morning with sweet melodies of romance.

8. loads of references to Ferris Buellers day off.

9. A mini pocket book-- for jotting down anything that seems unusual or even bizarre. This comes in handy years down the road. :) believe me.

10. A small hand shovel--i don't know why

11. Classic movies are awesome and essential, alas, they found their way onto this list.

12. Teleportation--please invent this one for me.

13. Sweet and salty flavored anything--vital for many emergencies.

14. Feather pillows--block out all sound and may come in handy when approached with a wimpy cotton one attempting to attack in a moments notice

15. A hero--if I am a candidate for this rank please fill out the attached application and i'll review it as soon as possible.

16. a best friend, specifically a lumberjack--he will feed you all the pancakes you need.

17. Every possible pick up line--even if they are cheesy, know that someone appreciates them. (hint: for me, cheesier the better. ex: if you were the new sandwich at McDonalds, you would be McGorgeous.)

18. On a consistent and regular basis use the phrase, "Livin the dream." and all your dreams will come true. In addition to this, you will have no friends. The choice is yours. The same goes for the word, "Legit."

Well my fellow compadres, if you actually read to the end of this list, you will have many successes and please don't read the fine print at the bottom that states that the prior statement was a fallacy.

Till we meet again,

Justine

P.S. Ninja Turtle references are always acceptable--at dinner parties, weddings, funerals, you name it. That is all.

Compliments

You know what's sad? It's sad that no matter how much someone compliments you it isn't true unless you believe it too. Some may find you intelligent, gorgeous, and all-out awesome but if you refuse to see it, the compliment automatically become insincere or biased. That's why I'm writing about it. I find it so important to believe in yourselves.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell said,

"It is extremely important for you to believe in yourselves,

not only for what you are now, but what you have the

power to become."

Elder Jeffery R. Holland,

"Got doesn't care nearly as much about

where you have been as He does about where

you are and, with His help, where you are

willing to go."

I could go on forever...there are so many quotes and scriptures encouraging us to be OKAY with ourselves. It's not about our looks or our brains. It's about the kindness in our hearts, the intentions of our minds, and the callous of service on our fingertips.

I hope you all keep that in your mind. Know that you were born to be the very best: no matter the size; no matter the shape; disregarding any pitiful cry of society telling you that you aren't enough. So believe in yourselves a little because frankly, you are much, much more.

Product of Mexico

I found a rubber-band today. It is now fashioned on my wrist. The words on it say, "Produce of Mexico." And it got me thinking: Why not?! I lived in New Mexico for a major part of my life so therefore it automatically makes me a fruit from the "Land of Enchantment." I'm happy, therefore, it will now have a home on my wrist.

On a different note I went on a run earlier today and kept looking around for evidence or remains of human skeletons. Why, you ask? Well, I have been watching Bones lately and have decided to stick with my original idea of becoming a forensic scientist. Sure, I run the risk of investigating gruesome crime scenes but to be able to use my degree to prove someone innocent or guilty!? It doesn't get any better than that!! So what if i read my genetics book for fun? So what if I purposely look up movies that deal with scientific data and more specifically anything that involves DNA? I'm a NERD. Man, that feels really good to say. There's a first step for everything people! First blue rubber-band next PCR Processing!

...I have to choose something to do with my Biology degree eventually right??? haha...HA!

Bloggers or is it Boogers?

So apparently I've been a "blogger" since June of last year..and this is my first "blog." Why you would name a fragment of text a blog concerns me. The first thing I think of is a booger or something that weighs you down...either way, they are both something I would rather not encounter. At any rate, I think this will be good therapy because, let's be honest, most people who blog either have no friends, no life, or have some seriously psychological issues. I find myself in the third category more often than not so here I am. Maybe this will waste my time in a healthier way compared to it's competitor Facebook--you be the judge. Unlike most bloggers I will most likely refrain from any form of Reader's Digest. I will, however, let you into the many--or few--facets of my thoughts. Hope you enjoy!! :) Peace and blessings

If this sounds cynical..it's almost one o'clock in the morning--a time when true sarcasm is the only sense of humor I have. :D Don't hate, appreciate!