Campus Mystery Odor

I knew it was going to be difficult living south of campus rather than across the street. But, there was no way I was going to live in freshmen housing again. Primis? No thanks. So it was a sacrifice I was willing to pay. What's a few more blocks and a thousand more stairs compared to boys who act like girls? I thought it was a fair trade. And I was pretty much right.
I didn't notice it the first few times I walked up the stairs. I must have been distracted by the air shortage in my lungs. Trying not to pass out takes a lot of attention. I remember I smelled it first when we were walking to church. It's BYU, so of course they use every single room for church services. Our building is the MARB. I had my 8 am history class in the Relief Society room and my dreaded Anatomy lecture in the 'Chapel'.
Anyway, as Hilary, the Lindsa(e)y's, and I rounded the corner to tackle the last few sets of stairs, I was overcame by the most offensive smell, even in comparison to my Anatomy lab last year. I thought I was going to see what I ate for breakfast again. I looked around for the culprit, desperate to put as much space between myself and the smell as possible. I spotted a guy who looked like he didn't believe in showering, so I guessed that it was him, and ran away from him. A few days later I was talking to Hilary about it as we approached the staircase. She thought it was someone who decided to take their shoes off. I thought they just had a personal vendetta against general human cleanliness. As we discussed the topic further, a guy behind us piped in. He explained to us that it was a inconspicuous bush, budded with yellow flowers that was hidden by the staircase wall.
Okay, seriously! What IS it with BYU and rotten-smelling plants? It is torture enough to walk up the 150 stairs south of campus. Do they have to add in the smell of feet too?!?

The Door Stopper to My Thoughts

Writers block. It has been my constant companion for this past week. I have all these words and ideas stuck in my head like a traffic jam: hopeless, frustrating, and . . . . see? Still stuck. I always get into a jam when I want to convey something so unique and inspiring. In my head it all makes sense. But, can I put it on paper? Heck no!
Running through my head are words like dilapidated, runts, Boy Meets World, Smelly Cat, and PDA. What test do I have next? Is that paper due tomorrow? How much money do I have? Can there BE any more PDA-ing couples on campus, or are they all just attracted to me?
What horrid plant is that nightmarish smell coming from on the south campus stairs?
Taylor Swift.
Dr. Pepper and ice cream and fries.
How much longer can I stay healthy while my roommates are hacking up a lung?
Is there a cancer for eating too much Ramen?
5 more months . . .
Smelly Cat, what are they feeding you?
I need to go buy real food.
I need to work.
I need a hug.
Da Vinci. Machiavelli. Neo-Platonism.
I hate taking test.
Blah blah blah!!!
I hate writers block.

Head Scratchers

1. If you could eat anything without any negative consequences, what would it be?
French fries dipped in a shake. It sounds nasty, but is surprisingly delightful.
2. One vice you have to give up?
Facebook. It's unhealthy. It really is. But I love it.
3. If you could make anything happen right this moment . . .
I would be graduated and done with school FOREVER.
4. What would your first wish from a genie be?
That Ewan McGregor would be my boyfriend and sing to me all the time.
5. The second wish?
That I could fly. Seriously, it would shave off OODLES of time on my way to class.
6. If you were stuck forever in a Disney movie, which would it be?
Peter Pan, hands down. No place is more interesting than Neverland.
7. If you could only sing one song for the rest of your life?
The Elephant Love Medley.
8. The best quote?
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is learn to love and be loved in return.
9. If you could have one crazy adventure, what would you do?
Take a road trip to Vegas and have a crazy night full of the Stratosphere and Thunder from Down Under. HA! Just kidding :)
10. One thing you would changed about yourself:
Physical: That I'd have abs like that Girl off of Stick It
. . . Not Physical: That I would be more patient and less invisible.

Little Blessings

Does it make me an awful person if I was happy he broke the rules?

He always seem to know when I'm having a completely rotten, horrible day. I don't even say anything to him. I'll go weeks without so much as a peep from him and then the one day I think I'm going to crack under all the pressure, he sends out one tiny message that alters my entire day. I went into Art Civ about ready to break down in tears. I came out of there smiling from ear to ear. The funny thing was, he was probably the only person who could have gotten me out of that funk. The only one. Heavenly Father was clearly watching out for me today. He knew exactly what I needed to hear and who I needed to hear it from. Is it still a horrible thing to do? If it had such a positive effect, how could it possibly be bad? Is that justifying it?

Either way, I love you too.

More Lists

(Sunday's Post)

Things that oddly satisfy me:
Learning Smelly Cat on the guitar
The sound of high heels clicking on the street
Thunder and Lightning
The smell of rain
Popping my back
Making RMs feel just a little uncomfortable (in a G rated fashion)
Making people mad when I'm mad (I know, I sound like a horrible person)
Australian accents
Getting letters in the mail
Singing the Elephant Love Medley
Watching BYU football . . . when they win
Crunching leaves
When someone massages my legs
Or plays with my hair
Popping my hips
The smell of my mom's Parmesan rolls
The end of a Monday

Narcotics

(Saturday's Post)
Chalk off another night of falling asleep fully clothed, on top on my sheets, and my phone. After my pity party I went and laid in bed, waiting for Hil to get home so I could go to sleep. I always stay up for her to get home. Sometimes I feel like her mom. Too bad I didn't stay awake. At least I had good intentions right? Anyway, I woke up possibly around 3:30 and realized I couldn't breathe because of the huge belt I borrowed from one of my roommates. I ripped it off and just about everything else and went back to bed. There was no way I was going to make it all the way to the bathroom to wash my face. Oh well. Bring on the zits. Maybe I'll get ready for bed tonight . . . maybe.

Angst Angst Angst

I apologize for not having the last 3 days of posts up. The stupid internet that I'm paying for here only works half the time. Ridiculous, I know. So here is the post for Friday:

I'm in another one of those 'moods'. I have no reason for it. My homework is done, (ish) it's a Friday night, and I'm going to see one of my old friends at his Welcome Home this weekend. I hate it when I have no explanation for my angst. I hate angst in general. I think it's uber annoying. My roommate wants to run around and see all these people. I have no desire. What I really want to do is crawl into bed. It's only 8:30. Wonderful.
Hilary thinks it's because we are sick. We have super odd sleeping schedules, we hardly ever eat, and when we do finally eat, it's so unhealthy. I feel like Lorelai Gilmore on Gilmore Girls, only she had energy and was happy most of the time. I'm not.
I think I am just going to go to sleep . . .

New Boy In Town

I have officially learned 2 real songs on the guitar: Hey Ya (the acoustic version) and White Horse by Taylor Swift. GO ME! I think the reason why I'm doing so much better on my guitar is because I finally named him. I knew he was a boy, and very attractive one, and so I had to find a name that fit. It finally hit me this year: Felix! My guitar's name is Felix. Now that he has a name, we can connect on a deeper lever.
I'm so happy that I'm finally a little musical! I would feel so inadequate because I'm surrounded by people who, at the very least, know the piano. I also tend to be attracted towards the extremely musically gifted. My closest friends and roommates all know a bajillion musical instruments. All I could do was sing. And not very well. And I can't read music. BUT, it was always my dream to learn the guitar.
Felix and I have a deep, unbreakable bond. Last night, I visited an old high school friend of mine. While I was waiting for him to show up at his apartment, Hilary and I stole his football to throw out in the hallway. A few guys came in and wanted to join so we let them. When my friend finally came home, he was so frustrated that I would let 'some other dude' touch his football. He said he'd let a guy touch his girl before he'd let a guy touch his football. I didn't appreciate that comment, but now I understand what he means. Guys come and go, but my guitar and I permanent and I'll be danged if I let some girl touch my guitar.

Mornings Suck

For the past few weeks I have been falling asleep pretty early. Well . . . early for me. I'm the type of person who stays up till about 2 am, fully aware that I have to wake up in about 4 hours. So, I consider the fact that I go to bed around 11-12 as early.
Last night I relaxed on my bed, fully clothed, with my hair still up in bobby pins. I was texting this kid from UVU and waiting for the turquoise, glitter paint on my nails to dry. My roommate, however, went straight to bed. I don't like being an inconsiderate roommate, so I turned the lights out and my music off. I sat in the silent room, waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell the UVU guy goodnight so that I could get ready for bed. Pretty soon, however, my phone buzzed as I received a call from none other than my roommate's brother. He told me I was not allowed to go to sleep because he had finally made the dessert that I had won from a bet we made 2 weeks prior. I wasn't too happy. That meant I had to stay awake in regular clothes for another half hour. I didn't even want to eat the dessert anyway. I wanted to go to bed!
I tried my hardest, I really did, to stay awake. I kept up my texting conversation and played games on my phone in between texts. My eyes had other ideas. They began to droop with the weight of a small anvil and I couldn't stop it. I rolled over on to my stomach so that when my phone went off, my face would receive the shock from both the light and the vibration. Time dragged on as I waited for the text signaling that Jared was headed over. But, it never came. Around 20 minutes after I was supposed to have received my winnings, he texted me:

Hey it's going to take longer than I thought. Its a refrigeration thing so it will be good till tomorrow.

I was relieved and slightly P.O.ed. I could have been asleep right now, in PJs, with a clean face. I rolled over once more. I contemplated getting up to finally prepare for bed, but, I was just too comfortable and too tired. Surely, I could nap for maybe 5 minutes and then get ready? I fished my phone out of my sheets and set 2 alarms. One was for the morning, of course. I closed my eyes, fulling intending to tell the UVU guy goodnight in a few minutes.
My body jerked awake. I rolled over to find out the time and had to untangle myself in my phone charger cord. My cell phone had attached itself to my neck and I peeled it off to find a rectangle imprinted on my skin. I rushed to get ready in the 20 minutes I had allowed myself to get ready. My alarms did not go off. I was still fully dressed, with my hair tangled in it's 'do' from yesterday. I had one unanswered text at 12:09 am from the UVU guy, waiting for my reply. Oops.

Self Evaluation

What am I good at?

Dancing . . . I hope
Getting ready in 20 minutes
Sarcastic quips
Making lasagna
Hitting my snooze button in my sleep
Laughing at myself
Eating Ice cream


What am I not good at?

Having patience . . . especially with girls
Sitting through a movie I've already seen
Saying goodbye/letting go
Taking short showers
Tying my shoes . . . no, really
Telling people how I really feel


What do I want to be better at?

Playing my acoustic guitar
Running
Not raiding the fridge
Controlling my road rage
Raising my confidence level
Talking to my brothers


A shout out to my sister Lacey Ann Peterson: She is awesome and I love her to death. I'm so grateful for all the things she does for me. Thanks for helping me to feel like I'm not an only child Lace!
P.S. I love and appreciate ALL of my siblings and in-laws. You guys are the best family a girl could have. Love ya!

Waltz Wonders

I will be the first to admit that I am extremely stubborn. I have accepted it and so should you. Despite my . . . we'll call it a handicap, I feel that I have handled criticism in dance extremely well. You see, one cannot dance well without criticism, and unfortunately, much of that criticism comes from one's own teammates. Even the ones who are not on your same level of dance. I have accepted that and dealt with it as well.
This morning I dropped out of bed and dragged myself to campus. Lately, it's been a freezing, almost unconscious, 15-20 minute walk. I'm amazed I haven't missed a day of class yet. I'm proud of myself actually. In the mornings I have no personality. I typically don't say a word to anyone until about 10:30, because if I did, I probably would end up making somebody cry. I'm not a morning person, so sue me. Starting the day off by dancing, however, does help. Even ballroom.
It was girls choice today. The professor stood off to the side as the girls took shy steps towards their chosen boy. Fabulous. The one guy who I actually enjoyed dancing with because he sort of knew what he was doing, and therefore hadn't trampled my toes with his clown feet got snatched by a girl who looked more like a barbie. Even better. I looked around at the few left over boys. I took the one closest to me.
He had curly brown hair and a spare tire. He was shorter than me. I tried to be optimistic, I really, truly did. However, all attempts at a positive attitude were shot down when he instantly correct my stance. Correction: he incorrectly corrected my stance and would not continue dancing with me until I had fixed it. I held my tongue and did as he asked. I knew there was no arguing with him if I didn't comply. And what happened? He stepped on my feet . . . several times. And forgot the routine.
Oh, I cannot wait to be a dance teacher . . .

Hey! is for Horses and Chickens and Fish

I stole this idea from my Creative Writing class. I fell in love with the idea. It's not cheating is it? Oh well.
I remember when I realized that . . . .

I left the milk in the cupboard and not the fridge.
I fell in love with him.
I count my steps when I walk.
I am a hopeless romantic.
I cannot play sports.
Taylor Swift knew my life.
Boys are D-Bags.
I have nightmares when I sleep on my back.
I'm obsessed with sparkly things.
My grandpa wasn't going to come back.
I forgot I was left-handed.
I am extremely stubborn and sarcastic. A bad combination.
I wanted to be a dance teacher.
I'm more clumsy than a new born deer.
I had always wanted to be an astronaut.

Think Happy Thoughts

I just wrote an awesome entry. It was extremely deep. I examined my own happiness and questioned society's stubborn, negative outlook on life and how they are bound determined to win the I Have THE Worst Life award. But, guess what? My internet disconnected and I lost everything I wrote. I hate the internet and how dependent we've all become to it. Oh well. So my journal entry is simply this:

You make me happy, whether you know it or not
We should be happy, that's what I said from the start
I am so happy, knowing you are the one
That I want for the rest of my days
For the rest of my days
You're all of my days.

You're lookin' so cool, you're lookin' so fly
I can't deny that when I'm staring
You down, right dead in the eye
I wanna try to be the person you want
The person you need
It's hard to conceive
That somebody like you could be with
Someone like me

I'm happy knowing that you are mine
The grass is greener on the other si-ide
The more I think, the more I wish
That we could lay here for hours, and just-a reminisce
Uhh ooo ooo

You're lookin' so fresh
It's catching my eye
Why, oh why, did I not see this before,
The girl I adore was right in front of me?
And now I'll take a step back and look in your eye
And ask why it took so long to see
We're meant to be

I'm happy knowing that you are mine
The grass is greener on the other si-ide
The more I think, the more I wish
That we could lay here for hours and just-a reminisce

On the good, the bad, the ugly
The smiles ,the laughs, the funny,
Or all the things we put each other through
It's for you, for you, for you.

You make me happy, whether you know it or not
We should be happy, that's what I said from the start
I am so happy, knowing you are the one
That I want for the rest of my days
For the rest of my days

I'm happy knowing that you are mine
The grass is greener on the other si-ide
The more I think, the more I wish
That we could lay here for hours and just-a reminisce.

Uhh ooo ooo

This is what we all should be thinking every day. That is my new goal.

Paint Wars

Squishy, oozy, gooey, and warm. I plunged my hand into the bucket of grape paint. It coated my hand and made me brave. A flash of violent thoughts ran through my mind. My hand moved without conscious thought and suddenly I saw my paint magically transfer onto Hilary. She glared. I just started a war and I wasn't really sure if I wanted to continue it. The boys just sat there, hands halfway in between them and the canvas, not entirely sure if what I had done actually happened.
Hilary rose slowly. I knew her stance to be one of revenge and I knew that I could not outrun her. I would probably end up on my face in 5 steps anyway. I held my stance and and plunged my hand into my paint can. She lunged. Paint went flying. The grass was no longer green, but purple, red, blue, yellow, and about every other shade in between. The canvas was forgotten. We were the canvas now. I didn't really know what was going on. I just knew that if I didn't stop the paint flying from my fingers, I would be attacked. Too bad I sucked at aiming and was even worse at running away.
Scrubbing my car, peeling off most of my skin, losing half my hair, and spending an absurdly long time in the shower and I still loved every second of it. It was the funnest date I have ever had.

the Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn . . .

Moulin Rouge. It's a fantastic movie. Granted, it may not be appropriate for all audiences, especially at BYU. I mean, it is about a hooker. Gasp! However, the music will change lives. If you get right down to it, it has an extremely positive message: Love conquers all. And that's what's most important right?
The greatest thing you'll ever learn is learn to love and be loved in return. So true! We go throughout our lives searching for that one person who will bring that happy ever after. That one person will love you for who you are no matter what. Here, in Happy Valley, love is always in the air. Sometimes it nauseates me. However, all of us single folk are still seeking out our 'potential soul-mates'. So even though Moulin Rouge may be a little risque, I love it and so should you.

An Ocean of Jeans

We all know college is a complete rip off. For years students have been getting attacked with ridiculously priced books that never get used in class and parking passes that are really just crap. It's fine. It's all good. I expected it, and therefore I have accepted it. However, one thing that has officially ticked me off for the day is the laundry rip off.
Basically, I shouldn't have bothered with the dryer. It was completely pointless. My shirts were still damp and don't even get me started on my jeans . . . they're sopping wet. I am currently sitting in the tiniest hole on my bed that's not covered with jeans that feel like I decided to shower with them on this morning. I paid $3 today to do two loads of laundry. And for what? The chance to talk to a cute guy? Well, yes I did do that, but that still doesn't take away from the fact that I have no dry jeans. I mean, PJs are comfortable and everything, but it kind of looks white-trashy to go traipsing around campus in them. CURSE YOU LAUNDRY SCUM!!!!

Dating Tutorial

For the Guys:
1. Dress Up! Girls like it when a guy looks nice. The T-shirts are doing NOTHING for you!
2. Do NOT ask over facebook or text please.
3. Cologne is a GOOD thing, but ONLY if you use sparingly.
4. Open up her door. Chivalry is not dead. Don't be rude.
5. If on a group date: talk to HER! SHE is your date. Not the dead-beat guy sitting next to you. He won't bring you eternal salvation. Just sayin.
6. Compliment her. She took time to look good for you. Notice it. If you don't notice anything different, pretend like you do!!!
7. Humor is always good. Try it.
8. Pay for something. It's not a date unless you pay. It doesn't have to be expensive.
9. Gum is always preferred to bad breath. But don't chomp on it.
10. Walk her up to her door. Don't just drop her off.

A Tribute to My Mini Me

Ever since she was born, this girl has been a little ball of sunshine. I saw her every Sunday with a toothless, ear-to-ear grin. I held her once as a baby and thought she was the happiest little thing I ever saw.
As Jessica grew up, I found myself, amazingly and gratefully, given a front row seat to her life, so to speak. After a few babysitting nights and dance classes, she stuck to me like gum to a shoe. That was the cool part: she picked me. She requested me more and more to be her babysitter and every Sunday during Sacrament she sat on my lap. She still does it to this day.
Apart from being my little shadow, she came to almost every event that I performed in. That's the part that really gets to me. Being the youngest with 3 married siblings off doing there own thing, I found myself feeling very much alone. A lot of times only Mom came to my performances. Jessica and her family were like the family members Heavenly Father forgot to give me. I could always count on them to be there in the audience, cheering me on in whatever I was performing.
She has practically been my little sister for so long, it's hard to think of a time when she wasn't in my life. Heck, we even look somewhat similar. I have friends now who look at a picture of her and ask, Is this your little sister? And they don't believe me when I say no.
I know I say it a lot, but I always feel like it's never enough. I am so grateful to this little girl and her family for being there when my own family couldn't. They have changed my life forever.

How to Start Your Monday With a Bang

We have already established the fact that I am a dancer. I'm pretty sure we've already established that I'm also extremely clumsy, to the point of being handicapped. It was as if Heavenly Father decided to make a joke of me: a dancer who cannot stay upright for more than 5 minutes at a time. Ha. Ha. Haaaaa. Not funny.
You know, I really have come to the terms with the fact that I do extremely stupid things all the time. I'm fine with tripping every five seconds or falling down the HBLL stairs every time I go down them. It's all good. In fact, I find myself thinking it's a shame nobody saw that, or that nobody that I knew was with me so I could laugh about it too and not look like a weirdo. Oh well. However, it kind of sucks when the very first thing you do in the morning is fall. Lovely.
So I got ready in about 20 minutes this morning. I'm thinking, this is pretty legit. If only my dad could see me now. I even looked halfway decent, despite the ballet tights that made me look like a 6-year-old girl in a black sundress. So I was feeling pretty good, determined not to think too hard about the awful day ahead of me. I walk out of my apartment, take a few steps down the stairs and . . . I'm sure you can figure out the rest for yourselves. Nobody was even around to see it and my pride is still bruised! Now I'm thinking, Wow Shalese. Way to kick off your week!

Don't Ask Me Again . . .

As many know, dance is my life. I live, sleep, eat, and breathe it. So, it's no surprise that I have spent my whole life defending it's . . . legitness in the world of sports.
Okay people, let's get one thing straight first: just because dance has a lot of artsy-fartsy crap, does not mean that it solely classifies it as an art form. It is an artistic sport. I'll give that dance in itself is an art form. However, dance in a competitive level is most definitely a sport. Okay? Okay.
When arguing my side, I tend to ask my enemy what exactly classifies a sport to be a sport. The answers that typically get shot at me are like You have to have opponents, ref's, a clear winner/loser, and it has to be athletically challenging. Perfect! Guess what? Any type of dance competition fits all of these categories! YAY!
In fact, the definition that the Oxford Dictionary gives of a sport is: an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment. And in my opinion, and many other's as well, dance is one of the most challenging sports out there.
Hey, if things like ping pong and fishing can be considered a sport, then why the heck can't dance?

My Man . . .

He's strong, comfy, and he catches me when I fall. He watches the Princess and the Frog with me and doesn't complain at all. He never steals the remote. He supports me when I do my homework and when I fall asleep. He keeps me warm. He doesn't fight, say stupid things, or stand me up. He's always up for a Friday night and he's never late. He catches my tears and loves it when I laugh. He looks good in any color. Actually, he's wearing several colors right now. It's hard not to go sit in his lap. He's extremely irresistible, especially when I come home from class. In fact, we've even spent a couple of nights together . . . don't tell my mom. His name is Cornelius and he's all mine . . . well, when my roommate's aren't sitting on him too . . . :)

Poetry Attempt Numero Uno

5 times I hit my snooze.
Twice I wash my hair.
Which outfit should I choose?
It's too early for me to care.

1 iPod, 1 cell phone.
8 Books, I'm out the door.
Walking, just me, alone.
Turn up the volume even more.

150 stairs
Breathing hard, I'm at the top.
I left my iClicker where?
Crap! This day needs to stop. . .

BYUckit List

1. Dance in the fountain at the JFSB
2. Eat at 5 Guys Burgers
3. Make out with a football player (Ha. ha. Just kidding . . . Seriously though)
3. Play Chopsticks on the piano in the WILK
4. Make it onto Overheard @ BYU
5. Kiss Cosmo
6. Marry Cosmo
7. Start a massive food fight
8. Have a picnic on top of the SWKT
9. Make an appearance on the Big Screen at the football games
10. Catch a duck at the bottom of the south campus stairs
11. Watch a movie on the ceiling
12. Kiss someone at the bell tower
13. Hike the Y
14. Form a dance crew to spontaneously break out dancing in Brigham Square
15. Graduate

Chivalry: It's Not Dead

Coming to BYU makes me a little spoiled, I guess. I rarely have to walk through a door without some type of assistance from a male. On those rare occasions when I have to open the door myself, something feels wrong. I love it. I love how the boys here (or most of them anyway) are gentlemen and will respect women.
Tonight, I got to go visit an old friend in Orem. He's a nice guy and super nice. Sometimes he can get a little obnoxious, but that's him and we love him for it. Spending time with him gave me the bonus of spending time with his roommate who just happened to be void of a sensor chip. Curse words were a major part of his vocab.
Now, as an English buff, you would think that I could tolerate a few curse words. Which I can. I just choose not to like them. Or say them. I feel like I sound stupid when I used them. So it bothered me a tiny bit when the roommate busted out a few F words now and then. Whatever, I was leaving soon anyway. However, my friend, being the gentleman that he secretly is inside, scolded him a bit for using that language in front of a 'Lady. A BYU lady, at that.' The roommate replied, 'I don't care. She's an adult. She can take it.' That made me want to deck him.
Seriously???

Weed: the Key to Being a Better Mom

Daytime TV sucks. There really is no variety to the shows. You can choose from like, 50 different soap operas, (but to tell you the truth, I really see no difference in any of them) Judge Judy, or Maury. Only people who's lives are seriously messed or people who find entertainment in other people's messed up lives would be able to stand it.
Today, after getting all my homework done before noon, I crashed in front of the TV, fully expecting to fall asleep in the first 5 minutes. Guess what I watched? The Tyra Banks show! YES! Guess what it was about? Mothers who think it's totally fine to smoke pot in front of their kids. In fact, they think it makes them better mothers. EVEN BETTER!
It made me sad to think that this is what our society has come to. Who in their right minds would even consider smoking pot and think there's nothing wrong with it when they are a parent. I mean, I know teenagers a stupid. I've known a lot of them. But, shouldn't parents have some kind of conscience when it comes to crap like that?! It's pathetic to think that 12-year-olds are more responsible than 30-somethings . . .

Guitar Lessons

Songs I'm dying to learn on the guitar:

1. White Horse by Taylor Swift
2. Hey Ya by (originally) Outkast
3. Teardrops On My Guitar by Taylor Swift
4. Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World
5. Breakeven by The Script
6. Collide by Howie Day
7. Fairytale by Taylor Swift
8. Fireflies by Owl City
9. You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift
10. The Only Exception by Paramore

5 More Minutes

I am a patron of the night. I love mornings with the sunrise and the birds chirping and all that jazz; however, I am firmly in the belief that waking up before the sun should be considered illegal. Actually, add on a couple of hours after the sun gets up and you've got yourself a deal.
You'd think that for a person who had to wake up at 5 am everyday for 4 years would be able to handle it. I cannot. My bed is way too comfortable for my own good in the mornings. In fact, if i absolutely have to wake up early, I DO NOT talk. I am the type of person disgustingly, cheerful morning people try to avoid. Just give me a few hours and I'll come around.
On the flip side, I love nighttime. It's the time that school and other unpleasantries cannot touch. It's date time, movie night, and doorbell ditching time. It's when I can have F.U.N.
I truly do wish that I could be a morning person. After all, it is healthier and I'd get more stuff completed. But, after 4 years of attempting it, (for the sake of my dancing career) I think it's safe for me to say, "I hate morning people." No offense.

Flirtations

In the old days, it started with middle school. There were known then as the 'bra-stuffers'. They hooked up with older guys and vandalized school property. In high school, you could find them everywhere. They were the cheerleaders, the freshmen who had 'little-man' syndrome, and the girls who ended up pregnant senior year and dropping out to become full-time, perpetually struggling, single moms. Needless to say, I was never a part of the flirtatious girl group. In fact, I pretty much stayed away from guys in general. They intimidated the crap out of me.
My roommate is the epitome of the flirtatious girl, only without the whole pregnancy, teen mom thing going on. She's the Mormon version, I guess. I knew that if I ever wanted any semblance of a social life when it came to members of the opposite sex, I had to assert myself just as much as she does. The only problem is, is that I'm not that girl at all. I am the quiet type who is pretty much invisible. I decided once that I didn't want to be invisible anymore, but no one else got the hint that I changed my mind. Funny.
So I observed her. She flirted shamelessly with guys on end, be they premis, RMs, or just plain, weird guys. She left a train of broken hearts behind her. I tried to flirt how she flirted, making the guy feel that he had your complete attention and he was the only interesting guy there. It never worked. As I said, no one got told that I don't want to be invisible anymore. But, I kept at it, only to discover it led me to a place I never wanted to go.

Kumbaya Baby

I am not a camper by any means of the word. I am the sissy girl who enjoys hotel rooms and flushing toilets. I forever have a fear of falling into the outhouse hole into the not-so-mysterious blackness below. I abhor mosquitoes, fire-pit smoke, and the utter freezing cold in the mornings. Call my what you will, but I am not a camper.
So I do find it extremely ironic that I chose to go camping with my roommate, her brother, his two friends that find it somewhat hilarious to tease me, and five other random people. But, hey, it's college. We believe in the social life. We try new things. We do stupid stuff.
The camping trip began by caravan-ing an hour and a half up by Ogden. I had a sneaking suspicion that one of the guys leading was drunk. Well, okay, not really, but you know what I mean. By the time we had arrived at the campsite, I had absolutely no trust in the guys. I did not want to get out of my car, in fear that they would just jump back into their car and drive off. This was going to be an awesome couple of days. . .
We ate bar-b-que chicken sandwiches, (the boys had baked beans with theirs) and threw a ball around the campfire. This ball had a plethora of random questions written all over, and whichever question your right thumb landed on, you had to answer that one. Pretty soon, the ball ended up in the fire as I so awesomely predicted. We talked, we laughed at the guy to tripped over a log and body slammed the ground, we drank caffeine, we went to sleep. That's when the real party began.
Now normally, my roommate and I can get pretty hyper. But, neither of us had ever really tried an energy drink and we were mildly curious to experience the effect. We were not disappointed. Many pictures, uncontrollable laughing sessions, listening to the guys baked beans kick in, and about five hours later, we really went to sleep.
The next morning my roommate and I spent the entire morning skipping rocks on the beach, waiting for the guys to come pick us up to go boating. Did they ever show up? Nope. Of course not. But, we had a blast building a sand castle, complete with moat and water slide! Sound fun? It was a blast.

You Need To Stop the Q-Tip When There's Resistance!!!

the stupid things we do in college . . .
1. Hilary literally thinking my burp is a bear growling
2. Drinking Monsters at a camp site at 2 am
3. Random people thinking we were drunk on trax
4. Attempting the gallon challenge with choc. milk. I survive. Hil didn't
5. Playing hide and seek in the Orem Walmart
6. Lost a bet during Dr. Pepper pong and bleaching a section of our hair
7. Dying that bleached section hot pink
8. Both of us falling on the HBLL stairs
9. Trying to prank guys with shaving cream
10. Convinced guys to be the Spice Girls with us for Halloween
11. Had a food fight with chocolate desert in some guys kitchen
12. Climbing on top of a moose statue in some random neighborhood
13. Foolishly eating cookies that had salt and tabasco sauce instead of sugar
14. Doing yoga on gravel
15. Slid down seats as a race during a Jazz game
16. Piled plastic cups into a pyramid on some guy's bed
17. Played Chinese Fire Drill at 3 am
18. Climbed into a little kid's ice cream truck and got stuck
19. Played mattress dominoes
20. Played mini golf in a lightning storm

Successes of a Sunday Night

Ever since the beginning of the year, we've been trying to be more social, more accepting, more outgoing. (When I say 'we' I mean my roommate and me). However, it's a little bit difficult to be social when you have your whole ward in one tiny apartment, meant for 6 people. It's also hard when you're naturally an introvert, like myself.
Last night, a Sunday night, we tried again. It's been a whole week and a half since we've been here and we still don't know anyone in our own ward. So we went to an ice cream social in some guy's apartment. I still don't know what guy it even was. I couldn't hear myself think. Stranger's voices were pressing in on the walls of my head, gradually getting louder because they couldn't even hear themselves. I plopped myself down on the back of a couch with my store-bought cookie, attempting a conversation with a guy who had the misfortune of looking like a deacon. He knew of this misfortune as well, poor guy. Pretty soon, a couple of cute guys who had a hard time remembering my name, bless their hearts, invited us to join them in the courtyard to play games. I was more than eager to extract myself from the room. I wound and squeezed my way through what seemed like an impossibly tight room, and then hurdled over random people camping out on the stairwell.
The name of the game was Ninja. Don't ask me to explain it, for I stank at it and I was only there for the cute guys, sad enough as it is. It got old after a while anyway, but I didn't want to leave. My goal was to be social and make friends. However, the game got stale. Watching people try to hit other people for 20 minutes was long enough. My roommate got bored with it as well and we agreed to go back to our apartment and kick off our Disney Movie Sundays. As luck would have it, the two cute guys overheard our conversation and were immediately intrigued. We invited them over to watch Up, the movie neither of them had seen, for they were two recently RMs.
We rushed home and began, frantically, to make brownies, smoothies, and popcorn. Soon enough the guys arrived, bringing with them a few more guys. It was a good night. After the movie, in an attempt to have them stay just a little bit longer, we bribed them to play Apples to Apples. It worked. Apart from the fact that during the night we received a couple unwanted visitors, and once it hit midnight-thirty we wanted to go to sleep, it was a pretty awesome night.
Thank you Walt Disney.

Lament of a Non-Athletic Girl

I love sports just as much as the next person. Football, even more so. However, I was not blessed with any athletic ability. I mean, I guess I could go on a rampage about how dance really is a sport and probably harder than a lot of other sports out there, but I've done that too many times and people are turning a deaf ear to me.
Actually, if dance was not choreographed step for step, then I probably wouldn't be good at that either. I trip across flat surfaces, I run into walls, and don't even get me started on my hand-eye coordination.
I really wish that I was good at sports, I really do. I tried for years to become good at basketball so that I could play with my friends and they would actually want me on their team. I even attempted volleyball. I used to be awesome at softball, but I lost my confidence in high school.
The reason why I'm kicking myself now is because I live with an extremely athletic roommate. She's a kick-butt soccer player and will go play any sport with a bunch of people for n, (i.e. guys). You see, guys here like a girl who will get out and play with them. Guys want girls who are fearless. I am definitely not fearless when it comes to sports. I tried once, though. I went to play walleyball and it didn't end well. The guys we played with only remember me from that incident.
So while I'm sitting in my apartment eating a breakfast burrito in my PJs, and writing a journal entry for my class that probably no one will read except my professor, my roommate is out, making guy friends and being awesome. Score!

List 1

A Random Compilation of the Things I Love
1. My teddy-bear Jill
2. My old beater car
3. Sore back muscles
4. Leg massages
5. My CTR ring
6. My highlighting technique on the creation in Moses
7. Crunching leaves
8. The sound of shoes on a cobblestone road
9. Football pants
10. Brownie batter
11. Stretching out
12. Dimples on a guy
13. Channing Tatum/Will Smith
14. Star gazing on the trains
15. Harmonizing
16. My dad's beard
17. Headstands
18. The smell of my perfume
19. An Australian accent
20. Rainy days
21. Giant cupcakes
22. Natural Ice Cherry Chapstick
23. Hugs
24. Cuddling
25. Blankets
26. Naps
27. Roller coasters
28. Hymn 136
29. Flying dreams
30. Pomegranate anything
31. Lillies
32. Forehead kisses
33. Pens with giant flowers
34. Sparkles
35. Holding hands
36. Laughing so hard, your abs hurt
37. Morning light
38. Being called Wese
39. Trampolines
40. The sound of thunder

Incoming!

Just to let my few readers know, I am enrolled in a creative writing class. It's basically awesome. I get to write whatever I want and I don't have to focus on writing a paper to please my professor. I write to please myself. Part of our homework is that we have to write journals everyday for at least 5 minutes on whatever our hearts desire. So, I will be posting what I write on my blog. Hope you enjoy :D